by Simon Brown
“No, but I once heard her talk to Mathew about jazz clubs in Zurich.”
Mateo fidgeted with his yellow ball.
I asked someone from the club about the mailing list. I got the answer I expected. The Data Protection Act prevented them from giving me any information. Mateo had been quiet and said very little on the way home.
In the morning I described the evening to Dorothy.
“I wonder how many jazz or blues singers there are in Zurich called Cristelle?” she asked.
Later I went with Mateo to the café and tried searching for Cristelle, jazz clubs and Zurich. Nothing specific to a person called Cristelle came up but I did find a list of jazz clubs. I wrote out their names and phone numbers. Then we found Mathew playing on YouTube and watched the five minute clip. It felt weird seeing Mathew up on stage singing. His guitar playing sounded impressive to me. I glanced across to Mateo. His face was solemn and did not reveal anything. I looked for clips using the name Cristelle but nothing came up. Our teas arrived and I put my laptop away. I looked up at Mateo.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Bad.”
“What is it?”
“I feel bad about Ramon, bad about you and I miss my mother.”
“I had a really bad time after Mathew died. It just kept getting worse. I felt very frightened by your letters. After a while I did not have a home, so I went on the run and ended up at Dorothy’s. Even that was not easy at first. She and her friends had some very challenging ideas. Slowly I healed myself and even after being attacked by you twice I feel stronger inside. I feel that I am now in a better place than before Mathew died.”
Mateo gave me a half smile.
“Right now, you and Dorothy are all I have.”
I felt a lump in my throat and felt my eyes water. I patted his hand and smiled reassuringly.
CHAPTER 28
A week had passed since Mateo attacked me. The residual trauma of being raped tempered the relief that I was no longer being hunted. The last nine months had come to a resolution and I felt free. I began to think more about what I would like to do with my life. I could now spread my wings and take off. Perhaps I had finally become that metaphorical butterfly. I mentioned it to Dorothy, whilst we were knitting.
“Nine months,” she mused.
I knew to wait and see where this took her.
“Nine lunar cycles for you evolve from conception to birth. Nine lunar cycles for you to transform yourself into this beautiful, sentient being.”
“It does feel like a natural cycle, Mathew died in the autumn, I suffered my biggest lows in the winter and here I am beginning to blossom in the spring.”
Mateo came to visit us almost daily. He might come round after work for tea or for dinner in the evening. In a way we felt like a little family. My aunt and Mathew’s son: entwined on this part of our journey together.
One day, I impulsively rented a car and drove Mateo out to the meadow where I had buried Mathew’s ashes. I led him along the same path I had walked with Mathew when he was dead and alive. It was sunny and warm. Tall lush grass, daffodils and dandelions created a mottled green and yellow canvas. Bluebells grew round the oak tree.
I stood in front of the spot where I had buried Mathew’s ashes and just stared. Mateo stood respectfully by my side. I suddenly realised I had taken his hand in mine. I self-consciously let go and used it to pull my hair back. I squatted down and turned to Mateo.
“This is the exact place I buried your father’s ashes.”
Mateo dropped to his knees next to me. His form was uncannily similar to Mathew’s, the day he proposed to me in this very spot.
A bumblebee danced around the flowers and buzzed passed my ear. Then a black, orange and white red admiral butterfly fluttered its wings, passing between Mateo and me. It appeared again and rested on a daffodil.
The extraordinary thought occurred to me, that Mateo had killed the caterpillar that was my old life. Mathew’s death had forced me to escape into my cocoon, Dorothy’s flat, to emerge after a long and painful transformation, free from my old limitations. I thought I could see myself in that beautiful butterfly, spreading her wings, enjoying a new life that, I suppose, could never have been imagined in her previous incarnation.
I turned and looked at Mateo. He stared solemnly at the ground, with his hands on his knees. I wondered how he was coping. He had witnessed so much for someone so young. Had he come to terms with his actions? Could he transform himself? I felt a wave of compassion. I held out my hand.
