STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter Four Clare's story Part Three
I walked away from the party. The punch was fruity and fizzy and too much of it had gone to my head. The talk and laughter was too fast and it met my smiling face without making any sense. It was the summer before the Great War. The day was beautiful and the sun fell like gold on the young faces, making them happy as young faces should be and the girls wore wide brimmed hats decorated with summer flowers. Fields of corn and green meadows rolled away beyond the garden wall, and I walked towards them leaving the sounds of laughter and the wooden tapping of croquet mallets behind me. I walked away from the party. It was an engagement party, my engagement party.
I was a girl who used to watch her reflection in a looking glass and who saw her long hair was the colour of rich chestnut and her eyes were a deep brown. She knew that she was beautiful and she thought that she was a woman. One day there was a man who saw the same reflection and said that having seen it he could not live unless it was his. So he proposed and I accepted. I was eighteen.
I walked from the party, down a cart track between two fields, one of tall yellow corn and one of green grass, paled by the hot sun. Some cows gazed there and my child's mind made their straggled line of black and white into a game of dominoes. The track was rough and stony, the ruts where the cart wheels ran were deep and a ridge of coarse grasses ran down the middle, covered in fine dust of dry, light brown earth. The same light dust danced in little clouds before my footsteps and soon covered my white shoes and the lace of my petticoats and then the hem of my cream satin dress. I didn't know where or why I was walking. Reasons and answers spiralled through my mind and disappeared. It was the drink, too much drink. The heads of corn nodded in agreement as a summer breeze drifted through their ranks. I took off my hat and unpinned my hair and let the breeze drift through me.
The track rose up and fell down again over hills and through different fields of different crops. I walked the up hills as easily as the down hills, as if everything was on the flat. With no thoughts in my head but that I was happy. Happy that I was engaged, happy that my life would be ordered and safe. I stopped at the top of a hill and looked down over a field of lettuces that covered the slope and the curve of a hill. The lettuces curved round the hill in long, juicy green lines and between each line was a thin line of dark soil and I decided that I was standing at the very top of a giant peppermint humbug and I laughed. I stood there, my straw hat in my hand, my hair all ruffled and disorganised and my dress, petticoats and shoes all dirty, and I laughed and I laughed. Then I stopped laughing. I was not a woman, I was still a girl, I was scared and there were tears in my eyes. I walked on to stop the tears, but the faster I walked the faster they came.
The track led me to a wood. It was cool out of the sun and peaceful and my tears seemed to recede. I looked up at the roof of the wood where the sun filtered through the trees so that sunlight and shade were dappled in the shapes of leaves. I could hear birdsong and the sound of a running stream. I walked towards the ringing of the water, weaving my way between the trees and stepping carefully over their roots. The ground was soft and springy, ferns grew and primroses and the air was sweet. The wood was like a family, generations of trees. The eldest were gnarled and had thick trunks of dry, creviced bark. The younger trees stood tall and slender, their barks all smooth and shiny, and the youngest trees were barely taller than me and I wished I could be one of them and stay there, a sapling protected by an acreage of family. But it would have been cold in the winter and had the woodcutter come I would not have been able to run.
I was getting nearer the stream, the water's call was louder and with it came laughter. It was merry laughter followed by chatter. I could not hear the words but the tone was flippant and the voices rose higher into more laughter. I drew closer to where I could see the stream and the people with the voices. I stood as still and quiet as the tree that hid me and watched through its' leaves.
Gay young things all dressed in white. Two men of flannel and three girls of lace. A rich spread of delicious foods flowed from a wicker hamper over a red, chequered cloth and champagne was sipped from wide glasses. The scene was idyllic, the dappled summer cool and the sound of the stream over stones was happy like the laughter and their smiles. They had not a care in the world. No cares and no world but their picnic.
A twig snapped behind me. I turned sharply to the sound and caught my breath. He stood there. The third man in flannel, but his face was sad and his eyes were full of questions and I knew that my face and my eyes held the same sadness and the same questions and like his they were yet unrealised, unfounded and unformed.
I stood and looked, silent as the trees and so did he. His hair was jet black and his eyes were blue, clear and shining like sunlight through water. He was tall and aristocratic but for the self doubt in his face and his unkempt, curly black hair. He was eating an apricot. He bit softly into its pale, velvety flesh and chewed slowly.
A girl's shrill voice broke the spell.
" Where's George ? " she whined.
