Free Dancing In The Shadows of Love by Judy Croome Page B

Little Flower’s ezomo forever.
    And there was Enoch. He, too, was real, and precious. The new Prior , young Ajani, slender but with a hint of the portliness that would plague him in his older years already showing around his waist, would chant the liturgy with off-key enthusiasm. And I, I would dream of Enoch and the solid safety of his arms around me as the world exploded into an anarchy of blood and dust and wildly neighing horses.
    Beautiful Enoch, sitting next to Grace at the other end of the pitha . Always next to Grace, but never next to me.
    • • •
     
    A light touch on my wrist reminded me that I sat, not in the pithas of the Court of St Jerome, but keeping a solitary watch in the small private hospital room that was my Daddy’s home.
    ‘Visiting hours are over, Mrs Templeton,’ the young nurse said. She might have been attractive if freckles hadn’t covered her face and the white cap she wore had not scraped her hair back. ‘Was there any sign today?’
    ‘No movement.’
    I rose and gathered my belongings. The small suitcase with the dirty pyjamas I had to wash and return; my handbag and my jersey, in case the weather turned while I was here, as it often did when the sea was angry at this old city. ‘Thank you,’ I added and smiled as she rushed to help me. I must have captured Grace’s graciousness correctly this time, for she blushed. Her mouth opened and closed until she couldn’t stop the words she wanted to speak.
    ‘You’re such a good person, Mrs Templeton,’ she blurted. Her freckles turned a deeper brown at her own temerity. ‘To visit so often.’
    ‘I know my duty,’ I said abruptly.
    ‘He’s lucky you love him so much. Too many of our patients never have any visitors, especially those who’ve been here as long as your uncle has.’
    Her words disturbed me and Little Flower shifted uneasily when she heard the talk of love. She coveted it too much and, Enoch too, and so it tempted her ezomo . I clutched the suitcase harder, shifting closer to the door as I struggled to keep her tamed. To remind Little Flower of the truth, and to snub the nurse and her stupid talk of loving this empty man lying on the bed, I repeated, ‘It’s a duty. That’s all: duty. Love has nothing to do with it.’
    I left the room in a rush, for the look in the young nurse’s eyes changed from admiration to an unbearable pity. What was there to pity about me? Zahra was strong; she would always be stronger than Little Flower. The curse called love, which consumed Little Flower’s life, would never touch me. Not ever. Not as long as Zahra kept love at bay and kept herself strong and safe, an island in a stormy sea.
    • • •
     
    I saw Enoch again when he brought Grace to clear out Elijah’s meagre possessions. Enoch rested his palm protectively in the small of her back and guided her away from me. They went to the back of the house where the servants’ quarters stood, tucked out of sight of those who didn’t care to look too closely at what didn’t concern them.
    It ate away at me. Here was another who revered Grace, that mad old woman who saw the Spirit King in her dreams and talked to angels in my sitting room. I watched until they disappeared before returning to the mansion, which used to belong to Grace but was now mine, and I called for the servants.
    When Enoch brought Grace back, I was ready.
    ‘Come inside for tea and crumpets,’ I said.
    ‘My favourites? Crumpets?’ Grace asked. ‘Not macaroons?’
    I heard she was pleased, but I watched Enoch, not her. He blinked with a surprise that pleased me; a veil dropped off his eyes, those eyes that peered into me from the depths of an ocean that inexorably beckoned me into unchartered waters. I dropped my gaze, half-afraid he saw into my secrets and realised I made the crumpets, not to please Grace, but to please him.
    I took Grace’s arm and helped her up the stairs. ‘Crumpets. Your favourites, Grace, made especially for you.’
    I