WritersShowcase

LEARNING TO WAVE BY GLYN POPE

ONE

In about the year 1985 Rick leant against the cool pale tiled wall in a London underground station people watching and dreaming. His wife and children were buying rail tickets and getting the information as to which line they needed. He’d never understood the system, which some felt it important enough to call the greatest in the world, and considered that in all probability he would have been hopelessly lost without his family. There were more people here he thought than you saw when Swingburne town centre, which was where he’d ended up in Dorset, was at its busiest. As he looked he wanted know where were they all going. Why weren’t they at work? Why wasn’t he at work? On holiday. So a lot of them had to be tourists. If the whole world were on holiday…London looked as though it had been invaded by the USA. The vociferous race behaving as if ‘we are doing your small country a favour’ loud in mouth and dress. He felt like the alien, which he supposed he was these days. Quite suddenly the sight of five surgeons coming through the barrier, dressed as if ready to operate there and then, finally completely captured his attention taking him off his guard. One of them approached him waving a bucket under his nose. As if in a past dream the mask spoke "Wanna buy a Rag Mag?" Rick felt through his pockets and found a pound that his wife had missed and dropped it into the bucket taking the proffered comic. He didn’t bother to look at it. The `surgeons' were so young. He was old enough to be their father. He felt poignant nostalgia for their high spirits. He felt embarrassed as he remembered himself just fifteen years before. How foolish he must have looked and behaved believing that he was so important, but was really just very egotistical. He didn’t really like to remember the past. It held too many memories, painful, yet a time that he would love to live through again. He would have changed the way his life turned out if he had known the future. Thinking about how that time now often hurt him. And he did think and fantasise all the time. Day dreaming his wife called it when she was being nice, ignorant and stupid when she wasn’t. He would wake alone in the night full of remorse and regret. He walked over to a bin and dropped the Mag in.

"What was that?" his wife demanded when he returned to her where she was waiting full of importance and impatience. Her face now slightly plump and quite red in comparison to what it had been when he first knew her.

"Nothing. Advertising bumf. Do you know where we’re going? I don’t."

Around ten years before Rick had been hanging around the London underground, in a medium sized Midlands town there had been a severe case of insomnia. Nick had lain awake all night. Or at least for Nick it had felt like that. The stars in his hallucinations were even appearing onto the ceiling of his bedroom. As the gloom gave into some kind of light he knew that it was time to leave his bed. Now was the day of his marriage. This bedroom, the smallest in the house, had been the favourite of the children that had lived there. On its wall were posters from a previous era, skeletons of Grateful Dead, a Pink Floyd concert for 2/6d. This space was tatty now like the rest of the house, though his mother might have favoured the words ‘lived in’. It was kept in a state worthy of people who preferred to spend any extra money they had at the pub. He got up, dressed for the day, splashed some water on his face and gave his teeth a cursory brush. Downstairs in the kitchen he waited for the kettle to boil. He looked at the decoration. It had been orange gloss for as long as he could remember and it had needed a second coat first time around You could tell that from the swirls and green showing through in patches. It would be easy to wipe down his mother had said but that clean was well overdue seeing the amount of fried food that had been prepared in the space. Nothing was state of art. He laughed at the phrase. The room and its fittings were still like the council had put in a couple of years before he was born. Quite longing for a cup of sweet tea. He didn’t have a hangover. His mother hadn’t allowed the party to drink too much the night before, not with the day ahead. The dog moved around in a whining anticipation of a walk. One of his masters was dressed already. Nick switched on the radio. Wide-eyed and legless he sang. As he stood sipping the scalding tea he heard the toilet flush and footsteps on the stairs. The top step always creaked giving the game away. How many times he had silently entered the house and made it to top of the stairs before his mother shouted "Is that you Nick?" He often wondered if she was expecting someone else. His father entered the room, bare chested a mat of hair, though it was warm enough, nothing modest about the flies of his pyjamas.

"Turn that off. You’ll wake the house." He waited until Nick had turned the radio off the old man chewing on his gums. "You alright boy?"

"Yes fine. You want a cup of tea?"

"No I’ll wait until the teasmade."

"Might take the dog for a walk. Be nice and quiet this time in the morning."

Nick wanted to ask him what he’d done with his life. He was sixty-three and probably only had ten or fifteen years left to live. Did he feel that he had achieved anything? Was getting married and having children enough? Was there really point to it all? Were they any different to the insect that was trod underfoot? His Father would look at him though with a pained expression that said but everything I’ve done I’ve done it for my family, all the sacrifices that I have made. Or was it just that you couldn’t think of anything else to do Dad? His question would be misunderstood though so he didn’t bother to ask.

"Okay." He ambled off back upstairs to his bed.

Nick put his jacket on and patted his pockets. He had all that he needed. He checked them again. Attaching the lead to the dog and shushing him as the animal went into a frenzy of excited barking, they left the house and walked down the street. Most of the curtains were still drawn and it was if the whole world had forgotten to wake up. A cat looked with disdain at the dog and licked her paw as if to say no one chains me. I go where I like and I’m still fed. At the bottom of the street the hill overlooked the city. Smoke rose from an industrial chimney. He stroked the dog’s head and rubbed him behind his ears as he loved. He tied the dog to a nearby fence and walked towards the smoke.

When the man at the bottom of the road left for work that Saturday morning he saw that there was dog tied to the railings of his house. Initially ignoring it he realised that it was Jasper from up the road. He ran back into the house and called one of the children to take it back.

"What’s it doing there?" asked his wife as wives’ will when they expect their husband to have all of the answers.

