It Always Rains on Sundays

by It Always Rains on Sundays (epub)

  ‘Right. Twenty-lines max. How about that?’

  ‘Money too, don’t forget to tell them about the money.’

  ‘Wow. Hey – hear that gang. Money also, isn’t that amazing.’

  ‘Thanks. Well, I knew you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Damned right. Oh, Kevin says how much money?’

  ‘Uh. Five hundred. Cynthia, this isn’t about money.’

  ‘You bet – this is what I said. Wait a sec, Kevin says, would that be hundreds, or are we talking thousands?’

  ‘Hundreds dope.’

  ‘Hundreds dope.’

  ‘This is about art, it’s about carefully chosen words on a blank piece of paper.’

  ‘Too right. American’s, why does it always have to be about money?’

  ‘That’s because were British – it’s about literature, it’s in the blood.’

  ‘Too right – the man’s a scholar. I never doubted it.’

  ‘Hey, really?’

  ‘Why would I lie?’

  ‘Maybe it’s me – that lurky-durky doubt sometimes, y’know.’

  ‘May flowers never prosper on my mother’s grave.’

  ‘Let’s face it, you’ve had a lot to put up with.’

  ‘Pish – this is what I keep telling people. So, okay, a man paces around the garden at odd hours of the night, staring up at the moon – so what. Leave him alone, he’s trying to think. They should try talking in rhyme, that’s what I say.’

  ‘Gosh – you were always my golden spur, and that’s a fact.’

  ‘Don’t mench, where would we be without poets?’

  ‘That’s true certainly. Am I really so bad to live with?’

  ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right, chairs flying through the windows, right?’

  Huh. ‘Poets wives – sharing your disappointments. All those years or rejection, it rubs off – they feel it too.’

  ‘You’re a real star in no mistake.’

  ‘Thank you I’m sure. There could’ve been a lot more – who do you think dug the trap for the postman? Believe me you don’t even know the half of it.’

  ‘Those who stand and wait, right?’

  ‘Maybe you should think about that.’

  ‘Right – hey, what about that time I wrote that poem on the living-room wall.’

  ‘Awesome, will I ever forget. I howled.’

  ‘We laugh now, right.’

  ‘What about that time you missed my parents funeral?’

  ‘Uh huh. Don’t worry I was never proud of that.’

  ‘How about that, a double funeral – it’s a bit much.’

  ‘Sometimes I really hate myself.’

  ‘Lucy’s christening, you missed that too.’

  ‘God – did I really? At least I turned up later.’

  ‘You’re right – what’s a couple of days.’

  ‘It’s unforgivable.’

  ‘One thing for sure, poets are not as other men, and that’s a fact.’

  ‘What about my Poetry Journal that time?’

  ‘How many more times, that was a pure accident.’

  ‘Twice? Some accident – three times if I hadn’t chased after the salvage truck. Six months work, that’s at least.’

  ‘Think about it, maybe I did you a big favour, after that you wrote better – you said it yourself. Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said, wait, I have it right on the tip of my tongue …’

  ‘Shakespeare? Nah, I would’ve remembered that for sure.’

  ‘No wait. No I’m wrong – maybe it was Marcel Proust.’

  ‘Cynthia, you read Proust?’

  ‘Uh huh – sure I do. Why be surprised, it’s right there in front of me, on top of the stove. It’s the only chance I can get to work on my Open University dissertation – it’s for my P.H.D. Anyway, blah-blah, another story. It’s based on Darwin’s theories of evolution, it’s called KNOWLEDGE OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE, subtitled The Inner Workings of a Woman’s Mind. If you really want to know, it’s the culmination of my private research pertaining to the nocturnal behaviour patterns of primates, e.g. Men I’m meaning – only this time, purely from the distaff angle of things.’

  ‘Wow. I’m really impressed.’

  ‘Aw, the heck – remind me to give you a copy. Right now it’s at the British Museum, it’s being perused by higher minds – which reminds me, wasn’t he the guy who said, “He that readeth and writeth even unto the darketh hours of the night in pursuit of knowledge is ever unblindeth?” Or, maybe it was somebody else.’

  ‘Holy moly – sorry. I pass on that one.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know the feeling. After all, what’s knowledge if it isn’t shared with the common proletariat, right. After you left I took a long hard look at myself – I guess I’m trying to catch up. It’s as if all of a sudden I’ve only just discovered I have a brain.’

