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RECLUSE

BY M. C. WARD
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Contents:

Recluse 1 page 3

Recluse 2 47

Recluse 3 83

Recluse 4 121

Recluse 5 197
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RECLUSE 1
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A Romantic Fantasy

Part 1 of 5 Parts

Written:

Spring 1985
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My name is Sam Ashton and it was my room that had been

speaking. It had referred to me as a dear friend. What was I to
make of it? For days, I remember, I was quite stunned and shaken.
I wandered around trying to make sense of it. Not much use.

Eventually, I stopped myself and decided to laugh. I settled

into my armchair, with a big smile on my face, and I said:

"Hi, room, how's things?"

Nothing happened. I waited. I glanced around. I was about

to speak again when:

"Great, thanks, mate. And you? How you getting on?"

I muttered a few "Not so bad, thanks" as I looked around

checking I was alone, and that it really was the room speaking to
me. Wow! Nothing else could be speaking…it had to be the
room…I was living in a talking room…

"How come you can speak, room?" I asked.

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"I don’t really know. How come you can?" it replied.

"Because I'm a person and all people learn to speak…but not

rooms."

"Yes, it is odd. Many rooms can speak. But they do not

often do it to a person."

"So why me?"

"Because you are alone, and because I like you."

It had feelings. My room had emotions. I was flabbergasted.

"Excuse me a minute whilst I get myself together. This is all

rather alarming you know."

"Yes, of course. I quite understand. Take your time. I'll

keep quiet for a while."
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I went for a stroll up and down the country lane outside my

house. The day was bright and warm. One of those days when the
sky is very blue. Being spring, the daffodils were blooming. They
swayed in the breeze. There were several fields of them. I gazed
on the golden rows and smiled as I soothed my thoughts.

Did I really need to feel alarm at my talking room?

Just then a man on a bicycle rode past me. I had noticed him
approaching a little earlier. We did not speak nor gesture to each
other.

Back inside the house, I climbed the stairs to my room and

entered, smiling.

"I really like this room. And I still do even if you do speak to
me. So what, I'll talk back to you."

"Oh, thank you," came back the room's reply. "I'm very glad.
That makes me so happy."
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"Well, suppose we begin with what's your name? You know

mine."

"I do, Sam, I do. My name is rather long, but for short you
can call me Eck."

"Eck? Hmm, odd, but OK. So I call you Eck. Where you
from?"

"Ah, here. This is me, this room, and so this is where I'm
from and where I'm going all at once."

"Yea, sure, silly question, freaky answer though, I like it."

I noticed that I was speaking into the center of the room at

about mouth-height. This was because the voice of the room
seemed to be coming from around that position.

"Why, exactly are you speaking to me?" I asked.

"Ah, two reasons, one for friendship, and the other because I
have work for you to do."
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"Well, the friendship seems OK, but work? I don’t know.

What do you mean by work?"

"You'll find out later. I have to teach you things first and that
will take time."

"Teach me things? Hang on a minute. Some friend you are.

I don’t need teaching anything. I've learned enough."

"Oh, you'll soon want to learn more. I only hope that you'll
be able to. I think you will, but I can't be sure."

"Well, whilst you're trying to decide friend, friend indeed,

I'm off for a cup o' coffee. I need to think about all this. See ya
later."

I left the room.

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When I returned all was quiet. I waited, but the room said
nothing. I addressed it, but it did not reply. I laughed and decided
to go out on my motorbike…a machine that responds to my
will…the room can do as it pleases, I thought.

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Our next encounter came late at night. I was sitting by my fire,

watching the flames. Television had finished and I was weary.
Suddenly:

"Good evening, Sam."

I smiled.

"Oh, speaking to me now, are you?" I asked.

"I wanted to wait a bit before I spoke to you again."

"Yes, yes, I've known friendships like yours before; all when
it suits you. Thanks very much."

"I'm sorry, did it make you cross? I didn’t realize."

"Well,…"

"I understand."
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There was a short pause.

"Do you like me?" Eck quietly asked.

"Course I do."

The room sighed contentedly.

"What are you going to teach me?" I asked.

"Well, in a sense it isn't entirely new to you. You have

already developed it,…that is, the art of mind-travel."

"Aha, that is interesting," I said. I wanted to immediately

encourage Eck.

