AS FAR AS HIS EYES CAN SEE.A Poem by Terry CollettA BOY AND GIRL ON A BOMB SITE IN 1950S LONDON. Benedict waits by the pram sheds in the Square for Lydia to come out of her flat he wants to take her to the big bomb site behind the tabernacle although she won't tell her mum where she's going as such she'll say to the park to play on the swings or slide or other such thing just as he did to his mother the baker rides by on his horse drawn cart the horse walking slow the baker sitting on top of the cart nodding his head still no sign of Lydia Benedict sighs he hates wasting time likes to be out and at it a man with his boxer dog walks by the man puffing a cigarette hat at the back of his head the door opens and Lydia comes out in her red and white checked dress and white cardigan she looks stressed and walks towards Benedict looking behind her at the door of the flat got out then? he says just about she says had to help put the washing in the copper and gather up all the dirty stuff and take rubbish to the shoot and just done he nods and says a girl's work is never done as my old man says well it is for now she says where are we going? she asks big bomb site behind the tabernacle he says isn't it dangerous there? she says not if you’re careful and don't let the Rozzers see you he says so they walk down the slope and along Rockingham Street she talks of her mother being in a mood about her father's drinking and O yes it's all right for him to booze and sing and play the fool but it's me who has to feed you kids and keep a roof over your heads she says her mother said Benedict listens takes in her straight hair her thin arms and legs her pale features her mouth opening and closing like a fish in a bowl they cross over the road and walk up and along the street behind the Trocadero by the smaller bomb sites along the narrow alley and out on the main road where they go down the subway to get across to the tabernacle she still talking about her mother and her big sister and the bloke she brought home the other night and wanted to take him to the bedroom for some reason or other Lydia adds frowning the subway echoes her words they float then bounce off the walls as they climb the stairs up and out she stops and looks at the bomb site anxiously will other kids be there? she asks usually are he says but that doesn't matter none they'll keep to themselves and we can keep to ours she bites her lip and follows him as they climb between hoardings and up and into the bomb site with its half standing houses and ruins and walls and houses empty with no roofs or roofs with only three walls she hesitates stands with her fingers in her mouth want if the Rozzers come? she says leave it to me he says confidently she follows him as he climbs onto a wall and over the top come on he says she climbs after him mind you don't scrape your knees he says and helps her over the wall holding one of her hands she gets up and over and stands inside a bombed out house it stinks she says yes probably some tramps pissed in here he says not still in here is he? she says anxiously no long ago scarpered he says he walks through a room and she walks after him holding her nose looking around her bits of wallpaper hang from walls a doorway with no door a window without glass that looks out on an abandoned garden full of weeds she follows him up a riggedy stairway holding on to a rocking bannister and up to a landing with three rooms going off in each direction he stands still taps the floorboards with his foot should be safe he says is it? she says nervously course it is he says walking carefully over the floor of the room she stands by the doorway what if the floorboards are rotten and you fall through? she says softly then I get to the bottom quicker than I came up he says smiling come on he says beckoning her over she stands still fiddling with her fingers then she bites her fingers of one hand and holds her groin with the other it won't give way he says she holds herself it might she says then we die together he says what away to go eh? she looks at him standing there with his hazel eyes and quiff of hair and his hand held out towards her she walks gingerly over the floorboards one step after another until she reaches his hand and grips it tight and they are there in the middle of the room she feeling as if she's wet herself and he like one who has climbed Mount Everest and is about to plant a flag with glee she looks at him and he looks out the window as far as his hazel eyes can see. © 2013 Terry Collett |
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Added on December 4, 2013 Last Updated on December 4, 2013 AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more.. |
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