Susan who stared at the wall

Tony nudged me, always touched people when he was talking, maybe aware ..that no one was going to ever touch him, especially her indoors..."Have you met Sue? " loud enough for her to hear.. for her to look away from the wall and at us.. Still nudging me.. evidently I was to draw some conclusion, that she was "easy" a overt suggestion somewhere in Tony's attitude. He jumped immediately up at her wane smile, pulled another chair and squeezed down beside her, going into the most intimate, whispered conversation. I looked at John... John looked at me. The same old Tony.. walk ten miles on broken glass for a whiff of the other. He was a bit wary of me, recalling, no doubt, how I had nicked Bryony off him ... he who had opened up the conversation between she and I .. I usually Ace high by having somewhere to take this female flotsam that ebbed, flowed, drifted its way along Lambs Conduit Street, not really impressed by a quick mauling in the back of a cab, which is all Tony had time to give them.. that and perhaps a meal or a few bob. Whatever he did, he had to go home with money.. His old woman counted it, meant him working the most incredible hours through the long nights. Strangely, never known him not to be laughing and smiling.. maybe it is just as well... having such a mentality, having such a 'Wife'..

No time for me to fill in all the irrelevancies leading up to the meeting between "Susan who stared at the wall" and myself.. protracted ....over some weeks. Began to notice that she was usually in the cafe at about my time.. that she spoke rather good English, obviously had more than a basic education. A piece missing from her so far as I was concerned. A vagueness ..matching her attitude of never wearing shoes.. bare foot everywhere.. nothing really unusual in this, in Australia.. I never wore shoes .. but this was rubbish strewn London. Struck me, maybe she could not afford them?.. hardly thought so.

I always sat more or less in the same seat, second table down facing the door.. could watch what was coming in... what was passing.. Surprised when she sat suddenly in front of me, as if having made some conscious effort to do so.. she, not too sure of my reaction, especially the place being empty.

John shoved a couple of sausages and chips in front of her, a mug of tea... gave me a look... She was speaking quite a lot more now, as if the ribaldry and warmth of the establishment had drawn her out of herself.. not the first.


Nothing really coherent from her. Small, almost frail, woman, quite lengthy, black curly hair.. her mind would wander off during the limited conversations we had. Yes, I knew she lived in the hostel opposite the cafe, almost all the drivers knew that, some knowing exactly which room she had. Wattsy running up and down the street one hot, sultry evening.. he was obviously on heat, but Marie, always lurking in the background of his head, too terrified of her to venture into Susan's room along with the others.. to see what exactly was going on. He could only come rushing up to me as I was parking "They are all in there" his face white, pointing to the ground floor curtained window behind the railings, as if it were my concern, that I should do something.
Remember him from Jennifer's days.. lurking about outside my flat waiting for me to go to work so that he could attempt to pay her a visit. She played him up rotten, having hysterics together when she filled me in with the details of this ridiculous, pathetic creature.

Susan evidently, had suffered some upset.. never said what it may have been. As Bernie would remark " A Aht an' Aht mystery" which summed her up precisely. Strangely, Bernie never to like her, which was unlike him, maybe his instinct. Bernie to be the beginning and end of the Story of Susan and myself.


An innocuous enough start.. hardly any point in recalling those early days with her, all so obvious.. those that have followed my moves so very far. Peter doing his usual Sir Galahad bit, trying to rescue her from God knows what.. Another lady in distress, another lady to find Peter. She, at least, without crutches, unable to see in her head.. unaware she needed more than crutches in there.. if I could have seen this, it may have been a quite different story.

Bought her a pair of shoes.. broomed off all the faces that crawled over her like maggots.. she, incapable of saying "No". thought this very sad.. quite obviously could not make decisions, incapable of making them, any decision simply too much.. easier to simply ride whatever wave, whatever form. Clearly she had been institutionalised in some context. No apparent life .. no clothes, no money , no interest..