"No idea. Gotta go. I’m late already."

A few minutes later the doorbell rang at Jasper’s house and Nick’s parent’s looked at one another as they sat in bed sipping hot sweat tea.

"Who can that be at this time in the morning. Post?"

"Lover boy," said his father. "Forgotten his key. Mind you he’s got a lot to think about today." He went downstairs and opened the door. ‘Come...’ He stopped as he realised he was talking to a child and Jasper wagging his tail in recognition.

"Me dad told me to bring him back."

"Told you to bring him back?" He paused looking into distance as if he expected Nick to materialise. "Where was he?"

"Tied to our gate."

"Tied to your gate?"

"Yeh. Bye." The boy thought he’d leave quickly as the man obviously had something wrong with him where he had to repeat everything he said.

"Hang on a minute." He went and got the child 50p. He shut the door, patted the dog, went upstairs and told his wife what had happened. Jasper must have got away and someone tied him up there they decided. "Nick’ll be out looking for him. Do you think I ought to go and look for him?"

"And have everybody looking for each other? No I’ll get his brother up in a while. He can go. Let’s give him time to get back home. Pass the time a bit for him anyway ‘till he has to get ready." She took another swallow of tea and placed the cup back on her bedside cabinet with a satisfied look on her face that expressed to the world all was well with it and would be well.

In the city Rick made his way to the railway station. He wanted to get away as far away from the bottom half of England as possible. Buy a single ticket. To stop in an unknown town and pause. Think for a few days. Make decisions.

"What now?" his mother exclaimed as the phone rang. "This is like Clapham Junction today." Though she would have been disappointed if it had been otherwise.

Rick’s father got out of bed and went downstairs saying "Well it would be today," in a resigned voice but enjoying the situation all the same.

She lay in bed and listened.

"866334. Rick? Where are you? Jasper’s here. Yes, he’s okay. I am listening."

"No Dad. You haven’t let me say anything yet. I can’t do this. I’ve got to get away. I’m at the train station now and the train is about to go. I’m sorry." Without giving his father the opportunity to reply he put the receiver down and went to board the train leaving him standing in the hallway looking at the ‘phone as if it were somehow to blame.

"Who was that?" Shouted Nick’s mother from her bed.

Sitting in the carriage as it gathered speed was like a rebirth tugging him easily from everything that had lain in his way in the past. It soon left the city to the suburbs and into the countryside. The east line would take him north. He had bought a ticket to Edinburgh but he could get off anywhere. That would do for the moment.

The year was 1973, a couple of years before Nick ran away leaving his young bride waiting at the altar. Helen knew that she had little or no hope of even gaining Rick’s attention. She was nearly eighteen; Rick was twenty-one. All the difference between a child and an adult. He had the assurance of maturity whilst she had barely left school. Though still at night she would lie in her bed thinking only of him and an agonising warmth spread through her body. And there was of course also the other female. He’d had a long-standing relationship with a girl. She was a nurse Helen thought. They were always seen together at university gigs and discos. It was common knowledge that they were living together. Rick’s girl, Tara, was tall quite elegant with a figure that had everything in the right place and proportion or so Helen believed. They appeared to be devoted to each other. And she, Helen, at the local sixth form college on a secretarial course, in her opinion had none of these attributes. She was of very average height with shoulder length black hair that did nothing for her and to cap it all she wore glasses, which for Helen would be a total put off for any member of the opposite sex.

A notice had appeared on the board of her college:

`Wanted for Rag Week next term. Any helpers with great ideas…’and it went to a lot of other blurb about raising money for charity and so on and how good it would be for their self esteem and image of student’s in the town.

Added in hand at the bottom was written, `We desperately need a girl Friday/secretary who can type`. Rick Sharpe signed it and put chairman by his name. This was the boy Helen had been infatuated with for so long. Rick. Helen’s heart pounded as she read the notice and she felt as if she’d had a sudden rush of nicotine. The notice gave a telephone number to ring at the Teen University students` union office. She searched through her bag for change so that she could call. She must get that job before anyone else. She wasn't sure what being a `girl Friday` entailed but she could certainly type. She would then be at his side probably once a week for the next few months. She had no change, only a note. She looked around the area, there were plenty of students` but probably most of them broke.

"Can anyone change a pound? " She shouted out to anyone who cared to be listening.

People stopped and looked at her as if she were raving.

"What’s the problem Hel? `

`I need 10p. I’ve got to make a phone call. It’s urgent. "

"Can’t change a pound. Don’t have that kind of money." He laughed and she didn’t. "But you can have this." She snatched the coin from his hand. "Hey, patience. You’ll owe me a pint Hel. Perhaps tonight?"

"Yeh. Thanks. Okay." Helen bolted over to the phone box as though her life depended on it.

He yelled after her retreating figure, "See you at eight? In the bar?"

I wouldn’t be seen dead with that spotty youth she thought.

As always whenever it was desperate there was always someone using the phone looking as though they were to inhabit the box until it became their coffin. Finally Helen stood very close to the door and coughed twice to make her presence realised. After an eternity the receiver was returned to its cradle.

"Ta," said Helen to the rather large blonde in an afghan who ignored her as she strode away full of self-importance. Helen’s heart was pounding with anticipation. Two minutes from now she could be speaking to Rick. Tall, broad shouldered, hippy haired charisma exuding Rick. Her fantasy. She lifted the receiver. "Bugger", she thought. She hadn’t written the number down. Great secretary she’d make. She left the box and went quickly back to the notice board. Fumbled for a pen in her bag and wrote the number on the back of her hand.

