The Mad British (34 page)

Valentine’s Day

DAWN IS BREAKING, and Paris is waking up beneath us down below.

We must have fallen asleep last night on the padded lounge chair on the balcony of our hotel. I watch as the city comes alive again, the sky turning from grey to lavender, and then to a light blue. I wonder if Adelaide can capture this moment for me.

Behind her, I stir, slowly waking up with a stretch. She turns her head and presses a kiss to my chin. “Morning, sleepy head.”

"I love you." My voice is gravelly, my throat and mouth dry from all the drinking and sex from the previous night. I reach out and fumble for my glasses on the side table before realising they were on my face.

Adelaide presses her head against my chest, chewing the end of her pencil with her sketchpad in her hand.

"You finished?"

"Almost. There’s only one more picture to complete before I show your sister.”

"How does it end?"

Underneath the blanket, Adelaide presses her bare feet against my shins. "It's a fairy tale. How do you think it ends?"

I give her a long look from behind my glasses. "Happily ever after?"

"Really?"

"Sure." I shift round. "All of Camilla's books have been about bunnies and fairies and shit."

"It's not shit," she chastises me, flipping her sketchpad to the beginning. "Here's how it starts: There once was a princess who lived on the moon."

I yawn. "The moon? How did she breathe?"

"What do you mean 'how did she breathe'?"

"There's no atmosphere on the moon. It's just a dead hunk of rock."

"No it's not. And this is a
story.
Ever heard of the phrase: Suspension of disbelief? It’s fiction. Don't be so pedantic and buy yourself an imagination, James."

"So is this before or after Neil Armstrong gets there?"

Adelaide rolls her eyes, realising I’m only teasing her. "Oh shut up. Anyway: There was a princess who lived on the moon." She holds out the pad so I can see she used my sister as a model for the princess, but has given her a very unusual hairstyle. "And then one night she was out in her garden and she looked down to Earth and saw a prince sleeping. He was so handsome that she fell in love with him instantly."

“Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

“She saw him for what? Two seconds and then she was in love?”

“Yeah. Maybe he’s really ripped like you with sexy ink.”

I shake my head. “What if he’s a serial killer?”

“James, why would there be a serial killer in a children’s book?”

“It’s my sister’s. Anything could happen.” I reach across her, angling the pad to get a better look. "Wait a second, that's Preston."

"Well yeah, genius. If Camilla is the Princess then Preston has to be the Prince."

"He’s more of a princess," I note. "But yeah, keep going, love."

She clears her throat. "The Princess was madly in love with the Prince, but she couldn't speak to him—”

“So no mobile phones on the moon then?”

“
James
.”

“Hey, you said to get an imagination.”

“Anyway,” she says, digging her elbow into my side. “So she told her friends, who were her guardians, and they agreed to use their magic to help her. But—" She flips the page. "Little did she know that the Prince had glanced up at the moon and saw her, and thought that she was so beautiful so he fell in love with her.” Adelaide looks up at me and catches me rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I know, they're both kind of superficial that way.” She shakes her head and goes back to the story. “Anyway, the Prince told his friends, who were also his guardians—I like the hair on that one, don't you?—and they agreed to use their magic to help their prince send a message to his beloved."

"Morse code."

"What?"

"Morse code. They should have tried a bright light and a big reflective surface. Easier than magic."

"My God, you are square." She elbows me playfully in the side again. "Anyway, the Princess's guardians and the Prince's guardians tried to use their magic to bring the two together, but they didn't have enough power. The Princess's guardians turned into precious jewels, and the Prince's guardians turned into trees."

"Well that sucks."

"It really does. Look." She flips the pad again. "A ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, and a golden pearl was all the Princess had left of her friends, and the Prince now had an oak, a pine, a cherry, and an apple tree where his guardians once stood. The Princess tried to change them back, but she could not. Heartbroken, she made a golden crown and set the jewels in it. Meanwhile on Earth, the Prince picked leaves from the trees and wove them into a crown of his own.

“When the Princess woke up the next day, her crown was gone, and in its place was a crown of leaves. She put the crown on her head, and suddenly, she could hear the voices of the Prince's guardians, and they told her that she had to go to Earth and find the Prince, and be with him. She begged them to tell her how to find her friends again, and they said that the answer lies with the Prince.

“Meanwhile on Earth, the Prince woke and found a golden crown with four stones set in it. He put the crown on, and like the Princess, could hear her guardians speak to him. They told him danger was coming, and that he had to stay strong and wait for the Princess to rescue him from a hideous fate."

"Wait. The Princess has to rescue the Prince? That changes it up a bit."

Adelaide smiles. "It's a different kind of fairy tale. This Prince always needs rescuing."

"He just needs better friends to keep him out of trouble."

"It's not their fault; he is the Prince. He can tell them to do whatever and they have to do it because he’s their boss."

I snort. "I'd kill the little shit."

"You would not; you'd listen. Anyway, the Princess used the magic that the crown of leaves gave her and went down to Earth. There she encountered many dangers. . . There’s no text here, just pictures."

