Death makes life look as if it happens in a straight line. Beginning, middle and end. Death tidies up the loose ends. A broom to sweep the old bits into a neat pile.
It was because of Dirinda that I took Natal in. She asked me to look after her son and I could not refuse her. Well, I did at first. I knew what hiding an infidel would mean. You live looking over your shoulder, careful who you trust.
See how I am darting around with the telling. Like I said, life is not linear. Our memories pop into our heads at random. Children of my unconscious, they have no thought for order.
I must say I thought the concept of an “infidel” laughable – a cartoon attempt to find a scapegoat. Surely no one would take those newspaper headlines seriously?
But some did. Maybe they needed someone to blame for their own violence.
That’s why Dirinda asked me to take Natal, because it all got ugly and he was in danger.
Tags: copyright, Death, literary agent, novel, writing
