Ingrid sat on the brick wall
of the bomb site
her hands in her lap
her untidy hair

held in place
with wire grips
the plain grey
cardigan and dress

had food stains
here and there
you sat beside her
in jeans

and bought for you
cowboy shirt
the Saturday film
matinée

just seen
suppose I'd best be home
Ingrid said
before Dad gets back

he doesn't know
I went to the pictures
and he'll say
it's a waste of money

but it's only 6d
you said
surely he wouldn't
begrudge you that?

she said nothing
but stood up
and brushed down
her dress

best go
she said
wait a while
you said

let's buy some chips
before you leave
I've no more money
she said

I have
you replied
patting your jean's pocket
*******

the 6 shooter
toy gun
hanging
at your waist

best not
she said
if Dad sees me
he'll go off

the deep end
she stood there
half undecided
chips with salt

and vinegar
and maybe
an onion or two
you added

giving her a look
your head to one side
she bit her lip
as she fingered

her cardigan
but Mum said
not to be late
Ingrid said

sometimes
they throw in
a slice of bread
and butter

you said
especially for kids
if you give them
I'm starved look

she smiled
her hands going
into the cardigan pockets
what if he sees me

go in there?
she said
he won't
you said

he couldn't see
the end of his nose
without getting dizzy
you said

anyway he might not
be back until later
she shrugged
and then said

ok if we're quick
and so you stood up
and walked her
up Meadow Row

and across the road
to the fish and chip shop
and bought
2 bags of chips

and onions
and 2 slices
of bread and butter
because you both gave

that we're starved gaze
you walked her back
down Meadow Row
eating in silence

she eating ravenously
her fingers busy
her mouth opening
and closing

once you'd finished
and you'd stuffed
the waste chip papers
into a bin

by the grocer's shop
she said
thank you
that was scrumptious

and she kissed your cheek
and walked off
and across
Rockingham Street

towards the Square
at the top
by the entrance
with arms crossed

grim face  
Ingrid's father
stood scowling
standing there.

‘The world has left me behind,’ he said,
‘I live my life in the past,
None of the things that I came to love
Survived, they just couldn’t last.
The rails that I rode are overgrown,
The music I loved has gone,
The friends that I made are left in the shade,
Though most of them travelled on.’

The woman who’d answered his ad was sat
Beside him out on the porch,
She’d heard this tale a million times
So she never carried a torch.
She bent her head as she listened to him
And she smiled, her hair was grey,
The years of care were visible there
As her beauty faded away.

‘But wasn’t it all a wonderful ride,’
She sighed, as she thought of him,
The man who’d always been at her side
‘Til he died, his end was grim.
But that was a dozen years ago
And life carried on, though sad,
She wanted to meet a gentle soul
Which was why she’d answered the ad.

‘Why would you want to live in the past
When the past is done and gone,
I tip my hat to the past,’ she said,
‘But the future lures me on.
There’s conversation and love to share
As long as there’s life and breath,
The future’s only a day away,
The end of it all is death.’

He sat up straight and he stared at her
Transfixed by her gentle voice,
The things that stirred in his hardened heart
He’d buried them there by choice.
Behind her eyes was an inner glow
That he hadn’t noticed before,
‘Could you really bring me to life again?’
He said, and his voice was raw.

‘We can take it just one step at a time,’
She said, ‘as we did when young,
The world was such a marvellous place
To explore, like a song unsung,
We’ll bless the sun coming up each day,
To spread its light through our land…’
Then watched the roll of a single tear
As she reached on out for his hand.

David Lewis Paget