Kissing Through a Pane of Glass (17 page)

The fifth picture was of a very pretty, but extremely sad little girl, sitting alone in a huge, bare room. There were bars on the window, and no visible doors. It was a desperately sad vision; it was also, of course, a self-portrait of Liana as a child, although, as I discovered shortly afterwards, Doctor Jerome had not realised this.

The final picture was a perspective drawing of a quiet road leading away into the distance. On either side of the road were hedgerows which seemed to obscure various activities which were impossible to discern. On the far horizon a range of mountains paraded across the page, and in the right foreground was the artist’s own hand holding a pencil. Half-way down the road was a man, walking away. Although his back was towards us, he had turned his head to peer over his shoulder. He was carrying a shoulder bag and a camera, and he was waving goodbye. The man, of course, was yours truly.

Having studied the pictures for a while, Doctor Jerome asked me for my opinions. They were all very revealing; some more evidently so than others; it did not take a man versed in Freud and Jung to work out what the family scene was all about. But did I know the identity of the man in the bottle? What about the little girl? And the last picture; any thoughts?

helped him as best I could. I explained that the little girl was Liana, that it was me in the final picture, and I told him about the man in the bottle and the fourth picture. As to anything else, why didn’t he ask Liana? The doctor shook his head; no, he couldn’t do that; it would be a betrayal of trust. After all, Liana had thrown these drawings away; he was probably not meant to see them at all.

He thanked me for my time, and made me promise not to say anything to Liana about the pictures as it would only upset her. I asked if it would be possible to have some photocopies made, as I’d rather like to look them over in more detail. He was a little reluctant at first, but once I had sworn to keep them safely locked away, he agreed.

I still have those pictures. I take them out every now and then, when Liana’s not around, and study them for hours. In many ways, it is only when I look at those six snatches of Liana’s soul that I understand her and her dreadful torment. For hidden in those pictures is the whole of Liana’s terror... the whole of her life.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Lee. She was immensely understanding and went out of her way to raise my spirits. As I was little more than a stranger, I thought this especially kind of her.

Lee was like her sister in many ways; her self-deprecating comments about being less attractive and intelligent seemed misplaced, and even in my distress I could not help but be drawn to her in some way. She made me promise faithfully that I would get in touch if and when Liana/Angela called. For the meantime, there seemed to be nothing I could do; I had no leads, no way of finding out where she had gone to after she had arrived back in London. Whatever I was going to do, I knew I couldn’t take up any more of Lee’s time. Just before I left I gave her my phone number and asked her to call me if she heard anything.

It was a long, lonely trip back, and by the time I arrived home it was dark. Winter had arrived, and the days were getting progressively shorter. A few days earlier I had been happy and in love; I had been travelling in hot, sunny, exotic India without a care in the world, and the future had looked bright and exciting. Now I was lost and lonely, stuck in the cold and dark of miserable London town, without a job, money, or place of my own. The love of my life had disappeared, and I had no idea how I would find her. It was an iniquitous state of affairs, made all the more unjust by the fact that I had no one to turn to for assistance, no right of appeal, and no one to blame except, perhaps, myself.

It must have taken a few hours for the truth to sink in, because later that night, whilst watching television with my folks, the full realisation of my predicament hit me, and I suddenly broke down. The anxiety that I had first felt at Lee’s had started to fester like some rotting piece of meat. I had tried to keep a lid on it, but it was no use, and out of the blue I started to curse and yell. My parents must have thought I’d flipped. I stood up and ranted nonsensically for a few moments, then, in a great effort of will, apologised and assured them there was nothing to worry about.

Rather than try to explain what was going on inside my poor confused little mind, I just ran up the stairs and locked myself in my room, where I buried my head beneath a pillow and tried to imagine that none of this was really happening, that it was all a figment of my imagination.

It didn’t work.

Mum and Dad were understandably disturbed, but knew better than to question me too closely. Still, they showed great concern and later that evening Mum, displaying her usual tact, knocked gently on the door, asked if there was any way in which they might help, and casually suggested I contact one of my friends, in the hope, presumably, that someone else close to me might be able to help.

I had nothing to lose. Even though it was Saturday night I managed to get hold of Richard, who was on his way to a party. He was surprised that I was back in England, and made a couple of cracks about how he’d expected never to see me again, certain that I’d end up in some loony religious sect. This aside, he sounded pleased to hear from me, and even though it was already past ten o’clock, I arranged to meet him for a quick drink before closing time at a nearby pub in Islington.

***

The pub was noisy and crowded, and it took a couple of minutes before I located Richard, who was propping up the bar with a pint in one hand and a gorgeous looking blonde in the other.

‘Michael! Welcome home. What are you having, usual?’

‘Please.’

‘It’s good to see you, pal. By the way, this is Mandy. Mandy, meet Michael, my best mate. He’s just come back from India; he was out there for two months, researching the effects of curried vegetables on male sexual potency.’

‘Really?’ said Mandy, not a hint of irony or disbelief in her voice. She was built like a model, but obviously had the brains of a stuffed toy.

‘Err, not exactly... easy on the Dry, Richard...’

‘It’s a double.’

‘Oh, right. Well, thanks.’