  ‘I’m amazed – what can I say.’

  ‘Uh huh. I really owe it to myself. Literature I find opens up so many new doors, don’t you agree. Drama especially, it’s been quite a revelation I’ll tell you. Also, I’m kind’ve into philosophy – you should try it, it’s a scream.’

  ‘You’ve really opened my eyes Cynthia.’

  ‘Thank you I’m sure. Me too, right at the minute we’ve got this almighty big debate going on all about dramatists generally – the whole class is involved. Chekov, Ibson, Stringberg, etcetera etcetera. Fundamentally it’s all about their dysfunctional lack of humour, y’know. Consensus being somewhat divided. Finally, we had this secret ballot, basically it’s a toss-up between having these long dreary, really depressing dark winters. Either that, or constipation – it’s about half and half I’d say. Maybe you can throw some light on the subject?’

  ‘Um. That’s a toughy. Food for thought certainly.’

  ‘Personally speaking I’m going for haemorrhoids, but’s that’s me.’

  ‘I’m amazed.’

  ‘Uh huh. Me too – all of a sudden it’s as if I’ve metamorphosed into a kind’ve more rounded human being. You know what I’m trying to say?’

  ‘Cynthia – I’m agog.’

  ‘Thank you. Listen’ –

  ‘The owl looked up at the stars above

  And sang to a small guitar.

  O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love

  What a beautiful Pussy you are –’

  ‘“You are, you are! What a beautiful Pussy you are.”

  Hey, poetry too. Wow, imagine you knowing that. How wonderful.’

  ‘Uh huh. Do me a favour – it just shows, a couple of months back I’d’ve probably said you were talking rude. That’s if you get my drift. Sure I do, and a few others too, mostly by heart. Also, I’m pretty much au fait with each of Shakespeare’s 156 sonnets I might add – well okay, give or take.’

  ‘You mean … Really?’

  ‘Uh huh. Or mas o menus as we Spanish speakers say.’

  ‘Gosh. Wait, you’re wrong – in actual fact I think you will find there’s only 154 – sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry so do most people. Used to be, right.’

  ‘You mean?’

  ‘Uh huh. Again, that’s debatable. Only, now we think we’ve dug up a couple more. That’s what comes from rummaging through erstwhile, so-called ‘lost archives’ on wet weekends I guess.’

  ‘Golly – I’m stunned.’

  ‘Uh huh. Tell nobody, keep it under your hat, okay.’

  ‘I’m amazed.’

  ‘Thank you I’m sure. Mind you, if I’m being truthful it’s all down to you. Thank you for pointing me towards the rich rewards of English Lit – truly I’m forever in your debt.’

  ‘You can but try I suppose.’

  ‘Uh huh. Tell me – let’s face it but for you, chances are I’d’ve ended up unfulfilled, a mere run of the mill house frau, an embittered school-run mother, day-time TV soap-opera buff. No doubt thick as a post no doubt.’

  ‘Hey, steady on Cynthia, that’s a bit much.’

&nb
sp; ‘You think? Okay, skip it, how’s the Mondeo these days anyway?’

  ‘Aw, y’know. Okay I guess.’

  ‘Only, I’ve been meaning to ask. I still miss her – a lot.’

  ‘I’d an idea you might. You know what, if I’m honest I still miss the old one too.’

  ‘Happy days eh. We had some happy times – kids loved it.’

  ‘Sure did – oh, you bet. Oh listen, remember my squeak. I’ve finally cured it.’

  ‘Good man. I knew you would – finally eh?’

  ‘You’ll laugh – turns out it’s a little plastic duck.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be – what next. Duck eh?’

  ‘Squeak, squeak. Silly really, small thing I know – all the same.’

  ‘What’s silly? So, where’s the crime – you happen to be a proud car-owner.’

  ‘Maybe I could do with a change. She’s a really nice car basically. Don’t get me wrong, I also like jazzy four-wheel drive pick-up trucks too.’

  ‘You surprise me, at least you don’t need a fire-chute to get out of the bastard.’

  ‘Ha ha – good joke.’

  ‘What joke, it’s the gospel truth.’

  ‘Maybe giving her a new paint job. Samatra Red – bit bold right, for me it’s bold. ‘I’m seriously thinking about fat tyres.’

  ‘Sounds pretty cool.’

