Anna

The phone somewhere in my clothes rang persistently as I drove disconsolately back along the motorway wondering how I was going to put this sad turn of events to the young man's Lover. Finally stopped on the lay by, it was her, full of bright hope, turned almost to hysterics in a matter of moments. Do get myself involved.

She, devastated, thought of my life, who had ever been so very concerned over me!

Remember once, late one night, after being attacked by a drunk in the cab, his girl friend grabbed hold and kicked the shit out of him. Watched this demonstration of affection, feeling so very left out, that no woman had ever thought so very much of myself, enough to get so carried away. It had always been left to me, a one way traffic in love and emotion. Hence the interrogation from Anna. Thought very carefully about her, she, so pointed with her questions, trying to pick me up, certainly "my mistake", having failed to overthrow the immigration system! Another side to her, calculating, needle sharp. Where was my Anna? so soft... loving the World! This other side to every woman…. Jennifer could switch it on and off at will ... yet surprised at Anna.

Half a century ago, she and all her cunning little team would have been recruited in the Polish Resistance. Born after her time.

Certainly, went over to pick Anna up as arranged. Went up into the flat she shared with four females, flotsam everywhere. Empty bottles of wine, half dead cigarettes, unmade beds, make up lying about, empty teacups, plates with scraps of unfinished food simply left.

Liked to have watched my Chief Stoker's face at this delectable scene, his rosy, cherubic cheeks would have gone exceedingly red. the most almighty roar from his lips.

Night the old man came down onto the mess deck for evening rounds, our chief stoker trotting obediently after him, quietly saying "Yes Sir" " No Sir" "Three bags full Sir". Everything had to be in its precise place, but that was the way , the only way it could be. The old man spied a tickler tin on top of a locker, not minding his own business he reached up, pulled it down, unfortunately, full to the brim with Piss... the gentlemen of the mess too tired to climb up two decks to the "Heads"...the contents of the tin cascading over the Captains immaculate evening wear. A choked, stunned, silence followed, all wishing the two funneled bastard would sink beneath us.

No, never felt anything about the on going shambles of the four females, if that was a reflection of them, so be it... Saw The bed, the one Anna shared with her friend, the bed that drew Anna from me. Never once, in all the months I had known her had she failed to go back to it and Sylvia... Making me return her even late at night, not staying in the flat, in the spare room which I quite genuinely offered to her.. .No good smiling at these words...

Perhaps something odd about Anna, silent after the previous nights' haranguing me. Long black, see through dress, looked as if it had come, not from Oxfam, but the rag bag. Underneath it she had a jeans jacket, maybe the latest thing in brassieres. Round her neck a plastic red Heart held by a piece of black cord. Strange round black glasses which would have fitted a child of six, looked peculiar on her, her head being so big. Then realised she had cut, rather slashed her hair short, definitely D.I.Y. job. Cut almost above her ears, revealing a flawless pure white neck. Some men go for feet, others breasts, legs, my own penchant is necks.
We had progressed so far as Safeway’s at Stamford Hill. In the lift, where, I thought, would be able to get close to her neck... But she was prickly, to say the very least, ignored it, later to find that it fitted with my later analysis. Ran round getting food together, apparently she did not know what day it was, dithering, reminiscent of Dear Susan, only Anna more vague, making a point of only buying some apples for herself saying she would not eat at all, although I had invited her to stay for dinner in the evening.

Smiled and chatted to one of the check out girls I am very fond of. Anna again prickly, "Who is that Girl " she demanded, as if, as if God knows what... Ignored her, which again upset her. Finally staggered up the stairs dumped everything, said to her make the Coffee... she immediately went to pieces with the boiling kettle, for some reason taking the lid off, burning her hand. Left her in the big room, pointedly eating a apple very carefully, cutting lumps out of it with a knife. Went downstairs to recover my shoe with had blown off the window sill, had been blanking it. Spoke to woman neighbour, wended my weary way back up again. Anna wandering about "Where have you been!!?" "who was that woman you were talking to!!? as if married twenty seven years, Anna and I!!

Thought she was playing some game, never serious. Stuck my finger on the tip of my nose to her. Then she went.. complete off the handle... such a torrent let loose at me, it flattened out finally.. rounding on me again about the Calais fiasco, naturally, "All my Fault". Stood up, gave the rubbish bin such a kick it flew across the room out through the door, finished up against the opposite wall of the hall with a almighty crash. Followed this with a clenched fist brought down on the desk with such force that the room shook, the house may have shaken for all I know, such was my temper.

Anna shut her mouth ….tight .

She went into deep supplication, face a white mask, palms together eyes closed, prayers trembling on her lips, her last moment had come, she no doubt thought.

A whispered "Yes Peter" No Peter" to my long line of thought about her, nodding her head at my every word, even then, she did not completely lose all control, saying very quietly that perhaps we should get ready to go out, time getting on... Went into the hall started giving her all the motor bike gear. She made a sudden dash for the street door, of course it would not open, the lock having been broken for years. Very deliberately turned the handle for her, the huge door swung open .. a bird in flight, silently, swiftly, fluttering down the stairs... Watched from the window, holding her chest; for a moment thought she would collapse in the street, but she is a strong girl, also a actress, no doubt aware I was looking.

Why so full of aggression towards me? Difficult to say. Had observed a change creeping over her for some time. This thing she has about men becoming very serious indeed. Not a matter of dawning upon me that she had, perhaps, other preferences, had accepted this for some time. The aggression finally breaking out in the flat for no real reason… over what I thought, simply a trivial game of find the shoe .

She and Sylvia!? ..what did I care... Suddenly knew where the silver cross and chain I had bought in Thailand for her had gone, seemed so long ago, we had been very happy, no doubt the cross given, a present to Sylvia...with love..

The girl had become slightly unbalanced, said this before, she, having more and more fantasies. Horse riding, buying Cannon Cameras... all highly expensive pursuits, yet spends her time scrubbing kitchens and working in Turkish Cafes, hardly imagine they pay her the money to match such ideas!


England, with all its stresses and strains, a strange land, strange, cold, undemonstrative people, who say so very little and think too much.

Too heavy for Anna, too heavy, for so many other people who come here very full of hope find out, floundering in the isolation, floundering in the glorious windy, sunny, damp days, the mauve lilac, the deep red roses, the mantle of a million trees hanging over our sorrows, our silence, our Hope.

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