*
Eve strolled aimlessly around the garden, the time approaching midnight, it was quite dark; the only light coming from the house windows. She was abjectly bored, feeling both lonely and ancient. She kicked petulantly at the small flowers and shrubs as she passed them. She knew what she needed and hated herself for it. It was one of those times, which occurred, mercifully for her, only rarely, when she saw herself as a parasitic monster preying on humanity. Many times she'd argued with herself saying that she had as much right to live as anybody else, it was not her fault that she needed to kill in order to live!
Tonight her sadness was very deep, nothing seemed to please her or excite her any more. She existed merely to survive. Her melancholy reverie was suddenly broken by the appearance of a ghost.
A small silvery figure danced across the lawn in front of her. Eve was rarely surprised but the sight of the pale creature skipping and scampering this way and that way left her staring open-mouthed, of course she quickly realised that it was Cairo but that did not diminish the sense of surprise and wonder. The sudden thought that Cairo might be ‘growing up’ came as an even bigger shock. She watched, mesmerised, as her daughter drew nearer.
“Hello mother. What are you doing out here?” Cairo asked cheerfully as she drifted past like a flash of living silver moonlight. The word ‘mother’ hit Eve like a brick. It seemed like only yesterday that she'd given birth to the tiny girl on that tempestuous night in Egypt. And now she was... how old? She could not remember.
“I've neglected you.” She said simply and sadly, and then the anger came back. She hated herself and everyone else, it was time to hurt again.
Cairo couldn't possibly have heard her as she cartwheeled around the waterless fountain. She circled and reappeared breathlessly in front of Eve,
“Have you come to talk, mother?”
“Don't call me that.”
“What? Call you what?”
“You know, mother...” She sneered at the word, adding, “...You haven’t got a mother.” She turned away as if to ignore her but Cairo quickly moved in front of her and daringly placed a cool palm on her mothers forehead,
“You are acting strange tonight, are you getting sick?” Neither of them had ever known a day's illness. Eve heaved an apparently bored sigh,
“Leave me alone little girl, I don’t know you.” She tried to be hurtful but Cairo’s spirits were too high to be dented that easily,
“I don't understand, what’s wrong with you?” Cairo was becoming concerned, her mother appeared to be upset, it was not an emotion she'd seen her mother display before. Eve replied quietly staring into the empty fountain pool.
“Perhaps I am becoming sick, or maybe just sick of life.”
“Oh mother! Don't be so silly, you'll always have me to turn to.” At that remark Eve stiffened further,
“That's just it, foolish girl...” she hissed, “...I won’t! You won't always be there, because one day you will die. Just like all the others. It seems like a long way off now but before I know it you will be a stiff white corpse, like all the others. Everyone dies.”
Cairo paused in thought for a moment before asking,
“So how many children have you had then?” Eve paused for several seconds as if stung, then answered in a calm, distant voice,
“Not that many, not really, when you think of all the time I’ve had...” She remembered a child born just after the war and instantly repressed the thought, “...I can’t remember much about them anyway. They all died, I know that much. One way or another, whatever I did, they all died. Just like you will.”
Cairo paused again before making her reply. She spoke more softly than before as if she was unsure of herself,
“Maybe I won’t. Do you remember a few days ago when Mr Underhill saved me from those horrid dogs?” Eve looked up, her eyes narrowing, and nodded while Cairo continued,
“Well, when poor Mr Underhill was suffering terribly from the pain of the dog bites... I could feel something. I started to feel strong. Somewhere inside me I felt good. I can't explain it. But when I moved away from him the feeling became weaker, it almost made me want to hurt him some more. It was very hard to resist-” Cairo trailed off, unable to explain herself. Looking up she saw her mother's face lit up briefly by the light from an upstairs window, her expression a terrifying mask of pity and shame.
“It appears that the curse is complete.” Eve whispered the words.
“I'm going to be like you aren’t I? Aren't I mother?” Cairo moved closer, taking her mother by the arms and gently shaking her. Eve recoiled angrily like a startled cat.
“Don’t touch me!...” She hissed at her daughter, “…you know I hate to be touched!” She’d thrown off Cairo’s hands and pushed her away from the fountain.
In his hiding place across the lawn, beneath the slender willow branches, Mr Underhill braced himself, his fists clenched tight. He could not hear what they were saying but their movements told him that they were arguing.
Eve pointed an accusing finger at Cairo and stepped forward, with each step forward Cairo stepped backwards, they were crossing the lawn towards the willow. It was Eve's voice that Mr Underhill heard first,
“You are not going to be like me! Why do you think I've kept you away from people all your life! You're not going down that the same road to hell that I went…” Eve was becoming increasingly agitated, every thought she had making her more angry, “…Like I told you, I've had children before, and, one way or another, they all died!
