by Simon Brown
“Thank you for caring so much about me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
Mateo smiled.
I drove the car home with Cristelle giving directions. Cristelle fidgeted incessantly. She pulled at her hair, bit her lower lip, wrung her hands together. When we joined the main roads, I put my hand over hers, encouraging her to keep her hands still. She let her head fall back onto the seat rest and sighed.
It was now late afternoon and I was experiencing pangs of hunger. As we drove into Zurich, Cristelle guided us to a restaurant not far from our hotel.
“Cristelle, please join us. We can talk about what has happened and about Mathew, if you like. We might all benefit from being together for a while.”
Cristelle turned her face to look out of the window and then nodded slowly.
We found a table in the corner and ordered.
“How are you now, Cristelle?”
Cristelle looked sullen. She shrugged her shoulders and looked down.
“Life will change. I hit rock bottom after Mathew died, but then I ended up with my aunt who took me on a life-changing journey. If I had not been in that place emotionally, I don’t think I would have listened to her. I would have thought she was crazy, just like my parents did.”
Cristelle raised her green eyes and looked into mine.
“There is something different about you. When I wanted to shoot you, there was something in your eyes, your calmness, maybe you seemed so… I don’t know how to say it, kind, maybe loving.”
I smiled at Cristelle and looked into her sparkling eyes. I wanted to look into Mateo’s eyes to see if I could see the love in him but he looked away self-consciously. He seemed uncomfortable with our conversation.
“I don’t think I could have shot you. It was a relief when he threw the stones at me.”
The food arrived and we started eating. We were so hungry, we chewed in silence. After I had finished my soup and salad, I looked up. Mateo glared at me and flicked his eyes across to Cristelle.
“Cristelle, when we were in the woods you mentioned that Mathew had put our money into a bank account. Where is it?”
Cristelle wiped her mouth with a napkin. There was a bruise on her cheek forming around the cut. She brushed her hair back over her shoulders. Then she looked at Mateo and back to me. She seemed to be thinking. Perhaps clinging to a thought, exploring a way to keep the money. I could sense Mateo tense up. We waited.
“Mathew used to give me the money in London to put into the account here. I could have kept it, but I put it all in his account.”
“Can you give me the account details?”
Cristelle’s eyes watered slightly. A wave of defiance passed across her face. I waited. Then she softened and looked in her bag. She found a paying in book and handed it to me.
“Are you short of money?” I asked her.
“I have debts but that is not the point. It’s the life I was going to have. Ramon, the apartment, a sense of security; it has been taken from me. My life is empty.”
“A very loving woman once told me ‘Nothing is a beautiful place to be.’ From nothing, everything and anything is possible. If you can free yourself of all the layers that are holding you back, imprisoning you in these feelings, your world will become enormous. We all have Mathew to thank for that. He has given the three of us the amazing gift of being able to transform ourselves from nothing.”
I reached out and held Mateo and Cristelle’s hands. I felt the warmth of Mateo’s palms, with the slightly leathery texture of his skin. I felt the cold clammy surface of Cristelle’s hand. I felt the softness of her skin. I looked at Mateo and then Cristelle.
“We can all be loving.”
I watched Cristelle take her free hand and tentatively offer it to Mateo. He responded and the three of us were connected. The image of colourful, wild flowers growing from Mathew’s ashes blossomed in my mind.
CHAPTER 32
A visit to the bank revealed the extent of paperwork and form filling I would need to access my money. Phone calls and emails to Graham Parker ensured that signed copies of Mathew’s death certificate, will and marriage certificate were sent over.
Whilst we were waiting, Mateo and I had more time together. Drinking smoothies in a local juice bar, we tried making a list of all the characteristics we most liked about Mathew. When I described Mathew’s obsessive attention to detail around the house, Mateo began to laugh. It was the first time we laughed about Mathew together. There was something immature and innocent about Mateo that made him attractive to me.
That night we rented a film and watched it in Mateo’s room. We lay on his bed eating packets of popcorn. I must have fallen asleep half way through. I woke in the early hours of the morning lying next to Mateo. He had put his duvet across me. Mateo was wearing pyjama trousers. He looked peaceful and secure in his dreams. I edged myself to the side of the bed and sat up feeling drunk on sleep. I tried to will myself to stand up and go to my room. I felt hot and uncomfortable in my clothes.
As I finally stood, Mateo cried out. He started talking in Spanish as he rolled onto his side towards me. I sat on the side of the bed and stroked his head.
“Shh, Mateo, it is just a dream. You’re safe.”
Mateo reached out and pulled me towards him. I lay on the duvet next to him and put my arm around him.
“Try to go back to sleep.”
Mateo put his arm around me. He kissed me on the cheek.
“Please don’t leave me,” he said sleepily.
“I think we will always be close.”
I waited until I felt him return to his dreams. I carefully eased myself off his bed and stood looking at him. He seemed so young and vulnerable lying there, tucked up in bed. On impulse I took off my sweater, socks and jeans and lay next to him.
