Everything Has Its Time

He stood up and began to move towards the bathroom. Brushing his brilliant white teeth with a thorough, circular motion, he examined himself in the mirror thoughtfully, «Nearly 33, but still in good form,» he thought reassuringly. A tall man stood looking at him from the other side of the mirror, well built with broad shoulders which demonstrated his strong complexion, with a bright, noble face and expressive, dark blue eyes. His hair was a light chestnut brown with a pleasant lustreless character, and which was naturally curly, attesting to his being well born, in the same way as the chestnut brown or, as is more common, black curly mane of a thoroughbred white horse. His eyes were set under thin, handsome eyebrows. Above them was his open, pale forehead on which, if one looked closely, one could notice the first signs of shallow wrinkles criss crossing each other. His straight nose, with a small but noticeable bump, told of his forthright character, occasionally tempered to the wise compromise, and pyjamas fastened only by two lower buttons, and which gave a glimpse of his strikingly pure whiteness. This told of a true gentleman, rejective of anything ostentatious, but loving of order, comfort, a fresh outfit, and a rich library.

Entering the room opposite his, Arthur tenderly kissed his soundly sleeping daughter on the forehead and caringly rearranged her bedsheets. From the next room there came the loud snoring of his aunt. Going downstairs into the kitchen, he expertly prepared himself the traditional full English of fried eggs, toast, sausages, tomatoes, and mushrooms. He had a strong black coffee with it and, dressing for the weather in a coat, and taking his briefcase, he set off out into the street with his usual unhurried step, moving in an easy and elegant manner. He wanted a bit of a stroll to take in the pure morning air, before foggy smog could descend on the city. He was in no hurry, since he had more than enough time before the working day started. It was only the previous day that he had beaten fierce competition in all manner of interviews and was finally offered a long-awaited and tantalising job at a big hospital with a very highly regarded reputation. His first day had now arrived, he now had to step up and fulfil his serious burden of responsibilities as a neurosurgeon.

«You blind? You just ran into an old lady, almost knocked her off her feet!» standing in the middle of the pavement, staring at him with offence, was a woman who was long-in-the-tooth, a brightly coloured headscarf flung carelessly around her head. She was holding her right arm to one side in which she carried a lit candle, every finger adorned with golden rings which glistened in the sunlight. Her other arm supported a big sewn bag hanging from her back.

She seemed taller than she actually was, and such a slim figure could only belong to a dancer. Or a former dancer. She did not look like a native of the British Isles, Spanish, perhaps. Her skin was slightly darkened and had a certain mirific, golden shade. Her face, which held a bygone beauty, was framed in blueish black, long, and curly hair, though if one looked closely, one could make out the several strands of grey. And her wide, bold eyes, shining in the yet weak morning sun, showed her strong willed and independent character, but she was at the same time, it seemed, kind and righteous. Everything about her reminded Arthur of the charming Esmeralda, the heroine of the Victor Hugo novel The Cathedral of Notre-Dame, who danced to the banging of drums. To be more precise, she reminded him of the actress Gina Lollobrigida, who had, a very long time ago, made a triumph of this role. The only difference was that the heroine of the novel was 16 years old and the Esmeralda confronting him was of a more respectable age, about 40 years older… How on earth could he have failed to notice this lady?

«Why you just standing there?» she boldly took a step towards him, as though challenging him to a duel.

«Forgive me, madam,» answered Arthur politely, bowing his head slightly and made to walk past, but it seemed the woman was not going to forgive him easily.

«Forgive you? I should think not!» she answered sharply, and proudly drew herself up to her full height, her necklace of golden coins and badges, pearls, beads, colourful stones, and corals jingling on her chest. Her bright red skirt of chiffon, long and flared, embroidered with lace and crystals, swayed in harmony with her movement, showing her plain sandals with straps which brought Greek sandals to mind, and painted tassels with buckles. Had Arthur not seen these, he could have been led to believe with certainty that she was barefoot.

«Are you blind? I’m here to sing Jelem Jelem for a sacred ritual, or don’t you know what that is. Or are you deaf? Keep walking, you scared me!»

«What ritual, madam?» asked Arthur without thinking, believing this entire episode to be just a silly coincidence, something of no concern to him at all…

«Don’t you know what day it is, young man?»

«I do know, ma’am, the 8th of April…» he racked his brains, trying to remember seeing any special occasions marked on the calendar on his kitchen wall.

«Exactly! The 8th of April! Need I explain? But you wouldn’t understand anyhow,» clearly, she was to beat around the bush with him no longer, and began to address him as ty, and to pointlessly wave her arm at him. But she had hurt this English gentleman’s feelings.

«Wait, madam… I… I ask for your forgiveness for offending you, I didn’t mean to…» he said quickly, but suddenly found he could not take his eyes off this woman, and was intrigued: «What significance has today, madam?»

«It’s World Gypsy Day!» she said with open pride, but in her voice there were underlying tones of aggravation. «Shame you didn’t know. Remember this day!» and she slapped him on the shoulder with the palm of her hand in a friendly manner. So that’s who she was! A gypsy, of all people, imagine that! So, he was right to be reminded of Esmeralda the Gypsy, though she was not borne of gypsies, but raised by them. Immediately he had memories of what he had heard about this people’s strange powers to cast evil spells, that one must never, under any circumstances let them touch you, or even look one in the eye!

«Don’t be afraid of me,» it was as though she was reading his mind. «I’m not unforgiving… Very well then, goodbye!» her kind and dark-skinned face was now very playful and full of life. She now seemed to be about to stick out her tongue at him.

«Thank you, madam!» he answered.