  ‘You know me, it’s deciding. I have shirts still in their wrappers.’

  ‘Go for it – live dangerously for once.’

  ‘You think? I’m still kind’ve teetering, y’know.’

  ‘Do you still pull onto the hard shoulder so people can smoke?’

  ‘Uh huh. Odd times I do. Though, if I’m truthful it’s a lot harder to find smokers these days – it’s lamentable in a way.’

  ‘Listen. I have an acquaintance at work who smokes the occasional Menthol. Remind me to ask her. I think maybe she’d be really interested.’

  ‘Hey, thanks. I owe you one.’

  ‘Don’t mench – at least it’d get her out of the smokers shelter.’

  ‘Cynthia? Aw, nothing I guess. (God you’re attractive, I only hope that you are truly appreciated that’s all). Look Cyn, I have to ask. ARE-YOU-HAPPY? Tell me the truth.’

  ‘Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh, heh, heh, heh – ‘

  ‘That bad eh. Sorry, it’s just – I had to ask.’

  ‘Kevin Ranker is a work-shy lazy bastard, that answer your question?’

  ‘Now you mention it, I admit it had crossed my mind.’

  ‘Oh c’mon, and the rest.’

  ‘Tough. So soon eh, tsk tsk.’

  ‘Don’t get me started, okay. He’s a lazy lump, end of. All he ever does all day is watch sports channels – slouching in front of the TV, surrounded by pyramids of empty beer-cans, sat in his favourite armchair – bouncing his friggin ball.’

  ‘Too bad. I’ll bet it’s the genuine brown leather with the motorised foot-rest – I’m not surprised. Once upon a time it used to be my favourite chair too. All the same I thought he looked pretty fit – maybe I’m wrong?’

  ‘Yeah, me too. This is the trouble, nobody knows him, the guy hardly moves – it’s the next stage before rigor mortis.’

  ‘Gosh.’

  ‘I should’ve listened – you did try to warn me.’

  ‘Did I Cynthia, sorry to hear that – I was never the preener.’

  ‘Huh? – preen all you like, I don’t blame you. Things aren’t always what they seem. Something else too – I said I wouldn’t tell you, he’s got a pretty mean temper. I’ve found that out to my bitter cost.’

  ‘Oh noooooo, the worst. He’s no Englishman that’s for sure.’

  ‘He lies too – big whoppers. First time we met he promised me a ‘diamond as big as the Ritz’ unquote. Liar, then it turns out what he really said is ‘By the way, I’m subject to fits.’ Not quite the same thing, right – maybe you agree. What’s your opinion?’

  ‘Well, guess not I guess.’

  ‘That’s another thing, he broods quite a lot too. He still misses the prairie.’

  ‘Aw – brooders, are the pits if you ask me. That’s really terrible.’

  ‘Homesick I guess. He stares a lot too, mostly on hilltops. It’s the quarter Cherokee Indian kicking in I expect. He likes to be alone, it’s really strange – I wish.’

  ‘Don’t say – odd to say the least.’

  ‘Tell me – it’s a true story. That’s another thing, he lights fires out of doors quite a lot too, he’s a real menace. You should see my insurance premium, it’s as high as the sky.’

  ‘Golly.’

  ‘Good word. Let’s face it I was blinded by passion, a stranger in a strange land, peopled by people with strange ways. They drive on the wrong side of the street too – how strange is that?’

  ‘Well, now you mention it – I agree, it does seem rather odd. No, you were right. I should’ve listened to my husband’s sound reasoning.’

  ‘Hold in there Cyn, he isn’t a bad man. Well, some maybe.’

  ‘Sometimes he gets a little tetchy with the kids too I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh God – not my children too.’

  ‘Lord knows children do need a father figure.’

  ‘The man’s a perfect bounder in no mistake – what next.’

  ‘Don’t worry – nothing really big.’

  ‘What a crumb.’

  ‘They have to learn. Mind you, puncturing his football like that – somebodies guilty – balls are very important to some people. What’s a couple of nights cowering under the porch anyway. You’ve said it yourself, adversity builds strength of character, am I right. This is the trouble, he has such a fiery temper. I should’ve known, red-hair I’m meaning – maybe you’ve noticed.’

  ‘Really? – now you mention it.’

  ‘Temper did I say, even the smallest little thing. Anything at all, last time it was thin custard. Something so trivial – we had this almighty big row, hard to imagine right. You used to love my custard didn’t you Colin?’

