Dancing In The Shadows of Love Read Online Free Page A

many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits
and rank me with the barbarous multitudes.”
    For days after the stranger’s visit, I found no peace.
    ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Barry asked. He was not used to me quiet. Normally we discussed how to expand the family business or what to do with the multitude of staff who worked in the mansion.
    ‘What could be wrong?’ I flipped another page. A stupid book, although the newspaper reviews declared it as a recent literary success. Reading was a chore. With the same discipline I used to practise my elocution and every gesture I made, I forced myself to complete the task, for I could not risk Little Flower finding a crack in my memories.
    The pages didn’t hold my attention. Who cared about Hemingway’s old man and a boy, his faith and a fish? Or even sacrifices and the sea? I didn’t, but at least I’d be able to talk about it at the next dinner party we attended.
    There never was much time for reading when I was young. We moved too often, living out of suitcases barely big enough to hold our clothes, let alone books having little to do with survival in a world where the weak perished and the strong endured. I never joined a library. I had my natural intelligence, and I managed. Little Flower did well by herself in those early days.
    ‘There
is
something wrong,’ Barry insisted when I said no more.
    I roused enough energy to give him my cool look, the one that warned others not to step past the boundaries I set.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m fine.’
    He wanted to argue, but I held his gaze until he left the comfort of his old velvet armchair to open a window.
    ‘I saw Mother today,’ he said. ‘She’s well.’
    ‘Umm.’ I turned another page.
    ‘Her visitor is good for her.’
    I tensed and, even though I knew of whom he spoke, I asked, ‘Her visitor?’
    ‘Enoch. That fellow we met last week.’
    ‘Oh.’ A rapid flick feigned an interest in the pages I read. ‘Him.’ I shivered.
    Barry never heard nuances. ‘I liked him.’ His head bobbed in emphasis and he used a short, stubby finger to push his heavy tortoiseshell spectacles back up his nose. ‘Yes, I liked him a lot.’
    ‘He doesn’t belong.’
    Keeping my eyes on the page, I shifted into a more comfortable position, crossing my ankles neatly before tucking them under the chair, before casually looking up at Barry when he asked, ‘Belong where?’
    ‘Here.’ A casual wave of my hand marked the plush décor. The mansion bore my imprint, but Grace’s influence lingered, for she had brought the stranger here. ‘Will
this
house make Enoch comfortable?’
    ‘Of course,’ Barry said, and jutted his short, round jaw out. ‘A stable or a mansion, he’ll be comfortable anywhere.’
    Why did he always choose such inconvenient issues to be stubborn about? He married me for my strength; for the steel Zahra forged out of the ashes of Little Flower’s life. So why did he try to fight me?
    ‘He’s common,’ I said with finality. ‘He stares rudely. There’s no respect for the natural order of life: some people have their place, and his is not with us.’
    To keep me safe, Enoch must stay on the other side of my boundary, the one I crossed long before Barry knew me. The one that kept Zahra, and all I’ve achieved since I caged Little Flower, impregnable.
    ‘You’re a snob, Zahra.’ There’s no real venom in Barry’s statement. ‘That’s the way the world is. People are different.’
    ‘Of course. Some are common. Some aren’t.’
    ‘This time you’re wrong.’ He huffed as he contradicted me. ‘Enoch is not a common man. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say he’s an uncommon man.’
    To my vexation, Little Flower agreed with him. I felt her, tender as she was before her Great Error marred her fragility. She reached out towards the silent sea song of the stranger and the sting of an age-old disquietude clenched my jaw until a muscle jumped in my cheek. I never lost my