A SULTRY SUMMER'S DAY

A SULTRY SUMMER'S DAY(Bernie Martin) I look behind me at the road littered with the mistakes I've made.
They stretch out like mile markers, memories temporarily mislaid.
15 in '65 running up the road trying to get away from my past.
Reaching out for answers to questions that have yet to be asked.


The thing about an end terrace house is that you can only have one set of neighbours. That might suit some people. If you're going to fall out with anyone it's more likely to be whoever lives next door. The other advantage is that it's only one other household that can hear what goes on chez vous.

15 and I felt like I was marooned in quicksand, not exactly sinking but stuck, unable to move. Mrs. Brennan had moved into the adjoining house a few months ago. She frustrated mum because she remained a mystery, someone who would never be a part of the local gossips' group. It had always amazed me that mum was a founder member of this clique. Though set adrift at the end of the street we were the family everyone avoided having a confrontation with. I say we, it was more mum. Dad was hewn from the same personality tree as most other 1960s fathers, a complete lack of emotion and feeling. If I was expecting the growing up tete a tete, well there was no chance. Mind you I was happy with that. There were other ways of finding out about such things.

One hot Saturday afternoon I'd taken a chair outside to read but also to observe. The front of the house was North facing which offered some respite from the heat. There was washing hanging limply across the street which only served to amplify the sauna like feel. The book I had chosen covered my notepad. If you waited long enough you'd hear raised voices. I always liked to set myself the task of using what was said as the start of a story. "You cannot control me." "Why did they get rid of National Service?" "And don't come back." "I'll talk to her. Leave her."
I was jotting down ideas to continue those prompts when I noticed Mrs. Brennan returning with a few bags of shopping. I could see she was struggling. Nervously I got up and walked towards her. I noticed that the cats and dogs who had been comatose on the cobbles were all up sniffing the air, air which had changed. A breeze was developing and it felt even more oppressive.
I could see sweat falling down Mrs. Brennan's cheeks.

"Would you like some help?"
"That would be lovely. Thank you." Six words. She could have been reading from a dictionary, it wouldn't have mattered, it was the voice, like liquid chocolate bursting forth from the volcano of emotions between us.
She opened the door. I followed her into the corridor. The bags were quite heavy and I could see why she had been toiling. Despite the heat it felt cool in here, and dark. I followed her into the kitchen and put the shopping on the table.
"Thank you Bernie."
"You know my name?"
"Yes."
She saw my questioning look and said: "I know your brother is Peter, he's eighteen months younger than you, your mum is Minnie, your dad is Harold and only your close friends call you Bernie."
I did wonder why someone would take so much interest in my family but I ignored it for now.
"You're an unknown here Mrs. Brennan, even after a few months."
"Very forward for a 15 year old. It sounds more like something your mother would say."
"Maybe, yes, though she would use different words. Sorry. Forget I mentioned it. Your life is yours. Mine isn't the easiest."
"I know. I've heard what goes on. Oh and don't apologise. I don't mind you saying what's true."
She paused before continuing. "There are plenty on the street who would have noticed you coming in."
"Mrs. Bell, Mrs. Thomas, Mrs. Standing. I could go on but none of them will mention it to mum."
"Does it surprise you to be talking like this to a stranger?"
"No, it feels natural, right, and I've not been able to say that for a long time."
"Would you like a drink, something refreshing?"
"Yes please." She poured me a glass of Dandelion and Burdock which I gulped down. "Another?"
"Er, no thank you. Sorry for drinking it so quickly."
"You're a strange mixture of the childlike and the mature in the way you talk Bernie. That's not a criticism. I find it quite endearing not really knowing which version of you will speak next. What were you reading?"
"The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner. It's not on my recommended list."
"I suppose you'll be reading A Kind of Loving and Saturday Night and Sunday Morning as well."
"Finished them a few weeks ago. So much better than Shakespeare."
"It's good that you experience a variety of literature. It's not all about the bard."
"Tell that to Taffy. Twelfth Night is all he goes on about."

There was a pause in the conversation. I felt like both of us had things we wanted to say or ask but couldn't quite get the words out. When I started to talk it wasn't at all what I would have expected.
"Can I just say Mrs. Brennan that you're a mystery to everyone else on the street but not me."
She smiled at this. "Ah the adult Bernie," she said. I continued: "You also look quite young to be on your own. What I mean is that you are living here with no husband or children yet you are Mrs. Brennan."