"Goin` for that are you?" said the spotty youth. "You must be crazy. Looks like hard work for nothing. See you at eight. Students` bar at the Teen." He thought he ought to make sure that she’d heard.

"Yeh okay," replied Helen with no intention of being there.

Back at the phone she rang the number.

"Students` Union Office," said a rather officious voice that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in the Hitler youth.

"Is Rick Sharpe there? Please." She sounded as though she were pleading with him.

"No. Sorry. We do go to lectures sometimes you know."

"How can I get hold of him?"

"Fancy him do you?"

Blushing she replied firmly, "Certainly not!"

Laughing the anonymous voice said, "It’s just that you said you wanted to hold him. Only joking love."

Stumbling over her words now Helen replied, "No. I just want to speak to him."

"Well he’s not here."

"Any idea when he will be?"

"Hang on." She heard him shout away from the mouthpiece, "Stevi. Some girl wants Rick. Any ideas." Helen then heard a female voice in the background. "Stevi says that Rick told her he was going to the bar at around eight tonight."

"The bar?"

"The bar here. At the Teen. You might see him there tonight."

"Right. I want to be the Rag Week Secretary." She said rather too enthusiastically.

"Oh. Bully for you. " She detected more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice and she felt foolish until he added more kindly, "Do you know what he looks like?"

"Yes." No doubt.

To be sure of not missing him Helen arrived at the bar soon after seven. That was after a shower, a dash of her mothers` Avon perfume, her hair brushed until it shone and the underwear that almost made her blush when she put it on that an aunt had bought her for only last Christmas. Though why she wore it she couldn’t imagine. She’d hardly need that tonight. Aunt had said she would one day and her lecherous uncle had said ‘give us a fashion show then’ as she unwrapped it. He’d already had too much too drink early on Christmas day. She’d put in the back of a drawer. Maybe that was what they meant by a bottom drawer. No male had seen her wear it yet and the way she felt probably never would. Hug fit denims that she didn’t realise showed her newly formed figure as if she were naked and a loose cheesecloth shirt that contained the promise of what may be.

"You look a bit dressed up," said her mother, "Seeing a boy?"

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," laughed her Dad.

And no one to see Helen’s mother thought feeling sad for the girl. Though she didn’t know whether she was pleased with that thought or not. "Don’t be too late," she said.

"No." Added her dad because he felt that he had to.

The bar was virtually empty and Helen bought herself an orange juice and sat down. Time passed slowly. The bar had a clean and polished feel to it after the lunchtime session. Slade were `Far Far Away` on the jukebox. She looked at her watch repeatedly and every time someone entered she looked up hoping it was Rick and finally at five to eight the spotty youth came in.

"Hey Hel, you’re here waiting! I could have got here earlier if I’d known!" He sounded extraordinarily surprised. "My mates said you wouldn’t turn up. Won a bet I have. What you want to drink Hel?"

"Nothing. I’m fine." Please go away she said inwardly.

"Naw. Come on," the youth retorted, "It’s our first date after all."

I’m going to be sick she thought. "Okay. An orange juice."

"Naw. Something stronger. Girls like Babycham," as if speaking to himself. "A Babycham," he shouted across to the barman, like he thought he’d seen cowboys do in westerns that he’d watched by himself on a Saturday morning at the children’s cinema, "And a pint for me," he added firmly. After paying he put the drinks on the table. "You don’t know my name do you?" He said to Helen.

"No." And I don’t want to.

"Malcolm."

"Oh. That is nice. I owe you ten pence. Here you are."

"Naw. Forget it Hel. Feeling generous tonight." He chortled at his own feeble attempt at humour. She left the money where it lay on the table. "You do typing don’t you? Click click." He mimed a typist and laughed. Helen didn’t. He acted out something else. "Guess what I do?" Helen said nothing. She lacked the confidence to say a wanker. "I’m bricklaying. Good eh?"

"Oh."

"Great to see you though Hel. Didn’t think you’d turn up. My mates said you wouldn’t. I’ve won a bet."

Suddenly she felt a change in the atmosphere as though a storm had arrived and was aware without even looking up that Rick had arrived. She looked over at him though of course he hadn’t noticed her. Yellow cotton trousers, red platform boots and a t-shirt showing Dylan circa 1965 under a pink jacket. She had something to thank Malcolm for now because if he hadn’t been there then she would have never approached Rick and it would have been a night of frustratingly beating a pillow into fitful sleep asking herself why she hadn’t spoken to him. But now she would do almost anything to get away from Malcolm.

"Excuse me I’ve just got go and have a word with someone."

"Oh yeh the rag bloke. Don’t worry yourself Hel, I’ll still be here when you get back."

She got up from the table hoping that Rick hadn’t heard Malcolm and walked towards him. He had his back to her sipping from his glass. His broad shoulders covered with his clean long hair and his trim figure made her feel weak at the knees. She stood behind him for a moment though it seemed an age until he became aware of her prescence. He turned round and looked down at her.

"Sorry. Am I in your way?" He said, smiling kindly.

"No. You are Rick Sharpe? The one who put the notice up about Rag Week?"

"Yes. Are you the secretary? God I hope so. Stevi mentioned it. That you might be in here tonight."

"Well I saw you needed someone from the secretarial course to help out."

"Well anyone really. No-one wants to volunteer for anything that might actually involve work. And you’re willing?"

Aren’t I just? "Yes."

"That’s great. We can never get anyone to do that. Or at least so I’m told."

"It’ll be a good experience for me." I hope.