"Well, this power can be of great use and a lot of fun. But I
have to warn you, there is one thing it cannot be, and that is bad. It
cannot be used for ill-intent. It will not even function if you want
to do something naughty."
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Eck paused, and in the silence I waited. Then I realized he

was waiting for me to react. This caught me by surprise, so I
quickly laughed and said:

"It's OK. Sounds great. Carry on, me old fruit."

"First of all, I'll teach you through an example. Remember,

the art of mind-travel depends on concentration, and on your own
state of contentedness. If you are too distressed you cannot
function the power."

Suddenly, the room started to spin and the walls fell away. I
floated high into the sky.

As we passed over the village and the town, Eck spoke to me

in soft tones:

"We are heading towards a house where a man and his wife
are very distressed, and I need you to help them. We will have to
come on three nights. For this night you will have to learn what
the difficulty of this particular couple is. Here we are."
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We had arrived at a remote farmhouse. Inside the husband

and wife were asleep. I felt myself drift through the roof and enter
their bedroom. I rested at the bottom of their big double bed. I
seemed to be shrouded in white, not so much in cloth, but in light
itself. I seemed to be light; white light; but how can light be
white?, it was more like colorless light. I perceived with my eyes.
It was as if my eyes alone were present, and that my eyes filled the
whole room. I stayed silent and still.

"You will have to be careful now," Eck said to me. "They

will not hear us nor will they see you. But you will have to control
yourself in a moment. Remember, don’t be afraid and don’t over
imagine anything. I am here. Dismiss it all as a bit of fun and
games. OK. They're coming."

Eck became silent and I waited. Their presence was what I

felt first without hearing or seeing anything. Though I was not a
physical presence in the room I felt my bones crumbling, my skin
breathing and coming out in large, red blotches. My brain was
about to explode. The bedroom was going to crash in on me, and
the husband and wife were about to leap from their bed, screaming
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and waving their bloodstained hands at me, ready to tear me to

pieces. But I was mistaken. The couple stayed asleep. But not
alone. They were joined by creatures emerging out of smoke that
surrounded the bed. These creatures themselves were made of
mist. They gathered on either side of the bed. They did not seem
to be aware of my presence. The ones by the husband's side were
men-spirits, and they dragged the spirit-form of the husband from
the bed and down into the smoke. On the other side of the bed, the
women-spirits did the same to the wife. The couple's bodies were
left in the bed during the following escapades, which I viewed in
my mind-state, undetected by the spirits.

I saw the men-spirits drag the husband off to some gloomy

place. There they sat him on a throne and began to moan at him.
They groaned and cried to him all the time, telling him of their
problems and asking him to help them. He listened and tried to
offer advice, but he grew weary, and aged throughout the
encounter. Meanwhile, the wife was surrounded by the women-
spirits who complained to her of their sufferings, and told her that
she too would suffer terrible ordeals in life. The wife covered her
ears and sobbed and tried not to listen. It was sad to see. At the
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end, the husband, looking very old and haggard, was led back to
his bed as was the wife, she too looking very distressed. The
spirits sank into the mists and I was left alone with the sleeping
couple. Their faces had returned to their normal age. I could see
that inside they were still disturbed. Obviously what they had been
through, poor things, was having some effect.

For me, my room materialized around me. I liked my room.

It brought such comfort. I don’t remember drifting off to sleep. I
know I remained excited by my adventure for some time, and the
next thing I recall was waking to the sunlight, creeping through the
gap in the curtains at my room's large window.

I spent the day chatting to Eck.

"What does it mean?"

and

"What can I do to help?"

sort of stuff.
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Eck was very evasive.

"We'll have to wait and see," he kept saying.

He told me that I would be able to return that night, but that

this time there would be a twist to the events. I asked him what he
meant but he wouldn’t say.

That night, I mind-traveled through the power of Eck to the

farmhouse couple's bedside. As on the night before, the spirits
emerged but now they turned on me. They sensed my presence,
and both men-spirits and women-spirits dragged me off into the
mists. I felt distinctly uncomfortable. They took me to a vast
deserted space where everything appeared as shadows. There were
trees, houses, rocks, motor cars and tower blocks, but they only
existed as shadows. Lights flickered through the mist. Lights that
were colored, blues and greens, reds and yellows. These lights
made the shadows stand out very black. The spirits dragged me to
an open space, to a kind of square. There they threw me amongst
themselves. They shouted and jeered at me. They began to throw
stones. And finally, they approached me, brandishing knives and
swords.
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Through my mind, I appealed to Eck.

