Free Star Woman in Love by Piera Sarasini Page A

in Gordon Steward.”
    She knew who I was. Pictures of me and Gordon had been published in a number of papers when we were dating. What had he seen in her? I couldn’t quite figure out what the connection was between me, an ethereal spiritual presence, and her, a horrid butterfly-killer.
    “I see...,” you said.
    Gordon himself appeared. He was wearing a tweed jacket and a cap: every inch the country gent and golfing star, even when it was totally inappropriate.
    I hugged him. “Congratulations on your baby.” Then I introduced my present to my past: “Oscar O’Leary, Gordon Stewart.”
    Your studied him from under your long fringe, which you had parted slightly to one side. As you two stood face to face, my choice became obvious. Next to you, my ex looked diminished, uncouth and almost thuggish. You looked elegant, graceful and disarmingly open. You held my hand. We could ease into displays of affection even as new friends, just like the consumed lovers we were to become. I appreciated your thoughtfulness and how you wanted to protect me from the pain of being reminded of my past relationship. Love was in your grip, and I felt it: straight to my heart, right to the lock, protecting the Secret. You were the shield to my inner sanctum. When you touched me, the Key began to turn.
    Linda was talking to Polly about Edinburgh. She had lived there while she was at college. The conversation amounted to insignificant chit-chat. Gordon was putting on a male-bonding show, telling you how lucky you were to have met me, complimenting you – and not me! – on the way I looked and the dress I was wearing.
    His final remark was beyond a joke. “I miss her friendship,” he said.
    I had had enough of that nonsense. “Shut up, yours is just a farce,” I said.
    I stormed off without much of a goodbye or an explanation. Airs and graces would have been wasted on that idiot and his second-class lover. You and Polly followed me a couple of minutes later. You grabbed a bottle of champagne and three glass flutes on the way: a perfect escape.
    I sat on the entrance steps and looked at the sky. The moon was mesmerising in its fullness, just like the day when I was born. You sat behind me and caressed my head for a few seconds. Polly found her space a couple of steps below us. She had told you the details of my break-up with Gordon, including the fact that the sleaze-bag had been cheating on me with Linda. You had already guessed as much by yourself. You pulled a funny face at me and proposed a toast to forgetting the past.
    An hour later, we flagged a taxi and went back to the hotel in great spirits. You took us to the main door where we said goodbye. It was more of a ‘see you soon’ so I wasn’t sad. We arranged to meet up three days later in Edinburgh, on the film set of Joan of Arc. Your friend Layla was the protagonist. Some battle scenes were to be shot at Greyfriars’ Cemetery, a Templars’ place I wanted to show you. After a quick peck on each other’s cheeks, it was time to part. It was harder in the end than I’d expected. We hugged for a very long time. The taxi driver who was waiting for you looked bemused. When we let go of each other with strained smiles, you jumped into the cab and rolled down the window, pointing at the sky: “Look up: the moon is amazing!” I did: the moon was there and you were gone.
    I dashed up to the room. Polly’s smirk was like the Cheshire Cat’s.
    “Didn’t I tell you something was going to happen with Oscar O’Leary?”, she said.
    I wasn’t quite sure if what had happened between you and me was that ‘something’ she had in mind. I kept talking about you that night. At least if I talked about you, it was as if you were still there with me. From the first day we spent together, I realised that the space between us was just an illusion.
    * * * *
    We caught up with Cassandra and Oscar three days later, at Bobby’s Bar. We wanted to observe their interaction and check on their