"Yes, I’m sure. Look, can I get you a drink?"

"No thank you. I’ve already got one." She gestured towards Malcolm and the Baycham who smiled and waved at them both and she realised her mistake.

"Ah, okay. Well look we meet two weeks on Friday. Student union offices. Seven-thirty. Can you make that? She nodded. "Great. Well I won’t keep you from your boyfriend. Essays to write myself." He finished his drink in one long draft. "Bye."

"Bye Rick. He’s not…" But she didn’t know how to go on and turned round and went to go back to Malcolm.

"Ah yes. What’s your name? Sorry I should have asked earlier."

Over her shoulder she said,"Helen."

"Helen." She already loved the way he said her name. "Bye then Helen. Till next time." He turned and left the bar with a friend.

"Who was that?"

"Just some chick who’s stupid enough to be the rag week secretary."

"Well, she can be my secretary when she likes. Hope you know what to do with them."

"I’ll think of something."

Helen walked back to Malcolm. Emotions of joy and anger churned inside her.

"Okay then Hel. Got the job! Finish your drink and I’ll get us another and then we could go and get some chips to celebrate."

"My name’s Helen. Hell is where I wish you would go to." She paused. "Or quicker, go and jump off a high bridge." She allowed that to sink into Malcolm’s brain, which took some time. "And I hate Babycham. Here. You have it." She poured the glass of the stuff into his lap and left.

SIX

Stevi asked Rick if he intended to go to the squat. Jerry interrupted them that he certainly didn’t, ‘could be anything there that he could catch and anyway he preferred his home comforts and he wasn’t a student anymore anyway’, he told them as he stood in the infection ridden kitchen where he lived with rest sipping coffee from a cup he had rinsed under the tap after the last user. Rick didn't know. He wished now that he hadn’t volunteered on the spur of the moment, but had taken time to reflect. He didn't like the idea either, it was all too ‘let's pretend we're having a revolution and when its all over run home to Mum for a hot meal and have our washing done’.

"I think you should," said Stevi. "You'll expect support from them for your events in Rag Week beyond the ones that they'll definitely support like the discos. Its no fun you know touting Rag Mags on the street or getting a float ready. If you put yourself out they'll put themselves out..."

"All right. All right. Don’t go on like you’re my mother. You've convinced me. I'll go."

"When?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"So they'll know when to expect you."

"I'm pinned down in other words. Friday. In fact I had already said Friday. I was just hoping everyone would forget. Tara’s works late then. I think. That suit you?"

"Fine by me." Stevi smiled more within herself than without.

He decided to leave it as late as possible before he went to the squat that Friday so that he wouldn't have to speak about the revolution to too many people. They might all be in bed, if they had such things. They might have even locked the door so that he could say that he turned up but no way could he get in. He went down to the pub with Jerry for the early part of the evening. It entertained him to watch the homosexuals eyeing each other up as though they were new teenage girls at a first disco or just so experienced that they knew precisely how to behave. He liked it because it was like being in an Andy Warhol film, should he dye his hair blond? He decided not. The atmosphere was warm and smoke filled and scented as he might expect a genuinely heavy brothel to be. After an hour or so Jerry said he had to see one of his friends and Rick didn't want to be alone very much. It was no prejudice on his part just that he didn't want to have to repulse any boarders. He looked at his watch it would soon be kicking out time anyway. He would walk and window-shop on the way. He finished his beer quite slowly without looking at anyone and left standing for a moment in the door looking right and left as though he didn't want anyone to see him leave though he actually didn't care but just listened to for a moment to the noise he left behind. 'Do you want to be in my gang my gang? Oh Yeh'. Now there was someone who was a real man. He turned and walked in the direction away from the squat down the main street to turn left and look in the second hand record shop window. He expected that tomorrow he would go in and buy something, even if he couldn't afford it, as he did most saturdays. Ultimately he knew that his feet would have to lead him towards the squat and whatever ‘delights’ were awaiting him; that he would have to do the right thing and be seen to be part off the student movement, no matter how he really felt. He also quite liked the idea that he was to turn up and be some kind of hero giving up his valuable time to them. Along the terraced street he found the house candle lit amongst the boarded up rest and not really showing any kind of welcoming or warmth to any who wanted it. He hoped that he had the right place and that it wouldn't be full of alcoholic tramps. He had been told to go around the back. It was very dark. He wished that he had brought a torch even though he didn't have one. In fact he hadn't even brought the things he did have like a sleeping bag. He wondered where he would sleep. He counted aloud the empty houses down the back alleyway until he found the place. Fortunately a light was showing in the room that he took to be the kitchen. He went down the yard and pushing open the back door shouted, "Hello." He jumped when Stevi almost immediately spoke back.

"You made it then. Almost given up on you."

"Went for a drink with Jerry. I didn’t know that you were going to be here."

"I’m a woman of many parts. Want some wine?"

"No I'll turn in." He thought the sooner he went to sleep the sooner he woke and could get out of the place.

"Sure? I've put you in the front room upstairs. You can't miss it. It’s the first room you come across."

"There's no one else in there? If there is I’ll go home."

"No, I don't think so." Stevi laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You. You are just so sociable."

"I just don't want to have to talk to anybody."

"Don't worry. I don't think that you will be talking to anybody. I've put you a sleeping bag in there."

"Thank God for that. I wondered what I'd sleep in."

"Thanks to me that you certainly won't get cold."

