Living Upside Down. John Hickman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ like bilge rats abandoning a sinking ship. Waving their final goodbyes, they prepare to board their plane.

      In accompaniment Roger hums Roger Whittaker’s recently released Last Farewell but adds his own words; “Our plane lay rigged and ready for departure…far away to a land of endless sunshine…far away from our land full of rainy skies and gales…”

      Outside, the air is cold, the fat clouds holding the promise of snow or sleet. Behind them a sea of faces blur as they are herded towards their BOAC Charter flight.

      Roger shuffles his feet the last few yards.

      Sue giggles “Why are you walking like that?”

      “In sympathy with those who’ve gone before us. I’m wearing ghost shackles.”

      Chapter 6

      EDWARD AND ZELDA

      In the seaside municipality of Brighton, famous for among other things its cobble stone beach, Edward is sitting quietly in his drawing room. After being discharged from the RAF in 1946 without a job to go to, an unfair dismissal from a senior management position in the early 1960s seemed to herald his downward path. He is convinced the last few years have been significantly cruel to him and yet he is able to convince himself, without any difficulty whatsoever, how impeccable his planning has been. His misfortunes are obviously at the behest and instigation of others.

      Zelda, his second wife, who has only recently returned home from full time office work is sitting exhausted in one of her favourite antique leather armchairs.

      “Edvard, vhat vill you do? Ve are short of money,” Zelda barks. “I vork but cannot perform miracles.”

      Zelda is leggy, tall, and elegant with dyed brassy, blonde hair. Edward is thinking her hair today resembles more the colour of dirty egg yolk. Slightly stooped at the shoulders, she is slim almost to the point of being consumptive. Her slightly turned-up, if not judgmental, nose gives her a supercilious air.

      Her physical downsides are the lines of a heavy smoker etched around her bright red lipstick thin mouth that makes her look as if she is sucking on a sour lemon.

      Dressed impeccably as always, Zelda is wearing a long pleated black skirt and white blouse. Her touched up hair and makeup expertly accomplished.

      She is indeed a handsome woman, Edward thinks. After the death of Alice, Zelda was eye candy personified to Edward. A tidy dresser with a 1940s look, accentuated by the way she wears her hair. Her daughter, Charlotte, is one year younger than his own daughter, June.

      “True, we are short of money,” Edward replies slowly, and then with an edge of sarcasm, “but as we are ensconced in this luxury flat. A flat we can ill afford, what would you have me do, Zelda?”

      Zelda glares at Edward. Her eyes catch and hold him, intimidating as hell.

      “You done bad, Edvard.”

      Edward sighs deeply. He realises the failure of his recent hotel ventures hardly herald a success story.

      He senses that Zelda is becoming a hovering black eagle observing him as the uneasy mouse.

      “You are a valking bill-board of zhe personal problems,” Zelda looks hard at Edward.

      Here we go, again, thinks Edward.

      “You came into mein life at a difficult time for me, Edvard.”

      “Yes, Sweetheart,” Edward sighs deeply, “I know. You’ve told me many times how hard you tried before your divorce, even allowing your now ex-husband to bring his motorbike into your house.”

      Edward’s sarcasm kicks in as part of his defence mechanism.

      “I’m sure your ex’s fan base meets with him every afternoon in a telephone booth down the road,” Edward continues.

      “And den you come along, Edvard, vhen ve met through zhe agency.”

      “I thought, we agreed, Zelda, not to mention the introduction agency. It sounds so much better if we get used to telling everyone how our doctor introduced us. Especially as we both had the same GP.”

      “Ja ja, fiddle faddle.”

      Edward primes his pipe and as he does so, he feels the anger of betrayal rise in him more than usual. “You chose divorce, Zelda. I did not choose my wife to pass away. Alice died in 1965 she was only 38. A sudden, terrible, cancer that took her in a matter of weeks. My situation was entirely different to yours.”

      “Mein Gott, Edvard. I know Alice vas a good vife und mudder. She was very lucky to have you survive de var as a Lancaster bomber pilot.”

      Zelda is right. Physically whole, Edward displays none of the horrific war trauma carried as shocking trophies by so many surviving RAF crews, but he still feels down.

      The relaxed ambience of their surroundings is doing nothing to make Edward feel better about his situation right now. The small but elegant crystal chandeliers, floating overhead like candlelit funeral shrouds, are supposed to cast a calming light, but he and Zelda are far from enjoying calm.

      Too late, about three years too late, Edward realises he is having doubts about his marriage to Zelda; she is a proven fine actress, he gives her that much, but a very dangerous woman to cross.

      According to her ex-husband, whom he has met with on occasions when releasing the girls for visits, she is a beautiful liar who her ex is pleased to be rid of.

      In her younger years, might she have been the scourge of many a middle-aged man?

      “Uh huh.” Edward agrees. “All I want is a little peace and quiet, Zelda.” He cast his eyes around their expansive drawing room, taking in the discreet wall lights illuminating the embossed, velour wallpapers in their rich burgundy colours. The expensive fabrics evoke a high style of sophistication while the deep pile carpets swallow their footfalls adding to the exclusive ambience. If he has to be miserable, he would rather be miserable in style.

      “Vhat rubbish you talk!”

      Edward loses his calm. “For Christ’s sake, Zelda, what part of fucking peace and quiet don’t you understand?”

      Zelda sulks.

      Edward cast a further glance towards their rattling front windows. Fierce rain lashes the glass turning any view into a muted shade of grey.

      Edward knows Alice loved him despite his attempts to get rich. Schemes that despite his dedication and hard work, never came good. Alice wanted him to work in a steady day job that paid regular money. In hindsight, she was right; Alice was always right. Edward eases away into his memories.

      The first thing Zelda noticed about Edward was his blue eyes, which she decided were pleasingly impish. A surviving bomber pilot and recent hotel owner, he was about as full of himself as any man could be.

      Edward is aware that to his wife from a council shit tip, she feels that she married up. As his German Boudicea, she would surely enjoy putting a chain around his neck — if only she could. Edward smiles at his thoughts; Then force feed me Italian spaghetti meat balls to maintain my strength.

      Zelda СКАЧАТЬ