It was George I was looking at. He ate the last of the apricot and reached out to hand me its almond stone. I took it in the palm of my hand where his fingers touched me as he left the clean, dark seed there. I stared at it for a while and then closed my fingers around it to keep it safe. I looked up but he was no longer there. The girl's voice shrilled again,
" Oh George, there you are. Where did you run off to ? "
I waited to hear his voice, but he made no answer, so I left still feeling his touch on the palm of my hand.
Sunday, 18 October 2015
Tuesday, 13 October 2015
STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter Four Part Two
Downstairs Joe put more logs on the dying fire and they turned black and glowed red from their insides before Clare awoke. She did not stir or yawn, she simply opened her eyes and was awake. She looked at Joe and saw a change in him. He sat on one of the faded pink chairs and stared deep into the fire. He knew that Clare was awake without having to turn to look back at her gaze.
" What's the picture on the jigsaw puzzle ? " he asked.
" I've no idea. What difference does it make ? " and Clare knew that it was the round room that had started the change in him.
" I don't know. " he answered.
Nothing more was said for a while and as Joe kept his eyes and his thoughts on the dancing flames in the hearth he could feel Clare's impatience grow.
" I want to be left alone to die. " she said.
Joe heard her words but made no sign of having heard them.
" Why are you leaving everything to me ? "
" Why not ! "
" Don't you have children ? "
" No."
Clare got up from the chair. Her joints were stiff and her face tightened with the pain a she walked across the room. She opened the ornately carved doors of the drinks cabinet and reached inside for a bottle, a glass and something else. She moved over to Joe and put the bottle of brandy, the glass and a corked phial half filled with a cloudy moss green liquid on a table beside him. Joe looked at it.
" Go and get me my glass ! " she said. He fetched it from a table beside the window where she had been sitting. Clare poured brandy into both glasses. Joe sat down again and picked up the phial. He held it in front of the fire, but no light could be seen through the dark, murky green. He looked at Clare.
" It's a poison. " she said. Joe put the phial carefully back on the table, looked at her again and she answered all his questions.
"It's for me. George prepared it. He knew he was going to die, he thought hat my following him might be easier this way. It's a death potion, leaf of henbane and root of hemlock. A gentle stupor, a numbness and then a sweet and painless death. So I have a choice to sleep or to starve. And you have a choice too ! "
Joe knew that he could put the poison into her brandy now and she would sleep and die peacefully without any pain and he would inherit the house and three million pounds.
" But I don't want you to die. " he said
"But I will die and I want to be alone to die."
" I don't want you to go."
" It was only ever Joe and I. "
" I don't want to go."
Joe was speaking quickly from somewhere inside that did not let him think first, somewhere that spoke the truth, a place Joe did not understand, but Clare could see his heart and wondered whether he was part of everything and was meant to stay.
" Why didn't you take the poison when George died ? " he asked.
" I wanted this time to remember him, to remember my life. "
" So tell me, " said Joe and again his words were fast like a plea. There was a need in him to know and Clare could no longer turn him away.
So Clare and Joe sat with the night, the fire and the brandy and her story began.
Chapter Four Part Two
Downstairs Joe put more logs on the dying fire and they turned black and glowed red from their insides before Clare awoke. She did not stir or yawn, she simply opened her eyes and was awake. She looked at Joe and saw a change in him. He sat on one of the faded pink chairs and stared deep into the fire. He knew that Clare was awake without having to turn to look back at her gaze.
" What's the picture on the jigsaw puzzle ? " he asked.
" I've no idea. What difference does it make ? " and Clare knew that it was the round room that had started the change in him.
" I don't know. " he answered.
Nothing more was said for a while and as Joe kept his eyes and his thoughts on the dancing flames in the hearth he could feel Clare's impatience grow.
" I want to be left alone to die. " she said.
Joe heard her words but made no sign of having heard them.
" Why are you leaving everything to me ? "
" Why not ! "
" Don't you have children ? "
" No."
Clare got up from the chair. Her joints were stiff and her face tightened with the pain a she walked across the room. She opened the ornately carved doors of the drinks cabinet and reached inside for a bottle, a glass and something else. She moved over to Joe and put the bottle of brandy, the glass and a corked phial half filled with a cloudy moss green liquid on a table beside him. Joe looked at it.
" Go and get me my glass ! " she said. He fetched it from a table beside the window where she had been sitting. Clare poured brandy into both glasses. Joe sat down again and picked up the phial. He held it in front of the fire, but no light could be seen through the dark, murky green. He looked at Clare.
" It's a poison. " she said. Joe put the phial carefully back on the table, looked at her again and she answered all his questions.
