Page 131 of A Night with Damien Spur

Warm on the inside and cold outside.

And then the music stopped. He was back in the control room: everybody clapping, Ariana smiling.

The engineer checked the sound. Hole in one.

Damien rushed down to the studio floor. Had he finally found his soulmate? Someone to cherish for the rest of his life, who would in turn give him what he really needed? Faith in humanity. Love requited.

Ariana took the guitar and laid it gently on the floor. Her face full of love, she opened her arms. Damien was overwhelmed. She moved towards him…

At last, a communion of passion and creativity. He was so close, a heartbeat away.

When she glided past him, into the arms of the mysterious blonde woman who had sat behind him in the control room, he turned away to hide the veil of pain and disappointment in his eyes.

And the Voice said gently, with some compassion,I told you so. Now show some good grace: go and congratulate her.

***

‘What’s it all for?’ Damien asked himself as he lay in bed, wide awake, jet-lagged at 5 a.m.

Now listen to me, said the Voice.No point in searching for love. Let it come to you.

‘Could be waiting a long time. Please, no more bloody cocktail parties. Can’t bear the chatterati and I hate standing. Good old Sartre got it right – hell is other people.’

Damien liked talking to himself. At least the Voice understood him.

‘I’m not sure that I know what love is anymore.’ He got out of bed and padded over to the balcony overlooking the illuminated pool below. Young men and women having a party, romancing, laughing, flirting in the moonlight. He thought, ofall the women he’d known, only Laura had reached his soul.

She was brilliant, he thought,a hot mind, but frozen in bed.

Yes, and you treated her as if she were a Ming vase. Bit of a turn-off, said the Voice.

‘And you’ll never let me forget it, will you?’

Just identifying your weak spot, said the Voice.Look at the patterns. Probably started with your mother. Couldn’t cope with childbirth. As soon as you were born, so the story goes, she pissed off to a sanatorium in Switzerland and left Dada to change your nappies.

‘Stop that.’

And then she returned. But she kept on disappearing. So you did your best to please. ‘Mummy, don’t go away,’ you cried. ‘I promise to be good.’

‘Be quiet, Damien,’she said. ‘I can’t stand it when you make a fuss. I’ll have to leave again.’

And she did, said the Voice.

‘That’s enough.’ Damien pulled a pillow over his head and rolled over into the foetal position.

Okay, you poor, wee bairn, so we’ll skip the mum/son bit and the adolescent fumbling. Let’s go straight for the biggies.

‘Do we have to? Can’t you let me rest in peace?’

No, we’re working here, we need to know why you always fall into the same hole. The Voice was getting stronger.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, go away. You’re giving me a headache.’

Damien sat up in bed, put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes. ‘Om shanti, shanti, shanti, om shanti, shanti,’ he chanted. But chanting a mantra couldn’t block out the Voice.

So let’s get back to Laura.Your wife was a liar, but you married her for better or for worse. The marriage of true minds, the Voice carried on relentlessly. But the truth was you bored her to buggery. She bided her time and, when she was ready, left you for a man’s man, who gave her a good seeing to.

Damien was in a sweat. ‘Okay, that’s enough,’ he said.

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