Saturday 12th August 1939
April and her Mother having quarrelled, April decided to move into digs for awhile. I did a little knight-erranting this afternoon, transporting her kit to the digs!
Returned to her house for tea.
Garden-scene. We were trying to bathe the dog, which suffers from hysteria and will probably be destroyed. (April was badly bitten a week ago.) The ruddy dog snapped savagely at April and bit her Mother. Treacherously it then approached me, wagging it’s tail. I stroked it, gently edging towards the waiting bat-tub.
“He hasn’t bitten you yet,” said April’s Mother thoughtfully. “See if it will bite you” she added hopefully… The brute snapped a moment later! Eventually we threw the water over him.
Evening: I drove April into the green lands north of the Crouch and we finally reached the Ferry Boat Inn, at North Fambridge. We sat facing each other across a bare deal table and April talked about the Far East and a man therein. Toasts in sherry. One of mine was the most important – “To the fourth month of the year!”
“Three little fishes… And they swam and they swam, right over the dam”.
We drove slowly homewards through the darkness. Although I stopped the car suddenly, it was April who’d put her hand on mine as it steered and it was April later on, who suddenly moved closer to me. Weaving of fantasy by April – if we were both freed now, by some godlike figure that came down the road – freed of all troubles, all responsibilities, what would we do?
“We both belong to someone else, but tonight, somehow, we belong to each other”
“Mm, I’, frightened”
“So am I!”
“I feel this night is different and that it will never be the same again”
“What!” – in anxious fear – “You mean this is the zenith and afterward “love will die out from kiss to kiss”?”
“No” she said solemnly. “This is the beginning”
“Oh! Well, if it had been the zenith, we’d have stayed here all night, so as not to lose a moment of it!”
And we only made a few promises, but lovely ones. April should be her month, and I could not get married then. No one else should ever call her April. And mysteriously, “If I ever have a son, I’d like to call him Stephen so as he’d be like you!”
Returned to her house for tea.
Garden-scene. We were trying to bathe the dog, which suffers from hysteria and will probably be destroyed. (April was badly bitten a week ago.) The ruddy dog snapped savagely at April and bit her Mother. Treacherously it then approached me, wagging it’s tail. I stroked it, gently edging towards the waiting bat-tub.
“He hasn’t bitten you yet,” said April’s Mother thoughtfully. “See if it will bite you” she added hopefully… The brute snapped a moment later! Eventually we threw the water over him.
Evening: I drove April into the green lands north of the Crouch and we finally reached the Ferry Boat Inn, at North Fambridge. We sat facing each other across a bare deal table and April talked about the Far East and a man therein. Toasts in sherry. One of mine was the most important – “To the fourth month of the year!”
“Three little fishes… And they swam and they swam, right over the dam”.
We drove slowly homewards through the darkness. Although I stopped the car suddenly, it was April who’d put her hand on mine as it steered and it was April later on, who suddenly moved closer to me. Weaving of fantasy by April – if we were both freed now, by some godlike figure that came down the road – freed of all troubles, all responsibilities, what would we do?
“We both belong to someone else, but tonight, somehow, we belong to each other”
“Mm, I’, frightened”
“So am I!”
“I feel this night is different and that it will never be the same again”
“What!” – in anxious fear – “You mean this is the zenith and afterward “love will die out from kiss to kiss”?”
“No” she said solemnly. “This is the beginning”
“Oh! Well, if it had been the zenith, we’d have stayed here all night, so as not to lose a moment of it!”
And we only made a few promises, but lovely ones. April should be her month, and I could not get married then. No one else should ever call her April. And mysteriously, “If I ever have a son, I’d like to call him Stephen so as he’d be like you!”
posted by Paul Wilson at 8:57 pm
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