Free The Man Behind the Mask by Maggie Cox

a bend in the road—especiallyin the countryside—I wonder what adventures may be waiting round the corner! Aren’t you at all curious?’ As she came to an abrupt stop, the incredulity on her face was plain to see.
    â€˜Not so far,’ he admitted. ‘And as for adventures…they are not something I per son ally crave.’ Almost without his realising it, Eduardo’s glance travelled down towards his injured leg and the cane he leaned on to help support it.
    â€˜You mean because of your leg?’ Marianne deduced.
    So far she had been extraordinarily polite when it came to not enquiring about his injury, but now he himself had in advertently brought the subject to her attention. Momentarily his exasperation with himself knew no bounds. A large black crow streaked across the sky, cawing. The discordant sound seemed to amplify the tension inside him. Worryingly, the tight control that he kept coiled inside threatened to unravel at the claustrophobic and discomfiting sensation of being under siege.
    â€˜The weather seems to be worsening. Perhaps it would be best if we returned to the house.’ His voice sounded cold and disconnected even to his own ears.
    â€˜Does it give you a lot of pain?’ Gentle concern shone from Marianne’s eyes, and Eduardo felt frighteningly cornered. Snow continued to fall—fat icy flakes bombarding them, turning them into human snowmen. ‘I would rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.’
    â€˜I only ask because I’m concerned.’
    â€˜Then please do not be!’
    â€˜I’m sorry if you think I’m invading your privacy. I don’t mean to. It’s just that—well…if you’re ill, and it’s something serious, it might be helpful for me to know that.’
    â€˜That is where you are wrong !’ Now Eduardo was furious—at her, and at himself for suggesting she accompany him in the first place. ‘I have heard that the off spring of alcoholics often feel the need to try and fix the problems of others. Please do not make the arrogant mistake of thinking that you can fix mine!’
    And with that he found himself turning back towards the bridge they had just crossed, more self-conscious than ever that his injured leg impeded more rapid progress, and angry too because he had lost control and lashed out at Marianne per son ally. Her father was lying either dead or drunk under a bridge some where, and she’d clearly been traumatised by an upbringing with parents that he deduced had been too self-absorbed even to notice their daughter’s distress…else why had she ended up singing at the roadside for a living? He simply had no right to vent at her as he just had, whether he was feeling over whelmed or not .
    He didn’t think that he had ever disliked himself more than he did right then. Except for the day of the accident, that was…that day he had positively hated himself…
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    Marianne was certain she must have polished the same spot on the grand mahogany side board at least a dozentimes, if not more. As the light was leeched from the sky and fires lit and curtains drawn Eduardo’s angry words bounced round her brain like a ping-pong ball run amok. I’ve heard that the off spring of alcoholics often feel the need to fix the problems of others… As well as putting her firmly in her place, the brutal words had sent her thoughts hurtling towards the past again…but this time with startling new insight. Was that what she had tried to do with everyone she loved? Fix their problems? As if she didn’t deserve hap pi ness unless she could somehow make everything right for everyone else?
    Was that why she had stayed with her father instead of seizing a chance of hap pi ness with her mother in a new country, with a different life from the painful existence she’d endured for so long? Her mother still wrote to her, pleading with her to join her and