"Use your mind, your eyes and your gestures to defeat them,"
he advised.

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. I tried to do what he

suggested intuitively. The spirits circled me. They threw knives at
me and lunged at me with their swords. Their missiles simply
disappeared in my form which was after all only a mind-form. The
spirits became frustrated. I began to have success. As a spirit ran
up to me I looked into his or her eyes. They would recoil, puzzled
and nervous. Smoke streamed through their eyes and ears, through
their nostrils and out of their mouths, as they tried to intensify their
attacks, but I remained unafraid. Gradually, I calmed the spirits
with both my gaze and my gestures. I raised my arms and wafted
the spirits from me. They made wider circles around me, in
retreat. I was keeping them at bay. But they tried one more
desperate action. They increased their growling sounds. I was
quite deafened and felt my strength give out on me a little. But I
spoke back to them. My voice had a deep, loud quality that was
confident and soothing:
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"That's enough," I kept saying.

"Be calm. Don’t hurt me, nor anyone ever again."

It was amazing that my voice could penetrate their terrible

noises, but it did, and soon the spirits became quiet. The mists
dispersed, and the spirits themselves faded away. I returned briefly
to the bedroom to find that the couple were fast asleep and
undisturbed by the spirits. It seemed that for tonight at least the
cruel creatures had given up their taunts. Soon I was back at home
in my room. I felt exhausted. I wanted to weep, but I couldn't.

"Will that prevent them troubling the husband and his wife?"
I asked Eck.

"Not quite, I'm afraid. You will have to return to their

farmhouse one more time. Will you do that?"

"Yes, but what will I do?"

"You'll know at the time."

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With that, I drifted off to sleep. It was a sleep that merged

with the following day. During waking, my mind was filled with
the predicament of the couple, and with the traumatic adventure I
myself had undergone the night before. I never asked myself what
these spirits were. It seems strange now that I just accepted their
reality without question. Somehow it didn't seem to matter. They
were tormenting the couple and they had to be stopped.

That third night, I returned to the bedside. I waited. The

mists came and the spirits rose. They were just about to take the
husband and wife from the bed, as they had done that first night,
when I felt my arms lifting. I held my hands out in front of me. I
lowered my eyes so that I could not see anything of the bed nor of
the spirits. I felt their presence and that was more real than seeing
them. From out the tips of my fingers poured light. This light was
a vivid purple color. I felt the spirits move away from the bed.
The purple light ringed the bed and set up a barrier to the spirits.
They could not pass through this ring of purple light. The couple
were completely protected. The spirits moved to me and breathed
their smoke upon me. I moved my hands, which were still
emitting this light, and I engulfed the spirits in this purple glow.
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Gradually, the spirits withdrew, and I followed them into their

misty depths. There, the men-spirits moved to the throne and
settled down to rest. They ceased to be anxious and fell into deep
sleep. The women-spirits too joined the men-spirits. Soon all the
spirits were calm and settled around the throne. My fingers
drenched the scene in purple light, and I knew that the spirits
would not trouble the man and woman again, nor would the spirits
be troubled amongst themselves anymore.

I returned to the sleeping couple, and raised my eyes for the

first time that night to see the ring of purple light glowing around
their bed. I knew they were safe. I lowered my eyes and remained
with them, quiet. Finally, I traveled through my mind and returned
to my own room.

The task had been accomplished. My first mission in the art

of mind-travel had been successful. I knew Eck would be pleased
with me. I was pleased with him. I slept well that night.

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Afterwards, the room was quiet for days. Being the room I slept
in, I didn’t spend that much time in it. It simply returned to
normality. I questioned it a little, but since I got no response, I
carried on with my day. It had promised after the last time to
always speak to me if I wished, but there we are…that's friends for
you, sometimes anyway.