She smiled again and came round to my side of the kitchen table. As she did she brushed against me, our bare arms touched. She looked me in the eyes and said: "You're shaking Bernie, you feel cold despite the heat." I wasn't used to someone who was tactile so when she placed her hand on my arm I could feel the involuntary tremors. "You and I Bernie are going to get along fine. Now I have something I want to ask you."

"Oh well there are things I'm good at. I can mend cars. I was taught by a man who lived a few doors away from our previous house. An ex soldier and he could see I was being bullied when I was 7 so he taught me how to defend myself then he showed me how to deal with cars that had broken down, how to mend a punctured tyre. It's amazing how much confidence it gives you walking down a street knowing that if you hit trouble you can deal with it."

"Slow down Bernie." She moved her hand away from my arm. "I don't have a car but knowing you can be my protector is good but it's nothing like that." She moved back towards me. "What I want to ask you involves us getting even closer than this." She sensed and heard my gulp as I started the involuntary shaking. "You're not used to strangers touching you are you?"
"I wouldn't say it's something I'm not used to, just that it doesn't tend to happen. I don't mind, it's sort of ....."
"Comforting?"
"Yes that’s the word. What is it you want to ask me?"
She moved away a few inches.
"Oh don't look sad Bernie. I told you we'll get along fine. Now have you ever danced?"
"Danced? Well I've done the odd Gay Gordon and Progressive Barn Dance. Other than that no."
"Well I'm looking for a partner. You are the perfect height and build. I think you'd pick the steps up quickly. What do you think?"
"When you say dancing, what do you mean? Is it like what they do on Come Dancing?"
"Yes, you'd be doing the waltz, quickstep, foxtrot, all the ballroom and Latin dances. Wait, what was that?"
She jumped into my arms.
"It's just the thunder. The weather had to break some time. It was close."
"Aren't you frightened?"
"No, it could go on for a while yet. Maybe you should stay where you are. Do you feel safe?"
"This is what I mean about you Bernie. You can be the child one minute then the adult. And yes I do feel safe. How could I not?"
"Yeah a real messed up kid me."

Just as she was moving away there was another flash and crack. She came back. Five minutes later the sun was out again and through the open window the air felt fresher.
"I gave noticed, with you so close to me, that there is quite a difference in our heights. Is that okay for dancing?"
"Yes, it's perfect."
She moved away. "So, what do you think?"
"How will I learn the steps?"
"I'll teach you."
"Have you had a partner before?"
"Yes but he moved away. We used to compete."
"And is that what you'd want with me?"
"Eventually yes but only if you're comfortable with it. Let's see how you get on."
That was the least positive thing she'd said so far. It sort of disappointed me.
"But if I prove to be rubbish at it does that mean you would find someone else?"
"Would that matter to you?"
I didn't know what was happening to me. It was like I was becoming a different person.
"I think it would yes."
"Oh Bernie, I can tell that wasn't easy for you to say. Even now, having said it, I can tell you are still emotional. Believe me it makes me feel wonderful."
"Where will you teach me?"
"At first here then we'll move to a bigger space."
"How close will we be?"
"Well, as a couple, we are not allowed what's called gapping so we'll have to be very close. You will have to lead and you do that by using your body and hands to give me signals."
"Show me please."
"Show you?"
"How we will be when we dance."
She placed my arms in the position she wanted them then put her hands in mine and moved in so there was no space between our bodies.
"I cccccccan't ..... I've never been this close to someone before."
"You have, only a few minutes ago when I jumped into your arms."
She wasn't allowing me to move. Very determined and strong.
"That was different. I felt different. I was being like protective then. This doesn't feel the same."
"I swear you seem to be growing up before my eyes."
"I've always been a bit serious like I'm older than 15."

I was sort of getting used to speaking to someone who was only a few inches away but the feeling was unlike anything my 15 year old body had experienced before. It was like small fireworks were going off inside me, like if I pulled away I'd never be able to get back and yet, at the same time, I was fighting an impulse deep down in my faulty personality to move back. I didn't want to disappoint Mrs. Brennan but this was like an awakening within me. I'd listened to other boys talking about what they had allegedly done. I'd fantasised, I'd sat in theatres imagining actresses were talking just to me but in all that there was some safety in knowing it wasn't real. This was real. How was I meant to respond?
"It seems like you're relaxing a bit. How does this position feel?"
"Would it be wrong if I said it felt good but hard to hold for too long?"
She laughed. "That will come. Don't worry. So are you up for it?"
I moved away.
"Yes. When is my first lesson?"