The letter

Dear Laura,

I’ll start this letter with the usual ‘how are you?’ Maybe it’s a stupid thing to ask because you can’t immediately reply, and how you are changes from day to day, but it’s the kind of rhetorical tradition associated with letters through the ages and I felt the need to continue the trend. So, how are you?

Hope everything’s good in your corner of the world, and, incidentally, I hope your sister got to Portugal. When I read about her passport problem I didn’t hold much hope for her – the way the passport process is at the moment! Oh and thanks very much for the letter, it was a nice surprise because, while I always thought you would write to me at some time – you’re a girl of your word, after all – I didn’t expect contact so soon. I thought an up and coming, forward thinking young businesswoman as yourself would be up to her ears in lucrative ventures and opportunities, and so too busy to write to some lazy arse writer. Anyway I’m glad you did write.

While I think about it, how are you finding your friends back home? What I mean is that I’ve been away from here for six years and I return to an altered landscape. I haven’t really kept in touch with people here and so now I’m finding life difficult and more than a little boring. I guess I went away to start a new life and now it’s difficult to pick up the old one where it left off. Anyway, I hope it’s easier for you.

I joined up with some people we met in India, just last week. It was a nice evening, yet strange to not have you there. Robert (small and Jewish) came along and we picked up our drinking where we left off in Mumbai. Carl is still considering whether to move to Australia or not, while his brother Owen hasn’t managed to find any work yet! He has interviews “lined up”, apparently, but we’ve heard that before.

Actually, Owen brought along his long-standing (and long-suffering) girlfriend, Caitlin with him to the restaurant. To think what he got up to while he was away. I don’t understand how he doesn’t even feel guilty about it, I mean Caitlin is a lovely girl and must really love him. Oh well…

That ought to be enough for now. I hope you’ll write back. I’m away to Scotland at the beginning of next month so I’ll send you a postcard and perhaps some shortbread. In the meantime, stay happy and having fun.

With love,

Patrick.

Where he liked to sit

He had a real pedigree, did Jack.
The type of man I could get by on, I could live on. He brought me succour – I think that’s the right expression.
Once we were active, but when the sun grew long in the sky, we’d sit and question each other on this and that; sit and stew in the heat of the world we looked out upon, though we always sat just in the shade.
Jack used to say that he liked to keep the sun a few inches from his feet. Sometimes, when he was ready to sit down, he’d go out there onto the patio and test out the sun. Often it would be slightly wrong, out by a few centimetres even, and then he’d march right back in to where I was sitting, where it was cool and air-conditioned, and he’d say: “Not now, Laura,” then he’d look around for something to do, something he could do quickly and without thinking. He’d often find a crossword to start, though he rarely finished one.
He’d look up then and say, “Now should be just about right,” and it always was. So he’d take his seat for the remainder of the afternoon, and I would put the kettle on and join him presently, once the Earl Grey was ready. We’d both put our feet up on the stool.
He’d happily sit there all evening too, if he could, but I’d always make him take a stroll in the early evening. We might go and grab some fish from Sami’s, or some bread. It was queer, perhaps, to buy these things when the stores were closing, but it gave me an excuse to get him out of his seat and walking.
Besides, I liked to look at the sea. It’s the main reason I wanted to move here.
Lately I’ve taken to bringing a deck-chair down to the quayside. I’ll sit out in the morning but it soon gets too hot and it’s less fun without someone to chat and scathe with.
So I generally retreat before noon, back to the air-conditioned rooms and I’ll wait until the shade hovers over our seats. Then, I’ll come out and test it.
I’ll check how far the shadow has come and, if I think it would be good enough for Jack, I’ll take my seat.
Sometimes, I make an extra cup of Earl Grey. Sometimes, not by mistake.