Modigliani painting – a Modigliani that snores just a tiny bit.
Her life as a little singer with a burgeoning career continues; with its admirers who hang around her with no particular purpose, like fleshy ghosts.
All those perfumed human bodies frighten me more than a pack of wolves beneath a full moon. It’s all fake, and the chitchat is as hollow as a funeral vault. I think how brave she is to swim over this eddy of make-believe.
One day, they’ll send her to the moon to test out how aliens react to such an erotic display. She’ll sing and dance and answer local journalists’ questions; then they’ll take her photo and she’ll never come back. Sometimes I think all that’s missing is Joe: the worm-eaten cherry on top of the rotten cake.
A week later, Miss Acacia is singing in Seville. I ride my roller-board over the red mountains to catch up with her in her hotel bedroom after the show.
Along the way, the carrier pigeon drops off a new letter from Madeleine. Did my previous letter not get to her? Her note is only a few words long, and, worse, they’re words that don’t seem to be hers. They leave me wanting more . . . I’d give anything for Madeleine to meet Miss Acacia. Of course, our love would frighten her, but she couldn’t help liking my little singer’s personality. Imagining these two she-wolves talking together is a dream that always soothes me.
The day after the concert, we’re walking around Seville like proper lovers. The temperature’s just right and a warm wind strokes our skin. Our fingers fumble when it comes to doing the things that normal people do in broad daylight. At night, remote-controlled by desire, they know each other intricately; but for now, they are like four left hands being asked to write ‘hello’.
How clumsy we are from head to toe. Like a couple of vampires who’ve forgotten their sunglasses, out on a supermarket trip. But it’s a romantic dream for us. And kissing on the banks of the River Guadalquivir, in the middle of the afternoon, is a complete turn-on.
Above this sweet and simple happiness hovers a menacing cloud. I’m proud of Miss Acacia as I’ve never been proud before in my life. But the ecstatic looks from other men are making me feel increasingly jealous. I try persuading myself that, since she’s not wearing her spectacles, she might not be able to see this herd of men more handsome than me. But when the ever-expanding crowds rise to applaud, I feel alone in their midst; it’s time to play the role of the outsider and head back home to my shadowy attic.
Her refusal to acknowledge my suffering only makes things worse. I still don’t think she really believes in my cuckoo-clock heart.
I haven’t yet explained to her that behaving the way I do, with a makeshift heart, is as dangerous as a diabetic eating chocolate éclairs from morning till night. I’m not sure I want to explain this to her, either. If Madeleine’s theories are to be believed, I’m knocking on death’s door.
Will I be able to rise to the occasion? Will my old ticker hold out?
To spice up an already fiery sauce, Miss Acacia is at least as jealous as I am. She frowns like a lioness ready to pounce the moment any kid-girl, who’s bothered to brush her hair, enters my field of vision; even outside the Ghost Train.
I was flattered at first and able to rise above such obstacles. My wings were new. I was sure she believed in me. But when I found out she thought I was a cheat, I felt more vulnerable. In the depths of my nocturnal solitude, I’ve stopped believing in myself.
That fiery sauce is threatening to turn into hedgehog soup.
CHAPTER TEN
In which a walking lamppost crosses half of Europe
One day, a peculiar man heads for the Ghost Train, his sights firmly set on my job of Scareperson. That’s when the hedgehog soup gets stuck in my throat.
He’s tall, very tall. His head appears to tower over the roof of the Ghost Train. His right eye is masked by a black patch. His left eye scrutinises the Extraordinarium like a lighthouse casting its beam over the sea. It finally comes to rest on the figure of Miss Acacia. And stays there.
Brigitte, who despairs of ever seeing me pull off a show based on fear, hires him on the spot. I’m kicked out. It all happens much too quickly