Dull Story

And did they drown? asked Pliny the Elder, interestedly.

Did who drown? I asked.

The old woman and the old man, said Pliny.

Why should they drown? I asked.

You wrote: An old woman and an old man with a walking stick walked off the jetty arm in arm, said Pliny. I assumed they were ending it all.

No Pliny! They weren't walking off the end of the jetty. They'd been out on the jetty, and were returning. Very slowly. They got to the place where the jetty begins. They stopped and looked both ways. Then they walked off the jetty.

Humph! snorted Pliny. You made that very unclear yesterday. I was full of admiration for the old couple when I thought they had decided to end it all, while they still both had the wherewithal.

Pliny! That may have seemed admirable to you Romans, but it is not admirable these days. That would have been a shocking occurrence.

Yes, said Pliny, pityingly. I suppose it would. So what did the old couple do then?

They shuffled slowly across the path in front of the kiosk and stopped directly opposite the door. They conferred for a minute or two. Then they went inside.

Did they come out again?

No, not that I saw.

What a dull story, said Pliny.

Mysterious Encounter - Part 2

Read me the second poem, says Pliny the Elder. I am all ears.

Alright. I say. It's called "Sequel". And listen out for the interesting rhyme scheme.

I turn the page, and begin to read:

Sequel.

I think I know now what that vision meant,
The old man last night, stooped and bent,
His Toby dog, their singular intent,
Looking for clues in dead leaves as they went
Unseeing us.

It was an intimation of a lagging universe
In parallel with ours, behind, but nothing worse.
Was he the shade of Sherlock Holmes living out the curse
Of the evil Professor Moriarty, or the reverse,
Whatever that might be?

Yes I know that Holmes and Moriarty fell in thrall
Locked in murderous embrace down Reichenbach fall.
But what was it that prompted me to call
His dog Toby when I didn't know at all
That was his name?

Whose name? scoffs Pliny.

Sherlock Holmes' dog of course.

So you heard the old man call his dog Toby?

No. I described the dog as a Toby dog in "Dog", before I knew it was the name of Sherlock Holmes' dog. A coincidence too unlikely to ignore.

How is it that you knew about Professor Moriarty and the Reichenbach falls, but you didn't know
that Holmes' dog was called Toby?

How is it that you are being so irritating? Anyone would think that you were Sherlock Holmes himself. If you must know, I did some research after I got home.

And then you made the whole thing up, about who he was.

Yes, at this stage I suppose you could say so. But you have not heard poem number three, where I see him again, and he sees me.

Brighton in the Afternoon

We don't always go to the beach at sunset. Take Sunday, for instance.

We were at my mum's visiting. It was 4 o'clock, and 42 degrees. She packed us off down the road for a swim, but she didn't come. The beach is no place for an old person on a day like this, she said.

We walked down Smith Street to the beach, down the steps and into the sea. There were more people in the water than out, feet balanced on underwater ripples of sand edged with an algal green. Knees bent in the sea not swimming. Hands floating in the top layer of water which was hot. Breathing the humid air hovering at head height over the flat slightly heaving green and yellow sea.

Not every old person had felt like my mum. Knees bent in the water close to the shore an old man harangued his wife and regaled her with a funny story. He stood up. His swimming trunks sagged. He pulled them up. He bent towards his wife and adjusted the strap of her swim suit. She continued to stare at the shore.

And I continued to stare at the shore, with the sun behind my head. Bright amoeba-like shapes slid over the skin of the waves reflecting the rocks and the tall creamy houses over the road. The first time I'd ever noticed those slices of houses shimmering in that sea.