“Help me up, please.”
We walked back towards the car. This time I left my hand in his.
When we returned, Dorothy announced that she had arranged another meeting that evening. Mateo quickly said he was seeing a friend and left. I helped Dorothy prepare and we waited for Nirmal, Henrique and Sandy to arrive.
At the beginning Dorothy invited me to tell my story. I found it very hard. I felt exposed. Perhaps part of me felt I was being judged. That other people would think I led Mateo on or somehow attracted his attack on some kind of spiritual level. I didn’t want to be tainted by that event and certainly not be remembered as the woman who was raped. I did not want to paint myself as a victim. I also recognised that I had not really talked about it.
As I spoke I felt strangely remote. It was as though I was describing a film. In fact I was disconnected from my feelings. My memory was mechanical, robotic and frozen. I think it was my way of detaching from the horror and terror I had experienced. I felt a surge of resentment towards Mateo.
After, there was a painfully long silence. I felt like leaving the room. Sandy was the first to speak.
“How do you feel now, Amanda?”
I took a deep breath.
“I feel disconnected from my body. Some parts feel very distant.”
Sandy looked into my eyes for a while before speaking.
“Would it help if we talked about those distant parts? Would you like to try and reconnect?”
I nodded cautiously.
Sandy took me on a journey, where I felt each part of my body and described it to her. After a rest, Sandy helped me describe each part of the rape. This time I tried to describe how each part of my body felt. Sandy kept asking me which place felt painful and what that part needed.
In the morning I phoned the jazz clubs in Zurich. One receptionist did know of a Cristelle Tschopp. She had sung there last month. She was due to sing again on the second Wednesday in May. They would not give me her contact details. I went to the café and tried searching for her on the internet. I could only find her listed on the billing of the club I had phoned.
I told Mateo of this news when he came round for tea after his shift at the stall. He insisted we see her.
“Is this all about the money, Mateo?” I asked.
“Not all. But maybe the man who took so much from so many gives it back in death. It is your money, Amanda. Anyway don’t you want to find if Ramon was leaving you for this woman?”
“I am trying to develop myself from within. I don’t want to be defined by Mathew, by how much money I have lost or a sense of injustice. If I did I would have hated you and called the police. I enjoy being able to feel love when I am with you. For me that is more important than anything Mathew did or didn’t do. Trying to find Cristelle may just distract us with the external.”
I could see Mateo wasn’t convinced. Cleverly he tried another tack.
“Why not go on a little holiday together? Dorothy can come too if she likes. I have not been to Zurich. I like jazz a little. You could teach me more about love. I can discover more about my father.”
I laughed.
“Go and sort out a visa.”
A few days later Sergeant Smiley phoned to say that the gun that killed Mathew and was used against me had been returned. My heart raced as I asked whether it provided any more clues.
“No, it was wiped clean and sent to a police station in Manchester. Have you had any more letters?”
“No.”
“Good.”
After, I realised I was not going to tell the police about Mateo. I experienced a shot of guilt. I felt ashamed and for a moment disconnected from society. I was committing a sin and breaking the law. I sat paralysed for a while. Then I felt a rush of anger towards Mateo. Dorothy padded into the living room with her knitting.
“Despite all my efforts, I feel this incredible rage against Mateo right now.”
Dorothy looked at me quizzically.
“I am glad. There may be lots of suppressed emotions that will surface. Just be kind to yourself, sensitive to the emotion and kiss them on their way.”
My initial reaction was to feel irritated with Dorothy. She smiled.
“Loving Mateo is not leading to any kind of prize. Do you need to set yourself up with these challenges?”
“But you said it would lead to a greater healing.”
Dorothy laughed.
“Goodness, did I say that? Don’t pay any attention to me, darling.”
I sat with my arms folded, grumpily tapping my foot, whilst Dorothy started her knitting. After a while she looked up.
