One day she asked to be taken to Bishops Stortford. A quaint market town ..People looked in some wonder at the old cab trundling through its narrow streets, children waved at the lumbering monster.
The impact a of the M.11 had not then been felt, the town had not become a dormitory for foreigners from London, still retaining its genteel, conservative atmosphere.
Directed me to stop outside a smart bungalow, central location, ancient pub next door, complete with low wooden beams and a musty smell.
Susan, not quite sure.. walking along the gravel drive towards the street door, the door at right angles to the street, unable to see who was answering. She stood there a moment talking, pointing in my direction, then waved indicating I was to get out and join her.
Susan's Mother ... something else. Dressed exactly if expecting the Queen to arrive at any moment, invariably presented herself in such a manner. A very big woman, who would not and never had stood any "nonsense" from any man.. from any direction, a matriarch in every sense.
The old Lady and I? Obviously, a matter of fire and water.. My name spelt m.u.d. from day one. A Taxi Driver!.. from Hackney! ..That "Awful" place. "Always seeing trouble there on the television... Place full of Blacks !"
Her mother hoped, in a loud whisper, that I "was not another Tom"
Evidently Tom, had staggered up to Bishops Stortford, embraced the old Lady enthusiastically, breathed his beer soaked breath over her and asked permission to marry Susan... Susan then thirty seven years old. Tom, seven years her senior.
Would have given a great deal to have been a fly on the wall that particular occasion.
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September. Could ramble on about the "Falling Gold and Yellow leaves" ..have no intention of wasting my time..
Susan had done a double somersault two hours after missing a period.. Long days in the deep grass.. peace, silence. Warm Sun on our bare bodies.. a right turn up for the card.
The mother, on to her in a instant.. no doubt been watching for such a eventuality.. A full sudden stop, both their lives incontrovertibly changed, all forgiven, all forgotten. Peter not the "Horrible Man".. temporarily... while the going was good, while he remained firmly in the background doing the right things, making the right noises, letting them both have a clear run at the "Child" and "Grandchild" the first blood connection, Susan's brother having taken on two children through his marriage to a Irish Lady.....or her marriage to him.. .....please yourself
Perhaps, the Country air, maybe feeling slightly confident, maybe prepared to look further then tomorrow, whatever the reason, decided to increase my entrepreneurial activities i.e. work more than a few hours, a little here and there. Perhaps felt another chance to step clear of Hackney. Quite unbelievably, allowed to park my old cab in my "Mother in Law's" drive.. on the gravel.. she only quietly commented at it dripping black oil over the white, wind washed, stones.. not jumping down my throat, previous to the long awaited transfiguration of her existence.
Other small things gave me some slight encouragement, to creep out of the darkness, as I had attempted to do on various occasions in my life. Susan folded up the past, would sit on the step of her mother's Patio doors, smoking her 'Fag' the mother come out, putting up the garden table and chairs, last of the Autumn Sunlight. Tea on a checquered cloth table.
"Don't sit there dear".. to Susan.. I may add..
No, Peter took it all in.. believed it. Same story, another format. Close one's eyes and ears, it could be Thailand, Wun whispering to me gently in the dark night, false bottom to my hopes thoughts and fears.. women only telling tales men wish to hear.. such is the way the World rotates. If men were not naive, not gullible, able to think further than the zip on their trousers, quite obviously, humanity would go into sharp decline. Women eternally weaving their intricate web, deliberately creating a sense of mystery, prolonging, intensifying, agonising the urgency of Life...of Man... The fulfillment of female existence.
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