Page 11 of The Pearl Sister
‘Thanks.’ I poured myself a cup of coffee, then added two peat-brown sugar lumps.
‘Can I ask why you were being escorted by the security guards from the beach?’
‘I was sheltering from the storm in the Cave of the Princess. I . . . must have fallen asleep while I was waiting for it to stop.’ Pride prevented me from telling him the truth.
‘It was quite some storm,’ he said. ‘I like it when nature takes over, shows you who’s boss.’
‘So.’ I cleared my throat. ‘What do you do here?’
‘Oh . . .’ He took a sip of his black coffee. ‘Not a lot. I’m just taking some time out, you know?’
‘Great place to do it.’
‘You?’
‘Same.’ I reached for one of the buttery croissants. The smell reminded me so much of Claudia’s breakfasts at Atlantis, I almost forgot where I was.
‘What did you do before?’
‘I was at art college in London. It didn’t work out, so I left.’
‘Right. I live in London too . . . or at least, I did. On the river in Battersea.’
I looked at him in shock, wondering whether this whole episode was some kind of surreal dream and I was actually still asleep behind the scarlet phallus.
‘I live there too! In Battersea View – the new apartments that have just been built near Albert Bridge.’
‘I know exactly where you mean. Well, hello, neighbour.’ The Werewolf gave me his first genuine smile as he high-fived me. It lit up his weird blue eyes so he no longer looked like a werewolf, but more like a very skinny Tarzan.
I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat further back on the sofa so that only my feet dangled over the edge. I wished I didn’t have my boots on, then I could curl them beneath me and try to look as elegant as the surroundings decreed.
‘What a coincidence . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Someone told me once that in any country on earth, there’s only six degrees of separation between us and someone we know.’
‘I don’t know you,’ I pointed out.
‘You don’t?’ He eyed me for a few seconds, his expression suddenly serious.
‘Nope, should I?’
‘Er, no, I just wondered if maybe we’d bumped into each other on Albert Bridge or something,’ he mumbled.
‘Maybe. I used to cross it every day to walk to college.’
‘I was on my bike.’
‘Then I wouldn’t have recognised you if you were all done up in Lycra and a helmet.’
‘True.’
We both drained our coffees in awkward silence.
‘Are you going back there soon? Like, after New Year or something?’ I asked him eventually.
The Werewolf’s face darkened. ‘I don’t know. Depends on what happens . . . I’m trying to live for today. You?’
‘Same, though I’m meant to be going on to Australia.’
‘Been there, done that. Mind you, I was working and it’s never the same. All you get to see is the inside of hotels and offices, and a load of expensive restaurants. Corporate hospitality, you know?’