"It's for me. George prepared it. He knew he was going to die, he thought hat my following him might be easier this way. It's a death potion, leaf of henbane and root of hemlock. A gentle stupor, a numbness and then a sweet and painless death. So I have a choice to sleep or to starve. And you have a choice too ! "
Joe knew that he could put the poison into her brandy now and she would sleep and die peacefully without any pain and he would inherit the house and three million pounds.
" But I don't want you to die. " he said
"But I will die and I want to be alone to die."
" I don't want you to go."
" It was only ever Joe and I. "
" I don't want to go."
Joe was speaking quickly from somewhere inside that did not let him think first, somewhere that spoke the truth, a place Joe did not understand, but Clare could see his heart and wondered whether he was part of everything and was meant to stay.
" Why didn't you take the poison when George died ? " he asked.
" I wanted this time to remember him, to remember my life. "
" So tell me, " said Joe and again his words were fast like a plea. There was a need in him to know and Clare could no longer turn him away.
So Clare and Joe sat with the night, the fire and the brandy and her story began.
Saturday, 3 October 2015
STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter Four Part One
STARSHINE
So Clare sat and Joe stood and they were silent.
" I'm not dead yet. You'll have to come back another day. " Her voice was penetrating.
" That's not why I came. " said Joe, but he was unsure why he had come. He knew he did not want her to die. But to have driven there without knowing he would arrive there. And to arrive there without knowing what it was he wanted. He wanted some kind of response, a recognition by Clare of him that would be solid and real and something like love. But all she had was bitterness and Joe was lost again.
" Why did you say that ? " he wanted Clare to apologise, he wanted her to see some other reason why he might be there. She turned her head to look at him.
" I thought maybe you were someone else, but you weren't." She spoke quietly, her voice was weary, her words were sad.
" Who ?"
" George, I thought you were George. " Her disappointment filled the room. Joe stood motionless, unable to move away from her rejection. There was more silence and Clare's eyes did not move away from his. Then she broke the spell, she was suddenly brusque and demanding like a tired, twisted old lady that needed his help.
" Build up the fire ! I'm cold. "
Joe obeyed, there was a pile of logs next to the hearth, chunks of rich,fresh wood coated in a grey brown bark that crumbled on his hands as he lifted them and balanced them carefully over the lightly burning ashes. There was a spitting and a crackling as the fire met the moistness of the logs and pale flames licked around their edges. Joe watched a while as the flames ran further over the logs, rose and darkened to a deep orange. He turned to Clare wanting her thanks but the old woman had fallen asleep, her hands relaxed over the curled ends of the chair arms and her head to one side. Joe looked at her sleeping face in the late sun. Her hair was like thick silver drawn back, her veined eyelids were closed on dreams of the past and her face was peaceful and beautiful beneath the dry lines of the many years she had seen. He wished he had seen all her years and could know the peace she felt, but his young life seemed to be destroyed as fast as it was lived in a chaos and fear he could not control. He left her sleeping.
Joe sat for many hours in the round turret room. He sat in the middle of the floor facing the window where night had fallen and a full moon had risen. Joe faced the moon and the moon faced Joe. And Joe tried hard to think about his life, but all his thoughts and all his life came to nothing and his mind was blank but for the many scars from many wounds whose unclear memories still haunted him. He looked at the grey scars on the moon and they too were fuzzed and unclear, but the moon was full and bright and a strong blue white light shone from it. Joe had no light. The moon sat high in its kingdom of black velvet and a million stars. Joe had no kingdom. He was empty and sitting cross legged on a floor. The light of the moon fell over him and he bowed his head to it, closed his eyes and listened to the moon's deep silence. Then he opened his eyes again and the shadows and shapes of everything in the room stood out in the blue white light and he looked at them all and was filled with their strangeness and the mystery of the round room took away his emptiness.
He saw the opened Russian doll and all her toppled daughters, the blue and white willow patterned punch bowl filled with dark earth, and the broken faced, hollow china bride. He saw the old school desk under the window and the shells, elaborate and beautiful, looking lost on the floorboards where there should have been the soft sand of the sea bed. It was too dark to make out the painting on the wall but Joe remembered the dark waves and the stars that shone from both the sky and the ocean. He saw the Noah's Ark and all the wooden animals around it two by two. Last of all his mind fixed on the jigsaw puzzle and he recognised himself and his life in the thousand pieces piled and scattered on the floor, unlinked and disordered and making no sense. He spread the pile with the flat of his hand, turned all the pieces picture side up and made a separate pile of the edged ones. He found the four corners and held them in the palm of his hand.
"
Chapter Four Part One
STARSHINE
So Clare sat and Joe stood and they were silent.
" I'm not dead yet. You'll have to come back another day. " Her voice was penetrating.