Naturally, I was exhilarated by my recent adventure. The

whole business had been very bewildering. I even wondered if it
had perhaps been a dream, or a fantasy, or a mirage, but, on
consideration, I had no doubt that it had been real. What strange
power, this power of Eck was. I considered it hard with myself for
ages. I asked myself if this power of Eck were capable of
anything. I wondered to myself if I could use it to help anyone in
distress. Perhaps through mind-travel I could go anywhere, and be
anywhere, with anyone I wished. That would save a lot on petrol
and air fares I joked aloud to myself. I've always had a strong
relationship with myself; living alone does that for you. Whether
there is a self or not does puzzle me, but somehow I seem to be
alive and doing things, and therefore I have something like myself.
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But now, with my room speaking to me, I learn I might be more

still. Or at least capable of more. How exciting! What
adventures! Great fun! Still, like the room said, the power must
not be abused. No power should ever be abused. Certainly not
this one.

The house I was living in at that time was a small country

cottage I had bought about five years earlier, during the late 1970s.
It was in the east of England, part of the old mythic county of
Worthshire, having easy access to London, where I still had, and
indeed still do have, my apartment in Royal Heights, a cluster of
expensive flats near the Victoria Embankment. I had bought
Amber Cottage as a retreat from flat 100 at Royal Heights. The
cottage had needed some renovating. I was never any good at
handiwork so I had to hire laborers and so on to do the work, a
little at a time. The cottage was situated on the edge of a small
village called Peaceton. I liked Peaceton because there wasn’t
much of it: two petrol stations, one of which doubled as a grocer
shop, a post office that also doubled as a grocer shop, a fish and
chip shop, and a church that dated from 1190. A main road passed
through the village leading to a minor town, then a city, then to a
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stream of places southwards to London itself. The main road that

passed through Peaceton led the other way, eventually, to the
coast, and to quiet seaside towns. The local labor I used at the
cottage was very good and inexpensive. They used to cope with
me very well. I think they just thought I was some loony eccentric
from London. Fortunately, none of them recognized me from my
pop music days. They were the days when I made the money to
retire to this life of a recluse. Admittedly I hadn't been that
famous, but, as the drummer in "Silver", I had had a good run on
the commercial pop skates of rock'n'roll and shake it all about
groovy music time, and when you reached 30 it was time to stop.
And I had reached 30, and I wanted to stop. So I took the money
and ran. I kept the flat I had bought in Royal Heights, as I said,
and I acquired my country property. What had clinched Amber
Cottage for me was that it had outbuildings and sheds that I could
use as little studios and garages.

So I had arrived and settled myself down to a quiet, relaxing,

gently creative existence. I was going to be able to divide my time
between city and country. I was going to be able to get on with my
own life without human disturbance when suddenly Eck had
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arrived. My bedroom had started speaking to me. I thought I was

going mad. I know I talk to myself I thought, but this is ridiculous.
I wondered if the old cottage were haunted; it did date back to the
1880s. But no, these were not the explanations. There was no
other explanation than that the room spoke. My bedroom had a
voice, and it was pleased to use it whenever it chose to. It wasn't
too keen on responding when I wanted it to, oh no, only when it,
high and mighty bedroom, was ready and willing.

"Wake up!!"

"What? What?" I jumped up. I was in bed. I was asleep.

This voice had called to me, shouted more like, as in a

dream:

"Wake up! Sam, wake up!!"

I was furious and confused.

"Get out of bed. There's a fire."

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Yes, it was Eck talking.

I stood up on the bed.

"Where? Here?" I asked.

"The end house of the row of council houses down the lane.
Quickly, mindalize yourself there, you'll just have time."

I instantly mind-traveled through Eck's power and arrived,

fully clothed fortunately, outside the burning house. At that time,
the upstairs bedroom was the only thing burning. In fact, it was
smoking rather than in flames.

"The mother and father are dead, but break in and you'll be
able to rescue some child from the back bedroom."

I stormed the back door and it gave easily. I charged up the

stairs and realized I must not open the burning bedroom's door. I
turned to the other bedroom and rushed in to find a boy of about
eight years of age, still asleep in his bed. I picked him up and
carried him out into the garden where he gradually awoke.
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Neighbors had been aroused by the fire. They had called the
fire brigade and ambulances. I did return into the house. I tried to
enter the bedroom of the father and mother. It was hopeless. A
tornado of flames sprang out at me. I leapt back just in time. The
smoke was very dense and streamed out of the room. I was forced
back down the stairs by the snakes of giant flames, licking down
the stairwell. I knew I had better leave.

Outside, the boy was being put into an ambulance, and a

neighbor was agreeing to escort him. The ambulance men said
they had better take the boy to hospital and get him checked
immediately, although he did seem quite unharmed.

