It's trite I know but I love novels about love. Particularly doomed love. It warms the cockles of my heart to read about people writhing and expiring in the heat of hopeless passion. This doesn't come from a place of bitterness but rather one of belief. Why does the old adage 'nothing worth having comes easy' exist if it weren't true? I'm not saying that Dasha's life will be a constant state of disappointed love but then again I can't promise where my brain will take her. Is she a woman destined to come to terms with her memories as they are alone or will she recapture the only man who got close enough to help?
His name is Sam. So far there isn't a first meeting between Dasha and he but it is mentioned that they become friends at church. While his parents aren't particularly God-fearing, they do desire to instil some sort of Christian charity into their son and so along he goes each week until he hits sixteen and can bully his way out of things he no longer sees the point of. He first appears in the book on Dasha's thirteenth birthday – he gives her a charcoal pencil (details on that later). He's basically a sweetheart but of course, Lilia doesn't approve. In fact she goes so far as banning Sam's presence at her house. Hence he and Dasha share the following moment in secret on her eighteenth birthday. All you need to know is that Sam is showing Dasha a selection of home movies for her birthday enjoyment:
Sam's parents were very young, his mother lean and blonde while his father seemed paunchy in youth. They holidayed at seasides; punted through canals in summer; stood outside abbeys and churches; blew kisses to the camera while dolphins twisted in the water behind. Dasha watched hungrily. A whole past contained in one tape. It continued, suddenly showing a small child in a red romper suit. Careening across the grass and falling. Dasha put a hand to her mouth, recognising a baby Sam. He was embraced, swung, fed, scolded. Another child, his older cousin, screamed for her turn with the camera. There was hardly a moment of silence. Not once did the camera stop; followed the family in every move they made. The first tape went for an hour and Dasha immediately asked for more.
-You were so cute.-
-I'll put a later one on. I think it's mostly from Italy. No wait.- He rummaged in the bag. -This one.-
It showed Sam, just grown out of chubby childhood, approaching a familiar door and knocking. A woman answered, chestnut hair tight behind her head, dress black and pleated. She spoke, looked suspiciously left and right before letting him in. Laughter was heard from the person holding the camera. Sam paused the tape.
-Why did they video that?- Dasha asked.
-It was the first birthday party I'd been invited to by a girl.- He rewound and froze on the woman's face. -Your mum looks so annoyed. Did she know I was coming?-
-I don't remember.- Dasha leant forward to better see Lilia. She looked no younger. Her back still hunched, shoulders secretive.
-Do you want to keep watching?-
-Show me more of when you were little.-
He brought out two tapes, stacked them by her feet. -You pick.-
They sat on the lounge floor, eating cake and watching Sam's family history, for the rest of the day. Dasha didn't take her eyes from the screen. His family were an enigma she couldn't understand. A mother and father keeping record of something as simple as their child's experiences. She watched them measure his growth against a doorway, marking it with a black pen. He turned and looked, comparing it to the last, and cheered. Dasha had no such blights on her doorways. Barely a record of how she had looked as a baby, a child, a teenager. The few photos Lilia had framed on the mantel were school pictures. Awkward smiles and ties too tight around the throat. And one of the three of them, taken by a stranger at London Zoo. Dasha's hair in her face, Lilia's hand on her shoulder. Her father staring off past the lens.
-I wish I had this,- she whispered as another tape clicked to an end.
I think this is the best scene to introduce Sam and Dasha's relationship. Sam becomes a constant source in her life but I haven't decided in what way. Will he stay or will he go? Or will she decide for him? I'd appreciate some thoughts on the matter – after all I'm writing this for all of you!
Lara S.
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