Meeting the "Housekeeper"

A brilliant, early autumn day, remains of the Summer Sun still lingering along the Common, leaves not yet started to fall. Hardly sure if I really wanted to go through with this meeting with my 'housekeeper'. Ruth still about, waiting, as if a conviction on her part that whatever had fallen between us would be rectified, that we would drop into our old pattern of existence, night would follow day, we would remain insulated from the world by the thin, square, window panes, the light on the Post Office Tower would Flash Red.. Flash Red for ever... until both our lives crumbled into nothingness. More than usual my mind contorted with doubts, seeing myself going from one situation into yet another, a downward spiral which had never stopped since the complete break up of my life with Virginia.

A premonition on my part that within the next few minutes the wheels of the Taxi would roll me to a standstill at Manor House Station and a new twist to my existence.

No one about, workers, all gone, too early for the shoppers... A young woman on two sticks, long black hair, down past her shoulders. Well built, dressed in a heavy trousers suit, waiting... not for a bus, standing too far back, against the shops. Wondered who she would expect to meet, very young. Why hobbling about with two sticks? What had happened to place her in such a position? A whole series of question marks drifted through my mind, while I waited for my 'housekeeper'. She moved nearer the cab, peering at me as if her eyesight was questionable, noticed her face was incredibly white and smooth... almost a mask, the eyes completely invisible behind black glasses. Suddenly occurred to me that this could be the woman I was meeting... dismissed this. How could it be? A person, virtually on crutches, young, with strange good looks.... came right up to the window, laughing at me now.


"I'm your housekeeper"


Without waiting for my shock waves to subside or for me to make any comment whatsoever, she flung the passenger door open, threw her sticks in the cab and swung herself in after them, falling heavily on the back seat. Shoved the cab round, across the wide width of the road, ignoring the traffic that had decided to bunch itself round me. She was enjoying the situation immensely, so confident, so absolutely certain, no doubt thinking that this strange middle aged man with the baggy Jeans, the old pullover. The cap pulled down on his big head, the mouth pulled tight as if he possessed no teeth, was more than something of a joke, a pushover. In no way a obstacle to her plans. There is no answer to youth, especially if it is female, especially if the signals emitted from between her thighs are heavy, clear, especially if she looks at you half serious, half mocking, especially if she is completely aware, only one consideration now, above all others, to get her into bed so quickly as humanly possible.


Some small difficulty in her clomping up the thirty nine steps , by the time we reached the top, both laughing and giggling like a couple of kids. Pushed the door open, she went in without hesitation, looked about. The place sad suddenly, the long period of neglect, the long period of simply shoving accumulating rubbish from one corner to another. Realised sharply, that it had developed into little more than a habitation, plants showing their neglect, sagging and drooping, leaves brown, curled.

My housekeeper became silent, momentarily it appeared possible the situation too intolerable even for her apparently easy going nature, that she would turn about on her two sticks and struggle back down the dark Oak stairway.

"Which is my room?" Hardly prepared for this. The place I had in mind still full of junk, no one had been in it for years, rather like an attic without stairs, no bed, other than the fold up 'guest bed' still unwrapped in its cardboard covers. Ruth and I never had any 'Guests'.
"Well?" she was insistent. Walked to the end of the hall and pushed the door open, she peered into the large high room with its window overlooking the Common, difficult to see out of.... it had never been cleaned, never fancied dangling in space simply to clean a window.

Virginia had once climbed a very tall, narrow pinnacle on top of the Flinders Ranges, must have been over one hundred feet with nothing apparent to cling on to... not from my point of view. She matter of fact about it, as about most things. Simply getting to the top of the mountain itself had been sufficient for me, the rest, bravado or masochism, depending on one's outlook.
Jennifer and I both looked at the folded up bed... the shambles of a room that had remained in the past.
Heard myself saying "You had better sleep with me tonight... get this place straightened out tomorrow".

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