I stayed at the house, and told the police and the firemen
what I knew, and what I had done. I explained that I had been out
for a stroll and had spotted the burning bedroom. I didn’t want to
trouble them with the mysteries of Eck, did I?

The firemen had some difficulty in controlling the blaze.

Neighbors hung around helpless, and some of them were crying for
their lost friends. It was a sad and awesome scene.
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Eventually, I returned home.

"How, Eck, how did you know?" I asked my room-friend, as

I settled down in my room with a cup of tea.

"It is one of my abilities to see these things. Sometimes, I

can anticipate events and prevent disasters, other times, like
tonight, I can catch them early on, but, sadly, not soon enough
tonight to save that poor couple, and then other times I'm too late
altogether, and that upsets me a great deal."

"Well, thank you for your help, and for waking me," I said to
my friend.

"I knew you would have wanted me to," he commented.

"Tomorrow, I'll go and see that little boy in hospital. I've

noticed him before. He seems such a cute little mite, and his mum
and dad too I've noticed. Oh dear, the poor things, how awful.
How can such terrible things happen? They were only young.
How will their boy cope with their deaths? His life is shattered.
I'll go and see him tomorrow, and find out how he is."
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"Go to sleep now, Sam. Come on." Eck thought I needed

some sleep encouragement.

He was probably right. So I lay down on my bed and drifted

into sleep, thinking of the boy, his parents, and their burning home,
and the moment, earlier on, when Eck had aroused me from sleep.

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"Yes, Mr. Ashton, you may go in to see him now. He's been
waiting for you."

I was surprised to hear the nurse say this to me. I had gone to
the hospital, and had been waiting a little while before she could
let me in to see the boy. He'd been waiting for me, how strange?

In the children's ward, he occupied the end bed. There were

only about three of the dozen or so beds being used.

"Here we are, Eddie. There's someone to see you. A

gentleman. The one you've been pestering us about all morning."
The nurse chattered on like this in that cheery tone most nurses
use. A bit shrill, but one can understand why. It took ages to cross
the ward, and the nurse spoke all the time. When we arived at the
bed, Eddie was sitting up in his pyjamas, and smiling a big,
beaming smile. His teeth were tiny, and poked through his mouth.
I always remember noticing that. There was a brightness in his
eyes, and he seemed really glad to see me.
 31

"Hallo, young man," I said, as I got to his bedside. "You

look OK. Are you?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied.

"I'll leave you two together. I'm just outside," the nurse said,
as she scurried away back down the ward.

He was perfect. His round face shone light. His hair was
soft, brown, and straight. He had an inner presence that seemed
quite at ease with life. Like many children, he gave off that
attitude of understanding that adults seem to lose with experience.
Children accept and know the things of life. And Eddie did that.
Or he appeared to. He certainly was the kind of boy every mother
wished for. He was an infant dream of a man. He must have been
so loved by his lost mother. And I thought of her as I watched
Eddie. To lose Eddie through losing one's own life seemed very
bizarre to me.

"I saw you, as you carried me down the stairs," he said.

"You didn't know, did you?"
 32

"No, I didn’t. I thought you were asleep," I replied.

"I was, at first. But as you took me down the stairs, I woke
up and I saw you. I kept closing my eyes though so I didn’t have
to see what was happening. It all seemed so frightening. But I saw
you take me out to the garden. I saw you look around as I lay
spread out on the grass. You looked after me. Will you look after
me now?"

I didn’t register his question, but I remember it clearly. Right

away he had made himself clear, but I had not taken it in.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked.

"I'm very well, thank you," he replied.

"Has everyone been looking after you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Brown came with me in the big ambulance, and

she was very kind to me."

I looked around the ward.

 33

"You don’t have many playmates here," I said.

"No, but I don’t mind. Today, I want to rest, and to be with

you."

"Do you like jigsaws?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm good at them."

I was quite relieved to hear it, as I had bought him one as a

present. I wasn’t really used to children, and didn’t quite know
how to be with them. Anyway, the jigsaw was a great success, and
we spent an hour or so trying to assemble it on his bed.

