Burning Love

(Sensitive content: implied burning bodies nil in-progress description, implied sexual attack with no in-progress description.)

For those who crave love more than life itself a glance from the object of her desire is a tiny speck of hope. So Lee Lui Lin thinks, as she walks through the village kicking the sand path on her sixteenth birthday to buy herself a gift in the market. By her eighteenth, her hope of love has grown to melancholy when the man she loves meets the object of his affection in secret.

“We should marry without telling her and move away that night so she can’t make you feel guilty.”

“True, but Lui Lin has almost a sixth sense for secrets, So I bet she has guessed ours.”

“Don’t be silly my dear, she will forget us and eventually have a man of her own to cherish if she cannot see you anymore.”

The bride-to-be rests her head on her man’s chest and on her tiptoes kisses his plump moist bottom lip so he quivers and pulls her close. His eyes reflect the cooking fire whose flames licks the bottom of the black, hot, dinner pot.

“Food will be ready soon my love, please bring the rolls from the oven and stoke the fire to boil water for my bath. I will be ready after our food is settled.”

Lui Lin is in the shadows to hear that Song village is their isolated newlywed location. A business village where musical instruments are made for the King’s orchestra.

The man Lui Lin adores crafts Erhu. His new wife intends to make flutes and bells to make their services in the village indispensable. The soft caresses of the two strings of the Erhu melt Lui Lin’s heart every time she hears him play.

Lui Lin has other ideas then allowing them to escape her forever and packs to travel.

At midnight they marry and carry their few possessions for their new home on their back until they reach a horse and cart merchant. They travel the rest of the way together with the comforting sound of hooves to share the burden of distance between them and Lui Lin.

Grateful they have escaped her they settle into a new married life with bright eyes and plenty of impromptu cuddles until one evening.

“I am hungry. Can you feed me after my long travels.”

The grey hood of the travel cloak hides her face. But the new wife sees the soft hands of a lady and red and gold expensive shoes with blood blisters on her white long cotton socks.

“My husband please serve our traveller while I fetch water to comfort her sore feet.”

Her husband stares in horror at those soft hands and pale pink nails. 

“Good evening, would you like to sit down?”

The traveller nods and peaks at the object of her affection.

He hasn’t changed, except his eyes are bright with joy, thinks Lui Lin. She twists her mouth and her eyes darken.

The couple are both in their U shaped home stoking flames and tending food for their guest. Too busy to notice bales of hay inserted underneath their home and in door fronts to block their exit. Kindling ignites and Lui Lin stands back to watch the heat and smoke turn to burning flame as the wood and hay home rages. Flames from the single storey house illuminate the night sky.

“My love I am trapped.”

“My wife, I will get to you.”

He knocks through walls to fetch his wife and the oil soaked roof collapses on them. Their hands and ash burned faces look towards their guest.

“Help us.”

“If I can’t I have you my love no one can.”

“This is not love, it's obsession. I curse you forever to make others suffer and never feel the burn of love in your heart.”

Two sets of screams increase then fade. Flames burn all to the ground and neighbours make a shrine to honour their suffering.

Over the years Lui Lin changes her name several times to side step the fact that she never dies.

“You really do look like your mother,” says Lui Lin’s third custom gown client of the day.

“Thank you, I am grateful to her for leaving me this building and her Paris fashion business. All our family have a designer’s eye.”

“Yes I can see that. I will take this gown in a day dress and this style with thin straps for the evening in velvet midnight blue with a matching wrap.”

“Francois get Mrs. Beecham’s coat.”

“Yes Madam.”

The blonde man with a pink bow tie settles the last customer in her car, giving her driver her purchases from her previous visit.

“Lock the door and turn off the salon lights. I will write a new wanted card tonight.”

“Another poor girl to torment for her blood then?”

“Of course, my needs are first. My eternal beauty is what I need to one day find love.”

Julie drops her study books as the wind pulls her birthday scarf from her neck into the courtyard that only the rich ladies of Paris visit.

Not more mud on my college books, the professor will nag me in between lectures for this. I need a job for the Christmas holidays so I can buy the next text book for January, she thinks tugging at her red ringlets to calm herself.

