‘No.’ I was aghast. ‘You don’t mean that. Your collection is amazing. It would be criminal.’
He smiled, a tad grimly.
‘Or I could just sell it on,’ he suggested.
‘But why? You’ve had so much pleasure from it. We’ve had so much pleasure from it.’
‘It’s all too risky. It’s made too much trouble for me now. I’ll burn it, go back to France and make my film.’
He set light to the uneven pyramid of extraneous matter and threw the videotape carelessly on top.
‘Ciao, bella,’ he said, but he turned away so I couldn’t see his face.
‘You really loved her, didn’t you?’ I said.
‘Right, that stuff’s for the tip. I’m going to throw it all on, piece by piece, cane by cane.’
‘You bloody well aren’t!’
He started to walk towards the house but I darted in front of him, barring his way.
‘I won’t let you,’ I vowed. ‘It’s vandalism. I can’t bear to see beautiful things being destroyed. You can throw me on that fire if you like, but don’t you dare ruin that fantastic collection.’
He reached out to push me aside but I swung my fist really, really hard and hit him in the ribs.
I hadn’t expected it to hurt him. I’m no fighter. But he grabbed himself, winded, and couldn’t speak for a moment or two.
‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to actually hurt you. Oh, God, perhaps I should just go.’
He reached out for me at that and grabbed me by my bruised forearms, which was startlingly painful. But he hadn’t intended to cause me pain, merely to pull me hard into his arms and cling on tight.
‘Don’t go,’ he said in a strangled kind of voice. ‘I’m a stupid twat. Don’t leave me.’
I think he was crying, but I didn’t look up. My cheek was crushed into his shoulder and his arms were like steel bands around me, the pressure threatening to pulp my ribcage.
When he let me go, I could feel my body rearranging itself into its former configurations.
‘I’m sorry, Sarah,’ he said, holding up one of my wrists and inspecting my bruises. ‘Sorry I was paranoid earlier and sorry I’m so bad at this.’
‘Bad at what?’
‘Relationships.’
‘I don’t think you are.’ I paused. ‘Not that bad.’
He laughed.
‘Come to the fire,’ he said.
We sat propped up against the stable door and watched the flames flicker and jump. Every now and then, he refilled the brandy glasses.
‘I did love her. You were right,’ he said, once the last section of videotape had melted away. ‘But she wouldn’t go public about our relationship. I didn’t really get it. She said it was because she didn’t want the press attention but it turned out it was because she was waiting for something better to come along.’
‘Something like a King?’
‘Exactly like a King.’
‘But it was twelve years ago,’ I pointed out, as gently as I could. ‘And she was just one woman out of a whole world.’