" That's not why I came. " said Joe, but he was unsure why he had come. He knew he did not want her to die. But to have driven there without knowing he would arrive there. And to arrive there without knowing what it was he wanted. He wanted some kind of response, a recognition by Clare of him that would be solid and real and something like love. But all she had was bitterness and Joe was lost again.
" Why did you say that ? " he wanted Clare to apologise, he wanted her to see some other reason why he might be there. She turned her head to look at him.
" I thought maybe you were someone else, but you weren't." She spoke quietly, her voice was weary, her words were sad.
" Who ?"
" George, I thought you were George. " Her disappointment filled the room. Joe stood motionless, unable to move away from her rejection. There was more silence and Clare's eyes did not move away from his. Then she broke the spell, she was suddenly brusque and demanding like a tired, twisted old lady that needed his help.
" Build up the fire ! I'm cold. "
Joe obeyed, there was a pile of logs next to the hearth, chunks of rich,fresh wood coated in a grey brown bark that crumbled on his hands as he lifted them and balanced them carefully over the lightly burning ashes. There was a spitting and a crackling as the fire met the moistness of the logs and pale flames licked around their edges. Joe watched a while as the flames ran further over the logs, rose and darkened to a deep orange. He turned to Clare wanting her thanks but the old woman had fallen asleep, her hands relaxed over the curled ends of the chair arms and her head to one side. Joe looked at her sleeping face in the late sun. Her hair was like thick silver drawn back, her veined eyelids were closed on dreams of the past and her face was peaceful and beautiful beneath the dry lines of the many years she had seen. He wished he had seen all her years and could know the peace she felt, but his young life seemed to be destroyed as fast as it was lived in a chaos and fear he could not control. He left her sleeping.
Joe sat for many hours in the round turret room. He sat in the middle of the floor facing the window where night had fallen and a full moon had risen. Joe faced the moon and the moon faced Joe. And Joe tried hard to think about his life, but all his thoughts and all his life came to nothing and his mind was blank but for the many scars from many wounds whose unclear memories still haunted him. He looked at the grey scars on the moon and they too were fuzzed and unclear, but the moon was full and bright and a strong blue white light shone from it. Joe had no light. The moon sat high in its kingdom of black velvet and a million stars. Joe had no kingdom. He was empty and sitting cross legged on a floor. The light of the moon fell over him and he bowed his head to it, closed his eyes and listened to the moon's deep silence. Then he opened his eyes again and the shadows and shapes of everything in the room stood out in the blue white light and he looked at them all and was filled with their strangeness and the mystery of the round room took away his emptiness.
He saw the opened Russian doll and all her toppled daughters, the blue and white willow patterned punch bowl filled with dark earth, and the broken faced, hollow china bride. He saw the old school desk under the window and the shells, elaborate and beautiful, looking lost on the floorboards where there should have been the soft sand of the sea bed. It was too dark to make out the painting on the wall but Joe remembered the dark waves and the stars that shone from both the sky and the ocean. He saw the Noah's Ark and all the wooden animals around it two by two. Last of all his mind fixed on the jigsaw puzzle and he recognised himself and his life in the thousand pieces piled and scattered on the floor, unlinked and disordered and making no sense. He spread the pile with the flat of his hand, turned all the pieces picture side up and made a separate pile of the edged ones. He found the four corners and held them in the palm of his hand.
"
Wednesday, 30 September 2015
STARSHINE. THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter three Part thirteen
The sky blue, rusting morris minor coughed and spluttered but it ran. Joe drove and drove, he was aware of the controls and the traffic but his mind was blank and his direction blind.
It was afternoon when he drove through the wood. Ash gold rays from the lowering sun slanted through the branches. He turned off the road up a lane. The wheels crunched over gravel and the engine strained against the incline. Only then did Joe know where he was. He drew up at the gate. The garden path was an avenue of waist high grass, the cracks in the curved stairway seemed wider and the edges of the stone steps more crumbled. The gargoyle knocker no longer scared him and the door was ajar, so he walked in. His footsteps were slow and soft as a cat's as he entered the drawing room and stood behind Clare. She was sitting in a rocking chair in a patch of sunlight that fell through the window. There was a glass of brandy on a table beside her. She gazed out into the haze of bright light on dirty glass. She did not turn to look at Joe. She sat very still, like a dark shadow, her head outlined in a halo of intense white light.
" Hello godson ! " Her quiet words filled him and made him know why he was there. She was his godmother.
Chapter three Part thirteen
The sky blue, rusting morris minor coughed and spluttered but it ran. Joe drove and drove, he was aware of the controls and the traffic but his mind was blank and his direction blind.
