Had returned here.. within two days of the marriage. Rapidly absorbed in scratching the streets for money. Cynthia had not said anything more.. knew she was doing quite a lot of connivering behind the scenes, by now had become aware of the way she looked, expressionless, without saying anything.. letting me make a idiot of myself... knew she was biding her time.. that the civil ceremony was only a foretaste of her real desire.
My sister asked, "If I really was going back for more" incredulous of my fall, finally into matrimony.
For reasons not fully able to explain, decided to take her to Bucharest with me. This met with some astonishment, the furthest ever taking her before being Southend. Besides she "Had no Passport" dubious about flying, not done it before.. she was throwing up a smoke screen, implying not really wanting to go to the Land of werewolves and Vampires.. to Transylvania.
Curiosity overcame her fears, naturally wanting to take her husband ..explained that my budget would not stretch to him.. gradually going quite broke, commuting to Bucharest. Another pause, more hesitation. The thought of travelling with me anywhere being fraught. Could, as she was fully aware, leave her without hesitation, if the mood so took me.. Saw her point, no doubt her imagination stretched to the limit regarding Romania, visualising a mountainous, tree covered, dark, snowy Country, being dumped there ...Still not too sure about the Vampires, whether they did exist. Were they simply just a Hollywood get up!?
Not dark at the gathering, Stanstead Airport, brilliant afternoon, saw her a long way off, down the high glass gallery, moving heavily towards me, waving.. her husband trailing behind with the trolley. She was impressed, stepping into the Twenty First Century.
Another life ago, other, more ominous airplanes. My carrying her to the Air Raid Shelters, mother up the pub, old man always at work, never have any recollection of him once taking us to the shelters, of being with us.
The Sirens, starting up, very low key. Far off, distant, heavy approaching drone stamped unforgettably for all time in our heads. The usual opening chorus from the Guns on the Marshes, all purely psychological, little chance of them ever hitting anything, but the cacophony and searchlights weaving through the flame tinted darkness were 'good for moral'.
Possibly more people killed by the guns, showering red hot shrapnel from the enraged skies, than those killed by bombs.
Barely a wave between my sister and her husband as we disappeared into the other world. A world of space, steel, glass, concrete, silence. Silent, driverless trains, mysteriously stopping at all the right places. The closer we were to take off the less she said .. only when we reached six miles high, flying straight and level, did she start talking again.
Dark.. Doris still peering out on the window.. nudged me "I can see snow down there". Obviously her imagination running at a low temperature...Snow! Cyn would have mentioned this on the phone.. or would she? She is so fucking devious.. afraid I may have turned my nose up at Marrying her or the so called "Princess Diana" if it meant getting cold.. leant over, looked down at Planet Earth.. what could be seen of it ..red remains of a fiery Sunset on the horizon, beneath us, faint white streaks which I dismissed as clouds.
All piled out of the Plane into the buses.. deep snow. The sudden intense cold reaching right into my body. Swore quite audibly, if I could just get my hand on Dear Mrs. Devious...
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu