LYDIA MUSES ON EDINBURGH 1958.A Poem by Terry CollettA LITTLE GIRL THINKS OF GOING TO EDINBURGH FROM LONDON BY TRAIN IN 1958Edinburgh? You want to go get a train to Edinburgh? Lydia's dad says. Not now, when I'm older, Lydia says, looking at her father's steely eyes, sober, smile lingering. On your own? He asks, gazing at her, taking in her skinny frame, arms, legs and long straight hair. No, with Benny, she says, we went to Kings Cross Station saw the train that goes to Edinburgh station. Whose idea was that? He asks, Benny boy's? No we both had the idea, she says, wishing Benny was there as he would know what to say. Long way to Edinburgh, her father says, picking up his cup of tea at the breakfast table. 6 hours the porter man said when Benny asked him, Lydia says. Her father sips his tea. Lydia waits. So can I go? She asks her dad. He looks at her. When you're older maybe. Well, got to go to work, he says, gets up, pats her head, says see you, Lydia. Lydia watches him go, hears the door shut. Her mother comes in with a cigarette hanging from her lips, her hair in rollers. What you doing? She asks Lydia. Going to Edinburgh with Benny, Lydia says. Her mother stares at her and shakes her head. Well make sure you pack your clothes and empty your piggy- bank, her mother says and walks off back to the kitchen. Lydia frowns, gets her piggy-bank and shakes it. It sounds empty, except for a few coins rattling. Can I go out with Benny? She calls out to her mother. She puts down her pink piggy-bank. She walks into the kitchen where her mother is washing up. Can I? She asks her mother. Can you what? Go out with Benny? Again? You only saw him yesterday? Her mother says through a mouthful of cigarette smoke. Need to see him about Edinburgh, Lydia says. What about Edinburgh? Her mother says her words clouded in smoke. Dad said I can go to Edinburgh with Benny, Lydia says anxiously. Did he now, well he can darn well pay for it can't he, her mother says, well off you go then, and don't be too late, need you to help me sort out the washing later, I don't suppose your big s**t of a sister will shift her backside out of bed before noon. Lydia bites her lip. Watches her mother doing the dishes. Ok won't be late, Lydia says, walking out of the kitchen, along the hall, out of the front door, stares out at the Square, wondering if Benny is about out there. © 2016 Terry Collett |
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Added on March 31, 2016 Last Updated on March 31, 2016 Tags: EDINBURGH, LONDON, 1958M CHILD, GIRL, PARENTS AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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