Eighty Days Blue Read Online Free PDF Page A

me.’
    â€˜Well,’ he smiled, ‘at least we’re in agreement.’
    â€˜So it’s settled, then?’
    â€˜You mean, it’s settled that nothing is settled?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’ll come and visit again, enjoy the orchestra, make the most of New York. I mean that – make the most of it, in any way that you want to. But you must keep me informed, as we agreed.’
    He ordered another espresso, and I asked for another Bloody Mary. I didn’t plan to get drunk in front of him, but the spice and the vodka took the edge off the wave of misery that I felt rushing closer with each minute that drew us closer to the time he had to go.
    We spent the rest of the afternoon in Caffe Vivaldi, drinking coffee, talking and laughing, listening to the pianist playing Billy Joel in the background. Dominik had already checked out of the hotel, and he only had a carry-on overnight bag with him. He travelled light, like I did.
    When the time came for him to go, I walked with him back to the steps of the hotel on Waverly Place where the limo he had hired for the airport run was already waiting.
    His kiss goodbye was brief, soft, affectionate.
    A lover’s kiss.

2
    After Summer, Autumn
    The cab dropped Dominik off at the porch of his North London house. He hadn’t managed to get much sleep during the overnight flight from New York: too many thoughts clouding his brain, memories swirling like a personal tsunami of emotion.
    It was still early morning. A slight drizzle was carried by the wind and peppered the swaying trees of the heath nearby.
    He unlocked the door, walked into the hall and, following the customary beeps, cancelled the alarm system.
    Dropping his carry-on bag and his laptop case to the floor, he kicked off his shoes and was awed by the silence now surrounding him. With the door closed, outside sound was banished – bird cries, the rustling of leaves in the trees welcoming the rain, the sparse traffic on the hill and all evidence of day-to-day life.
    It felt like a terrible weight was falling on his shoulders.
    Dominik realised it was the awful pressure of loneliness. Now that he was alone, in his own house, sheltered among the bookshelves and familiar sights, he felt bereft. From the moment they had parted in Manhattan, when the limo had come to pick him up, all the way to JFK and the bustle of check-in, security and airport queues, the presence of others had steered his mind away from the fact that he had left Summer on her own. In another city. Not helpless, but abandoned. With her demons, her contradictions, those wondrous appetites he both craved and feared.
    Would he have been so attracted to her, felt the flutter of romantic intentions had she not been so different, imperfect, dangerous to know?
    Could he have fallen for her if she’d been meek and responsible, like so many other women he had been with?
    No, if this was love, it was the sort of love that is unconditional. He had to accept her waywardness. In fact, he wanted her to be a free spirit, a sexual adventuress.
    For the first time in five days, Dominik had time to reflect.
    And it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation and its paradoxes.
    He checked his diary. His next lecture was the following day. He had only missed a couple of tutorials by dashing so impulsively to New York. He knew there would be no problem rescheduling them, with all the time still left before the students’ finals.
    He needed a shower. Shedding the clothes he had travelled in as he walked up the stairs to the bathroom at the end of the long corridor, Dominik tried to order his mind.
    He stood still under the water rivulets, watching the sweat invisibly pearl down his body all the way to his feet. He washed away his exertions and unknown sins, purposefully blanking out the world. He focused on the way the hold-ups had left a pink band across Summer’s pale flesh when he had finally released her from