It was afternoon when he drove through the wood. Ash gold rays from the lowering sun slanted through the branches. He turned off the road up a lane. The wheels crunched over gravel and the engine strained against the incline. Only then did Joe know where he was. He drew up at the gate. The garden path was an avenue of waist high grass, the cracks in the curved stairway seemed wider and the edges of the stone steps more crumbled. The gargoyle knocker no longer scared him and the door was ajar, so he walked in. His footsteps were slow and soft as a cat's as he entered the drawing room and stood behind Clare. She was sitting in a rocking chair in a patch of sunlight that fell through the window. There was a glass of brandy on a table beside her. She gazed out into the haze of bright light on dirty glass. She did not turn to look at Joe. She sat very still, like a dark shadow, her head outlined in a halo of intense white light.
" Hello godson ! " Her quiet words filled him and made him know why he was there. She was his godmother.
Friday, 25 September 2015
STARSHINE, THEOCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter three Part twelve
The grandstand was crowded. It was a clear sunny day 'though a cold wind blew, Joe felt it through his thin jacket, it chilled his already cold body. He was in a daze, he felt weak and feverish. He lost himself in the crowds and the movement of the racecourse. People milled around and men stood high above them, waving their arms about in their weird tick-tack language, while names and numbers were chalked up and rubbed off blackboards. Joe watched the sleek horses being warmed up by impish jockeys in colourful shirts and caps. He tried to make a plan but his ideas raced around his head and fell over themselves. He knew he had to wait for Jack to arrive, then things would just happen and his mind would clear. He drew hard on a cigarette, his lungs seemed to shake and his heart hammered against his breast bone. He wanted to cry but his tear ducts were dry.
" Sorry I'm late."
Jack O'Neil was a little, ferret faced man, he had thick brown hair around the sides of his head and a bald pate. Joe could see him out f the corner of his eye, he could see the garish colours of Jack's red shirt and navy, nylon suit, too short in the arms and legs. Joe would not look at him, he could not look at him. He felt all the eyes around them digging deep inside him connecting him with Jack O'Neil. Joe could not bare it. His brain screamed with paranoia. He pushed past Jack and said quickly,
"We mustn't be seen together. Meet me in the pub in half an hour. The one near the station car park on the main road."
Joe walked away quickly before Jack could object. He tried to breath deeply and make his fever subside as he walked from the racecourse, down the main road to the pub, but a bird was inside his body, an ugly, ferocious bird, it held his larynx tight in its beak, its wings beat crazily against his rib cage and its talons clawed at his guts.
The pub was plush with red carpet and oak tables. He sat at the bar and drank two whiskies, his mind had gone blank and the chatter and hubbub around him seemed far away. Then he bought himself a third whisky and a black coffee ready for Jack. He sat at a table with his back to the wall. He took the ring box from his jacket pocket tipped the sugar lump from its satin lining, onto the saucer to join the other one, careful not to touch even its paper wrapping. He cast his eyes around the room, but none were cast back in his direction, he had not been seen. He put the ring box back in his pocket and pushed the cup of coffee to the far side of the table, right on the edge, as if it belonged to someone who had nothing to do with him. He tried again to relax but he was crazy with guilt and fear. Suddenly Jack was there. Joe got up to go and without even a glance at Jack he said under his breath,
" Drink the coffee and then follow me out to the gents, I've got something to show you. "
Jack giggled,
" Didn't know you felt that way about me," he pursed his lips. Joe cringed and got away from the table, fast. He looked back quickly from the doorway and saw Jack stirring his coffee, a pleased look on his face as if enjoying the excitement and mystery of the shady bit of business about to be revealed to him. Joe did not think he would take too long finishing his coffee and getting to the gents.
The gents sparkled with pure, disinfected white ; the hand basins, the bogs, the tiled walls, the urinals, all clean like they were fresh out of a shop window and had never been used. Joe was alone and he prayed there would be no other occupants for the next five minutes. He leant on a basin, his fevered heart beating hard and sweat started to bead around his temples. Jack was a conniving, lying, cheating little runt, but Joe had never meant him this much harm. He splashed cold water over his face and wiped it off with a paper towel. Jack stumbled through the door, he was pulling at the collar button of his shirt, his face was puce and a horrible scratching and rasping was coming from his throat. Joe caught him under the arms, swung him round into a cubicle and locked the door. He sat Jack on the bog seat and by the time he had pulled his nylon , navy trousers down around his ankles, Jack's head had fallen back against he pipe and he was staring up at the cistern with bulging, dead fish eyes and Joe remembered the courier at the airport. He heard the door bang and quickly climbed onto the seat, putting his feet on either side and tucking them underneath the body to hide them from the gap under the door. The guy pissed into the urinal, it was a long, steady, full stream that would not end. Joe's head was spinning and he was weeping inside. He wanted Jack to cry out and give him away, but Jack was dead.
