Page 47 of Sunrise By the Sea

‘What’s the matter?’ said Marisa, panicked.

‘Well, now I think, perhaps my power is in hair.’

‘Like Samson?’

‘Yes. Perhaps if you cut hair, I not play any more.’

‘Great!’

He laughed ruefully, but there was no rancour between them now.

His hair was thick and long. Marisa made another straight line of her fingers, and snipped.

After the first shining dark locks fell to the ground – which did feel in fact, rather like a shame – it was much easier. She cut and shaped round the bottom of his head. There was a scent to him, feeling so intimate up close; like woodsmoke. It was pleasant, like whisky, a hint of the cigarillos; pencil sharpenings for some reason, and tobacco, and something a little sharper, like oranges. It was an old-fashioned smell.

He sat perfectly still under the bright blue sky, the only sound thesnip snip snipas she tried to tidy everything up, and, if she was entirely honest with herself, not really wanting it to end. His face with his eyes shut was much more expressive and pleasing than when hunched in a permanent grimace.

She felt she should speak, but she was concentrating. Plus, if everyone in the village asked him too many questions, she didn’t want to add to the onslaught. And she didn’t want him to ask any questions back.

It was not unpleasant, feeling her hands on his head, in the sweet spring air.

‘You should cut your beard too,’ she said.

‘Now you are professional, I see.’

‘Ssh, don’t move.’

He obediently closed his mouth. High above, a pair of gulls circled lazily in the soft air, cooing to each other.

‘You do not ask questions.’

‘You said you don’t like it.’

‘Well, now is too quiet.’

She snipped gently.

‘I ask you. Why you never go out?’

‘I have . . .’

She had told Polly. She could talk about it.

‘It’s an illness. Called agoraphobia. I’m getting better though. I’m on the steps! I am talking to you!’

‘So you hide at end of world?’ he said, musing. ‘Well, I’m glad you do better.’

‘Why are you here?’ said Marisa in answer.

‘Oh,’ he sighed. ‘Is long story.’

‘You have a lot of hair.’

He smiled.

‘Don’t move.’

‘Well. Is not long story. Is old story. Beautiful woman. She not want me any more. “Go away, Alexei.” So. I go away. Very far.’

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