Helen stood by the window in the cold room. She was feeling very alone. Fiona who she was supposed to be spending the night with in this awful place had gone off with some bloke. She just wanted to go home, to her own warm bed and waking to the sounds of downstairs and a proper Saturday morning breakfast of bacon and eggs cooked by her mother. She didn’t have anyone. No one wanted to be with her. Just a slum with an empty room and a sleeping bag on the floor that in time she’d have to get into. The door opened and she looked round with a start.

He went up the stairs and pushed the door to the bedroom. A figure immediately turned and stared in disbelief at him making him jump for the second time in a few minutes.

"Shit", he thought, "I'll have to find somewhere else to sleep or go home. I can't stand this." He hoped Jerry hadn't brought anyone back. If he had he could always go onto Tara’s. She would like that.

The figure gave a slight gasp. "You made me jump." It was Helen. "I was looking out of the window."

Tara opened the door to her empty and cold bed-sit. She wished that Rick was there waiting for her with a coffee.

It was Rick. What was he doing here? That was his sleeping bag obviously she ‘d better go. Or should she stay. A decision. Fate or planned. She wanted him. He spoke.

Tara squeezed the kettle under the tap above the sink full of dirty dishes. They would have to wait to be washed up just like this morning. She would do them before Rick came round tomorrow and she would clean the room up as well.

"I'm supposed to be sleeping in here. At least I think it’s in here. I'll go and check with Stevi."

Tara undressed quickly. Too tired and cold to wash. She would bath before he came over.

"It's ok. It'll stop anyone else coming in."

‘I wonder if Rick feels the same way,’ thought Tara, ‘It’s not nice sleeping alone.’ She curled herself into a foetal ball.

Downstairs Jerry whispered to Stevi in the kitchen, "How's it going?"

‘I could get a taxi over to him. Surprise him. Of course he’s at that squat thing. That’s why he’s not here. He’ll hate that. I wonder if they’d know where the squat is at his place.’

"Well he hasn't come down yet. And we'll stay a while to stop anyone else trying to sleep in there. At least I know I'm safe with you." She poured him a glass of wine.

In the dim light Rick stripped off to his underwear and slipped into his sleeping bag.

Tara lay staring and listening intently, she was sure that she could hear the key in the door. It must be Rick.

"Where are you sleeping?" he asked.

I want to get into that bag with you. Now! I’m very cold. Make me warm.

‘I’m cold,’ thought Tara, ‘I should have got a hot water bottle.’

"I don't know. Stevi told me not to bother to bring a bag. I'm cold."

"Get in here. If you like."

‘I wish I had him here to sleep with me. Why does he volunteer to do these stupid things?’

They laid not touching as far as it is possible not to touch in a single sleeping bag. The candle throwing all sorts of interesting shadows on the wall like a figure watching them. There was a knock on the door. He shouted for whomever it was to piss off. Stevi opened the door a few inches "Just checking," she said "That everything was all right. Shall I blow your candle out?" she went on, "Save you getting out?"

"Yes please. And I want to talk to you in the morning."

"I don't think that I shall be around. Goodnight. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams."

Come on do something.

"I'm hot," said Helen.

"I'll get out. I'm sure I can find somewhere else to go. I can go home."

"No it's alright. I don’t want to be by myself."

‘I hate being by myself in this room. Do I love him enough? Do I show it properly? I will from the next time I see him. Tomorrow. Today.’

Do it.

In what seemed like no time at all she was naked and Rick was kissing each part of her feeling a passion that he had not felt before. They didn’t sleep, or at least the pair of them didn’t notice sleeping.

you are all women especially today isis and mary chopped corpse dying on a cross you resurrected me

Tara finally slept but fitfully and dreamt but in the morning she couldn’t remember her dreams other than it involved Miss Secretary’s nasty face saying you don’t know do you, do you, do you, do you...?"

In the morning when he knew daylight was there he looked at his watch. Close by there was no sound from anywhere else in the house. It was eleven thirty. He kissed Helen again and later he asked her when he could see her again.

"Do you really want to?"

"Without doubt." He kissed her again.

He turned onto his back and she leant on her elbow and looked into his face. It was as if they were seeing each other for the very first time. "Helen you are on the pill aren’t you?" He didn’t want to go through that movie again.

"Bit late to think about that isn’t it?" She laughed "What shall we call him, Richard? Just to let the world know who the father is? Yeh. Don’t worry yourself. For medical reasons. Not sex. Though it came in useful."

"Its just I never thought."

"Blokes never do I’m told."

"Tara is."

"Good old Tara. Anyway what about Tara? What are you going to do about her? That is if you’re going to do anything about her. But you can’t have us both"

"I'll tell Tara." He was silent for some time. "I want to be with you. Only you"

"Turn away," she said modestly as if the night hadn’t existed, "I have to get up and go home. I'm supposed to be meeting Fiona. I think I shall have to give her a call and cancel. She’ll only want to know the sordid details anyway."

"Sordid?"

"No. It was lovely. I shall never forget." She stopped what she was doing. "Rick. Do you think we were set up?"

"Set up?"

"Stevi, Jerry. Me in this room. Your sleeping bag here. You said that Jerry wouldn’t come within a hundred miles of this place."

" Jerry was here?"

"Yeh. Last night. He said…"

"Maybe. It doesn’t matter anyway. Come here."

"No. I’ve got to go. Tell Tara. Please."

"I'll tell Tara and ring you later." When he awoke again later he was alone. It was after two. He remembered that he should have been with Tara a couple of hours before. He hauled himself out of the bag and back to his own place for a bath and to eat and coffee.

"Nice night?" shouted Stevi from an afternoon film as he entered the front door.