  ‘Uh huh – I’ll say. I’ve never had any reason to complain that’s for sure. Sure, I miss it a lot.’

  ‘Right. Oh, thank you. Unbelievable. “How can you make it thinner than milk?” What kind of a crack is that?’

  ‘Listen, do you want me to make a couple of phone calls – just say the word.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind. It’s me I know. I’ve only myself to blame. God knows I’m not the first foolish woman to be taken in by rugged good looks and a dimpled chin and a dim personality – dim did I say. His charisma shines out like a cod on a slab.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to gloat, but – ‘

  ‘Gloat all you want. You’re right I should’ve stayed home, baking custard pies.’

  ‘Holiday romances I’m meaning – it’s a well-known fact.’

  ‘Romance? Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh.’

  ‘Love conquers all, or so they say.’

  ‘They lied through their teeth.’

  ‘There’s good and bad in all of us.’

  ‘You’re a born philosopher in no mistake. He wears heels too – did you know that?’

  ‘Well, I had wondered, his height does seem to vary somewhat.’

  ‘Mind you that’s hurricanes I suppose, weird weather, weird people, right. That’s what comes with meeting total strangers in broom-closets I guess. What else can you expect?’

  ‘It pains me to see you like this.’

  ‘Maybe if I’d’ve met him in cold light of day – who knows.’

  ‘Que serra serra?’

  ‘Pardon me? That’s another thing too, his nose is too big by a mile. Christ, don’t tell me you missed that too? Sleeps in his hat, did I say?’

  ‘Gosh, you mean – he wears a wig?’

  ‘Why be surprised – sure what else. Just don’t ask me about colour, okay.’

  ‘Bright, right.’

  ‘Tell me. Red on red, it’s his own secret formula – it’s the end of a batch. He’ll ta
ke it to his grave. I’m surprised you noticed, heh heh – ‘

  ‘Hey, wait a sec, he dived into the pool – I saw him myself.’

  ‘Did you see him come up?’

  ‘Don’t say.’

  ‘Don’t worry it surprised me too. Same goes for his cute ambling walk. Only time in his whole life he gets up on a horse, it dumps him right on his arse. Idaho State Fair, you stick money into a machine, five dollars. Take my word – the only way he can make it work is walk with one foot in the gutter.’

  ‘I just thought he liked traffic.’

  ‘Some effing cowboy, right.’

  ‘Steady on – you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t waste your sympathy – the guy’s a total wreck. We’d’ve won the title, Line-dancing championship of the whole rotten North-West regional final, but for him, the man’s half-plastic.’

  ‘Aw. Too bad – so close eh?’

  ‘Look, I have to go, Kevin’s yelling for quiet. This is what I’m up against, if he doesn’t get his full quota of sleep he’s as cranky as hell. He’s as mean as a bear with its head in a hive, fourteen hours or else.’

  ‘Somehow, I can’t help blaming myself.’

  ‘Don’t be a mutt, exonerate yourself completely – you are without one shred of guilt, okay.’

  ‘No, it’s me, I’m a total bounder. I should’ve been there by your side.’

  ‘Aw the heck. You win some you lose some. Then, on top of everything else he wants grits every morning, beat that. How can you respect somebody who’s gulping down fizzing wall-paper paste. You never touch the stuff, am I right? Is that assumption correct?’

  ‘Well, no. somehow or other it’s never appealed.’

  ‘Good man, course not. Tell your friends, pass it around. Nobody needs the flatulence either and that’s a fact.’

  ‘Cyn? Cynthia? Are you still there? (God you’re attractive. I only hope that you are truly appreciated that’s all).’ ‘Where else would I go?’ ‘Listen, about the Mondeo, maybe I’ll just go for a Mercedes 350 SL instead, y’know.’

  ‘Oh sure – which bank did you rob?’

  ‘No problem – I’ll trade in my on-street parking permit, heh heh.’

  ‘Heh, heh, always the joker. Truly Colin Quirke you are a real scream in no mistake. Unfortunately, Kevvy’s a tad lacking in the humour department. Okay, he does laugh occasionally – he hides under the stairs, rocking away in the darkness, sniggering, muttering to himself. That does worry me some I have to admit – it also frightens the kids. Luckily we don’t get that many thunderstorms right now.’