The neighbour’s toddler is under our table fists and feet flailing, my mother’s spine glacial, and I’m sat on the banquette eating kedgeree, fish flying around my head in a halo. Mountains are crowbarred out of me when we root up to another country, I shelter under the bed, years pass through me, the candlewick…
I’m sixteen, home for the holidays, hovering round Mum who pulls wet washing from the drum, when an old lover of hers tumbles out with the load like waters breaking, the narrow utility room dimming to confessional. Then coat hanger-hooked out slips a back street clinic, followed by Mum crouched on the loo in her…
Wrapped up in gilet, scarf and cap he stands across the road from me. I know he’s died but I feel caught out, living in his flat. Dodging the traffic, specs in hand, I cry, Look, I’ve kept your glasses – just changed the lenses. He looks a little rueful, says he’s living on Mont…