YOU… they moved one step
ARE… another step
NOT… step,
LIKE… step,
ME!” Her pointing finger had turned to a fist and she seemed about to punch her daughter in the face when, with an almost inaudible rush Mr Underhill stepped out of hiding behind Cairo. Mother and daughter were both startled by his sudden huge dark presence, Cairo was first to recognise him and quickly pressed herself close against him, he felt as solid and immovable as her tree. Eve had stopped in her tracks, staring up at the huge man's grim face. She’d been in many dangerous situations before and did not feel in the least intimidated after she had recognised him. She was, however, lost for words.
“I'll talk to you tomorrow!” She rounded and headed back towards the house, calling over her shoulder,
“And I think it's past your bedtime!”
The house in the Countryside
The phone rang.
“Sir Clive?”
“Giles my dear old chap! I didn't expect to hear from you so soon!”
“Are you okay to talk?”
“Yes yes, go ahead old chap.”
“Well, the goods you asked me about, you know what I mean? The Bangkok Chappie says that they're actually in stock right now, in his warehouse in London, so to speak.”
“Wonderful.” Sir Clive rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Yes. He says you can pick them up tonight if you wish.”
“Yes, yes indeed! I certainly will. Where from?”
“At the Excelsior. ‘Usual terms’ he said.”
“Yes yes yes very good. What time?”
“He suggested 11:00.”
“Excellent! Thank you very much old chap, I'll look after you for this, don't you worry!”
“Thank you, but there is one more thing Sir Clive, apparently they hardly speak any English. Is that going to pose a problem?”
“Oh no, no problem at all, perfect in fact! I won’t be requiring them to use their mouths, well not for talking anyway! Ha!”
Richard, near Shillingham
Richard and Tsuba set off into the woods in the early morning sunlight, Richard was instantly amazed at how quietly Tsuba moved through the quite dense forest. They had with them a map and compass, a bottle of water, binoculars and Tsuba's great Tanto knife on a sling inside his jacket. The plan was to survey the house and the surrounding area and maybe get an idea of who was in the house at the moment, Richard had a penci
l and paper inside his jacket pocket for making notes and diagrams. He felt slightly ridiculous creeping through the trees and once again asked himself why he hadn't gone to the police. He answered himself when images of Susan and Philip came into his mind, he quickly switched off, not wanting to imagine what might have happened and continued walking mechanically.
“You are very quiet my friend.” Tsuba murmured softly, only a fraction louder than the rustle of the leaves, Richard still heard him quite clearly.
“I'm trying not to think.” By comparison Richard's voice sounded loud and harsh, he softened it and turned to Tsuba, asking,
“Tell me again what you know about Eve, can she really be that old? Do you really think it’s possible?” Tsuba's answer both confounded and greatly irritated Richard.
“But from Ebese create he can
Forms more real than living man,
Nurselings of Immortality.” Richard glared at him, retorting in a harsh whisper,
“Just stuff it, okay? Stuff it sideways!...” He jabbed a finger towards Tsuba, “... If you're going to quote effing Shakespeare every time I ask you a straight question then I'd rather we didn't talk at all!”
Tsuba glanced at Richard with amusement glinting in his eyes,
“Shakespeare?...” He laughed gently, “…I think not my friend...” He laughed a little further and stepped away before uttering,
'Dress'd in a little brief authority
Most ignorant of what he's most assur’d'. That, my friend, was Shakespeare.”
They didn't talk again for some time.
Walther's boat
“So tell me some more about your inheritance.” Susan asked Walther. They had moored for a while, Walther had pinpointed their position as,
“Somewhere between Chertsey and Staines.” and they were having a light lunch.
He finished his sandwich and, while still chewing, began rummaging inside a drawer,
“Here it is.” He produced a map of Hungary, unfolding it carefully he laid it on the table in front of Susan, he sat across from her and looked at it upside down.
“See here.” He pointed to the city of Pecs in the south-west of the country.
“My home is a few kilometres to the south-east of the city, roughly half-way between Pecs and the Danube. It is a beautiful land that yields excellent grapes, our wines are very good.” She could tell that he was proud of his homeland, looking into his face she could see a trace of wistfulness, as if he was a little homesick. It was another conversation that rapidly dried up.
After a little while Susan cleared up the lunch things saying,
“I think we'd better get moving again, don't you?” Walther agreed and got the engine going.
The house in the Countryside
Eve thought about Cairo. About Cairo's father. And wept. No sound, not even a shudder as they spilled down her face, the tears of regret.
She thought of the time she had spent with Tsuba, how the years had slipped by, how she had become a little tired of his simple honesty when she met Erik. The wiry blond archaeologist with a fondness for drink and sex. The two men could not have been more opposite. She loved them both, and enjoyed herself. But it could not last, and the ultimatums were made. She would not choose between them and so chose neither, running away in the night. Pregnant.
It was Erik who found her, months later in the city of Cairo.
“It's yours.” She had said, indicating her bump. He stayed close to her from then, babbling about the future. And when the baby was born thrilling at his little girl's black hair and how much she looked like her mother. As ever, love was blind.