She runs after her scarf and as she picks it up notices the sign.

Wanted Part-time Salon staff No Experience Required.

Some call it fate I suppose, but I call it a job, thinks Julie.

The salon bell rings and Julie stares at the white marble floors of the entrance to the premises. As she walks down the hallway she stares right and sees five machinists pushing midnight blue fabric and black lining through huge sewing machines.

A frosted window is at the far end with a bell on the wall. Julie side-eyes the blonde guy who is walking from the huge salon to the hallway to greet her.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you today? Looking for something special. Come in and have a hot chocolate and we will discuss it.”

Francoisse’s sales technique is very polished and before long the girl is trying on garments she has no money to purchase.

“I am here for the job, Francoise not to buy clothes.”

“Madam won’t let you serve in the salon looking like this. No, it will scare away our important clientele.”

A soft slow voice behind them both has Julie jump.

“Do you like this red coat?”

“I do, but I’m here for the job please. Your garments are exquisite.”

“I know, all my designs have a purpose.”

Madam removes the coat from its display dummy and pushes it towards Julie to try on.

Julie admires herself in the mirror and a new day dream of her as a singer glides into her thoughts.

“Have this and pay me back a little at a time. You intend to be here for years don’t you?”

I think the both of you are weird but almost a free coat of this calibre which I will never be able to afford any other way sounds like a deal, thinks Julie.

“If you let me, it will be an honour. Am I renting this coat long term or actually having it.”

“Never return it dear.”

As Madam hands the huge cream and black salon purchase bag to the girl it cuts Julie’s hand. Blood trickles into the bag but disappears. The cut stings and Julie feels faint.

Julie blinks as the chill of early morning air trickles in from an open french garden door. Her eyes feel dry and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. A red black velvet dress is in front of her with a note pinned to it.

“This goes well with your red coat. I will see you Monday for the winter holiday job. Madam has accepted you.”

Julie slips the knee length velvet dress into the bag. She spins and claps her hands while she admires the rich looking woman in the mirror looking back at her. 

Time to go and feed Raymond before he licks all my milk from the fridge, thinks Julie.

Saturday night with her makeup borrowed from her older sister and her new heeled shoes on, Julie moves from side to side to admire herself in her bedroom mirror.

I feel a different person, maybe I could pretend to be an older wealthy woman just for tonight, thinks Julie.

The man Julie attracts seeks a millionairess for his business venture. 

Scamming desperate women is my business, thinks the over-sexed and over here Lord Farquoise.

The man’s compliments are absorbed by innocent Julie as her head is turned. 

I think he loves me, she thinks.

 She dabs her nose in the ladies’ powder room and feels excitement for her new future.

“What do you mean you can’t invest in my business you tight fisted woman. You are wearing this season’s Madam Amour’s first winter collection that was released yesterday reported in Ladies Who Lunch magazine this morning.

The man is no gentlemen, are all peers of the realm this awful, thinks Julie.

Pulling away from his thick fingered grasp Julie’s red coat loses a covered red button and rolls into a rain filled drain.

Exhausted by his cruelty Julie runs to the salon for safety and finds the front door open.

“Is that you Madam?”

“Yes I am designing for a new client. He wants a full travel case of business clothes packed in a month ready for his new department store to open.”

Julie smells strong coffee by Madam’s elbow and breathes in its aroma.

“Francois another cup for Julie while she helps me with my designs.”

A china cup and saucer rest in Julie's hand as she recounts her distressing evening.

Unusually, Madam is soothing and wipes the tears with her lace trimmed cotton handkerchief.

“Not all men are honest or gracious, dear, we women are their objects to toy with. But we need to learn to pay that forward so we don’t get burned.”

Over the next few weeks each time madam gifts a new gown or cloak to Julie there is mishap and mayhem.

Julie begins to change into a vain woman who craves to be adored by men. She bounces off the flame of their cruel intentions and pretends to grow a thicker skin. Though in reality she feels more lost than when she didn’t have the expensive clothes and money from Madam.

One evening at the salon Julie writes the cost of each bag of clothes and realises she will always work here and suffer from men who think she is rich or fake. 