In the morning I woke to see Mateo lying on his side facing me. His big brown eyes looked into mine.
“Hello, Amanda. You stayed. Thank you.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Good.”
Mateo looked away and then back at me. His eyes suggested he was troubled.
“What is it, Mateo?”
“You know when I say undress. Then I say you ugly.”
“Yes.”
“I am very sorry. You not ugly at all. I think you are very beautiful. You have a special beauty that comes from inside. I can see it now. Before I was too angry to see.”
“Thank you.”
Mateo propped himself up on his elbow and leant across and kissed me on the cheek. I instinctively put my hand on his back.
“Are you going to teach me how to make love?”
I pushed him away playfully.
“You already know. And by the way, you can make love to me with your beautiful eyes.”
Mateo looked into my eyes and I could see the love.
“You know I love you very much.”
“Si.”
“Good. Time to get up.”
Later in the morning we shared lunch with Cristelle. I told her that when I had control of all the funds, I would transfer enough money into her account to pay her debts.
“Cristelle, I would like to invite you to come to London and meet Dorothy. She has really helped me and perhaps you would like someone to hold your hand as you explore how life could be different for a while.”
Cristelle smiled and for the first time I saw her face relax. We exchanged contact information and parted. We collected our luggage and took the train to the airport.
Back in London I met up with Martin Ledbetter so he could inform the building society that the funds had been recovered. I also telephoned Sergeant Smiley to tell him where Mathew had put the money and explain the circumstances.
“Do you think Cristelle had anything to do with the murder?”
“You can check, but I think she was in Zurich at the time.”
I put down the phone and checked my emails. There was a message from Edward, pleading to meet up. Now I knew it was not Edwa
rd who had attacked me or sent the threatening letters, I felt more kindly towards him. His declaration of love to me had brought several life-changing challenges upon himself. The curse of trying to get Amanda into bed, I thought.
We met up on Primrose Hill. The sun was shining and a brisk wind tossed my hair into the air. I stood looking across the London skyline with Edward by my side.
Feeling a little flustered, I blurted out, “How is your karate coming along?”
“I gave up karate ages ago. Too much like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. No, tai chi is much more me.”
Edward proceeded to show me the beginning of the short form he had been learning. I smiled at the memory of all those karate stances and wondered how long this would last.
Once Edward finished his flowing moves, he told me how he and Edwina had divorced. Edward had a bachelor pad, as he described it, in Soho, near his office.
“I still feel the same about you, Amanda.”
“Oh, Edward, I would have thought that after all you have been through, you would run a mile from me.”
“No, nothing has changed.”
I think if I was the same woman I was before I started this journey I would have felt a flutter of excitement. I might have turned on my girlish charms. Now we felt so far apart.
“Edward, I don’t want you to waste any time thinking of me. I really do not think I am ready for a relationship, and even if I was, my interests are so different from yours.”
Edward made a gallant effort to win me round. He promised undying loyalty, financial security and love. After all my struggles, it all sounded so easy. Could Edward be my rock, as Roger was to Dorothy?
Then an image of a distraught Edwina flashed through my mind. There she was, in so much pain and Edward so detached. I remembered the way Edward dismissed me after taking me out for his romantic lunch.
“It really does have to be goodbye, Edward.”
I left him with his clothes flapping in the wind.
After a few weeks I met up with Edwina in a small café in Primrose Village. The sun shone and we sat near the window.
After the small talk ran dry, I asked Edwina about her life.
“We divorced, sold the house and now I am living in Welwyn Village. It must be costing Eddie a fortune. I am finding it hard. Some days I just slump on the sofa with a gin and tonic watching daytime television. I’m comfort eating, as you can see. Still, if it doesn’t kill me it just makes me stronger. Isn’t that how it goes?”
I smiled. I watched three children outside. One of the boys snatched a phone out of another’s hand and threw it to the third boy. They hurled the phone back and forth whilst the boy in the middle lunged one way and another to retrieve it. After a while the short boy seemed to get bored and then dropped the phone into the gutter. The child grabbed his phone and started drying it frantically. The other two children laughed and ran out of sight.
I had witnessed a scene that was hard not to judge as malicious, unkind and spiteful. And yet, I did not want to judge. Could I understand each of them? Edwina interrupted my thoughts.
“So, what has happened with you, Amanda?”
I told her about meeting Mateo and getting the money back.
“I now have enough money to buy a small flat near to Dorothy. My offer for my new home has just been accepted. I have enough left over to give Mateo money to pay off his mother’s debts and look after himself.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“I am starting a job teaching art at a comprehensive school on the other side of Hampstead Heath.”
I went on to describe how I took Mateo to Barcelona to meet his relations at Bar Fornos. I told her how they made a big fuss over him and immediately took pride in his looks and physique. I remembered how at first Mateo was shy. He seemed to cling to me slightly. After the first day he and Francesc spent more time together whilst I enjoyed some sightseeing with Rosa.
