Gift or Theft by Liza Cody

Author:Liza Cody [Cody, Liza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781663205032
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2020-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Lazaro and I walked hand in hand through a field of golden wheat. The grain was ripe and heavy. The leaves, stirring in a soft breeze, sounded as dry and husky as an old man’s breath. They whispered secrets to us as we passed. The sun beat down as bright as spotlights and warmed our backs.

I opened my eyes and stared into light so bright it hurt. I was inside a bubble of light. I thought, ‘Have I died?’ I closed my eyes but I could still see the light glowing crimson through my eyelids. My body felt languorous and at peace. I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep but a voice said, ‘Seema, wake up now and pay attention.’

I thought it was Lazaro’s voice so I opened my eyes and squinted into the light. I couldn’t see him.

What I saw was Mark Kirkby sitting on a steel and leather Bauhaus chair. He was shirtless and his tattoos shone out like pictures in an exhibition. ‘The Kuniyoshi exhibition,’ I said, smiling at him sleepily. ‘At the Royal Academy. Bauhaus furniture and Japanese print making – not a happy couple.’

Someone laughed. I turned my head but couldn’t see anyone else. The laughing voice said, ‘Well, we can all tell which one’s yours, old boy.’ There was more laughter.

Cautiously I checked my own clothing. I was still wearing the white lounging pyjamas and fittingly, I was lounging comfortably in a sofa on a sable rug.

Mark turned his head towards me and said, ‘It’s just skin art, Seema. Don’t worry about it.’

But I did. I imagined him at the age of eighty-four with his skin hanging off him like a badly fitting cardigan, his glorious tattoos dangling from his bones as limp as wet laundry.

While I was thinking this Mark morphed into just such an old man. I wanted to cry.

Somewhere, outside the bubble of light that held Mark and me, words and whispers danced together, rising and falling. Then someone called, ‘Silence’, and all noise died.

A woman strode into our bubble without being invited and stood with her back to us. She was wearing a black satin robe. She raised her arms and said, ‘We all know why we’re here.’

I was offended. I said. ‘I don’t know. Do you, Mark?’ I thought it was a fine time for an explanation.

‘Quiet!’ the woman barked. ‘On my left is Mark Kirkby, a professional sportsman, supremely fit and at the pinnacle of a career as a popular, successful rugby football player. Degree of difficulty has been set at 5.4, ten posing the greatest difficulty and zero denoting no difficulty at all. Take a bow, Mark.’

Mark got up looking mildly puzzled. He bowed to left and right. Enthusiastic applause greeted him. I clapped my hands too, not wanting to be left out. I was glad to see he’d resumed his former god-like shape. As he sat back down he said, ‘I don’t really understand this, Seema, but I think it’s some sort of game.

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