The salon bell tinkles and the waft of sandalwood and cinnamon rushes past Julie’s nose on the cold winter breeze. Julie reaches for the french window to the garden and shuts it. Francoise is in the back garden smoking a cigarette on a black holder with a cream feather jacket wrapped around him as a thin ineffective barrier from the evening chill.

“Good evening Sir, welcome to Madam Amour’s are you here to collect a sample of your suits?”

“Hello George, ignore our salon lady. She is new and doesn’t know we are dining tonight.”

George stares at Julie’s thin alabaster neck and bare shoulders in the long velvet red gown she admires in the mirror.

Madam returns to her office to finish applying her lipstick. When she returns to the salon Francois is curled up on the chaise lounge asleep hoping to avoid her wrath.

“Is George gone to smooth his hair?”

A note from George to Madam in a swirled black ink pen has her pick up a vase and throw it at the mirror. Chards of sharp reflective silver scatter over the cold marble floor.

“How dare that bint steal my dinner date. No one steals from me and lives.”

In a screaming rage more than mirrors are broken that night. Julie finds the salon locked the next morning and for that week.

George collects her from her apartment stairs and is a gentleman all week until she finds herself in his huge house.

With her dress torn and her mascara smeared down her powdered cheeks Julie sneaks around the back gate to enter the salon from the garden. 

In her hand are six huge cream salon bags with black edging and handles. 

She finds Madam in her office in a black hat with a pulled down veil.

“Have you had a death in the family?”

“Soon maybe.”

Madam side-eyes Julie and notices all the salon bags in the door threshold to her office.

“I have come to return these garments as I have had nothing but mishap and pain every time I wear them. I also realise I will work here until I am ninety to pay this huge bill. I cannot do that as I go to England for a new University year. As my Professor has referred me to Oxford for my studies.”

“Take the clothes with you and enjoy them as you live the next few years. When you are a famous scholar visit me and I will make you your graduation gown.”

I have no intention of ever returning here, thinks Julie.

“Thank you Madam, I will.”

Julie leaves the salon and turns outside to take one last look at the clean windows that used to excite her.

Madam lifts her veil and turns her newly tattooed cheek to the mirror. She picks up the phone and dials the number of the other immortal who has the same curse as her.

“The tattoo on my back has moved around to one side of my face.”

“This means you are not making amends or helping people. Instead you are still weaving gold torment thread into the lining of the clothes you make. Yes you will always be immortal. However, being vindictive to others will earn you a full body of black tattoos and a haggard face. You will lose your thick hair and plump lips and be immortally ugly. Change your ways now.”

Madam put down the phone and tears dripped onto her wooden office table.

Damn humans, she thinks and bites her bottom lip.

Outside Julie struggles down the road with all six bags until she sees a group of workmen burning dirty fabric in a tall drum to refurbish an office.

“Can I add some bits to burn please?”

“Help yourself love.”

The workmen watch the slender young woman throw the Parisian salon bags into the flames and quickly walk away.

“Blimey, what a waste. They are Madam Amour's bags. My wife loves ‘er stuff.”

Inside Madam’s office she is burning and soon turns to ash. Her shoes remain by the dark gloss wooden chair until Francois brings in her coffee and biscuits. Her design pad for her new collection is open for Francois to see.

He calls Madams’ mobile and a hum echoes in the wooden left hand draw.

He kicks her shoes as he reaches the draw.

She never takes off her shoes in her office, he thinks.

A month later Francois has finished his first collection and has Madam’s estate lawyer visit him. Madam has left him the salon building and her huge fortune.

Francois thanks the lawyer after an awkward cup of coffee together. Then he calls a bulldozer company and requests they flatten the salon. Packing his eighteenth century jacket in his overnight bag he leaves for Italy for Milan Fashion week.

At last I can follow my dream. Now that empty hearted crow is gone. I am free from my life stuck to her, thinks Francois.

He clicks the salon door shut for the last time but never looks back. His designs are on a garment rack safely in the truck on the main street. He gets in the truck with the radio loud with charts music blaring. It signals a new era for him.