negated, wiped away. It puzzled me, but I didn’t have time to dwell upon its significance. I plunged deeper. Beyond my first impressions, I felt triumph, coldness and powerful desire. Warmth infused my body, colouring my cheeks. I saw a woman with long, dark hair reclining over soft white sheets. I could not see her face, only her honey flesh so wantonly, sensuously, on display. I could feel the deliberation that went into the position, the tilting of the head, the tumbling of curls across naked shoulders, the artful draping of a sheet across thighs. Desire flooded my loins and I longed to fall into this tableau, taste what I knew it offered. I began to deepen the extraction, allowing it to pour into my body, fill my mind, before a sound outside the door broke my concentration. A key turned in the lock.
The door swung open. Panting and with shaky fingers, I quickly replaced the harlequin and stepped in front of it, hoping no-one would notice the way the colours inside were spinning in a confused melee, causing the little figurine to glow. My breath was coming fast and my mind was momentarily clouded. I reached out to steady myself and grasped a hold of the edge of the cabinet. I quickly extracted its steadiness and constancy so as to shed my other, more visceral, responses.
In the moments that it took me to do this, two women entered the room. The first was an older woman with the darkest skin I’d ever seen. Her head, which was bowed, was wrapped in a scarf. She shuffled in, her long skirts kicking out as she came to stand in the centre of the room, clasping a tray upon which sat a steaming mug and a pastry. My mouth began to water.
The second was the woman from the gondola – Giaconda Maleovelli. Her black hair was parted in the middle and piled high towards the back of her head. White pearls contrasted with her sable hair, pinned as they were to complement the style. Her gown was emerald, with hints of deep purple peeping through the folds. It was cut low at the front and had long, full sleeves that collected at the wrist. Gathered underneath her breasts, the gown tumbled to her feet, giving her the appearance of rising out of the waters of the canal itself. It rustled as she moved. A scent of musk followed her like a faithful dog. I inhaled deeply, shutting out the memories of my own canine companion.
Instead of making me reel with longing, as I sensed her entire appearance was designed to do, it set my nerves on edge. She floated towards me, and it took all my control not to race from her presence.
For here in the lovely flesh was not only the woman I’d sensed as I’d held the harlequin, but the manifestation of utter coldness.
AS IF TO MAKE A MOCKERY OF WHAT my instincts were telling me, Giaconda Maleovelli held out both her arms and sailed towards me, her lips curled, her teeth gleaming in a grand gesture of welcome. I was encompassed by a variety of new sounds and delicious odours. The rustle of her green dress, the tapping of her heeled shoes, the way the pearls glimmered in the light that filtered through the window, the fragrance of her skin. For the first time in another woman’s presence, I was self-conscious about my own appearance.
I ran my hands over the nightgown, aware of its shapelessness, of its utilitarian purpose.
Before I could respond, she took me by the hand and led me towards the window, placing me in a pool of light. Tall, she bent to study my face, using the tip of one gloved finger to raise my chin.
‘Those eyes! You see, Hafeza,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I told you there was nothing of which to be frightened.’ Her voice lowered. ‘So silver. They really are like mirrors. I can see myself so clearly …’ Her voice trailed away. I watched her studying herself in my eyes. I resisted drawing, afraid I would not only instil fear where I sought only understanding, but alert her to my initial impressions. I remained still, my eyes fixed on hers, on their jade depths, and kept my face neutral.
‘You have almost no pupil. They’re quite daunting to behold, but remarkable all the same. It’s as if one is peering into oneself …’ Her face momentarily darkened.