The Old Weird Albion by Justin Hopper

Author:Justin Hopper [Hopper, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781908058751
Google: 3nMkygEACAAJ
Publisher: Penned in the Margins
Published: 2017-09-15T20:35:01+00:00

VIII SEARCHING FOR DORIS

Part Two

THE DAY THAT PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN was so happy. It was the garden in Surrey, far away from the traffic and the madness of London. She loved those few square-yards of earth that she and Bob — yes, even Bob — tilled and watered and scaffolded with branches for the climbers; scattered its tiny paths with stones. The garden faced south, caught the sun, and didn’t Bob look handsome with his suit and pipe?

They were dressed for a rare night out on the town — exciting, though she didn’t like to leave baby John, she doted on him so. But she loved to get dressed up and do her hair properly, waved off to the side like Norah Baring, rather than the make-do center-parting she wore when the little one was pulling at it. And that dress — her little black dress. It wasn’t as little as some might wear, but it was perfect for her. She wore her wristwatch as her only jewelry, and a belt studded with buttons that she let dangle at her side, like you did. No makeup, black pumps — you can’t have everything, Bob — but, sleepy new-mum eyes or not, didn’t she just look gorgeous, so?

And Bob, his slim frame squeezed upwards to shuffle himself into the pebbly path though he didn’t really fit beside her, his hair beeswaxed upwards a flip. The bank got more of his time than seemed right, but she didn’t mind sharing because Bob was home each evening and making good on his promises to take care of them both, no matter what happened with John. John, whom she couldn’t yet imagine as more than a rambunctious toddler, a joyful nuisance. But then again there were all the things that the doctors had said. Wasn’t it a sunny, happy day, just?

It was nice to have a portrait made with only the two of them, together, ready for the world — one where she didn’t have her hip cocked out to balance John or, worse still, her chin pulled back to check on his swaddled majesty. Bob always looked good — she thought maybe he cared a bit too much, but she wouldn’t mention it.

She was a bit worried, but it was still such a happy day. She knew something was coming — it hadn’t been easy, and it wasn’t going to get easier. It wasn’t even that it would get more difficult, just that it might never be less so. The other children would grow and fend for themselves. John, perhaps not. There was a sadness behind her heavy lids, but no hesitation in her smile. She had Bob, she had John, each one in sickness and each one in health, forever, no matter what. No matter what.

She was frightened, but that was normal and it was still such a happy day. There was a risk, always, with a child like John, and it loomed in the back of her mind, but she had already learned to plaster over it.

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