Living Upside Down. John Hickman

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      Through all the pain and mental anguish, Roger is trying to remember his Dad fondly. Named William Edward, everyone calls him Edward, rather than Bill.

      Once his best friend, Edward had always talked with his son, even confided about his career as a Lancaster bomber pilot in WWII, telling Roger the gory truth about war. Often at dinner parties when others told jokes, Roger would tell one of the wartime stories his Dad had told him. This suited him well as he is incapable of telling any joke successfully, usually forgetting the ‘punch-line’.

      Any father and son relationship involves communication and right now that is finished. They are both stranded on an island as if attempting to decipher smoke signals. Problems include the wind blowing them to bits, smashed to smithereens by Edward’s greed in the family businesses and by his second wife, Zelda. A woman proven to have a flexible relationship with the truth.

      “It is a shame, Roger, because, from what you have told me, your supportive mother, Alice, kept him in line wanting him to keep a proper job.”

      “Even as the crooked, manipulative bastard of a father he became after Mum died. He always saw me more often while I was growing up than every third Saturday, and then only on an outing to somewhere like a zoo.

      He changed dramatically after he met Zelda and she drew out his dark side. They might as well have been married by an old, blind holy man on a donkey for all June cared, it happened so fast.

      Never mind. Drum roll! Now we’re gallivanting off to Oz without a proper job to go to. Mum would have been displeased. Crestfallen even.”

      To Roger’s mind, any doubts about how badly they were treated at the first hotel business were reinforced tenfold at the second.

      Sue’s mother Minnie, now a sad and lonely blue rinse widow, has made a State visit to Heathrow. Her entourage in tow, she exudes charm greeting with, “There’s a cup of tea and a biscuit waiting for me at home, dears.”

      “Would you like Roger to get you a cup of tea?” Sue offers.

      “Oh, don’t go to any trouble, dears,” Minnie is thoughtful, “I’ll just have half a cup.”

      Silly woman, thinks Roger. Same difference!

      “How are you, Mummy?” Sue asks as she nervously picks at the cuticle on her right thumb.

      “When lately have you seen me happy, dear?” Minnie lets out a long sigh. Lately she has been letting out many long sighs. She turns her painted smile to Roger, which he finds insipid. Holding that smile is one of the hardest things Minnie’s done in a while.

      “And dare I ask how you two are getting along after that dreadful hotel business of your father’s?”

      Roger braces for any pre-emptive nuclear strike. “In a regular job, Minnie; we don’t actually see as much of each other during the working day as we did at the hotels. But we have a much better home life.”

      Minnie becomes frustrated and begins rummaging in her handbag; she pulls out her cigarettes.

      “That must have been quite suffocating, dears.”

      She glares at Roger. “A gentleman always lights a lady’s cigarette, Roger. Or have you forgotten?”

      “Sorry, Minnie. I don’t carry a lighter anymore because I’ve given up smoking. Here, allow me to use yours.” As he takes Minnie’s lighter to her cigarette, his hand shakes slightly with nerves.

      For what seems an eternity Minnie inspects the lighted end.

      As does Roger. He is sorely tempted. If this keeps up he might need a distraction; a cigarette.

      Sue’s younger brother Philip has combed his hair to commemorate the solemnity of the occasion. Devoid of his transistor radio, usually adjacent to his ear monitoring the unintelligible gabble that is air traffic control, he appears lost.

      “The fun just never stops,” he mumbles to no-one.

      Auntie Audrey, God bless the old crone, is dressed all in black, which seems appropriate to her under the circumstances.

      Sue’s dear cousin April with husband Kevin are part of the entourage.

      As April possesses a disproportionately large natural bosom, she has always been a favourite of Roger’s.

      Despite an age difference of some ten years between Sue and April, they behave as though they sisters, lovingly joined at the hip.

      Husband Kevin, an ex-merchant naval man, shakes hands solemnly but with a gentleness that is faultless. Well muscled and of middle age he wears a white buttoned shirt, subdued tie and charcoal slacks. An easy twinkle in his eye for the ladies, Kevin is renowned for saying all the right things.

      “Would you like a drink, Kevin?” Roger asks, “something a little stronger perhaps than tea?”

      “Sure. I’m a drinker of opportunity,” Kevin grins, “I get my hands on it, I drink it.”

      They all adjourn to a café come bar but Sue and Roger are too highly strung to partake of food or drink. Kevin is busy looking about at people. He spies a Jamaican with dreads and a crocheted wool cap. “What d’you reckon of him, Roger?”

      Roger is thoughtful. “What, the Jamaican who’s wearing a tea cosy on his head?”

      Kevin smiles smugly at Roger. “I’ve been Down Under a few times back in the day on the ships. They’ve a great sense of humour the Aussies. I’m sure you’ll do well there. You do know what they’ll call you?”

      “I have no idea,” Roger smiles invitingly.

      Kevin looks mischievous, “If they like you, you’ll be a ten pound pommy bastard.”

      Roger grins. “And if I’m unpopular?”

      “Be like pissing on your own fire, Mate. Ten pound bastard pommy, but with an unfriendly emphasis on the word bastard.”

      April behaves as if Sue is a comet about to leave its star for a lonely trip through the cosmos. “No sign of Roger’s family today, Sue?”

      “No. True to his word he’s given his Dad and Zelda the Ernest Hemingway treatment as in stoic silence.”

      As far as Roger is concerned they are unaware of their departure, but irrespectively, Zelda’s presence would only have proven antagonistic.

      Better they be at each other’s throats than lunging at mine, Roger thinks.

      “Probably for the best,” April sighs brightly. “I wouldn’t accept a reverse charges call from that man if he was haemorrhaging to death on the pavement in front of me.”

      Audrey at 72 does not look a day over 90. She wears a pale blue coat, her hair tinted to match. “And that awful German woman he married. What’s her name?” she asks, biting out the words.

      “Zelda,” Sue replies.

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