The Girl Who Couldn'T See Rainbows. Rosette

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ have. My only companion had always been Nothingness.

      A quick glance at my wristwatch confirmed that it was time to go. It was my first day of work. My heart beat faster, and in a glimmer of rationality I wondered if it depended on the new job or on the mysterious master of that house.

      I climbed the stairs two by two, irrationally afraid of being late. In the hallway I crossed Kyle, the nurse-handyman. “Good morning”.

      I slowed down, embarrassed because he caught me rushing. He must have thought that I was insecure, or worse yet, rash.

      “Good morning”.

      “It’s Miss Bruno, isn’t it? Can I call you by your name? After all we’re in the same boat, at the mercy of a crazy lunatic.” The harsh and brutal ruthlessness of his words surprized me.

      “I know, I'm disrespectful to my employer, and so on. You’ll soon learn to agree with me. What's your name?”

      “Melisande”.

      He bent in an awkward bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, red-haired Melisande. Your name is really unusual, it's not Scottish... Even though you look more Scottish than I do.”

      I smiled politely, and tried to move past him, still fearing to be late. But he blocked my way, standing on the landing with his legs stretched out. The timely intervention of a third person cleared the situation.

      “Miss Bruno! I won’t tolerate any delays!” The cry undoubtedly came from my new employer, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

      Kyle moved out of the way immediately, allowing me to pass. “Good luck, red-haired Melisande. You’ll need it.”

      I gave him a fierce look, and ran to the door at the far end of the hallway. It was half closed, and a smoke ring was coming out of it.

      Sebastian Mc Laine was sitting behind the desk, like the previous day, holding a cigar between his fingers, and his face was unyielding.

      “Close the door, please. And then sit down. I've already wasted enough time while you socialized with the rest of the staff.” His tone was harsh and insulting.

      An act of rebellion pushed me to answer, like a reckless lamb in front of a wolf.

      “It was just normal courtesy. Or would you prefer a rude secretary? In that case I can leave. Immediately.”

      My impulsive response took him by surprise. His face lit up with amazement, the same that probably was reflected on mine. I had never been so daring.

      “And here I had already labelled you as a toothless dog... That was hasty of me... Really too hasty.”

      I sat in front of him; my legs no longer supported me, regretting my irresponsible frankness. I was terrified of the potential explosive consequences.

      My employer didn’t seem offended, indeed. He smiled. “What’s your name, Miss Bruno?”

      “Melisande,” I replied automatically.

      “Debussy, I guess. Did your parents love music? Maybe they were performers?”

      “My dad was a miner,” I confessed reluctantly.

      “Melisande... A pretentious name for the daughter of a miner,” he remarked, his voice vibrant with a restrained laugh. He was playing with me, and in spite of my decision of the day before, I wasn’t sure I wanted to let him do it. It would surely become his favourite diversion.

      I straightened my shoulders, trying to recover my lost composure. “And why Sebastian? From Saint Sebastian, maybe? A very inappropriate choice.”

      He absorbed the blow, wrinkling his nose for an infinitesimal moment. “Hide your claws, Melisande Bruno. I'm not in war with you. If I were, you’d have no hope to win. Never. Not even in your most daring dreams.”

      “I never dream, sir,” I answered with as much dignity as possible.

      He seemed impressed by my answer, sensing that it was extremely honest. “You're lucky then. Dreams are always a scam. If you have nightmares they upset your sleep. If you have pleasant dreams, the awakening will be doubly bitter. It’s best not to dream, after all.” His eyes didn’t leave mine, they were captivating. “You're an interesting

      character, Melisande. A little slip of a thing, but funny” he added teasingly.

      “I’m glad that I have the necessary requirements for this job, then,” I said, ironically.

      I tortured my lower lip with my teeth, overwhelmed by repentance. What was happening to me? I had never reacted with such deplorable impulsiveness. I had to stop it before I lost my control completely.

      His smile now went from ear to ear, amused beyond words. “Indeed you do. I'm sure we’ll get along well. A secretary who has no dreams, like her boss. There’s a special affinity between us, Melisande. In a certain sense, between our souls. Apart from the fact that one of us has no longer had one for a long time now...”

      Before I could make sense of his ambiguous words, he returned serious, his eyes were again inscrutable, distant and lifeless.

      “You must send a fax of the first chapters of the book to my publisher. Do you know how to do it?”

      I nodded, and with a pang I realized that I already missed our verbal joust. I wished it would last forever. I had drawn from that exchange as if it were a miraculous source, filling me with vitality and an exceptional energy.

      The next two hours flew by. I sent several faxes, opened the mail, wrote letters of refusal for various invitations, and sorted out the desk. He silently wrote on the computer; his forehead corrugated, his lips narrow, his white, elegant hands flying on the keyboard. Toward lunch time, he caught my attention with a wave of his hand.

      “You can take a break, Melisande. If you like you may eat something, or take a walk.”

      “Thank you sir”.

      “Did you start reading my book, the one that I gave you?” His face was still far remote, immobile, but a flash of good humour showed in his black eyes.

      “You were right, sir. It's not exactly my kind of literature,” I said sincerely.

      His lips curled slightly, in an oblique smile, able to penetrate the armour of my defences. An armour that I thought was stronger than steel.

      “I don’t doubt it. I bet you prefer Romeo and Juliet.”

      There was no irony in his voice; he was just making a statement.

      “No, sir.” Controversy became natural to me, as if we had known each other forever, and I could be myself, fully, without deceptions or masks. “I just love stories with a happy ending. Life is already too bitter, I’d hate to make things worse with a book. If I'm not allowed to dream at night, I’d like to do it at least by day. If I'm not allowed to dream in life, I want to do it at least with a book.”

      He carefully considered my words, for such a long time that I thought he wouldn’t answer. When I was about to leave he stopped me.

СКАЧАТЬ