As soon as I arrived comments were passed on my swarthy complexion, the indelicate spreading of my nostrils and too-wide mouth, the frizz of my fair hair. Baron Stockmar, my personal physician, even dared to describe me as having a ‘true mulatto face’. Surely it was not my descent from the Moorish line of the Portuguese royal house in the fifteenth century, as some are hypothesizing these days? Was I really one of those throwback creatures? Did not the reason lie closer to home? Mutti? Papi? Infidelities and embarrassments swept under the carpet, as usual? What about all those commissioned portraits, in which I look like either a snub-nosed pixie girl or an old West Indian washerwoman, depending on the painter? It was so embarrassing. Oh, dear, the very memory, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Georgie knew I had a kind heart, and that was all that mattered to him. I so wish that was all that mattered to me, but I am for ever compelled to ask myself the question, was my father indeed not my own?

Now, to that sorely needed distraction. Everyone is talking about this young man gallivanting about on the road who is wonderfully susceptible. Some are having the most tremendous fun with him. It is rare in the netherworld to be seen in one’s original state – face, hair, body and dress – that we are all so very terribly excited. The last time we found someone susceptible, it was a three-year-old girl in Vladivostok some nine years ago. Naturally the conversation was a trifle limited.

Georgie will hardly miss me. He’s sleeping soundly now and shan’t wake up for another three years at least. I understand that this young chap is standing on a beach at the edge of one of those desert kingdoms and that he is feeling very passionate about life. This is just what I need. A young man, some passion and a sympathetic pair of ears. I had better realign my bones (they do go a bit skew-whiff with all my restless fidgeting) and hurry along out there before another wandering soul beats me to it.

Acknowledgements

Simon Prosser ★ Hannah Griffiths ★ Donna Poppy ★ Camilla Hornby and all at Curtis Brown ★ Juliette Mitchell ★ Portia St Hilaire ★ Jean-Claude Halley ★ Sebnem Toplu ★ Anni Sumari ★ Sylvia Aiano ★ Luca Scarlini ★ Linda Le Merle ★ Maggie Gee ★ Jacob Ross ★ Nina Levine ★ John Mcleod ★ Suleika and Leila Rohd-Thomsen ★★ Jon Cook and the English Department at the University of East Anglia for six months of writing time when I was Writing Fellow in 2002 ★

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BERNARDINE EVARISTO

MR LOVERMAN

‘Mr Loverman is Brokeback Mountain with ackee and saltfish and old people’ Dawn French