Stuff I Wrote....

Okay! So now it's more than a year after the last post... Here's a bit of my story... now about 40,000 words into it...

North London – 1967
I hadn’t seen Terry Daly for months and as I came to the familiar front gate on this June evening I was thrilled to hear the music rollicking out from every crevice of the Daly’s little home in Roland Park Terrace. The walk from my place didn’t take that long but I covered years in my thoughts on the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I first met him in ‘61, after my brothers ditched some sort of scout meeting and they ducked down our back alley with Terry for a smoke and some dirty talk. I was sitting on our back steps and their voices drew me to the fence to listen in.
I couldn’t see them, but I could tell this bloke Terry had his back to the boards I was leaning on. I heard him telling a story about a girl who used to live on the next street and something he said made me wish I was that girl, if only to have him talk about me with so much kindness. This was one of the few times I’d ever heard a boy speak kindly. Just like always, my brother Jimmy said something nasty and cruel, and George laughed. Terry was silent.
I saw a knot-hole by Jimmy’s back and an idea sprang up so fast, I didn’t think about it, but grabbed a long stick and shoved it through the hole. Jimmy screamed and cursed and snapped the end of the stick off.
He jumped up on the fence and yelled “Pearl, I’ll kill ya!”
“Try it!” I shrieked back, “You’re a rotten sod! Why are you so mean?!” I saw George’s and Terry’s heads pop up over the top now.
Terry was grinning from ear to ear. “A real Pearl!” he laughed
Jimmy hopped down and I knew he was headed for the gate. I didn’t move. For Terry to see me run would have killed me, but I knew Jimmy probably would get me good if I didn’t run. In three seconds Jimmy was charging at me and George and Terry were on his heels. I stood my ground with my finger in the air, pointing at the sky.
With the biggest, deepest voice my twelve year old throat could muster, I shouted “Jimmy, God doesn’t like meanness! You apologize to everybody! Right now!” Jimmy stopped in his tracks and George plowed into him, knocking them both to the ground at my feet.
Terry stood behind them for only a moment, then he reached for my hand. When I put my hand in his, I knew we were friends, and it felt like an electric current was running up my arm. He stepped over Jimmy’s back and stood next to me and his look of admiration beaming down at me made me feel powerful. He was tall, and by far, the most fascinating boy I had ever laid eyes on. He had long shiny brown hair and strange intense grey-brown eyes with high arching brows. His smile came and went and flashed back again, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find words. I must have stared at his mouth, because later I remembered it so clearly. I walked down the alley with him as he left and waved him down the street. He’d asked me if I wanted to go with him but I wasn’t supposed to leave. I almost ran after him when he got to the corner of the road.

I'll try to get back more regularly now...

Bless you all

Margaret