“I suppose when we are in dialogue we respond to each other. It is a dialectic process that has a life of its own, rather than be exactly what either person would have thought by themselves.”
Later I told about Mateo’s desire to fly to Zurich.
“I think that is a splendid idea. Yes, do travel and explore. I would be happy to help you both with the tickets.”
CHAPTER 29
Henry called in the morning to ask me out for dinner. I had missed him. He came round at seven. We kissed and hugged before walking to a local Greek restaurant. I didn’t feel comfortable telling Henry about Mateo attacking me, but I did tell him Mathew’s son from Argentina had been staying with us.
“Cool,” was Henry’s response.
I told Henry about Henrique’s ideas as he ate.
“What do you think?”
I waited for Henry to finish chewing. I did not have to wait long; he soon swallowed. I imagined his long neck was that of a snake gulping down a huge ball of matted chickpeas and flour. I put my hand on Henry’s arm, to prevent him taking another mouthful.
“Neat. Awesome ideas. If there is no self, no choice and we are all part of the universe, what’s there to worry about,” he reasoned.
Whilst I thought of a response Henry filled his mouth. I felt myself become irritated. Why was Henry such a challenge for me? I tried to relax but found myself unable to restrain myself as he loaded up another slice of pita.
“Henry, just as an exercise, why don’t you try to eat slowly. Savour every mouthful.”
“Wow, you really have a thing about food. It seems every time we eat together, you get on my case about it.”
Here I was nagging, criticising and imposing my views on Henry. Why did I have this need around him? Then a surprising thought occurred to me. Was it because I had feelings for him? Was I trying to mould him into someone that would be more attractive to me? I remembered the teenagers in the café when I was with Joan Pride. Would this be the pattern of any relationship Henry and I could have?
“I’m sorry, Henry. It’s my problem. Can you forgive me?”
Henry laughed.
“Sure, it’s cool.”
I managed to laugh through the site of Henry forcing a whole falafel down his throat. We were, after all, simply a collection of particles and photons flowing through the universe.
“You know, Henry, I felt very close to you in Venice. I miss that.”
This time Henry did stop with his fork halfway between his mouth and plate. He looked up to my eyes. I continued.
“When we slept next to each other, I felt secure. It was really weird after Mathew, and being on my own for so long, but I liked it.”
Henry put his fork down and smiled. I thought he might say ‘Cool’ but he surprised me.
“Yes, there was a magic in Venice. I felt it too.”
After dinner we walked home. Henry put his arm round me so his hand rested on my shoulder as we entered our street. I put mine around Henry’s waist. I felt our bodies rubbing against each other.
When we arrived at Dorothy’s door, I thanked Henry and gave him a kiss. I had to stand on my toes and pull his head down to reach his cheek. Henry put his arms round me, bent his knees, held me tight and picked me up. My cheek rubbed against his. I bent my head and kissed his neck slowly. I smelt a slightly sweet scent on his skin. Then we kissed each other on the lips. Our tongues slowly met and explored each other for a moment.
When Henry put me down, I suddenly felt flustered. I did not know what to do next. Part of me wanted to cuddle up to Henry and another wanted to be home on my own. I still felt insecure about physical contact after Mateo’s attack.
“Thank you so much for such a lovely evening. I really enjoyed it. Good night,” I said hurriedly.
I turned and retreated to Dorothy’s flat. Later I lay on my bed still feeling the imprints of Henry’s arms around me and his lips on mine.
My next social encounter was with Ruby. It was a sunny day so we arranged to walk through Primrose Hill and into Regent’s Park. Ruby was in a negative mood.
“I’ve tried your ‘living in the moment’ philosophy and it doesn’t work. Bill is still ruining my life however I choose to perceive it. I can’t let him do this to the children. There is no use pretending everything is fine when it isn’t. I’m sorry, Amanda, but I need to say it as it is.”
I was just about to explain to her that she could be different when I thought about my challenge with Henry last night. If I found it so hard to accept Henry’s eating habits, how would I cope with a husband and the father of my children behaving in ways I did not like?
As we walked under the trees in Regent’s Park I had an urge to tell her about Mateo.
“Ruby, would it be possible to tell you something that might be shocking, and for you to just listen without making comments or creating a drama?”
“Well, now you have told me this much you must know I am intrigued, and you know what a drama queen I am. But sure, I’ll try just listening.”
We sat on a park bench and I told her the whole story. I found it very difficult to describe the attack, but persevered. I thought she would be appalled that I had not contacted the police, and worse, was now friendly with Mateo. I was even planning a trip to Zurich with him. I dreaded her reaction. My voice trembled as I spoke. At times I had to stop. My voice sounded thin and wavering as I told her how Mateo had shot Mathew. Eventually, tears began to fall and I could not continue.
Ruby looked at me with huge eyes and an open mouth. She put her arms around me and kept her word, she said nothing. When my weeping subsided, we got up and continued our walk.
“Talking to you was very difficult for me, but now it feels like a huge release. Despite how I seem, I feel a bit better.”
“Thank you for trusting in me. You know me too well not to realise I have a zillion thoughts and questions, but I will respect your wishes and never mention it again unless you want me to.”
“Oh Ruby, that was the kindest thing you could have said right now.”
CHAPTER 30
Mateo’s visa arrived and I booked cheap tickets to Zurich. I found a hotel near the blues club Cristelle would be singing at.
After an early flight to Zurich, Mateo and I walked through corridors, passport control, baggage claim, customs, retail and down to the train platform. I could see Mateo enjoyed the hard, flat, clean surfaces to bounce his ball. A short train journey took us to Zurich’s main station.
The hotel was clean and tidy. We had rooms next to each other on the third floor. During the late afternoon, we walked through Zurich, stepping through the long shadows until we found the club. It was part of a jazz school.
We then looked for somewhere to eat. During dinner I tried to explain Herr Huber’s theories to Mateo. He listened intently whilst looking a little scept
ical.
“You are saying that we are made of the universe and so we know it. We just have to listen and we hear it.”
“Yes, just embrace those moments of stillness. Try to be nothing for a moment.”
“Maybe I will try,” he said with an amused smile.
“How are you feeling about your father?”
“Suspicious. I think maybe he did want to take money and move here.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“I am angry. Sad he is a bad man. I don’t want his blood.”
“Dorothy’s friend Nirmal thinks we each come to this world with our own soul. He told me that we live our own life and make our own choices. I hope you will live your own life and do all the things you came here for rather than get distracted by your father.”
Mateo held my eyes in a soft gaze.
“I will try and do as you say.”
It felt as though Mateo really heard me and that I sensed his emotions respond. In that moment I felt incredibly connected. I wanted to hold him to me. The waiter coming to take our order broke the spell.
After we had eaten we walked back to the club and found a table near the stage. Cristelle sang her set. She had a deep luxurious voice that oozed sensuality. Her body-hugging dress accentuated every move. She looked slim whilst being curvy. Her deep black, wavy hair fell around her shoulders. Each time she moved her head, her shiny hair fanned out before taking on a new shape. I imagined most men would find her attractive, including Mathew.
I tried to relax and watch Cristelle, but a restless sense of anticipation gnawed away inside me. What would I say? How would Cristelle react?
As she sung her last number, I wrote a note requesting she meet us for news about Mathew. When she took her final bow, Mateo walked to the stage and handed it to her. I watched him point me out and I gave her friendly wave. Cristelle looked back impassively.
After about twenty minutes I saw Cristelle weave her way past the tables and chairs, having changed into a black sweatshirt and jeans. She fitted in with the crowd. Her journey was interrupted to shake members of the audience’s hands and exchange greetings. I noticed her flick her hair back with a jerk of her head.