What Poets Need. Finuala Dowling
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Название: What Poets Need
Автор: Finuala Dowling
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9780795707216
isbn:
I asked her had she locked herself out of her cottage. She said no, that the ace of hearts had gone missing from her computer and she thought she’d come in and play with our real pack which couldn’t cheat. I said please feel free to take it with you.
The house was all warm from the anthracite heater I’d stoked up earlier. Neither Mrs Cloete nor Sir Nicholas seemed keen to go out into the cold night air, but I firmly walked her back to her door and switched on her lights and put on her kettle for her hot-water bottle. Sal found its pink crocheted cover. The old lady was clutching it to herself when we said goodnight and closed her door for her. She looked very tiny, with her navy blue slacks hanging loosely from her waist, the fabric somehow snagged and balled with wear, and her childish shoulders stooped inside her cardigan.
I led the reluctant Sir Nicholas to his shed. Both he and Sal looked at me reproachfully. Sal said she thought I should make Sir Nicholas a hot-water bottle too. I said look what happened to the cushion.
“Is Mrs Cloete anything to me?” asked Sal. “Is she my other granny?”
I said, No, Mrs Cloete is the mother of my best friend Ryno. She’s lived in the caretaker’s cottage for years. It looks like she’s a family member, but she actually pays rent. Mrs Cloete’s family once owned the most fertile farms of the Western Cape, a long time ago, but now she rents in our yard. She still has some furniture and brass and stuff that is hundreds of years old.
Sal said she did think the crocheted hot-water bottle cover looked old. I said there’s an important difference between worthless old and valuable old.
At last I put Sal to bed. I fell asleep next to her. Waking in the middle of the night, I felt her warm back against my chest. There is such a taboo against this kind of thing that I dragged myself off to my own icy sheets. As I waited for them to warm up, I listened to the waves crash on the reef with the clarity of pistol shots.
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