Nothing more lethal in society than a group of females...

Another preamble over.. time to press ever onwards.. With the departure of Glenna, now so very long ago, turned my full attention to Susan, the child and the business. Numerous alarms and excursions. Susan "dissatisfied" with the flat bought in Leytonstone.. she now wished to move back to Bishops Stortford of course.. near " her mother". After much running too and fro, after making a considerable profit on the property, enough to buy a somewhat tumble down cottage, long garden in the back, long garden in the front, ideal for the child, which by now she had been given full control.

On the face of it ..the "appearance " of it, things were going quiet well, Peter, of course, dutifully set to work to straighten the place out, did that which was required of him, drove up and down the M.11, went to work. During this period my eldest son and his wife made contact.. his wife and Susan were a "win double" a perfect match, even down to their ages, even down to the clothes, the taste in them …They fell immediately together ..a mutual hatred of Peter, but not immediately apparent to myself. My business doing very well making money …the criteria, engrossed. No problems other than those expected.

Gradually became apparent Susan's coffee mornings with her friends were taking some precedent over myself and the slight help she did perhaps give me, by now Jack started Kindergarten, Susan playing mother with a capital "M". Coffee in turns at each mothers' house, a cosy, lethal arrangement, the feature in their lives, when they discussed everything and everyone when they tore everything and everyone apart, evidently including myself.



I, oblivious of this initially, quite obsessed with the necessities, getting them…trying to be all the things I really was not, yet, I , for whatever reason, tried hard to fit.. to be normal…put out of my mind the obvious, obvious would never fit anywhere, however much having taken it upon myself to try.
Ignored the building processes I had been through previous, starting with Virginia and Desaumarez street.. forty years before. Before, in a far off, strange land, called Australia, this had been a disaster, what made me struggle in the belief England, Hertfordshire in particular, would be any different? ……..I hardly knew.
Quite happy in my misguided thought, Susan "adjusting" herself with her friends, where she belonged, where she belonged finaly. Not seeing the inherent danger, threat to my self.
Most men, the man next to me, all too engrossed putting things together financially.. too engrossed to see what does go on behind their backs while they are going to work , working , returning. While they are thinking, while they are wearing themselves out…….. no time, too see.

Nothing more lethal in society than a group of females, especially females who have conceived the progeny, have taken it to school, females who are young, females who have a certain look on their faces, a dissatisfaction irrespective of whatever they do have.. dissatisfaction with their lives, their husbands, this dissatisfaction pours out , released if you like, the pent up emotions, the real or imaginary frustrations. Mostly these ladies have everything, mostly they want more… something else…

Peter being Peter, pressed ever onwards, growing the roses up the front of the house. Within three years they had reached the roof, a feature ..people slowed their cars down to look. I, quite absorbed in the garden, in the child ..any thoughts regarding asking myself what exactly I was doing, where exactly I was going…….
My Turkish man quite affable, helpful, my account for the fleet maintenance covered his total overheads he smiled ebulliently at this thought ..at myself…. everyone ….. quite happy
In all this intense movement , "turmoil", if you like, rather a good word for most men's efforts, if only they were but aware of it, Susan and the other ladies going their own sweet way.

Considered she had a good life in so far as could be ascertained, understood, so far as any man understands any woman.

She would come up to London for the weekends, see her friends, her mother having the child, wander about Camden market.. all the things all the people do.

Time slipped by, Jack now four years old, I had built up quite a large fleet of taxi cabs.
Run here, run there on the motor bike, chase here, chase there more appropriate, always something too do. The M.11 on a Yamaha 650 does not take long to devour. Became deeper and deeper enmeshed in life, in living, yet some time taken out to realise Susan had drawn away from me in many respects, not enough time to ask why, what was going on.


She became cold, cold as the upstairs bedrooms, they, at times, at freezing point, I wanted to put heating up there but she "preferred it as it was.." not wishing me to get too hot in any direction, conceivably…so I froze.

On occasions, the depths of winter, unable to stand it any longer, would get up after midnight, get in the cab, start it up with enough reverberations to wake the now dead, drive through the deserted, ice/mist covered roads, back to civilization, to Clapton Common, to the flat which was never cold, take hot bath and go to bed, end of another day…….

As other men, ignored the situation, preferring it to asking why? to risk breaking down everything I had built up over the years. As other men, acquiescent, not ask too many questions, remain silent on the subject ..the women fully aware, knowing they hold all the trump cards.
Compressed and starting to show it.

Susan, as the other ladies, remained sanguine, had their coffee mornings after their men had departed into the chaos, into the miasmal distance, after the perfunctory kiss on the cheek, after the waving hands of the children.

Ten a.m. in Hertfordshire, the children taken safely to school, the only sounds are the whisperings, occasional soft laughter, the clatter of crockery, the ladies now sitting, ensconced, cigarettes poised……
..ready.