The Madman's Room

‘You haven’t understood anything. It would mean I’d have to leave here; and London isn’t exactly next door.’

‘But when you marry someone, you have to live with him. With him and nobody else. Who cares about family, friends and all the rest!’

‘Maybe… But that’s not the problem.’

‘So what is the problem?’

‘I–I’m not sure I love him.’

Patrick smiled broadly:

‘Paula, my sweet, every woman has those same doubts. Your reaction is perfectly understandable. I’d be worried if you felt differently. You’re at the crossroads, on the brink of a new life and you’re hesitating before the unknown. There are several directions, but which to choose? You can’t avoid making a choice, you know. And it might as well be the best one….’

Looking anxiously at him, she replied:

‘I’m not sure I love him.’

Patrick gave a deep sigh and got up. He picked up a shell, threw it into the waves and came back to stand right next to her.

‘Listen,’ he said solemnly, ‘there’s no such thing as love at first sight, love with a capital L. Obviously, there are exceptions, cases of physical attraction with no tomorrow….’ He sighed again before looking her straight in the eye. ‘Between the two of us, we’ve clocked up forty-four years, correct? Well, has either one of us experienced a true grand passion?’

Paula shook her head.

‘Neither have I,’ said Patrick, in a tone that sounded almost sinister. Satisfied with his demonstration, he stopped.

‘Speaking of Sarah,’ murmured Paula, ‘it appears she’s going to get married soon.’

‘That’s great. Who’s the lucky fellow?’

‘A certain Harris Thorne. Very rich and quite a bit older than she is. Francis didn’t tell me any more in his letter.’

‘Well, well. Wedding bells are about to chime.’

‘So you think I should accept….’

‘Yes, Paula,’ concluded Patrick firmly. ‘Marry Francis. I guarantee you won’t regret it.’

2

The marriage was set for the end of September. Paula was to join her betrothed in London three days beforehand. She and Patrick decided to have a farewell evening together the evening before her departure.

They dined in a cosy restaurant in Newquay where, well lubricated with champagne, they were noticeable by their exuberance and irrepressible hilarity, unaffected by reproachful looks from some of the other diners.

It was a warm night, considering it was nearly autumn, and the stars shone brilliantly against the velvet background of the sky. And so it was that, in the taxi on the way back to Padstow, they decided to visit their little cove one last time.

They climbed to the top of the cliffs in silence, where they looked out over the sea, calm and powerful as it sparkled under the stars. As they suddenly became conscious of the majesty of the scene before them, their madcap evening seemed to dwindle into insignificance. Paula was the first to react.

‘What an evening!’ she observed, as they descended the path down to the cove in a leisurely manner.

‘You haven’t been altogether reasonable, madam,’ declared Patrick, in mock seriousness.

‘And whose fault is that?’ whispered the young woman. ‘Frankly, Patrick, if I didn’t know better, I might believe your intentions weren’t entirely honourable.’

‘I forced you to drink? It was you who profited from my sadness — yes, I admit I’m sorry to see you go — to top up my glass whenever my back was turned.’

Paula didn’t reply right away. Once they were on the beach, she took off her shoes and said, with a smile:

‘So, you’re sad to see me go?’

Patrick smiled back:

‘A little, yes.’

‘Well, you certainly hid it well. You were paying the fool the entire evening — a pretty strange way to express sadness.’

‘And you, who were the star attraction of the evening with your endless stream of jokes, are obviously filled with joy at the prospect of leaving.’

Paula placed her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance:

‘And whose fault was that, may I ask?’

Patrick looked thoughtful.

‘Come to think of it, if Francis had seen the way you were carrying on, I very much doubt he would have approved.’

‘What he would approve of even less is to see you and me together on this beach at this hour of the night.’

‘Good point.’

They both burst out laughing as they ran towards the sea. Waves lapped their feet as Paula looked up to the sky.

‘The moon is fascinating. I can feel its influence on me. It’s as if a magical force is taking me away. Magical, yes, and even evil.’

‘There she goes again,’ chuckled Patrick.

‘Oh, Moon, Queen of the Night, put a curse on this unfortunate mortal grovelling at my feet and hopelessly in love….’

‘Just talk, my sweet,’ exclaimed Patrick, ‘and as for taste—.’

‘Let’s go for a swim.’

Patrick was stunned.

‘A swim?’

‘Yes. It’s almost midnight, and it seems to be the done thing.’

‘If I remember correctly,’ replied Patrick, feigning detachment, ‘that sort of activity is performed… without clothes.’