«Why do you keep saying «madam, madam, madam’? I’m not that old yet. My name is Lily. Just «Lily’», she introduced herself, and held out a half-draped arm. «And what is your name?»

«Arthur, Arthur Smith.»

«And are you a stylist?» she suddenly asked happily, admiring him appreciatively from head to toe.

«No.»

«No?» she was slightly surprised, «But your arms are so fine, so light and sensitive, although you have nerves of steel, and the heart of a lion… Well, that doesn’t matter, forget about it. Well, if you’re not a stylist, then are you gay?»

«Madam, may I ask you to be a bit more selective in the expressions you use…»

«Was it something Lily said?» she spread her arms blamelessly. «That’s just you being too well brought up. But not a snob either. Or maybe you’re both at the same time, well? Doesn’t matter, Lily is joking. Forget it. I believe in equality of cultures and religions. Unfortunately, our prissy modern society will not be sharing the same views any time soon…»

«Buy a seashell! Buy a seashell!» a slovenly-looking salesman walked past, carrying a tray with small shells from rivers and the sea in delicate shapes around his neck. Seeing Arthur, he stopped beside him and determinedly recited from memory: «Buy a seashell, sir! Go on! It’ll bring you luck.» Arthur, seeing that being rid of the salesman would not be easy, asked: «How much?» and pointed at the shell nearest to him, a small pink one.

«It’s yours for only five pounds, sir» the salesman answered, showing his yellow teeth.

«Daylight robbery! A pure rip-off!» Lily suddenly interrupted, turning to him confrontationally, «What’s your name, sir…»

«And what’s it to you?» the salesman said indignantly, waving his arms and spraying spit. «Back off, Mystic Meg… You’re getting on my nerves…»

«TELL ME YOUR NAME…» Lily repeated slowly, not taking her gaze off him, and moving her head from side to side, suddenly looking fearful, like a boa-constrictor hypnotising a frog to immediately, voluntarily, and with complete humility, jump into its gaping abyss. Arthur was struck by the tone of her voice and her powerful, determined expression, bearing into the salesman like a sharp dagger.

«Matthew,» he said quickly. Into his voice there had by some strange way come an unquestioning submission. «Your name is from the Bible,» she said meaningfully, «and it means „the gift from God,“ but your prices are sinful! You think money grows on trees? Remember to observe decency. And now, move on.» And surprisingly obediently he moved off without saying a word, taking away nothing but his portable plywood tray.

«Never buy seashells, Arthur! They don’t bring luck… They only cause their owner isolation… Remember what Lily has told you…» and the gypsy made to turn around and leave. But she happened to bump nose first into a young man in ripped jeans, a crumpled shirt, and old trainers.

«Hey gypsy, tell my future!» he hassled her boldly, and with a brazen smirk.

«You‘re just a child! Have you even completed your GCSEs, son?» asked Lily mockingly.

«What?» this insult incensed him. «I’ll «ave you…» Arthur watched as he hurled himself at her and loomed over her, but she shook her head, meaning not to escalate matters. «Calm yourself down!» she held out an arm as if to put some space between herself and the young man. «I see you’re a big boy. Listen, could you not get that close to me. I’m not your mother… I say what I mean… Get out of my way. So, I’ll bet my bottom dollar you too were a weakling once!» her eyes bore straight into his ugly face.

«You what, you old moron? What did I ever ask you? I know all that…» it was obvious that he was used to people doing whatever he said. Hearing the insult he used, Lily lost her temper and blazed with anger, «Arghh, you son of a whore!» her slender yet strong arms grabbed his crumpled shirt with the fearlessness and bravery of a lioness, and she shouted: «You bag of shit! You’d better watch your words with me, unless you want my foot in your balls…»

The young man freed himself from her grip but was now as quiet as a mouse, he recoiled into a little ball and raised his eyes in fear to look at the gypsy, who suddenly spat: «I don’t give advice to sexually frustrated perverts like you! Get on your way to wherever you were going! Unless you want me to tell everyone you wear a thong, and love being whipped in your privates…»

Arthur watched him start backwards and disappear in an instant. He had watched this entire incident unfold as though in a trance. And Lily, giving him a wink, said softly: «They wear jeans with holes in them, and then are suddenly surprised that I know they wear a thong,» and a deep crimson of embarrassment rose through her dark skin. «Phew, I’m shattered. This is every day for me… And no one sympathises… But it doesn’t matter, at least I made good on my promise for a triumph of justice. But now I’m paying the price for all that with a headache. Never visit a fortune teller, we have so much pressure on us these days. Arthur, don’t be angry at me because I used the word «gay’. You know I was horsing around. But could you please help me, you’re a doctor, are you not?»

He felt her pulse and opened his suitcase, in which he always carried a small leather pouch containing a first aid kit of all the essentials for all possible situations. Having taken a tablet, and having been given a few minutes, a different pair of eyes looked at him already, calm and thankful… «You saved my life, Arthur! I can see that you’re a good man…»

«But you’ve only known me for 20 minutes.»

«I only need a few seconds, and I can see you would never hurt a fly…»

«And what else can you see?» he asked, now curious for some reason.

«You are an unfortunate man; I can see you have had much to endure…» and at that moment Arthur thought her eyes were looking right inside him.

She continued: «But life will go on… What else… You also love solitude, music, and watching TV lying on the sofa…» everything she said was the truth, and Arthur was astonished by her amazing insight.

«You are a true catholic,» she continued, «a strong believer. And God sees this. But when God values a person, the Devil sees opportunity in him too. Never forget that! And, finally, I’ll tell you something else. Today you will meet someone special.»

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