I squint down at the page. "You didn't."

"What?" she replies, innocently.

I blow out a breath and point toward one of the princesses. "That looks like my mother."

"Oh, no it's you as a woman." She giggles.

My eyes fly open. "You drew me as a woman?" I grab the sketchpad and push it closer to my face. "Okay, you drew your brother as a woman, as well. I’ll let you live."

"No, that's my mother when she was young. Anyway, here's all the pretty parts, and then we have the Prince meeting a witch who promised to bring his guardians back. The spirits in the crown of jewels told him not to, but he didn't listen. The witch bound their agreement by magic, and then burned down the trees."

"Doesn't that negate the contract?" I ask, ever the businessman.

"Baby, she's an evil witch. They don't play by the rules. So the Princess made her way to Earth and disguised herself as a serving maid in the kitchens. That same night she saw the witch burn down the trees, and she heard the Prince's men tell her with their dying breath that the way to rescue the Prince was to have the witch wear the crown of jewels. She was heartbroken that she had lost her companions, and so she buried the crown of leaves in the ashes of the trees.

“The next morning, the Princess served him breakfast and revealed who she was. He declared his love for her and promised to marry her. The witch discovered that the serving girl was actually a princess, and dragged her outside to hang her."

"Hang her? Jesus, my sister’s mad."

"Must run in the family. The witch brought her to the four trees, which had miraculously grown overnight. The witch was hanging the rope from the oak tree when the Prince rushed out to save the Princess. The spirits of the girls in the crown told him to give the crown to the witch and agree to marry the witch. The Prince didn't want to, but the girls insisted, even though it meant their lives would be forfeit.

“He handed the crown over to the witch, who cackled with delight and placed the crown on her head. At that moment, dark clouds gathered and the spirits of the girls in the jewels used the last of their powers to call down lightning. It struck the witch and killed her instantly, and the jewels turned into coal. The Prince and Princess were free to marry, but they were heartbroken to lose their friends.

“The Prince buried the lumps of coal under the trees, and the morning after their wedding, they woke to find golden pearls in the branches of the oak tree where acorns usually grew, emeralds in the pine tree in place of cones, sapphires among the pink blossoms of the cherry tree, and rubies in the middle of apples cut from the apple tree. They married and lived for many years, but always with sadness in their hearts from losing their friends."

I feel like I’ve swallowed a porcupine, though I’ll never admit it. "That can't be the end."

I HAD FINALLY persuaded James to venture outside of the hotel for our one-year anniversary, after dosing him with lots and lots of caffeine. We’re in our forth exhibit and he’s getting a little antsy.

"Come here," I say, pulling him over by his elbow. A grin has been affixed to my face the moment we’d entered the glass pyramid. "My favourite."

James looks up at the statue rising above him. "She’s bigger than I thought she’d be."

"A lot of people say that. Did you know she was originally holding an apple?"

"I do now." He glances around restlessly, showcasing classic symptoms of museum fatigue. I should really give him a break, especially since I’d kept him up so late the previous night.

I focus my attention back on the Venus de Milo. "The guy took it from her because she offered him the love of the most beautiful woman in the world. Isn't that utterly romantic?"

"Yeah, until they started a war."

"Oh stop, it's cute." My eyes stop on the curve of the statue's hips. "I wonder who she was modelled after."

"Huh?"

"Most of the depictions of Venus were modelled after a real person." I peer up into the statue's blank eyes. "Since, well, Greek goddesses aren't real, and it's an easy way of protecting a lady's privacy. That's why even in the Renaissance, when they didn't believe in the Olympians any more, you still see pictures of her. The artist could use whomever he desired, especially if it was someone who was uh, off-limits, and Venus would keep his secret."

James digs through my handbag. "Did you throw my passport in here?"

"Oh my God, can you even feign interest?"

His head pops up. "I'll feign it better if I can get some proper English tea in me, love."

I feel myself smile despite myself. "Fine, go. I'll wait for you here."

He kisses the corner of my mouth and wades through the Japanese tour group that’s parked in front of Venus. I cross the room to get to a better vantage point and reach for my bag. "Crap."

Thirty seconds later, James re-enters the room, my oversized handbag in tow. "Sorry," he says, handing my bag over, and dives back through the throng of Crocs and video cameras.

My hair gets in the way when I bend to rummage through my gigantic bag, pulling out items as I search for my pencils. It was an unwise choice to stuff so much in a single bag, and my left shoulder had been aching until James had graciously offered to carry it for me. At the two-hour mark, he’d started grumbling about how it felt like it was packed with bricks.

Maybe James and Paris aren’t a good mix. He’s been a little on edge from the moment the plane landed in France. I shrug it off and make a mental note to talk to him about it later.

The pencils are jammed right at the bottom. Typical. I find the sketchpad and reposition across the room from the statue, squeezing in between a German couple arguing over a guidebook and a Filipino girl with a Canadian-flag patch sewn on her bag.

What is that. . .?

There is something caught in the middle of my sketchpad. I open to that page to remove whatever it is—

Oh.

