Autobiography
. . . . . set the alarm. it’s my turn to make breakfast. It was silent in the wood. The headlights pierced the undergrowth. That room was hidden by shadow. She stood somewhere inside it and said, “I can’t go on with this.” The coffee is fresh ground. The milkbottles are on the doorstep. We were packed Into four cars. Far off guns sounded, the bombers droned above us. There had, of course, been enjoyable moments. But when the bell does ring, it’s time. What kind of day is it? Pull the curtains and see the world. We sat very still. I was quite excited. Most of the time with her I had to act. Now we had come to the point of recognition. A cat is crossing the garden. Two blackbirds and a starling are digging up the lawn. That Sunday I went to the corner shop. On the way back I heard the engine. It was no use arguing, was it? The sun was shining and a negro ran round the corner holding a newspaper. Mr Francis has started on his roses already. Who left the lawnmower out all night? It was coming up behind our house. A man shouted at me to lie down on the pavement. There was nothing more to be said, although I tried. Back home, Annie asked, “When are you going to mow that lawn?” There’s rust and mould growing in the shed at the bottom of the garden. It was cold last night, I put on another blanket. The engine cut out with a stutter. I thought, it will hit our house. Later I persuaded myself that I was unhappy. But that did not last. The telephone rang at 2.00 am. I woke up and ran downstairs. I was worried about my toad in the tub In the back garden. An end must come, I suppose. Have I failed? It stopped when I picked up the receiver, there was no one speaking. The leaves are bright green, it’s slimmer. But the flying bomb glided above me. It whistled as it parted the air. Is there any point In speaking further, in explanations? People disappear. Go to the front door. The newspapers are In the letterbox. Behind me, it exploded in someone’s garden. I was covered in small pieces of earth. Henry has gone to Scotland and will not be back. Jill writes from Lucerne but her concerns appear remote to us. It is Sunday. One can begin with the sports pages, or the news, or the bookreviews. My mother said, “Look at you, I can’t trust you to go anywhere.’ Grandparents are heard no more. Uncles give up the ghost. It was not my fault. Is there another in-depth interview? The coffee is ready on the stove. I watched the cat having her kittens in an old dog kennel. Thinking she was ill, surprised to see something live drop from under her tail. Cousins give up their buckets and spades. A voice from over the water calls, “Come in Number 37, your time’s up.” Light a cigarette. There’s plenty of time. She licked at it and I realized it was a kitten. Then three more dropped down. Children grow. We can’t go backwards. Spend the morning reading. Mow the lawn after lunch. I sensed an excitement in me but did not know why it was there. Frederica came to tea. I stare round the room and wonder where I am. At the moment of climax Henrietta’s eyes rolled up in her head until only the whites could be seen. Polish the car. Where’s the cat gone? We sat in the garden and grandma brought out cakes. I ate smugly, no one had served me tea before. But it was not exciting. Duties have to be performed. Once on board the paddlesteamer my mother felt sick. Did you put him out last night? There are too many leaves on the front path. Frederica spilled tea into her lap. She didn’t like me much but would do anything for a cake. Is there still time? When Doris said, “Yes, I did sleep with Fred on Thursday, so what?” I remained essentially unmoved. Should one have experimented with anger or regret? It’s autumn. The old ladies do not sit in front of the bandstand anymore. Grandpa drove to town on market days. The streets were clogged with farmers, bulls grunted in pens in the square. Laura lay like a large white maggot on the bed. The lamplight shone on her proffered behind. Did you remember the drawing pins? A moment later, I was on the outhouse roof. He said, “Belay there,” just as he did bringing us tea every morning at 8.00 am. She was panting and her back was wet with sweat. For some time I did what was expected of me. Is Miriam pregnant or not? The armchairs need recovering. I remember that little boy. She groaned at all the right moments. Afterwards I was bored. He does not seem to be me. Mr Barnes is playing Raff’s ‘Cavatina’ next door. Those last months in Number Seven I experienced an acute sense of dislocation. I always had to wait in the car. Grandpa went to see a man about a horse. She professed herself entirely satisfied. Going home, I was consumed by a sensation of pointlessness. Richard has gone to Newcastle. He says it’s raining and cold as the grave. Especially coming back when we passed The Windmill. I had to tell him when another car approached so that he could stop. Laura was, of course, an old habit that continued. One day she said, “You bastard,” and that was that. The park closes at 6.30 pm. I looked for the sieve in the greenhouse but It wasn’t there. Trains clanked up the incline. My ears burned as we filed into the squat, red-brick building in the middle of the cemetery. One had to sleep and work, it was necessary. Annie made demands too. Shall I buy another sweater? Turn over, it’s better from this side. The service started, hymns and statements. The coffin slid squeakily through an open hatch. Although aware of many dissatisfactions, we