"I can give you boy in eleven months"

The actual starting point, clearly defined in my mind. Susan had, as mentioned, become coherent after the weeks spent in the Cafe, putting herself about ..we having conversations, nothing in particular, she now at the stage of bringing up the subconscious, the past trickling out. A husband somewhere.. no children.. Asked why? "I am unable to have children " decisive... spoke differently, that moment recognised immediately the middle class lady ..as if "How could I possibly question her? a cab driver!" only momentarily did this real Susan surface.. quickly lapsed back into "Yes Peter " No Peter" If I had told her jump off the top of Saint Paul's, would have done so without hesitation. Such was her total belief in me.

Gently asked why she could not have children.. went into the woman's routine of explaining about her bloody ovaries.. how having had "all the tests". Sure it was not the husband? ..she was sure. He had performed for their twelve years of marriage, without result, there had been no other men until her mental breakdown.
To this moment remember my exact words to her.
Although only a couple of men were muttering on another table, for some reason. dropped my voice.. looked at her straight and said .

"I can give you boy in eleven months"

Just then a few faces turned up, all plunking themselves down with us, all shouting together.. the conversation forgotten so far as I was concerned.


The moment we were to take off on our own long particular ellipse, our gently rising and eventual, heavily, finally falling, a abrupt smash, was some time later.

Another morning, another sunny morning, there had not been anything at all between ourselves other than the obvious.. Susan realising gradually that the way she had been going, could only conceivably finish by being the local bike.

Came in, must have seen the cab parked, came in up the two broken steps, shoes, neat dress, nail varnish, lipstick. Tidied herself, clutching her cigarettes a box of matches, nothing else. Sat down, no hesitation, not anymore, a slight confidence about her, said "Hello" brightly to John.

Another of my creations... I, definitely in the wrong business.
Smiled at me, lit her cigarette, waited until John had put a mug in front of her.. took up her position, elbow on the table, cigarette pointing at the ceiling. "I have been thinking about what you said" she kicked off with that remark , casual. Tried to think what I had said, what it could have been....she pushed on very quietly.. "You know... the one about giving me a boy in eleven months....."

Middle summer, hot nights, Susan slept always against the wall, against the mirrors.. stayed in the flat naturally. Found herself a chair which she propped by the kitchen window to have her "fag", the chair remaining exactly where she left it for years after her final, determined, departure.

The probable hundred or more photographs adorning each wall..she only looked casual at .. never remarked.. never asked