"As if you didn’t know."

"Sometimes love needs a helping hand. Doesn’t it Jerry?"

Rick stood in the doorway to the room and looked at them both and smiled like a conquering hero.

"You look tired," Helen's mother was saying as she sat with a cup of cooling coffee in front of her at the kitchen table. "Helen? Knock knock. Anyone there? The lights are on…"

"What?"

"I was saying that I’ve been accepted on NASA’s next manned flight to the moon. You look tired."

"What? Oh, I see. I was miles away. Yes Fiona and I didn't sleep very well last night at that squat. I wish I hadn’t gone."

"Your Dad and I didn't want you to go. I don't know why you went. What you’d get up to…"

"Rick thought it would be a good idea for...."

"Do you do everything he says?" Well not quite Helen thought. "You've got your own mind you know. I don’t want to see you get hurt."

She ignored that as if she hadn’t heard it. She’d never get hurt. "He is nice though...Any way Fiona has something or other do with it so I was helping her out."

"Rick's nice is he?" Her mother looked at her and smiled. "He's got a girlfriend hasn't he?"

Helen felt herself beginning to blush. "Fiancée I think." She'd lost her virginity many times with him in fifteen hours and it was supposed to be painful she’d been led to believe but it wasn’t. It had been unbelievably wonderful. "I didn't mean it like that. You can think someone's nice you know without jumping into bed with them." Or a sleeping bag she contemplated.

"I would hope so. I think the postman's nice."

"I'm going for a sleep."

She watched her daughter leave the room and thought how young she really was on the threshold of adulthood. In her own thoughts rather she felt confused but she didn't know why as if there was a communication that was not quite being made with her offspring. She looked out of the kitchen window and saw her husband coming up the path to the house in the rain. He saw her watching and shook as if he were freezing cold and ready for a hot meal. Still after all these years she loved him as she had the first time they met.

When Rick finally reached Tara's bedsit after sleeping bathing and eating he could hear 'Suzanne' droning mournfully on out of the stereo. He let himself into her room where a candle was already burning and he wondered if he would ever have the energy to perform the sexual act ever again. She hadn't heard him, or feigned not to do so, and he leant and kissed her cheek. She turned and kissed him full on the lips moving his hands to her breasts, "You’re late!" She spoke as if he were a naughty boy. "But you’re here now. Shall we eat later?" she said.

"Are you and Mum going out?" Helen's Father looked at her Mother and asked his daughter why. "If you were, I thought I might come with you."

"Well yes we are..."

"Down to the Gun and Spaniel though" said her Father as though this might put her off and to make sure that she knew they weren’t going to a disco.

"Okay. But I want a real drink. I'm a woman now."

Her Father raised his eyebrows as if he were terribly shocked. "Well actually Helen, we do want a talk with you. Might be a good opportunity." He looked at his wife. "Go and get your selves ready then, both of you. Then we’ll go. Don’t be all night."

In her room Helen looked at her reflection in the glass and wondered what this chat was going to be all about. Surely they could not know about last night. That would mean Rick or one of his friends, like Stevi, ringing them and telling the pair of them all about it. They would have to be pretty odd to do that, quite perverse. Maybe it was about getting pregnant...but you didn’t talk about such things in the local pub and anyway mum knew that she was taking the pill. She couldn’t see her father putting his darts down and saying oh by the way are you on the pill or you should be saving your self for the right man you know was very unlikely. He would die of embarrassment. Husband and wife did speak to each other even when they never told the children. She was soon found out though what it was all about and the contrast to the previous twenty four hours left her running from the pub back home and crying for what seemed like the whole night and the next day.

In the pub Dad asked her what she wanted to drink and bravely she asked for a gin and tonic with ice and lemon and to her surprise he went to get her one.

"Your Dad knows you drink at the college. We were young you know. As long as you’re not silly." She laughed and Helen laughed politely along with her. What did she mean, drinking alcohol wearing a funny hat?

"What’s all this about then?"

"Nothing to worry about. It’s very exciting."

She felt some relief. "Well I didn’t think you’d bring me down to the pub for a chat about the bird’s and bees."

"Well you know all about that. As long as you’re not silly." Oh dear was this going to be mum’s phrase for the evening. Her Dad brought the tray of drinks back and sat down.

"Well?"

‘Let me quench my thirst first love. I’m parched." He was obviously excited but was keeping a cool and calm exterior. So it was Mum who almost bursting with excitement said "Your Dad’s been offered promotion!"

Oh was that it. But she’d better not appear to be indifferent. After all it would mean more money in the house. Not that they were poorly off. "That’s great. Really great. Well done Dad."

"But wait you haven’t heard the half of it. You tell her Dad."

"It’s in America!"

"America?" She spoke as if she’d never heard of America let alone know where it was.

"There I knew you’d be thrilled."

"But when will we see you?" Then the consequences began to dawn.

"No love. Don’t worry yourself about that. We all go to America. It’ll be a great opportunity for us all."

"We’re just going! You aren’t asking me if I want to go?" This adventure for them all wasn’t going as they were expecting. "You don’t think I have anything here that I don’t want to leave behind?" She said looking at them in anger at their bewilderment.

"Calm down love. We can talk about it." She was raising her voice and people were beginning to look at them.

"Talk about it. In other words persuade me. No, not even that. Tell me I’m going." She picked up glass and for an awful moment her mother thought that she was going to throw the contents at them. "Tried to buy me with this eh? I’m in love and I won’t leave him."

Her parents looked at her in amazement and then at each other. She left her drink and ran from the pub.