Mandy eyed me up and down, while Richard handed me the drink. I didn’t know where Richard found these women, but they were all, I was sure, cast from the same mould. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to India,’ she said unconvincingly. ‘What’s it like?’

‘It’s a nasty, filthy place, Mandy,’ interrupted Richard, ‘full of short, sex-starved darkies, isn’t that right, Michael?’

‘Absolutely. Look Richard, do you think we could have a word?’

‘Eh?’

‘I need to talk to you. I need some advice.’ Richard gave me his, “Not now Michael, I’m trying to score” look, but when I insisted, he made his apologies to the bimbo, gave her a kiss on the cheek and a pinch on the arse, and followed me into a quietish corner.

‘I hope this is important, Michael...’

‘She’ll keep. This won’t.’

Richard sat down beside me, took out his cigarettes, offered me one then lit up. ‘What’s up then? Catch something nasty out there?’

‘Be serious a moment, will you? I’ve got a problem.’ As briefly as I could, I outlined my predicament. I didn’t tell Richard that I was in love with Liana, as he would have walked away in disgust. Instead I stressed the fact that Liana was beautiful, a fantastic lay, and unlike anything he’d ever experienced either. I knew that would keep him interested. I went into some detail about her appearance and by the time I’d finished, even he was drooling. I explained about Lee, and recounted everything she had told me about Liana. As I said, it was all a bit brief, but I think I got the main facts across to him, plus the sense of urgency and worry that I was experiencing.

At first I fully expected Richard just to dismiss the whole thing and tell me to stop wasting my time; plenty more fish in the sea, that sort of thing. But on the contrary, he was quite intrigued by the whole set-up.

‘And apart from the one meeting with the sister, none of the family have seen her?’

‘So Lee says... it doesn’t make any sense; I don’t understand what’s happened.’

Richard shrugged, then took another sip from his drink. ‘Was there anything wrong with her, Michael? You know, any weird behaviour?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh come on, you know what I’m talking about. Was she big into drugs? Any strange requests in the bedroom? Anything that might point to instability?’

I paused for a moment. I hadn’t wanted to go into details, but I could tell Richard was genuinely trying to help. ‘Well, there was one thing.’

‘Yeah?’

‘She sometimes acted strangely after we’d made love. She seemed to think I was going to hit her; she’d get really upset, and terribly withdrawn. I couldn’t convince her otherwise. It was a bit like being with a schizophrenic. It only happened twice...’

‘Wait a minute.
Did
you used to rough her up a little?’

‘Richard, be serious.’

‘Well I don’t know, do I. Different strokes and all that.’

‘There was absolutely nothing violent in my behaviour towards her. I gave her no reason to think I might hurt her.’

‘And you don’t think she was a junkie.’

‘No. She liked her booze, but that was about it. She didn’t even smoke dope.’

Richard took a deep breath and stared at the table. ‘You’re hooked, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose you could say that.’

‘You sure she’s worth all this worry?’

‘Of course I am. Look at me, Richard; would I be confiding in you if I wasn’t sure?’

Richard nodded a couple of times and scratched his head. He looked uncomfortable.

‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’

Richard sighed. ‘I’m just looking at the facts, Michael. She’s not really living in the real world, is she? She’s made up some fantasy about her home life, about her family, about her friends. She told you she had a degree when she never even went to university. She also told you she was a virgin, and from what you’ve told me, there’s no
way
she was as pure and innocent as she claimed. Besides, her sister said that she was living with someone, right?’

‘She thought so, but she didn’t actually know. Besides, that was eighteen months ago.’

‘Well, I think it’s safe to assume there’s a bloke in the picture somewhere. If this woman is as mind-blowingly gorgeous as you claim, it’s unlikely she’d have had three years away from home without some sort of liaison. She’s also, from what you say, suffering from a quite unreasonable belief that you’re going to beat her up after sex. And now she’s disappeared. Now, you can check with your mate Rachel about this, but it sounds to me like this chick is both a pathological liar and a paranoid schizophrenic.’

‘I haven’t told you all this so that you can make a diagnosis...’

‘Listen, you arsehole. All I’m saying is, no matter how beautiful this woman is, do you really want to get involved with someone who’s that unbalanced? Because if the answer is yes, then you’ve got a number of problems on your hands. First, you have to find her. The very fact that she hasn’t contacted you suggests to me that, regardless of what happened in India, she’s changed her mind about being with you. There could be any number of reasons, but whatever they are it’s going to be an uphill struggle. Second, just supposing you do get together, what then? How do you know she won’t just walk out on you again? Third, what if there is really something wrong with this woman? Something serious, organic, whatever they call it. What if she’s nuts?’

‘Richard!’

‘I’m just trying to point out that this isn’t some sort of game, Michael, that if you intend to do anything about this, you may be letting yourself in for more than you bargained for. Finally, there may be someone else in the picture, another bloke. Now come on, Michael, do you really want all those hassles?’

I finished the Scotch and Dry. ‘What I want is some help. And another drink.’

‘It’s your round. As for help, what can I do?’

‘I don’t know. I just thought you might have some ideas as to how I might find her.’

Richard shook his head. ‘Michael, you dragged me over here to ask for some advice. And my advice is, do nothing. If she gets in touch with you, then take it from there, but for fucksake, be careful.’