the river by the fish market. Dark sheds. Barges bumping derelict. I walked out here on the first day I moved office and have come lunch times ever since. To watch the ferries, the pigeons scared into the air by hoots. And to conjure up a future for my past.
The new office is two interconnecting rooms where I sit in die back one watching out on the endless white tiled wall of a warehouse. Brought Miss Martin with me. Had a going away party too. Sportsmen from The Game Club. A buffet. With beer, wine and tidbits. It was disastrous. Matilda trooped in to Thirty Three Golf Street drunk with several celestial friends and danced with my topper and hardly anything else. Dispersing the less hardy guests.
I got letters. Delivered by post, by hand, by elephant by God. I objected to some of the innuendo.
i Electricity Street
We are firm in our wish
that the year is immaterial.
George Smith
Room 604,
Dynamo House
Owl Street
Dear Sir,
Do not pretend not to know who we are.
Yours faithfully,
JJJ. & The Associates
P.S. We assume you were attending a funeral.
And to answer these this month of March I sat chilly and wagging my feet on a capstan on a wharf the end of Owl Street. Feeling easier out under the open sky.
Room 604
Dynamo House
Owl Street
i Electricity Street
Dear Sir,
I require details to establish identification. How many eyes have you all got.
Yours sincerely,
G. Smith
P.S. Also be glad if your next letter were accompanied by a brief medical history.
On Wednesday, some days later a note was slipped under the front office door.
i Electricity Street
Our former comments in
this heading will suffice.
Room 604
Dear Sir,
We can do without your crass attempt at jocularity. We inform you that our appointees have been instructed to institute moves. In the light of the seriousness of the situation and in case you are under any illusion we inform you that we are in the possession of two eyes each.
Yours faithfully,
JJ.J. & The Associates (Global)
P.S. There is no need to go into our medical history.
Grey Thursday afternoon to spell out a reply to J.J.J. from room 604, Dynamo House.
Turdsday
JJ.J. & Associates (Global)
i Electricity Street
Dear Sir,
Watch out.
Yours sincerely,
G. Smith (Local)
P.S. I am also blessed with two headlamps, which I should be glad to focus on your medical history.
And on this day. At her plywood desk with a slender vase of chrysanthemums, Miss Martin's shoulders slumped forward and she burst into tears over her typewriter. George Smith went to her. Her hair brown and full round her head. Placing a hand across her back, the little acorns of her spine.
"Mr. Smith, I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Miss Martin. Don't worry. Yon cry."
"Mr. Smith, I don't want to ever let you down. Bnt I'm scared."
"Is it the office here."
"I suppose I'm just getting used to the long anonymous halls and staircases. It's not like Golf Street. I shouldn't cry like this. But Mr. Smith I feel the whole world is horrible and mean. And the letters."
"Miss Martin, don't you fret That's not your worry. Here try my hanky."
"Thanks."
"Give a good blow. That's it."
"I'll wash and iron it."
"Nonsense, you keep it now."
"I read in the paper that poor boy was shot to death. Just because he recognised someone on the subway train."
"Miss Martin, you musn't take things so seriously. Now wipe these away. Feel better."
"Such a nice smell your hanky."
''Lemon."
"I like it. I feel better now and Mr. Smith this letter just came registered special delivery."
Mount Ararat
March iyth
My Dear George,
I write to you alas for some material aid. At the moment I am completely banjaxed. I am trying desperately to escape from this God forsaken place to make a fresh start in the new world. I hope you will be able to assist me in this. We hear that you are now very successful and a happy family man and I am glad. Can you wire as much money as you can reasonably afford to departing Passenger" Volta Steamship Lines—to their office here or there will get me, and mark it "hold for collection." You will never know how much you will have saved my life. And may God protect you as He has not yours truly*
See you soon,
BONNIFACE
Smith folding the letter carefully, putting it back in its envelope. Miss Martin with liquid wide whites around her eyes. In this room where one is waiting for something awful to happen. Cedric, the awful Bonniface, Clementine. College classmate. Amateur historian of his own recent history. No fear Miss Martin. A friend. It's my turn for tears.