The stream turned into a trickle and then stopped. Joe heard the zip and then the door. He got down, out of the cubicle and closed the door as far as it would close with the lock turned to "engaged". He turned a tap full on, soaped his hands and let the hard rush of water run over them. He ripped out another paper towel and did not know why he had washed his hands. He should have got out straight away, but he had washed his hands and he did not know why. He screwed up the paper towel, threw it down and split.
Outside two articulated lorries thundered past him, one after the other. Joe was glad of the noise, it drowned his thoughts and hid deed. He threw the ring box into a ditch at the side of the road and walked towards the car park.
Chapter three Part twelve
The grandstand was crowded. It was a clear sunny day 'though a cold wind blew, Joe felt it through his thin jacket, it chilled his already cold body. He was in a daze, he felt weak and feverish. He lost himself in the crowds and the movement of the racecourse. People milled around and men stood high above them, waving their arms about in their weird tick-tack language, while names and numbers were chalked up and rubbed off blackboards. Joe watched the sleek horses being warmed up by impish jockeys in colourful shirts and caps. He tried to make a plan but his ideas raced around his head and fell over themselves. He knew he had to wait for Jack to arrive, then things would just happen and his mind would clear. He drew hard on a cigarette, his lungs seemed to shake and his heart hammered against his breast bone. He wanted to cry but his tear ducts were dry.
" Sorry I'm late."
Jack O'Neil was a little, ferret faced man, he had thick brown hair around the sides of his head and a bald pate. Joe could see him out f the corner of his eye, he could see the garish colours of Jack's red shirt and navy, nylon suit, too short in the arms and legs. Joe would not look at him, he could not look at him. He felt all the eyes around them digging deep inside him connecting him with Jack O'Neil. Joe could not bare it. His brain screamed with paranoia. He pushed past Jack and said quickly,
"We mustn't be seen together. Meet me in the pub in half an hour. The one near the station car park on the main road."
Joe walked away quickly before Jack could object. He tried to breath deeply and make his fever subside as he walked from the racecourse, down the main road to the pub, but a bird was inside his body, an ugly, ferocious bird, it held his larynx tight in its beak, its wings beat crazily against his rib cage and its talons clawed at his guts.
The pub was plush with red carpet and oak tables. He sat at the bar and drank two whiskies, his mind had gone blank and the chatter and hubbub around him seemed far away. Then he bought himself a third whisky and a black coffee ready for Jack. He sat at a table with his back to the wall. He took the ring box from his jacket pocket tipped the sugar lump from its satin lining, onto the saucer to join the other one, careful not to touch even its paper wrapping. He cast his eyes around the room, but none were cast back in his direction, he had not been seen. He put the ring box back in his pocket and pushed the cup of coffee to the far side of the table, right on the edge, as if it belonged to someone who had nothing to do with him. He tried again to relax but he was crazy with guilt and fear. Suddenly Jack was there. Joe got up to go and without even a glance at Jack he said under his breath,
" Drink the coffee and then follow me out to the gents, I've got something to show you. "
Jack giggled,
" Didn't know you felt that way about me," he pursed his lips. Joe cringed and got away from the table, fast. He looked back quickly from the doorway and saw Jack stirring his coffee, a pleased look on his face as if enjoying the excitement and mystery of the shady bit of business about to be revealed to him. Joe did not think he would take too long finishing his coffee and getting to the gents.
The gents sparkled with pure, disinfected white ; the hand basins, the bogs, the tiled walls, the urinals, all clean like they were fresh out of a shop window and had never been used. Joe was alone and he prayed there would be no other occupants for the next five minutes. He leant on a basin, his fevered heart beating hard and sweat started to bead around his temples. Jack was a conniving, lying, cheating little runt, but Joe had never meant him this much harm. He splashed cold water over his face and wiped it off with a paper towel. Jack stumbled through the door, he was pulling at the collar button of his shirt, his face was puce and a horrible scratching and rasping was coming from his throat. Joe caught him under the arms, swung him round into a cubicle and locked the door. He sat Jack on the bog seat and by the time he had pulled his nylon , navy trousers down around his ankles, Jack's head had fallen back against he pipe and he was staring up at the cistern with bulging, dead fish eyes and Joe remembered the courier at the airport. He heard the door bang and quickly climbed onto the seat, putting his feet on either side and tucking them underneath the body to hide them from the gap under the door. The guy pissed into the urinal, it was a long, steady, full stream that would not end. Joe's head was spinning and he was weeping inside. He wanted Jack to cry out and give him away, but Jack was dead.
