daddy. Me being just myself walking along the pavement hoping someone will look at me, stop, come back, see into my eyes and say I love you.
Without later
Turning
Utterly
Treacherous
4
THAT was some Friday night. At Thirty Three Golf Street Monday morning there was no Sally Tomson pecking away at her machine. Nor Tuesday nor Wednesday. And Matilda locked in her room now for five days. Smith acquiring a contraption to make breakfast which woke a person with soft music and leaked out a cup of coffee. Once doing so the middle of the night upon Smith's arm while he lay defenseless asleep in a disturbingly objectionable dream.
Chaos gathering at Merry Mansions. Whorls of dust and cracked pieces of delf . Smith slipping notes in under the bedroom door to the silent Matilda. Who on Monday grunted once. And to the shout on Tuesday are you alive, growled. Smith making his way as usual along the river desperate to hop into one of the medical institutions for a mental checkup.
Three days of Miss Tomson's empty desk And Miss Martin came in and said Mr. Smith shall I parcel up Miss Tomson's things and send them to her. George shouting no one's to touch that desk, leave it just as it is. And the rest of the day was one of obtuse politeness with Miss Martin coming back with a letter handing it to Smith, saying, Mr. Smith I'm afraid you've made an error.
"Miss Martin, I'm terribly busy, can't you correct k yourself, where is it, what's the matter with you, what are you paid for.'1
And Miss Martin took her silent white finger and with a fat pink fingernail touched the bottom of the page where George had signed the name Sally Tomson instead of his own.
When the fights start to flicker on during the rapidly dark afternoons were the worst moments at Thirty Three Golf Street. George nipping out for a walk. And late Monday at an excavation peering down into the floodlit morass of winches, cement mixers and ladles of concrete swinging through the air. All din, dust and unsad. A man near George on the platform recognising him from prepsterhood, followed Smith as he retreated the short distance to the corner. And saying behind him, why hi, George. And Smith running outright. Hailing a taxi. Taking it to The Game Club where sitting in the library in die deep stillness and chime of a grandfather clock, examining one's behaviour which was getting too weird for words. What harm to say, hello, hi, good to see you, gosh you look great, remember the great things we did as kids and prepsters, the snakes we put in neighbours' kitchens through the window. And I ran. Can't now face the things which happened years ago, both believing in the same God, putting hands up the same dresses.
Thursday the sixth day of Matilda's incarceration. Morning dawning. George reaching to punch the coffee contraption into life which lacked the loving hand, the juice of living. And with one bleary eye awake the flash thought that Matilda was dead. Maid servant starves to death in Merry Mansions. Police and public crucifixion on the front pages. Why did you do it Mr. Smith, murder her in this ruthless slow way. Instead of shrivelment why not the knife or gun, you're licensed to carry a pistol Why didn't you blast her. Members of the jury this murderer is not only a murderer but a twisted and callous person.
And Thursday Smith swept up his nudity in the polka dot dressing gown, plunged tootsies into slippers to pound once again on Matilda's door. Milkbottle silent. And in the polished mahogany, George's eyes culled up a scene of other mahogany. The witness stand. Gold-miners giving evidence, sure he's violent didn't I see him with my own peepers chasing those poor kids up on the roof and he goosed my wife last Christmas. Violently. Just a forceful nudge of the knee.
"Matilda are you in there."
As Smith looking down his dressing gowned person to the bare skin of the legs. Hair ending at the ankles. Yes your honor, his usual was an attack on Matilda Friday nights, sure he was tight, sure we knocked on his two inch thick steel door, yeah I got one too but only an inch, we could really hear him and this poor dark creature, as he took advantage of her color.
And finally Thursday noon after the constant visits to pound, Smith shivering at his bedroom phone. Reaching for