As I was leaving, he grasped me by the hand and smiled. It

was very touching. I felt like I was going to burst into tears. He
was like a puppy dog. I didn’t know for sure but he was probably
going to be all alone in the world. He had lost his loving
protectors. I slipped my hand out from his clutching grasp, and
walked away, waving and smiling, and saying:

"Bye, Eddie. I'll see you later. Don’t worry, I'll be back."
 34

"Come back soon to see me, please," he called out.

It seemed odd I should have told him not to worry. Do

children worry I asked myself, on the way home. I concluded that,
in their own way, they do, yes.

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 35

I went back to see Eddie the next day. A middle-aged woman was
with him.

"How do you do?" she asked. "I'm Mrs. Williams. Eddie's

Aunt Betty."

"And I'm Ashton. Sam Ashton."

"Oh, I am pleased to meet you, after what we owe you and

everything."

"How's yourself today, Eddie?"

"I'm great. I'm glad you've come to see me. The nurse says I
can go home today. Aunt Betty's going to take care of me."

"Yes. I'm more than willing to see to the poor boy. I live
alone in the village, since my dear husband died last year. Eddie
and me will get on fine, I think."

"I'm sure you will," I commented.

 36

That evening, in my room, I convinced myself that it was for

the best that Eddie should live with his Aunt. I had thought about
having him live with me, but it was just a fantasy. Nice one, but
not very practical. It would have intruded on my reclusion. Still, it
might have been interesting. But I was not cut out to be a father. I
had nothing to offer the lad. No security, no mother-figure. And,
like a pet, he would have become a burden. He would have tied
me down. I wouldn’t so easily have been able to go off to London
when I wanted. He would have been tied down to his schooling.
He was only about 6 or 8 or 10, I couldn’t tell which.

Truly, I did feel so sad that I called on Eck.

"Amuse me, friend. Take me away from here, away from my

circumstance. Free me."

"You need not move," came the soft toned response of Eck's
voice. It was a beautiful voice, the loveliest I had ever heard. It
seemed to be made of down feather, not air. "Feel the stars in the
sky as the pores on your skin. The blood that flows through your
veins is the rivers of the earth. Your flesh its landscapes and
mountains. Your whole body is a map of the world. Couple your
 37

mind into your form, and travel through me to the outer zones of
your space."

I was gone. The world disappeared. The cosmos vanished.

Freedom appeared as color, as light, where flesh of the body and
matter of the environment were nowhere. I reveled in the sense of
light. It was like being a child, like being born and being
conscious of birth. I rolled along, feeling alternately light and
heavy, sinking and rising, until I came to rest on a stone wall.

My heels clicked on the side of the wall in a rocking rousing

rhythm.

My behind was stuck to the surface.

My hands clutched the edges of the wall.

My back straightened.

My head raised, I gazed upon a valley I had never seen

before.
 38

I was now beyond.

And it was fun.

I now had control of my mind.

My mind controlled my body.

And it was great fun.

And my body created the valley and the wall.

I created what I saw.

We were no longer separate.

Without me, there was no valley.

And it was such fun.

To, at last, be free, through Eck's power.

 39

I looked with my mind and my eyes, and I saw the valley I

was. I slid off my wall, and moved over the grassy slope towards
the valley.

Part way down, I shuddered, and three young boys jumped

on me, and dragged me to the ground.

"What do you want here? Who are you? Where you from?"
They shouted these questions at me. They were rough and grufty
boys.

I looked up at them, and they recoiled, suddenly becalmed. I

had them in my power. I didn’t care to answer their questions.
They couldn’t harm me. I just made them move away from me.
They ran off down the valley.

I carried on my way.

Next, I was disturbed by a beautiful, black panther. It

growled from a tree. I looked up at it, and smiled into its eyes. It
returned such a look of sadness and wildness that I called to it:
 40

"Jet."

Jet purred, and I carried on alone.

I had no need of company.

I was no longer a servant. I was independent of everything. I

could be and do anything. With my mind, I could become a
monster, a wolf, an infant, a senile old man, a king or peasant, or
indeed, if I wished, I could become Jet.

What stupendous fun.

I was all consciousness as consciousness all was I.

