What was it I sensed that cold December night? In those few moments that followed, did I actually feel my freedom disappear, leaching into the air, the soil, the ether? Did I really see my life strung out ahead of me like a reel of film, predestined, a life over which I would no longer have control? Did I know, in that moment, that the door that had threatened to slam shut had already done so, that the key had been turned in the lock and thrown away?
It cannot have been more than a minute later when Lee looked up at me and called.
‘Michael!’ There was a desperation in her voice that I had never heard before; I knew something was terribly wrong, that I would have to take responsibility, that I would be asked to act.
I walked over slowly, trying to regain my breath, to steady my nerves. Lee’s eyes remained on me the whole time.
‘There’s something wrong, Michael; I don’t think she knows who I am.’
‘What?’ I knelt down in front of the two sisters. Liana was staring straight ahead, focusing on empty space. She had stopped crying. Her face was almost completely devoid of emotion; she looked like a shop-window dummy. ‘Liana?’ I took her hand; she was cold to the touch, lifeless. I squeezed her hand but she did not respond. ‘Liana? Are you okay? Liana?’ Nothing.
‘What’s wrong? Michael?’
‘I don’t know,’ I croaked. Once again, my world was falling apart. There was something wrong with her, something desperately wrong with Liana. If previously she had been fragile, on the edge, then now she had fallen and finally cracked.
And it was all my fault.
‘Let’s get her inside.’ I looked at Lee and for a moment the enormity of it all flooded over me. She must have seen it in my eyes, because she looked away. My life with Lee was over; my life with Liana was just about to begin. My God was keeping me to my word; I had touched the stars, I had inhaled heaven’s breath, I had known ecstasy, and now it was my turn to pay.
Even in the poor light, with her eyes and cheeks red from crying and the sad, blank expression in her face, she was still as beautiful as ever. This was what I had begged God for; to be with this Woman. In so doing, I had forfeited my right to a happy future. This was where it all ended. This was where it all began.
‘Liana, we’re going inside now. Come on.’ We helped her to her feet and guided her to the house. She said nothing, allowing herself to be led like a lost, lonely child.
Chapter 47
It is all something of a blur now. I cannot recall exactly what happened. We called a doctor, I think, who said something about shock and mild catatonia, and suggested we put her to bed, keep her warm and call if there were any problems. For two days Liana said nothing. We fed her, kept her warm, never left her alone, not for a moment. Lee and I said little to each other; she wondered whether she should try to contact her parents, but I advised against it. There was nothing they could do, and anyway, if Liana was in shock, their arrival might only complicate matters. Besides, hadn’t they given up on her?
We never did find out how long Liana had been following us, or where she had stayed, or why she had waited so long to confront us. The reason for her disappearance would never come to light. When she finally “came to”, she had no recollection of what had happened. The period between when she had arrived back in London and “woken up” in her old bedroom was a complete blank. She was still a little dazed, and remained so for a few days.
Her memory seemed haphazard and unreliable, an amalgam of real events and totally contrived episodes; she could remember India, but not what she had been doing in the preceding months. She knew she hadn’t seen Lee for a while, but thought it closer to six months than eighteen. It was not until much later that I discovered how advanced this mythomania was. At the time, I didn’t really care. Liana had indeed returned, and she was so pleased to see me, so enthusiastic, that for a moment I genuinely thought that everything would be okay.
Her parents were due back from their holiday by then, and we all thought it sensible that Liana be somewhere else when they returned. Mum and Dad offered to put her up, but this didn’t feel terribly comfortable. It was Richard who came to the rescue, and this time I did take him up on his offer to move in. Richard went to stay with Mandy or Melanie or whoever it was he was busy with, and Liana and I moved into his bedsit.
But it was not for long. A week later I got my first job working as a journalist on a local newspaper. We rented a tiny flat near Highbury Corner. Liana took a part-time job in a fashionable clothes shop in the West End, and within a month we were settled and, much to our joint delight, happy. It was all far too good to be true. Work was fun, the flat, though small, located in a great area, and we seemed to want for nothing. Every night we would make passionate, death-defying love, and at the weekend we’d retire to bed with nothing but a few packets of cigarettes and a bottle of champagne. It was a return to the magic of those first days together. But it was not to last.
A year later, we were married in the local Registry Office; Mum and Dad, Richard, Lee and Tony (from the café in Charing Cross Road) attended. Liana’s parents did not attend. They had never forgiven Liana for the agony she had put them through. They had had nothing to do with her since her return to the fold, and were not about to start just because she was getting married. It seemed impossibly heartless to me, and I even took the liberty of writing to them, but I never received a reply. Lee said she could do nothing to persuade them, so that was that.
Three months after the wedding, Liana had her first major breakdown, more severe than anything I had seen so far. That was when we sought professional help.
***
Today is our last day together for six months. Liana is not speaking to me; she ranted and raved all night, and is now so exhausted that she has neither the energy nor the inclination to converse. Tomorrow I will drive her down to Devon, to leave her in the capable hands of Doctor Jerome and his merry band of helpers. The following day I will fly to Jakarta and start the six-month odyssey that will, hopefully, provide me with enough material to keep us both alive for another year.
If I have given the impression that I resent this, any of this, then forgive me. In case you are in any doubt, understand that I do these things not because I have to, but because I want to. If I was paid at higher rates, then I would work for just three months, and I would take Liana and look after her for nine months of the year.
You see, she may be crazy, she may spend half her time hating me, or wanting to kill me, but Liana is still the most enchanting, the most desirable, the most beautiful woman I have ever known. And I love her.
Desperately.
About the Author
Peter Michael Rosenberg is an award-winning novelist, screenwriter and self-confessed nomad. He has travelled in over seventy countries around the world but has yet to find one to call home.
To learn more about Peter Michael Rosenberg visit his website http://www.petermichaelrosenberg.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Also by Peter Michael Rosenberg
Acclaim for Peter Michael Rosenberg
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
; Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
About the Author
Kissing Through a Pane of Glass Page 18