The stream turned into a trickle and then stopped. Joe heard the zip and then the door. He got down, out of the cubicle and closed the door as far as it would close with the lock turned to "engaged". He turned a tap full on, soaped his hands and let the hard rush of water run over them. He ripped out another paper towel and did not know why he had washed his hands. He should have got out straight away, but he had washed his hands and he did not know why. He screwed up the paper towel, threw it down and split.
Outside two articulated lorries thundered past him, one after the other. Joe was glad of the noise, it drowned his thoughts and hid deed. He threw the ring box into a ditch at the side of the road and walked towards the car park.
Sunday, 20 September 2015
STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter Three Part Eleven
The hollow clanging of barrels echoed from outside where the draymen were loading empty kegs and unloading full ones from the lorry and rolling them down the hatchway in the pavement to the cellar. Joe sat up at the bar, the morning paper spread out in front of him and a cup of black coffee to one side. The chairs were stacked on the tables and Mad Maria was mopping the floor. Joe could hear the sounds of the water slopping and the mop being wrung through the holes in the metal bucket. Maria's presence made him prickle. He looked at her quickly but saw nothing but an old Italian woman, her thick grey hair drawn back and knotted behind her head, a pink nylon overall over her black dress, varicose veins on her white, stubby legs and a pair of dirty, torn espadrilles. She was Mad Maria. She was pathetic. She responded to everything with a shrug and a nervous laugh. She did not understand enough English to have said the words she had said to Joe. Joe put it down to his ears playing tricks on him and forgot her.
Annie tottered in in a tight red skirt and stiletto heels. She had a note pad and a pencil. Joe watched her checking the shelf stocks. Her hair was pinned up, her nails were polished and there was just a hint of make-up on her pretty face to emphasise her gorgeous eyes and high cheek bones. She marked things down on her note pad. Joe kept gazing at her and then he remembered that he had yet another favour to ask of her,
" Annie ? "
" Yes luv."
" Can I borrow your car on Saturday ? "
" Of course you can luv. If you can get it to go. It just sits in the yard getting rusty. I never use it. "
" Thanks ! "
Annie turned round and looked at his cup of coffee.
" That's your breakfast is it ? "
" I'll get something later on, " Joe lied. Food was no longer part of Joe's life, he never remembered to eat and hunger had been forgotten too.
" I've got to get on, " said Annie, she kissed him quickly and was gone.
Joe rifled through the paper and found the star signs, but the old witch broke into his reading with her heavy Italian accent and her clear English words.
" Then I'll light another candle on Saturday Joe. There are three already. "
Joe swung round and his anger met her look of pity.
" Yeah, " he tightened and spat out his words, " Light four more ! "
Mad Maria was unmoved and her voice still calm,
" I'll light three more. The fourth will be yours and I don't know yet if I should light it. "
Chapter Three Part Eleven
The hollow clanging of barrels echoed from outside where the draymen were loading empty kegs and unloading full ones from the lorry and rolling them down the hatchway in the pavement to the cellar. Joe sat up at the bar, the morning paper spread out in front of him and a cup of black coffee to one side. The chairs were stacked on the tables and Mad Maria was mopping the floor. Joe could hear the sounds of the water slopping and the mop being wrung through the holes in the metal bucket. Maria's presence made him prickle. He looked at her quickly but saw nothing but an old Italian woman, her thick grey hair drawn back and knotted behind her head, a pink nylon overall over her black dress, varicose veins on her white, stubby legs and a pair of dirty, torn espadrilles. She was Mad Maria. She was pathetic. She responded to everything with a shrug and a nervous laugh. She did not understand enough English to have said the words she had said to Joe. Joe put it down to his ears playing tricks on him and forgot her.
Annie tottered in in a tight red skirt and stiletto heels. She had a note pad and a pencil. Joe watched her checking the shelf stocks. Her hair was pinned up, her nails were polished and there was just a hint of make-up on her pretty face to emphasise her gorgeous eyes and high cheek bones. She marked things down on her note pad. Joe kept gazing at her and then he remembered that he had yet another favour to ask of her,
" Annie ? "
" Yes luv."
" Can I borrow your car on Saturday ? "
" Of course you can luv. If you can get it to go. It just sits in the yard getting rusty. I never use it. "
" Thanks ! "
Annie turned round and looked at his cup of coffee.
