Sahara Desert
I sometimes think that God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his
abilities.
(Oscar Wilde)
Angus moved across the
broad expanse of the desert sands with an urgency that was being dictated by
the event that had taken place directly up ahead earlier in the day. His wife Charity had begun to haunt him,
again. The image of her was inside of his brain at this right good moment and
refusing to leave. Distracting him at a time when he could quite definitely not
afford to be distracted.
She was taunting him
with their Dante;
'I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,--
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at the swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite
And day and night yield one delight once more?'
It echoed inside of his
skull inflicting pain whenever the sound of it hit bone. He had chosen to
recite this to her once upon a time when their expended passion had rendered
them incapable of any physical action other than speech. Back then, both naked,
she had been brought to tears of joy. This had been at the very height of it.
The zenith. Now, years later, she was returning the complement just at the
moment when he was least in need of it.
Now she was no longer
physically with him but unfortunately wherever he went the memory of her involuntarily
came along for the ride but it was usually more natural for her to be hiding
somewhere down there in the darkness of him in a vault where hurtful memories
could remain safely locked away. At the right good moment in time he was doing
his utmost to expel her back into that dark pit. But being true to her nature Charity
was resisting like mad.
What lay a mile or so
away up ahead was too important and too urgent for such distractions. What lay
up ahead of him was hell on earth. Charity had been with him, Charity was no
longer with him. He had accepted this intellectually but on an emotional level
it seemed such implausibility. Eventually and with iron discipline Angus
managed to banish the memory of her beauty back down into the darkness where it
belonged. He then pushed on, time was of the essence.
But like a piece of
jetsam, or like one of those old world war two mines, that had been temporarily
trapped beneath the sea, Charity made her way up to the surface once more, just
for the hell of it. Christ, but that woman could be hard-nosed whenever she
wanted his attention.
I expect that Woman will be the last thing civilized by man.
(Meredith)
He did not want to be
here. His rescuers had managed to convince him that not only did he need to
return the favour but that only good would come from this, that it was God's
work. After what he had been through Angus was unsure not just about being able
to complete such a weird task but about there being anything close to a God of
any kind in existence this far out from the centre of the universe.
Until only a few months
past his life had been not only normal but mundane. He had been a fourth
generation deerstalker on a shooting estate up in Sutherland in the north-east
Highlands of Scotland. The only sand that he had previously seen had been on
the seashores of various holiday resorts, now here he was in the middle of the
Sahara Desert having just been dropped off by a helicopter. He was completely
unsuited for this sort of thing. He was so far out of his depth that it could
do little else but go wrong.
It would go wrong
because it was insane. They had been ripped from their comfortable life in the
Village of Drymen just north of Glasgow in Scotland by an internationally
renowned religious order who had contrived to place them into hiding for their
own safety. If it were not for this group Charity would be dead and him with
her. Why they had been chosen for assassination in the first instance remained
a complete mystery to one and all.
They had been innocents
living out their lives. Both in their early twenties. Angus with his
deerstalking, Charity with her acting. They had bothered no one. Movies,
theatre, books, no interest in politics. Church on a Sunday not out of devotion
but simply to keep up with the local gossip. Now here he was, not only a
fugitive but well out of his depths.
Charity was now, having
written a one woman show about Dorothy Parker for herself and performed it at
the Edinburgh Festival, trying out her Dorothy Parker voice on him;
'Razors pain you,
Rivers are damp,
Acids stain you,
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful,
Nooses give,
Gas smells awful.
You might as well live'
This brought an
involuntary smile to his lips.
Their first meeting had
been a dilly. It had been by accident. Most people still have the wrong idea
about deerstalking. Deerstalking was not what it had been. Angus often like his
great grandfather lived out on the hills completely cut off from the rest of
the world in the physical sense.
The herd has to be
followed because the clients have no patience, they must be treated as though
they own the world, which most of them do. But these days Angus went out there
with his Microsoft Tablet and his mobile phone, the internet, flash-drives full
of the latest movies, media information and Skype companionship.
