The Erkeley Shadows

After that, nothing was the same. The very notion of my having a family turned vague, hard to credit, even weirdly jokey.

Now I gazed out of my office window. Slowly the world was changing from old-gold to the deep purple which, in the words of that dreamy song Mum was fond of humming, bathes garden walls under the twinkle of starlight.

Next morning, we drank endless cups of coffee in the airport restaurant…Suddenly wide-eyed, she stared past me: “Good grief, some of the people they let in here.

The telegram was sealed – an old-fashioned touch, I thought, but then I’d never had a telegram before. I took my time opening it. I said nothing.

Will turned over the last words for a long time. Then he thought about the flashing message-light up in the kitchen.

Often I felt like two people. One went into the world and did the living for the other, who was stuck in an endless moment of knowing. Yesterday was today and hereon in.

All happened so damn fast,” he said. “’Phone call here after she arrived. Her mom and dad were just after leaving Halifax…ten cars, twelve maybe, made it onto the CBC News.

One thing, though, was for sure – here I was, alive, healthy but as unquiet in my way as they were in theirs. Transcendent equality. You’ve got to love it.

As I reached the door, the constable said, “Good luck in Canada, son.” For a second I expected his voice to morph into Uncle Sid’s as he urged me to give his love to Rose Marie and the Mounties.

Nothing looked disturbed…yet everything felt that way. The guy was on the bed, calmness itself, as though he’d decided on a moment’s lie-down and just zizzed off.