" That's your breakfast is it ? "
" I'll get something later on, " Joe lied. Food was no longer part of Joe's life, he never remembered to eat and hunger had been forgotten too.
" I've got to get on, " said Annie, she kissed him quickly and was gone.
Joe rifled through the paper and found the star signs, but the old witch broke into his reading with her heavy Italian accent and her clear English words.
" Then I'll light another candle on Saturday Joe. There are three already. "
Joe swung round and his anger met her look of pity.
" Yeah, " he tightened and spat out his words, " Light four more ! "
Mad Maria was unmoved and her voice still calm,
" I'll light three more. The fourth will be yours and I don't know yet if I should light it. "
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter Three Part Ten
The sash window above the pub door squeaked and strained as it was opened and Annie leaned out. She held back her wild tresses of red hair and looked down at Joe, peering through the darkness and the sleep that still filled her eyes. Joe looked up at her like a little boy lost and shrugged his shoulders. He saw her smile, she closed the window, it rattled and Joe waited for her to come downstairs. The street that bustled in the day time was motionless and eerie at night, even the air was still and the hollow sounds of bolts being drawn and the ringing of chains being unchained echoed in the silence. Then the door was opened, Annie drew him inside quickly and closed the door on the cold.
The bedroom was warm. A small light shone from beside the bed and filled the room with soft shadows. Annie's dressing gown fell to the floor. Joe held her close to him, he ran his hands down her back, over her slender hips and the roundness of her arse. Her skin was like satin and Joe melted into the warmth that came from her. They kissed deeply and heard the beating of each other's hearts. Annie climbed into bed. Joe got out of his clothes quickly, left them straggled over the carpet and followed her between the cream silk sheets. Her red hair was spread over the pillow and her green eyes smiled at Joe in a way that made him know he was wanted. She moved with a slow, sensuous delight as he kissed and touched all of her. He moved inside her. Her sweetness flowed and closed around him. Like sea waves drawing from an ocean they filled and filled until they broke with the fever and the madness and the cries of love.
Afterwards as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, the lengths of their bodies touching, Joe told Annie that he had a lot of money coming his way and that when he had got it he would take her somewhere far away for a holiday. Annie laughed, it was her own sweet, good natured laugh for a boy who dreams but Joe's memory could hear the strains of Jason's sick laughter in the massage parlour when Joe had said he could get the money to buy himself out. Joe realised that his fortune was a secret only because he was someone who was not believed. Annie kissed him lovingly on the forehead, but Joe was all empty of their love and a sadness was filling him. He turned over to go to sleep where the sadness would not reach him. He slept deeply and dreamt of pearls floating on dark water like stars in the night sky.
Chapter Three Part Ten
The sash window above the pub door squeaked and strained as it was opened and Annie leaned out. She held back her wild tresses of red hair and looked down at Joe, peering through the darkness and the sleep that still filled her eyes. Joe looked up at her like a little boy lost and shrugged his shoulders. He saw her smile, she closed the window, it rattled and Joe waited for her to come downstairs. The street that bustled in the day time was motionless and eerie at night, even the air was still and the hollow sounds of bolts being drawn and the ringing of chains being unchained echoed in the silence. Then the door was opened, Annie drew him inside quickly and closed the door on the cold.
The bedroom was warm. A small light shone from beside the bed and filled the room with soft shadows. Annie's dressing gown fell to the floor. Joe held her close to him, he ran his hands down her back, over her slender hips and the roundness of her arse. Her skin was like satin and Joe melted into the warmth that came from her. They kissed deeply and heard the beating of each other's hearts. Annie climbed into bed. Joe got out of his clothes quickly, left them straggled over the carpet and followed her between the cream silk sheets. Her red hair was spread over the pillow and her green eyes smiled at Joe in a way that made him know he was wanted. She moved with a slow, sensuous delight as he kissed and touched all of her. He moved inside her. Her sweetness flowed and closed around him. Like sea waves drawing from an ocean they filled and filled until they broke with the fever and the madness and the cries of love.
Afterwards as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, the lengths of their bodies touching, Joe told Annie that he had a lot of money coming his way and that when he had got it he would take her somewhere far away for a holiday. Annie laughed, it was her own sweet, good natured laugh for a boy who dreams but Joe's memory could hear the strains of Jason's sick laughter in the massage parlour when Joe had said he could get the money to buy himself out. Joe realised that his fortune was a secret only because he was someone who was not believed. Annie kissed him lovingly on the forehead, but Joe was all empty of their love and a sadness was filling him. He turned over to go to sleep where the sadness would not reach him. He slept deeply and dreamt of pearls floating on dark water like stars in the night sky.
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