The Wall Read Online Free

they had reached the path that led to her back door, he handed
    her the bags and stepped out of the way so that she could pass. She
    nodded pleasantly to him, determined to be polite and uncaring, then
    stopped to gape at his words when he told her quietly, 'Feel free to
    come exploring on the beach whenever you like.'
    She stared and then managed to reply, 'Are you sure? I mean, I don't
    want to be an imposition on your privacy.'
    He looked down at her with an enigmatic look, eyes taking in every
    detail. 'I'm sure. You'll be welcome.'
    She was silent for a minute at this. 'Would it be all right if I came
    back this evening to take a picture of the sunset? You really don't
    mind me tramping about on the beach?'
    'I really don't mind, and yes, feel free to come whenever you like.
    The house is well back from the beach, so you won't be invading my
    privacy.'
    Nice hint, that, she thought. 'Very well, if you're sure, then.' A
    thought struck her and she laughed. 'What do I call you, anyway?'
    He was standing with hands pushed into his jeans pockets, the stance
    hunching his shoulders, and his feet were planted well apart. She had
    a quick impression of immovable strength, and then he was moving,
    back up, starting to turn away. 'My name is Greg.'
    She backed up herself. 'Nice meeting you, then, Greg. Thank you for
    letting me come back.'
    'You're welcome, Sara.'
    Without a backward glance, she took off up the path and soon let
    herself into her back door, unaware of the tall figure that stopped and
    turned, watching her go with unreadable eyes, following her until she
    was out of sight.
    Back inside, Sara went about the actions of putting the knapsack
    away and washing her thermos and plastic cup mechanically. She
    spent a good deal of energy in thinking about the stranger whom she
    had apparently befriended. Or had she befriended him after all? He
    had seemed such a strange mixture of politeness and bitterness, of
    wariness and friendliness, of cynicism and real concern. Thinking of
    the man and the aura of watchful reserve that clung to him, she
    started to wonder at her own overtures again.
    It was definitely a strange situation, for she hardly ever made casual
    acquaintances. But that look in the man's eyes and the unhappy nerve
    to his mouth had struck a spark of understanding and empathy within
    her. She knew, how it felt to be unhappy; she had been extremely
    unhappy herself until just recently. She knew how it felt to be bitter
    and disillusioned. Perhaps that was the reason she had made such
    obvious overtures of friendliness. She had felt a desire to show him
    that there was the possibility to overcome bitterness, and to be happy
    after disappointment. Perhaps that was why she had spilled so much
    of herself out to him.
    She shrugged and put the matter out of her mind for the time being.
    She didn't even know what prompted that strange and unhappy
    expression and the chances were that she never would. There was no
    reason for the man to wish to confide in a total stranger. She didn't
    even want him to, anyway.
    Feeling in need of an outlet for her strangely aroused emotions, she
    went into the rather small living room and sat down at the ancient
    piano that she had just recently had tuned. Flexing her long strong
    fingers over the black and white keys, she emptied her mind of all
    thought and concentrated on the mood of the moment. Then she let
    her fingers come down on the keys and began to play. Strangely
    enough, to her mind, what she had impulsively decided to play was a
    sad, haunting love song that left her with unexplained tears in her
    eyes and an ache in her throat. She played it through several times,
    humming once, and then singing it softly. It left her feeling very
    empty.
    She didn't understand it; she had never felt so lonely in her life.
    Suddenly, and with great impact, the realisation that she had no true
    friends hit her. There was no one with whom she could just be herself
    and not the singing star