Spray Painted Bananas

Chapter 29

I'm running again, but this time there's a small grin tugging at my lips. The heaviness I felt has lifted like a theatre curtain. Any doubts I had about the part I was playing have been pushed aside. My costume is exquisite. It's like I'm suddenly standing in the middle of the stage and instead of feeling afraid, I'm excited.

The adrenalin makes me clumsy and I fumble with my keys in the lock. Egg is up. I smell the coffee as soon as I open the door. I head straight for the kitchen and he turns around, a look of expectation on his face, like he's been waiting for this news.

'Look!' I gasp, slapping the newspaper down on the table.

From the thin pages of one of the most popular newspapers of the city, I look out with a self assured smile. I am swathed in colour from head to toe, colours so vibrant and so dense, that its almost impossible to make out any features of my naked body. I am turned to the side and holding out a bunch of red bananas that reach over the page.

Egg bends down so close, his beard scrapes the paper.

'The Banana Goddess has Arrived,' he reads aloud.

I blush with pleasure. 'Ridiculous... but wow right? Wow-bloody-wow?'

The Beefeater will be happy as he's also made it into the paper too. There's also the snap I took of the blue bananas in the Tate gallery. In fact the pictures dominate the feature, leaving little space for words. I've scanned it quickly, but only now I start to read. Egg is ahead of me.

'The writer mentions where you got the bananas,' Egg says, wincing. 'The police will be on to you now.'

He runs his finger under the paragraph and we read together in silence.

'The bananas were originally part of a dubious police operation to record drug dealers working in the Kings Cross area. A sack of bananas with a camera inside was left on the street overnight. The leader of the operation, not the sharpest pencil in the pot, didn't stop to consider whether leaving bananas outside a catering company might lead to a mix-up. The following morning the official police bananas were gone and the following evening an artist was born.'

Egg straightens up and goes over to fetch the coffee. He hands me a mug and lets out a little laugh.

'I was so sure you'd gone to talk to Farrell. I was so excited for you, I couldn't get back to sleep.'

My face falls and I find myself taking a sip of boiling hot coffee to mask my emotion.

'You should go over and show him,' Egg says, nodding at the paper. 'I'm sure he'd like to know his girlfriend is famous.'

'I'm not his girlfriend Egg.'

'Not yet, but you will be.'

An image of Bibiana and Farrell, their naked bodies entwined, bursts into my head like a loud noise. I push it away, horrified.

'I've been thinking that maybe we're better off as friends,' I say.

I turn my attention to the newspaper again so I don't have to meet his eyes. But even without looking at him I can hear the frown in his voice.

'No I don't think so,' he says.

I feel guilty that my secret would devastate him too. I won't tell him. Bibiana made him no promises; she didn't lead him on. But Farrell, he kissed me. And with that kiss he woke me up. Now I wish I could fall back to sleep again, blissful in my ignorance that I can't have him.

'I don't think Farrell would appreciate this picture anyway,' I say, shrugging. 'Yesterday he seemed pretty annoyed that I'd done it.'

I remember his brusque tone, the angry twitch at his brow. He had no right.