"What was all that about then?" said Dad

"Rick."

Rick found it easy to have sex with Tara that weekend, as the flesh was somebody else's. He breathed out deeply as he rolled onto his back on the Sunday morning.

"Are you alright? You've seemed very quiet this weekend though you have made up for it in other ways." Her fingers stroked his already stiffening penis. "I haven't known you this good for some time and I thought you were going to leave me for that midget secretary of yours!"

Without speaking or kissing her he mounted her again.

THIRTY-THREE

The following Saturday Rick got into the shared bathroom early and made himself look presentable and arrived at Christine’s promptly as instructed at one o’clock. Christine answered the door and asked him in. "You’re a bit early. Not that it matters, silly," she quickly added when she saw the look of sadness on his face. "The children are with her in town having a present bought for them." She smiled. He loved it when she smiled. Not many people seemed to smile at him these days. "When they come back," she added "Which shouldn’t be long," looking at her watch, "We were thinking about having a walk into town and having drink out side one of the pubs and then coming back for a late meal. That okay with you?"

"That suit’s me fine. Anything. It’s good to talk to human beings rather than four walls."

"Actually Rick, It’ll give you five minutes to have a look at a letter that Lesley has been sending to all her’s your’s friends." He looked at her enquiringly. "I got mine last night. Here you are. Go into the back and read it. Don’t let it upset you or make you angry." He took the piece of paper and went and sat down and read,

‘To all our friends,

To those who care for us from Lesley, Hannah, Liam and I’m sure Rick would also share the feelings expressed in this letter.

We felt’ Did she discuss the contents of this round robin with the children Rick wondered, ‘That we should be open and above board about the situation at home at present.

You may have heard rumours’ I expect they’ve been bouncing around like squash balls Rick wanted to say, ‘That Rick and I have separated. These rumours are true, but I hope it’s only short term’ Not if I have anything to do with it was all that could go through Rick’s mind, ‘However should it become more permanent it will only be for the benefit of Hannah and Liam, nothing more.

We’ve had a traumatic last year. We’ve had the demands of our jobs, the journeys to and fro of the children to their orchestras, Rick lost his Grandpa for whom I was particularly fond of and him me. He was an old man I know, eighty-five, but it leaves a tremendous gap when somebody loves you and leaves you alone. Rick’s mum has been a tower of strength to myself and the children.’ How many times have I heard her say she hated the old cow Rick said to himself. ‘Fortunately Rick seemed quite unaffected, but that’s men.’ Rick just felt that he wanted to beat the next person he saw to a pulp.

‘I know that Rick loves his teaching career and he can now pursue that without the responsibilities of family life other than of course the contributions I know that he would want to make.’ Money money money, Rick sang to himself.

‘I shall be working part time from now on and in time, after I’ve discussed it with my bank manager, I shall open a shop in the town selling high quality artistic goods. As you all know I am an excellent watercolour artist. Hannah and Liam love the idea of serving in a shop.

Both children are thriving. Hannah has achieved top grade four oboe and Liam top grade two clarinet. I’m very proud of them. I’m sure we are both very proud of them. They are survivors.

For myself I feel that at last I’ve started to think about myself more rather than always being concerned for Rick. I have a life I realise. I’ve joined the local gym. I shall be taking time out to meet friends, old and new(!), for lunch and hopefully go to concerts and films in the evening. I want and need to become more fulfilled.

Please come and see us. We are not to be avoided. We are not a sad family but a happy one,’ Well good for fucking you said Rick out loud, ‘We still have a lot to do to heal the pain that has been caused to myself and my children but we are making a positive step forward.

With our love

Lesley Hannah and Liam.’

Rick screwed the letter into a ball, threw it, and paced around the room as though he were trapped. He knew that he had to calm down. This lunchtime may have been planned by Christine for him. He had to appear normal. He heard the front door open and slam and the children’s excited voices showing Christine their new toys.

"Helen!" he heard Christine say, "You shouldn’t have. You’ve spent far too much on them. They’ll think it’s Christmas."

Helen a name Rick knew.

"I don’t get to see them enough. Let me spoil them," the woman called Helen replied.

A voice Rick knew.

"Well come in and meet my friend Rick. He needs cheering up." They came into the room. Rick could not turn to look. "And," as if she were announcing the Miss World competition, "All the way from America. Helen."

"Helen?" said Rick

"Yes my cousin from America. You knew."

"Is she American?" Helen stood smiling, knowing what Rick was about to see.

"Well yes and no. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

"She moved there when she was seventeen or eighteen. Look she’s here. Ask her."

"Could I have some water?"

"Yes. I’ll get you some."

"No. It’s ok. I’ll be alright in a minute. Ok. I think I’d better go. Have you told her about me? I should. She may be in for a shock." Christine looked puzzled and wondered if she were witnessing Rick having a nervous breakdown in her front room. Maybe the letter had been too much for him. Helen motioned for her to leave and she went closing the door behind her feeling completely bewildered. He stood and looked out of the window. Should he stay? Should he go? He was aware of a figure standing watching him. He had thought that both had left the room. Finally a voice said in a slightly sarcastic American accent, "I’d recognise those round shoulders anywhere."

"And I’d recognise that voice. I’ve never forgotten you. Your curse worked."

"Well maybe I’m here to lift it."

He turned and they stood facing each other.

"Helen..."

Christine came back into the room upon hearing voices unable to bear her curiosity any longer. "So you two do know each other?" They both smiled. "Well it’s been weeks since I saw you actually look anything approaching being happy Rick. So you’ve done something useful."

