Trapped in Australia

There had been faint noises from dear Virginia ... all legal ones ... true to form, decided that she was bluffing, my ego reasoning that really she would like me back, how I arrived at such a conclusion, do not know ... but a glorious hot summer between the rain drops …it all appeared very far off.

Only occasionally, in one of my now becoming, brief lulls, did I have any thought  for the kids. One or two small letters from them which I found heart tearing. But for a thousand reasons,  petrified of going back. That Sun, not my scene.. hated the  heat, didn't like the tricks nature played, eating mouthfuls of flies all day.. mouthfuls of mosquitoes all night. Trivial from here - overreaction? ..try it. But mostly the Sun creased me, unblinking.. day in, day out.

On one occasion it did not rain for five months, would go out into the garden  early morning, already hot and scour the sky for the faintest sign of a cloud, became quite neurotic about this, if I mentioned it to the natives, they would say something about it not having rained for five years and dismiss me as simply another 'winging Pomm'.

Vie had not been slow in whispered promptings to Miss Crawford, Fred and I slumped in the Maples soft furniture, eyes glued to the box, heavy cut glasses in our hands. The two women would be down the four steps of the kitchen passage cooking up rather more than the dinner.

Between the clatter of the pots there would be the occasional peal of laughter,I did not in any way visualise myself being married again, usually starting to shake when  considering my present involvement in that situation, although the shaking was quite mild compared to the last few years in Adelaide, dear Virginia had simply said  "Pull yourself together"

The real trigger to my leaving her being the conversation I had quite by chance over-heard between her and Peter Coulter who happened to have just graduated as a doctor. Had come home one day letting the car run down the drive - the only sound being  tyres crunching on the gravel.

The house,  rather long - in the shape of an elongated 'Z', there being an outside door to every room - none of which were ever closed - never mind locked. The kids had been at school. My mother-in-law who lived in the adjacent house was there in her garden trying to salvage plants from the heat, waved to her and walked down the long internal passage that led through the house.

Could hear Virginia and Peter clearly, they had not heard my approach,  for some instinctive reason I remained still and listened, Virginia saying loudly and casually that didn't Peter think It would be a reasonable idea if I was perhaps 'put away', hardly believed my ears, Peter had simply laughed, stating,  “nothing more than stress”, she wasn't satisfied. Could hear by the tone of her voice 'only stress' she had snapped. His reply being that although getting up in the night and banging your head on the wall was not pleasant, definitely, not certifiable. Okay, so I banged my head on the wall, if anyone lived with my wife they would doubtlessly do the same after a few years. 

Felt trapped, more than ever before, Australia, one vast prison of no escape, always blamed this feeling on the Sun, which I came to dread, however, from the moment of hearing that conversation it became imperative  if I wanted to survive, then I had to get out.   I wanted to survive, if only to pay a visit to the eel and pie shop at Dalston...strange how the mind works.