And I was going to use this consciousness, I could feel it, to

the ultimate ultra good. To the good, beyond dual good and evil. I
was going to use it purely, gently and kindly. To create my life
world of ultra peace. And it was going to be exciting, dangerous
and funny.
 41

And I approach the valley of my being, thinking these things

and creating my adventure. There was a village in the valley. The
village had lights. They were electric lights, lighting the streets
and the interiors of the houses. I walked through the village, but
there seemed to be nobody about. I saw cars parked. There were
shops. Just once or twice, I see someone move in the shadows, or
hear a few footsteps, but nothing that approaches me. I make no
contact.

I pass through the village and walk up the hillside. There is

not much of a path to follow so I make my own, through the
bushes and undergrowth that skirts the many trees.

I sit for a moment, and, in my head, call:

"Eddie. Little Eddie. Are you all right?"

I wait.

Faintly, I hear his voice:

"I'm smiling for you."

 42

"You sure you're OK?"

"Yes, thank you, Uncle-Daddy. That's what I like to call

you."

"You call me whatever you like. Keep well."

"Be safe, Uncle-Daddy, and come to see me soon."

We became quiet.

I was pleased to have contacted him.

I looked around me. The glow of the place was very

beautiful. It was neither bright nor grim. It wasn’t yellow, nor
green, nor red, nor blue. It wasn’t color at all.

And I am about to move on.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 43

To the buildings at the top of the hillside. These buildings are

made of smoke and mists. They are shaped as castles. They are
beautiful. They are multi-colored. I drift through them, and I see
rooms through the vapor walls, and in the rooms I see various
types and times of people. There are rich and poor, kings and
peasants, men and women, old and young, modern and ancient.

Suddenly, they are all gone.

And I am alone in my room.

I am a recluse once more.

Left alone.

It made me feel very desolate. I had come to understand

myself as a recluse. I was quite used to it. I ran off to 100 Royal
Heights at once…that very night…I jumped on my motorbike and
tore off…

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 44

I had to go the Grandly Hotel in Court Lane, shortly afterwards

whilst I had my flat at Royal Heights decorated.

I took room 307, and I had noticed an attractive young

woman occupying room 303.

I had to knock on room 303.

"Who's there?" a soft, American, female voice called.

"A neighbor from down the hall, begging a favor," I replied.

The door was opened, and there stood the lovely, raven
haired woman. She was about my height and about my age. I was
very pleased by this. She was wearing casual day clothes.

"Hi," I said. "I hope you don’t mind, but there's no bottle
opener in my mini bar, and I'm simply dying to have a beer."

"Sure, come on in. Help yourself. I know my bar has an

opener as I've just opened a bottle for myself."
 45

I got to the bar and took my time finding the opener, and
doing the bottle. Chatting came easy.

"You on holiday?" I asked.

"Yea," she replied.

"Do you like London?"

"I don’t know yet. I expect I will. I'm on my own and I'll
have to explore it first."

"You're on your own? Well. That's weird. Since you're

alone, would you like to dine with me tonight, say, in the hotel?" I
asked.

"That's very kind. Yes, I'll be delighted."

"What's your name?"

"Francesca...and you are?"

 46

"Sam, Sam Ashton. Well, I'll see you at around 7-30."

"OK. Bye."

I left, feeling nervous.

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End of Recluse 1

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 47

RECLUSE 2
 48

We never touched the entire evening. It was a magnificent

introductory night out. And I was amazed, as I am sure Francesca
herself was, that we did not touch each other once. Felt no need to,
on this occasion.

I saw her to her room at around 5 in the morning. We had

been dancing at the "Cat's Whiskers". Even when we danced we
did not touch.

That night, I slept well. I dreamt a most wonderful dream. It

was very bizarre. And it was to prove to be a recurring dream.

The basic image of the dream is a field of cocooned women.

By cocooned, I mean that women stand upright wrapped in silken
cloth. In the center of the field is a human scarecrow; a young man
in rags, hanging on crossed stakes. Not in a material form, but as a
whispering breeze, I myself drift over the field. I circle it, and
float among the cocooned women. I breathe on the scarecrow and
he stirs. I ask him what the women are doing in the field. At first,
he shakes his head, with a knowing smile on his face.
 49

He reveals no more throughout the dream, and I float

upwards. The women and the scarecrow appear as tiny dots.

I wake at lunch time.

I recall the dream

I soon forget it though, as I am thinking about plans for the

day.

When there is a knock at my door.

I opened the door, half expecting, half hoping it would be

Francesca.

No.

It is a man.

"Hi, I am Eck," he declared.