"Yes and it’s been a long time since I laughed," said Helen.

"We were at University together..."

"I didn’t know you went to Uni," said Christine looking at Helen.

"I didn’t. It’s a long story."

"Oh. I see."

There was silence. As nobody knew what to do next. Rick turned and looked out of the window and saw that the grass needed cutting. He wondered whether to offer to do it. Finally Christine broke the atmosphere. "Look," she said, "You two probably have a lot to catch up on. I’ve had Helen for 24 hours now and I’ve got her for another day. Do you want to go off to the pub by yourselves? The children won’t be bothered now they’ve new toys to play with and I’ll get the meal ready."

They replied at the same time. Rick with a ‘yes’ and Helen with a ‘we couldn’t possibly’. As they walked side by side into the town neither knew what to say. There was too much to talk about.

"Are you still teaching?"

"Yes and no. I’m on long term sick leave."

"What’s wrong?"

"I’m getting divorced. It’s not easy."

"No. But sometimes you just have to keep on keeping on."

"Oh you remember the Dylan LPs I played you."

"No. My husband died nine months ago in a car accident."

"Oh I’m so sorry. I cannot say what I feel. Any words would be useless."

"Yes they would. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound aggressive."

"Do you have children?"

"No. Fortunately. Do you?"

"I don’t know what to say. Yes. Two. It makes my problems seem insignificant."

"Don’t say anything. People react to situations in different ways. It’s good to see you."

"I was horrible to you."

"Yes you were..."

"And you cursed me. And it worked. I never forgot you. Everyday I thought about you and wondered why. Why I had behaved in the way that I had. Did you think of me?"

"No." She shook her head. "Hardly ever. I lift the curse." They looked at each other and smiled. "We were very young."

"And I was immature."

They reached the pub and sat at a table looking down the river towards the hills watching the tide as it slowly ebbed from the hulls of the yachts. They talked and talked and as the sun finally began to go down over the hills and lights around them were switched on, they realised how long they’d been there.

"We should be getting back you know Rick. After all it’s Christine I’ve come to see. Not you."

That hurt him a little. "What are you doing in England anyway? Holidaying? Wandering all over London like a real American?"

"No working. Thanks to you I think you gave me the taste and excitement for working with live bands." Steve looked puzzled. "The Rag Ball and Richard Thompson? Remember?"

"Oh, yes. What do you do then?"

"I work in promotion for a record company. I’m over here promoting Greenday."

"Never heard of them."

"Exactly. You should have done. Here I go. Seriously you would like them. I’ve a cd of theirs in my luggage I’ll give you one when we get back to Christine’s."

"Helen can I see you again?"

"I go tomorrow. I have to work. Anyway we are part of the past. You have to look forward."

"Can we write?"

"I don’t know. Give me your address and I’ll think about it. But I was properly in love. One has gone forever. The other, what ever you say, went through his own choice..."

"I sometimes wonder if it was my own choice. In fact I often wonder." Interrupted Rick.

"Anyway it doesn’t matter now."

"Do we have any choice over anything? Or are there outside influences that we do not control that make our decisions for us?"

"I don’t know. I really don’t care. I’d better be getting back."

They were silent for a moment. The close atmosphere broken by loud laughter from a nearby table. Instinctively they looked over. A happy man with his family?

"If..."

"There are lots of ‘ifs’ Rick. Too many. Forget them."

"I know. I know. But..."

"If the man who was driving the other car that killed my husband hadn’t been drinking."

"I’m sorry I didn’t know."

"No you don’t know very much. You lived cotton wooled in this seaside town without really doing anything and now you expect to turn everything back. Except that you don’t really want to make the effort. You just expect everything to fall back into place. To be as it was." She went to take a sip of her drink and seeing that her glass was empty put it down with an air of finality.

"Do you want another?"

"No. I’m going." She paused. "Rick. I never loved you, you know. I never said I loved you. You never said you loved me. All these years you’ve just made that assumption. You’ve hung onto something that wasn’t there. I loved my husband. I would not have married him if I hadn’t. You can’t just keep on, well I don’t know."

"I always thought that our love was something special."

"No. It never happened. I’m sorry." She looked at him. "I am sorry Rick. Just think on that boy."

"God that sounds like..."

"Stevi?"

"Yeh."

"We write and see each other occasionally."

"You write? I didn’t think that you were that close."

"Its called keeping contact with the past, whilst at the same time living in the present and looking to the future. You learn from the past after all. Stevi thought that you treated me badly. Underneath all that feminism stuff there was a heart." She paused as if wondering whether to say what was on her mind. "I even hear from Malcolm once a year at Christmas."

"Malcolm. Not Malcolm the…"

"Yes and I’d marry him if he wasn’t already married," she spoke smiling, "I certainly made the wrong choice there between him and you. He’s a property developer. Millionaire. He’d still do anything for me. I could retire tomorrow." She grinned at the thought and looked around her as if she were seeing the world afresh. "Will you know where your children are in six months time?"

"Yes of course."

"Make sure that you do. I don’t think you know where I am. I don’t think I’m prepared to take any more chances."

"I’ll walk you back."

They went back to Christine’s in silence. He left her at the gate. She kissed him full on the lips looking directly into his eyes as if she saw and understood everything he had ever experienced. He went back to his bed-sit. He played a cd of Leonard Cohen’s. Perhaps she would put the promised cd in the post. He poured himself a rose, looked at the stars and waved. Yesterday was just another dream.

Glyn Pope Synopsis LEARNING TO WAVE