Small notes from Mark. Scribbled crayons, photographs of Jennifer and himself in the New World... Sunshine, swimming pools... Would I go there and take his bike and Skateboard? I had still enough momentum left in me to get down to Laker Airways, as if by a miracle he had started cheap flights to Los Angeles... People sleeping in Buckingham Palace Road simply to be first in the queue. Became clever at this, managed to do some talking on the phone, carting the bike and the skateboard down to Heathrow on the tube.
Arrived in America. Feeling like a troglodyte from another planet, momentarily, thinking somehow landed back in Australia. Everything looked the same, felt the same... the heat, intense Sunlight, huge Gum trees. Must have appeared most peculiar... so peculiar that the immigration locked me up... without so much as Thank You. The turmoil in my head must have been reflected in my face, although having fought off the worst of the depression.
The trip had not been any good to me, needing above all, rest and quiet, but refusing to lie down. Explained about Jennifer how "The family were supposed to meet me". Suddenly this man came along, straight out of the movies, impeccable creases in his immaculate blue shirt, medals on his chest, badges on his arms. Let me out... smiling as if I needed pity... maybe I did.
Oh Yes... Jennifer looked good, very smart, radiant... so very pleased to see this strange old man from her past. Hugged me, thought she would never let go... Mark too, grown... with his cowboy hat, boots, the business. Shook hands with her Husband. She had made quite sure of him. Marrying first in a Registry Office in England... then the full blown Catholic business in Los Angeles. He was nailed to the floor. She knew it.
The impression was how everything so clean, so organised. The food, so much of it, such fine quality, half the price of England. Within a few days, back to my Australian rig out, Pair of shorts, tee shirt and sandals. The warmth, the lolling about on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, rest, to a point. Driving about in their Oldsmobile, also something I had in Australia, this particular one, as if it had come straight from the showroom, although it must have been ten years old.
Looking so much better, me.
John had to go to work... leaving myself and Jennifer...time on our hands... She tried it when I was in the shower... No way.. feeling ill at the idea.. none of that. She appeared surprised, taken back, unused to rejection.
Time flew past.. thinking of ways I could abandon England. John and Jennifer for some reason, attempting to get me to stay ..to work in America.. Advertised in the paper as a chauffeur getting a number of replies but my time was up.. had to go. Thought about Jennifer's concern for me ..that I should stay whatever, ..but she played her hand wrong, becoming very bolshie suddenly, demanding that I should pay for my keep with them.. Evidently forgotten the years I kept her. Had bought considerable quantities of food at the massive supermarket, evidently wanted more.. sounded that nothing much had changed. Realised, not so cosy as it appeared.. nothing ever is I suppose.
The man had a huge house, shown to me, something from a more extravagant film set. Unfortunately his previous wife and two daughters were ensconced in it.. He, also having to pay telephone numbers in maintenance to these ladies.
Jennifer had not been quite so clever! In fact, most put out by this. Her concern over my remaining in America began to make sense. Staying there I would doubtlessly be expected to pay heavily to support Mark, as is the custom in the good old US of A!, irrespective of the fact she had been the one to drag the boy away... the real reason behind her condolence…… shrewd, then she had never been anything but
Said nothing about my conclusions, said good-bye, sad wave from the boy, unhappy with his relationship with her husband... what was I supposed to do?.
Sat comfortably back in the seat, drank my coffee, looked along the six miles down to Planet Earth and thought "Bollocks to you".
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