My.

Freaking.

God.

Shivers run rampant through my body and I drop my bag when the page flips open. My hand flies to my mouth as my brain tries to process what’s happening, wondering if it’s a joke, but it can’t be, because that would just be. . .

Taped to the top of the page is a ring, hewn in unpolished yellow gold, with a diamond, the colour of morning sunshine, sparkling in the middle. The rest of the white space is occupied by a charcoal sketch of a stick figure with a Pac-man-shaped head, an artist of whose work I am very familiar with.

A speech bubble is flying out of its mouth:
Will you marry me?

Bright, hot tears fill my eyes as I read the postscript:
Don't worry, love, it's a fair-trade from Canada and recycled gold. I know better—JH.

The German girl reaches down to pick up pencils and chocolate bars that are rolling across the floor from my spilled bag, and she must catch a glance of the sketch in my hands. "Here, you dropped—Ach mein gott!"

Her outburst catches the attention of the Canadian girl, who leans over and then squeals. "Holy girl, you just got proposed to. Robin. Rishi. Get over here. This girl just got proposed to."

I can barely register this, or the rush of Japanese tourists and an irritated docent who scurries over at the commotion. All I can feel is the heat rushing to my head and the feeling like I want to faint, or scream, or explode in a burst of light. But instead, I peel the ring away from the page and cup it in my trembling hand, a tiny object that holds a lifetime of promise.

I lift my head as a tear runs down my face, and there he is, my Picasso painting, surrounded by gawking tourists, and looking rather unsettled at the attention.

"I didn't bloody think there would be this many people around," he mutters, trying to ignore the middle-aged Japanese man holding up a video camera right in his face. "I was going to try something like the Eiffel Tower, but it seemed more appropriate here with. . .
her
."

He nods up at the Venus de Milo. "You said people would commission an artwork of a lady they loved and call it Venus to protect her identity. Well, you're mine, Adelaide, and you're real. If I could do what you could, you'd be my Venus." His lips lift in a small smile.
"
What’s that saying about ‘life is a work of art’? I don’t really understand it, but without a doubt, Adelaide, I know, I know my life was dull until you painted over it.”

The German girl starts crying and elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs. The Japanese tour guide must have translated what James had said, because th
e
women start sighing and more video cameras flip open to capture the moment.

“Camilla helped me come up with something to best describe how I feel about you, about how you’ve made me feel since you came into my life. . .” He swallows.
“
You are my queen, Adelaide; you conquered my lonely heart and took the throne to my soul. And now I feel like the King of the World.” He brings his hand up to caress the side of my face
.
“I love you. I don't know how to talk about it most of the time, but I do
.
You make me believe there's a colour out there that hasn’t been invented yet. A colour I only
want to discover with you
.
"

It feels like an explosion of butterflies in my tummy and I finally find my voice. "When. . . when did you do this?"

"In the loo."

"You gave me a loo picture?"

"
Adelaide, for the love of—would you just give me a bloody answer before I throw up or get permanently blinded by these flashing cameras?"

The grin bursts from my face like a ray of light. I flip the page on my sketchpad, dash out a few lines, and turn it round for him to see.

An identical stick figure with a bow on her Pac-man head says:
Yes.

He watches me, doing little to hide how speechless he is. His lips are already parted as his stare searches my face for one small moment, stretching time and splitting my world apart.

He bends down, his upper lip grazing mine, and a shaft of hot trembles echo down my body. And then he captures my lips between his, inhaling all of me with the one kiss as I follow his movement and latch lovingly onto his mouth. He kisses me just the way he knows how to get me flustered; deep long kisses that miss me, wait for me, kisses that travel to the centre of me, and spread out and through my body slowly, turning my tummy to mush.

Time no longer exists. Only love exists. It's eternal. Magical. Never ending. A place where dream killers no longer exist and dreams can come true. A place where victory lies and promises are made. A place where James Hatter lights my world on fire, a place I only want to exist with him.

He breaks slowly away, his mouth smiling against mine, his thumb resting in the indent at the corner of my mouth. The audience is going wild, a few wolf-whistles hollering out amongst the buzzing crowd. But nothing else matters, except this moment.

“I love you," he says. He kisses me breathless again and the words stumble out between an airy pause. “I love you so goddamn much.” Gazing up at my future, I lick my lips and feel the taste of him still lingering inside of me. “Always.”

My heart feels ready to spontaneously combust as I stare into his eyes and see nothing but unconditional love beaming back at me.
“
I lost myself in art, but I found myself in you. I love you, James.”

He brushes my hair away from my face, kissing the tip of my nose that wrinkles in return. “How did I get so lucky?”

My swollen lips tremble in the aftermath of his kiss, and my whole body feels out of control, but I still manage to cock an eyebrow, and tell him, “You wagered me in a card game.”

He shakes his head with a deep, throaty laugh, the one that makes all my troubles go away, and that familiar, sexy, cocky smile makes its appearance. “You ever going to get over that, love?”

“No. How can I? When it was the best thing to ever happen to me.”