Puzzled

Perhaps I should just push this episode into the backstreet of my memory and forget all about it.

The church clock strikes the hour.

The midnight mess over, devoted parishioners are flocking out of the church onto the street.

I watch snowflakes dance in the dim light of London street-lamps for a little while then come to my Christmas tree.

I take the present Nicolas has brought me and look at it, tempting myself. I could open it right now. The Christmas Day has already arrived. But then I change my mind.

What am I? A kid?

Surely, I can wait till breakfast. I put the present back under the tree and walk out of the room.

Episode 9 – The possible and the impossible

Monte Carlo, 24 December 2010

The dinner is in full swing now, but the place of Angela Du Monde remains unoccupied.

An odd thought flashes across my mind: what if we are somehow connected?

I glance at her chair again.

But what is there to be connected to? The chair? Or the black card with her name embossed in gold?

Besides, I’ve never seen her in my life and for that matter it’s highly unlikely will see her in the future. And yet, her absence seems to hold some power over me.

I must have drunk too much. Or it must have been the toast about love that Monsieur Moreau intrigued me with. Either way, I keep on thinking of possible what if scenarios.

“My dear Luke, you appear to be tormented by something.” I hear Monsieur Moreau addressing me.

“No, why?” I utter, trying to focus on my dessert, a crème brulee[7 - Crème brûlée, also known as burnt cream, crema catalana, or Trinity cream, is a dessert consisting of a rich custard base topped with a contrasting layer of hard caramel.] that I can’t stand.

“Forgive me, but I couldn’t help but notice that while talking to me you kept throwing rather interested glances at the chair on your left.”

My cheeks turn red.

“I didn’t know you could read people’s minds.” I say.

“I can’t, but it is written all over your face.”

“Really?” I look up at him.

He meets my eyes. Drawing deeply on his cigar, he lets the smoke out through his nostrils then nods.

“Yes, really.”

He puts his cigar aside, takes up the coffee cup and raises it to his lips. A diamond of his cufflink flickers knowingly at me.

We sit in silence for a bit.

Monsieur Moreau finishes his coffee and says:

“If I were you, I’d take the card and would find out as much as I can about this lady. In fact, I’d find everything possible and even the impossible about her.”

He stands up and stretches his hand out to me. Jumping to my feet, I give it a shake, then grab the card and slip it into the pocket of my trousers.

Episode 10 – Déjà Vu

Monte Carlo, 24 December 2010

It is midnight.

Finally, maman’s guests start leaving.

The dining room deserted, the only signs of their presence left are the unfinished wine in crystal glasses, heaps of creased napkins, and remnants of melted candles on the tables.

I go up to my room.

The storm has calmed down, but the droplets of rain haven’t dried out on the windows yet.

I take off my tux, untie the bow and undo the collar of the shirt, finally freeing my neck from its starched clutch.

Lying down on the bed, I take the card out and study the name written on it.

“Where could I have seen or heard it before?”

But no matter how much I try I don’t seem to be able to recall anything of relevant nature. Yet, I somehow feel that I know the woman whose name is embossed in gold on the card. Though, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone called Angela Du Monde, at least not at the dinners, suppers or balls that have been organised by maman.

And even outside these festivities I don’t remember meeting any Angela. Unless, without me having realised it, our life paths happened to cross somehow.

I, of course, can enquire about it of maman. But chances are she will misinterpret my interest.

I’d better deal with it myself…

Hearing the knock on the door, I slip the card back into my pocket.

The door opens and in peers maman.

“Chéri, are you asleep?” She asks.

“No.”

She enters the room.

“You’ve been such a darling tonight.” She says.

I give her a grin.