managed to survive by ignoring what was unpleasant. Maureen was just good fun, a mutual roll-about and that was that, no strings. It is winter now. Paint the front door yellow. There was a glimpse of fire beyond. Later we stood about In groups. Failures sprouted like mushrooms all the time. Helena was the folly of one summer, a lovely neurotic bundle, essentially passive. Tim was supposed to ring last Wednesday Wash the teacups and dust the kitchen shelves. They have burned my grandmother, I thought. Hating everyone, I felt nothing and wondered if I ought to. Good and bad lived side by side. Penny had excellent teeth but bad legs. Henry is living with a girl from Manchester. Shall I buy some British Aluminium at £2.30? We sat in a cafe and ate a valedictory high tea. A remote cousin became very drunk. Sensing lacks, I acted instead of thinking first. With Penny I was merely amazed at mammaries of an extraordinary girth. Has Miranda bought her car yet? I’m sorry I woke you. Later I took off my black tie. My uncle lost his temper. The fascination of discovering how they maintained their balance on her chest was a compulsion impossible to avoid. Essentially, too, she was an antidote to Doris. The wiring in the hall needs replacement. In four days we travelled over half the country. “That’s disrespect,” he said. Smith died in the afternoon. It was after Carol visited me. My nose was blocked. But that was more a quarrel with myself than her. Annie knew nothing then. The dining room needs another coat of paint. There’s a letter from Charlie in Provence. We were drinking tea. He groaned non-stop the previous night, and knocked his screen over. Going to help I saw his sunken face, a yellow skull. Easy to fool yourself you feel. “Can you help me?” she asked but I said no. While the company buzzed about I watched the soldiers. I need a button on this shirt. An orderly told him to shut his row. I ate the last slice of bread and noticed that he was silent. The cracks appeared only when one recognised how one had mislead oneself over such a stupid slut. There was nothing to be done except admit defeat. She was improvising in and out of the chairs. Henry’s coming over next Thursday night alone. Returning from a look, Geordie said, “He’s dead.” But defeat costs blood. It was my blood I sweated out on that hospital bed after the electric therapy. The trees are naked now. What does that mean? You can see the river. An old clergyman was seated in the window opposite. An hour later, he was carted off. A Union Jack was laid across his empty space. One day it’s there, a tight band around the head. Annie said, “You don’t even know yourself.” We went upstairs. That fuse has gone. I saw Peter’s idiotic hat. The monument was perched on a high knoll. White concrete gleamed in the sun. At such moments there are no immediate answers. You sink downwards, quite helplessly. I placed my hand on her cool thigh. What was the matter with her? Below, across a field, lay Hungary. The Battle of Mogersdarf, a small plaque stated. The wind has gone from the trees. When spring comes there will be . . . . Sometimes a window opens, lets in light. He replied, “That’s not the question.” They turned the Turks back from Europe here. Nothing but rolling hills and grass. You ask, is this the way? At the end, waiting, is the voice from another room. I tiptoed back across the roof. Charley’s back, looking very bronzed. Only a bare record of the facts. In the distance, across the border, smoke rose from a coal mining town. Rounding a bend in the gully, I came face to face with a watchtower. A suitable valedictory statement. It is not so easy to go quietly. In spring, my step is lighter. He had had the handles for a long time. It was a face that did not mislead the observer. The collie stayed under the dining room table while the incendiaries fell. A sentry with a machine gun watched me. A bird was singing. From Doris to Thelma was like crossing from one continent to another. On one side there was weeping, on the other inconsequential twitterings. “I’m afraid I’m lost,” I said. Spent the whole day sneezing. With him was a girl in beige. A barbed wire fence and mines beyond it in the stream lay between him and me. The air was full of history. Annie objected when I told her about the balloons. It is an ineluctible progression. I shall never come here again. I dreamed I was pushing the bicycle downhill. She smiled carefully, wearing a sort of kimono, loose and elaborately patterned. Summer’s coming, here we all are. The lake stretched flat in either direction. Voices come and go. I was startled by Miranda’s appearance. Leaving the hotel, we saw an elephant leading the parade. Such a noise of wind in the trees, it sounds like surf breaking on a shore. Put out that lamp. There were no bulls about. I wandered along a low jetty stretched out over the water. Finally, you wait. We took the train to Dover. At 11.00 pm she went to bed. There was a thick fog coming back. The children are asleep. Standing by a peasant’s hut we waited for the sun to go down over the lake. Orange light radiated across the water. That room will be always hidden by shadow. It’s been a relaxing day. One small boat floted motionless far out on the Neusiedler See. The days get shorter. Downstairs the refrigerator is humming to itself in darkness. It’s my turn to make breakfast. The point of recognition. We’re all tired. Set the alarm in case . . . . .
Page(s) 62-66
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