Chapter Ten

'Not Even Magic Stopped The Genocide?'

'It's a stunning picture,' Tayla said, she leant back for a better view.

'What do you see?'

'A Rwandan boy in a hooded top. He's lost his father to the killing but it's the way he looks at you, quiet and sensitive, while his hands embrace each other and the Harry Potter books. It tells a story, it holds me...it reminds me of my own childhood.'

'You're not what I expected Tayla.'

'Neither are you Konrad.'

She reached her hand across the bench where they sat in the National Portrait Gallery and placed it on his. He looked up at her, she relaxed when he curled his fingers around hers.

'Which photograph grabs you?' she said.

'Huntress With Buck.'

'Why?'

'The teenage hunter returning proudly with her kill. I’m not sure why, but it speaks to me, the calm look in her eyes, the humble pride at her trophy.'

'I thought you'd choose Portrait of My British Wife.'

He laughed, 'The one with his wife's labia casually on display?'

'Did you think I'd be shocked?'

He looked in her dark round eyes, 'A little.'

She held his look, 'Muslim I may be, but I am still a woman. I like it. They've just finished lunch, and her lover has persuaded her to reveal only her most intimate part for his camera.'

'And then he displays it in a gallery.'

'But what trust? What intimacy? To have even half of that would make me so very happy.'

'Do you trust me?' he said.

'Not yet.' She shuffled closer to him rested her hand on his knee. 'Do you think I can?'

She moved her face close to his. He was aware of the polite patrons of the gallery looking at them. He didn't care, something about her spoke to him too. Like the portraits that were more than the sum of their parts.

He was finding it hard to see her as someone he could de-construct piece by bloody piece or to take her like a dog takes a postman's leg.

'Maybe we should get to know each other better,' she said.

'You only have one night left in town.'

She raised an eyebrow, 'Better make the most of it then Konrad.'

He stood up and held out his crooked arm. 'They have a fantastic restaurant on the top floor with views over the roofs of London. They hide it from the tourists, but I think I can get us a table.'

'Well, that would be wonderful,' she stood up and placed her arm through his.

They glided to the door.

'Sir,' an attendant caught up with them, brown paper bag in hand. 'You forgot this.'

'Thank you,' Konrad said. He blushed unexpectedly. The cold and efficient taken in by the warm and enticing.

'Ooh, that was lucky,' Tayla said. 'What is it?'

'Just something for the garden.'

'You have a garden in the city?'

'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.'

She smiled at what she thought was a joke.