Alone he was not, cut
off he was not but magical it still managed to be. He had the nights beneath
the stars, the Aurora Borealis and Orion the Hunter in the winter and utter
silence all the year round. He had the privilege of seeing the world as it
truly was. Angus craved to reach out and touch it, the Divine, but thus far he had
been limited to the position of onlooker.
On this occasion he had
been watching the old black and white movie version of A Midsummer Night's Dream
beneath the stars and immediately ordered himself a ticket on line for a new
production of the Dream at the Citizen's Theatre down in Glasgow. When he did
get there it turned out that this particular production was too modern for him.
It was set in a mansion in the centre of Athens rather than a wood beyond it.
And then it happened. Charity
as Titiana wearing only three of the tiniest of leaves in the appropriate
places. This lady was tall, almost as tall as Angus himself who was six-three.
She was unbelievable. She towered. She dominated. She hypnotised.
Angus found that he was
no longer bored. He was enchanted. He knew instantaneously that his life would
never, ever be the same again. He had only ever been enchanted by one girl in
his lifetime and she was dead. He had been to Loch Ossian half a dozen times to
climb Ben Schehallian but before doing so he would just pause to gaze at the
surface of the water and imagine her there, swimming in the moonlight with her
eyes glowing and that seraphic smile dancing across her lips and, much to his
embarrassment, tears would actually form before being quickly wiped away.
Since then it had been a
series of mutually satisfactory one night stands. Mostly with the daughters of
the visiting deer hunters. Enthusiastic girls who were seeking a highland
experience before returning home to parade it before their envious friends. Angus
was as much a prize to them as the deer were to their fathers. They did all of
the running. As Angus was still slightly shy at this stage in his life, this
proved something of a bonus.
Now, here, watching this
astonishing woman acting on stage Angus quite literarily stopped breathing.
Christ, she was magnificent. He had never seen such grace in a human being. She
had gone beyond any grace that a human being should be capable off and moved
into the animal kingdom, she moved with all of the grace of the Highland Wildcats
he often saw move through the gloaming.
What he did know,
instinctively, was that this particular girl was his soul-mate. Where this
information came from he had no idea but what he did know was that it was
undeniably true.
Then he came to his
senses. Who was he trying to fool? He knew danger when he saw it. If he went
hunting here then he was the one who would find himself bound and gagged and
hung out to dry as a trophy. This creature was way out of his league.
In the next instant he
was off on one. This was it. She was the one. He had been waiting for a
relationship. A permanent, reliable lady that was always available. No
searching. No going without, always there, always certain.
Angus was in shock. Where
had all of this come from? He had not even known that he had been waiting for
anything. He had thought he had been doing fine without any so called
semi-permanent lady in his life. Tied to one girl as a life partner, was
precisely that, volunteering to become a prisoner. He would have to be insane.
He was not yet ready for
anything beyond a casual commitment. He did understand that for sex to be
translated into love it would require the involvement of the soul and he was
not willing to risk this, no way. Not something as precious, that would come in
about ten years' time, when he was about thirty or thirty-five, he thought.
Even then he would require a lot of forward planning before entering into it.
Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul,
That you never knew was missing.
(Torquato Tasso)
As Jacques Lecan would
have it, fantasies are extremely useful things. Practical. Essential but they
should never be brought into the light of reality. If held up to the light they
will, like Gremlins, immediately turn destructive. A fantasy was an extension
of your own ego, it belonged in the imagination and nowhere else. If he made a
grab for this one and managed to eventually get into her bed she would shatter.
This was a look but don't touch situation if ever there was one.
Angus fought well but he
could not get Charity out of his head. And then she found her way into his
dreams. He argued with himself. He cursed his lack of self-discipline. Next
thing he knew, after having hesitated for more than half an hour after the end
of the performance there he was standing in her dressing roo