David Clarke
On Neutral Ground
She can be traced, the agent said, but it
won’t guarantee she’ll even see
you, let alone tell
what happened more than twenty
years ago. A meeting can’t compel
her to love you or admit
any wrong. But she came: by hired car, and kept
her married name a secret. She couldn’t cope
with a baby, she said, when her lover went
to live abroad. She had no hope,
no money, no support, no time for sentiment.
My husband doesn’t know. You must accept
things as they are; there’s too much at stake.
They talked a while, found she’d named
her Joyce, not Jane, and they shared
a love of horses - like her sons. When they came
to leave the wine-bar, both smiled slightly, as their
acquaintance ended in an awkward handshake.
Page(s) 48
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