Trespass (39 page)

‘I’m glad you are.’

‘I told you, you don’t need to pity me. I take pride in my cell. I keep it tidy. Not like up at the mas. Uhn? I couldn’t keep track of things up there. Even on the land, I couldn’t keep pace with the work. I’m better off here.’

‘Are you?’

‘I tell you I am. Like you’re better off in your bungalow, Audrun. I told you that when Father died: a little small place you can keep clean . . .’

She cut him off by reaching down and lifting up the bulky package she’d brought and placing it in front of him on the table.

‘I brought you this,’ she said.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘I’m not allowed to have my own things.’

‘It’s not a “thing”,’ she said.

His labourer’s hands began unfolding the newspaper wrapping. They worked slowly, tentatively. But eventually what lay revealed on the table in front of him was a branch of white cherry blossom.

Audrun watched him. Aramon lifted his hands, as though afraid to touch the branch, but his eyes, so strangely bright, stared down at it in wonder. He seemed – with his whole expression – to drink in the scent and sweetness of the flowers. Then, he gathered it up and buried his face in it and began to cry.

Audrun stayed very still on her chair. She glanced over at the warders and took in some expression of alarm on their faces, but it wasn’t Aramon’s weeping that was agitating them. Indeed, they didn’t seem to have noticed this, but were instead staring at the rain, which was now beating harshly on the windows. She heard one of them comment that it was getting dark in the room, even though it was only mid-afternoon.

She stayed still, letting Aramon cry like a boy, letting the storm-darkness gather round them from moment to moment. She saw Aramon’s shallow chest moving up and down as the weeping caught at his breath. Then he looked at her and said: ‘Why did you bring this? Why?’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose, when I saw it, I thought . . . I thought about you and me as we once were. In the days when we were kind to each other.’

He laid the branch down and put his head in his hands. His crying gathered in intensity and now the two warders approached, both looking anxious, and the older man laid a hand on Aramon’s shoulder.

‘
Allez
, Lunel,’ he said. ‘Don’t make yourself sick. Let’s take you back to your cell now.’

‘Madame,’ said the other officer, ‘I regret your visit is at an end.’

Audrun stood up obediently, but Aramon suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. ‘I’m sorry!’ he stammered. ‘I’ve been wanting to say it!
I’m sorry!
You were my princess . . . that’s all. You were my princess and I couldn’t find any other. You were my princess for all time!’

There was a silence in the room, disturbed only by the sound of the rain on the glass. Audrun said nothing, but nevertheless gently covered Aramon’s hand with hers and held it in a tender grip for a moment before it was torn from her, as the warders led her brother away.

The door opened and closed and Audrun heard the lock turn and she knew she was alone. She looked down at the branch from the cherry tree, left where it was on the table, and she saw how the white blossoms remained luminous and bright, when everything around them was becoming indistinct.