“Oh, Amanda, you and Mateo seem to have such a strong bond. The way you talk about him you could easily be his mother. I think it is wonderful that even though you lost a husband, you have found a son.”
On the way home I thought about the three children and the phone. Was my choice to return to teaching an opportunity to offer the children I would be guiding, other possibilities in life? I wondered if I could somehow impart my love to rowdy teenage boys. If I could keep my love through being threatened, attacked, raped and taken to the forest to be shot, why not? I smiled to myself.
DEATH OF A BUTTERFLY
CHAPTER 33
The red admiral butterfly lives for about one month, giving the males time to mate and the females to lay their eggs. After this the adults have no further role in the survival of species.
Late afternoon at Dorothy’s flat I helped move the chairs and prepare for another meeting. I arranged the candles whilst Dorothy prepared the tea and snacks.
The sun shone through the west windows, casting long shadows across the room. Dorothy had bought some fresh flowers and I arranged them into a tall glass vase. I was aware of feeling calm, contented and in a way loving, as I touched the stems.
I thought back to the first time I engaged in this ritual after I arrived at Dorothy’s, fearful and on the run. I remembered my confusion, scepticism and distrust. I didn’t realise there was so much to discover. Just as now, I did not know the hidden possibilities of what life could be.
People arrived filling the hall with coats and shoes before taking their seats. The chatter of small talk filled the living room. Once everyone was seated Dorothy sat at the end of the room. I cast my eyes around our group observing Ruby, Henry, Cristelle and Mateo. Only Edwina had declined to join us.
Dorothy started with a meditation and asked each of us to describe our feelings. I noticed her patient, gentle probing to help each person stay in the moment, when our natural inclination to justify, analyse and refer to the past, broke through.
“You might ask why I am here and why have I invited you to my home. This journey is more fun with other people. So my invitation to you is to join me on an open ended adventure. I will support you when you ask me. I may gently challenge you, help you discover different perceptions on life, and encourage you to free your minds sometimes, as I hope you will me. Now, would anyone like some tea?”
I got up and poured the camomile and olive leaf tea. Dorothy sat back in her chair with her eyes closed. I offered each person some nuts and slices of apple. I enjoyed being in service to these beautiful humans. I felt so light, almost as though I could spread my wings and fly. I sat down and Dorothy invited us to try the tea and snacks.
The caterpillar turning to a butterfly metaphor came back to me. It was easy to see my journey as one of transformation, and yet thinking like that placed me in a new kind of dualistic thinking, as Henrique would claim. It suggested my old life was wrong, that Mathew was bad and that I had elevated myself. I enjoyed that image of me as a butterfly, the aware, evolved, spiritual woman and yet I knew I had to let it die. In a sense it had become a new hole I had dug for myself, as Nirmal might say.
I looked at the faces around me. Perhaps by being part of this group, I could experience the death of the butterfly I had created. My time as a butterfly might let me lay the eggs that would become the means for someone else’s transformation. Being part of Mateo’s life would help me rediscover my love for Mathew. I certainly did not want to separate myself from the people around me by taking on the airs of being more spiritual.
My attention came back to the group. I had to look away when Henry scooped up a large handful of walnuts, tipped his head back and ladled them into his gaping mouth. I had a vision of Henry munching his way through the rest of the evening. I smiled to myself. You are going to be my delicious challenge, dearest Henry.
Mateo looked guarded. His inner strength kept him sitting with an upright posture. He stared straight ahead until Ruby engaged him in conversation. Ruby was colourful, exuberant and expressive in her purple dress. I smiled as
I watched Ruby making small talk to a man she knew had murdered and raped. I turned to look at Cristelle and she smiled. Her green eyes sparkled in the candlelight.
How unbelievable that two people who wanted to do me so much harm were now sitting with me and about to accompany me on a new adventure. I laughed inwardly as I thought to myself, I couldn’t make it up. Hey ho!
Dorothy started talking in her distracted way.
“I wonder whether, if I perceive my world in a particular way – if my perception is partly of my own choosing – I am living in a self-constructed illusion.”
There was a pause whilst Dorothy leant forwards to adjust the position of a flower in the vase in front of her.
“Perhaps we all have our special way of relating to the world we inhabit. We may each have our own understanding, even if we try align our interpretations with other people’s perceptions.”
Dorothy slowly picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. She leant back and closed her eyes.
“The point being that, I find it so easy to make my understanding right, to defend my perception and win those battles of opinion. And yet that reduces me to one illusion, one possible interpretation of life and one relationship with my world.”
Dorothy opened her eyes and leant forward.
“Perhaps the bigger challenge is to recognise my illusions, as illusions and to be open to other people’s illusions; to have the flexibility to understand people through their illusions, rather than judge them. I sense that through an appreciation of each human, as he or she is, I flow through an infinite range of perceptions that ultimately helps me connect. Those connections help me feel loving. And yet, I can I accept that even my intention to embrace all understandings is just another temporary chosen intention that will change.”
Dorothy reached to her side and picked up her knitting.