Eck? A manifestation?
 50

"Come in," I announced hurriedly.

He came in, and sat on one of the chairs.

I might as well give some description of him. In a way,

he was a complete contrast to me. He was like a complement to
me. We were both about the same height and build: 5ft. 11",
140lbs. But where I was not so attractive in the face, he was. He
was extremely handsome. Where I was clumsy, (the night before
saw me spill a glass of water at dinner, bump my knee getting into
the taxi, and tread on Francesca's dress at the "Cat's Whiskers",) he
was graceful. He gauged all his movements and gestures with the
utmost care. I was dark haired, and he was fair. My eyes were
brown, his were brilliant blue. I had several teeth missing, he had
a full set. I spoke with a coarse voice, choosing my words badly,
often tying myself up in knotty sentences. He, of course, spoke
fluently, clearly, with a smooth voice, and often simply.

"I hope you do not mind me calling on you like

this…through a door, I mean?" he started.
 51

"Well, I don’t expect you to appear that way," I said. "But

I'm glad you're here, so that I can tell you that I am not too keen on
any more of your adventures and escapades. I'm not made for this
sort of thing. I just want a quiet life, not harming nor disturbing
anyone. I simply want to be left alone. I'm not suitable as a
knight-errant for your tasks. Besides I have met Francesca."

"Ah, Francesca. I thought she might arrive soon. I am happy

for you. I want you to know that I am always there to be called
upon, whenever you need me."

"That is generous of you, Eck, thank you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 52

The phone rang. I answered it. As I looked round, I saw that

Eck had disappeared. Not by the door neither. Just vanished.
Dematerialized himself, or something like that.

I didn’t mind. It was Francesca on the phone.

"Samuel, good morning. How are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Francesca."

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

No, not at all. I doubt you could disturb me." I smirked at

myself.

"You say such things. Listen, I had such a wow time last
night, I thought you might like to have lunch with me."

"I'd love to. Did you enjoy last night then?"

 53

"I most certainly did. And I'd be glad of the chance to repay
you."

"You don’t need to do that."

"No, but I would like to. Women's lib. You treated me last
night. This lunch time I will treat you."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Friends have recommended a restaurant on the Serpentine in

your Hyde Park. How about that?"

"Sounds fine."

We arranged to meet in the lobby of the hotel, and we did

indeed end up lunching by the Serpentine.

I had predetermined that I would return to Peaceton that

afternoon. I had decided I would not ask Francesca to join me, as I
felt sure that would have been like moving far too quickly. On the
other hand, I also wanted to be on my own.
 54

I remember the water of the Serpentine. It glistened in the

sunlight. The water reminded me of glass. And on our table, the
water in the decanter and in our glasses glistened, like the water in
the lake. Then, as I was talking with Francesca, her eyes sparkled,
and reflected like the water. I was struck by these things:
Francesca's clear eyes, the glassware, and the water in the lake, all
glinting in the bright sunlight of that lovely summer's day.

"I want to see so many things whilst I'm here. You can't
imagine what it is like to an American, to come to a city like
London, and to find within several square miles, centuries of
history and art. It's just breathtaking. I want to go to the National
Gallery, and to the Tower, and, oh, so many places."

"Why are you here on your own?" I asked.

"Because I want to be here on my own. I am a very

independent woman, Samuel."

She answered the question a little impatiently, as if she were

not convinced herself that it was a truthful answer.
 55

"I'm terribly sorry, that was an indiscreet question. Forgive

me," I rather clumsily continued.

"Quite OK. It wasn’t indiscreet at all. I told you, I can see to

myself."

"Yes. Are you planning anything for today?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I thought I would go to the

National this afternoon."

"There's a famous Leonardo cartoon to see."

"Oh, aren't you coming with me? I mean, I thought I would

ask you to come with me. I would like that. Course if you can't, I
understand."

"Well, it isn't quite that I can't, it's that I have decided to

return to Worthshire this afternoon."

"Worthshire? What's that?"

 56

"It's a county to the north of London. It's where I have a

home. In a village called Peaceton."

"Peaceton? Sounds lovely. Is it very old?"

"It has a 12th century parish church, yes."

"A 12th century church? Oh, that sounds incredible."

"Perhaps you would like to see it sometime?"

"Oh, I most certainly would. I would."

"Well, look, so we don’t lose touch, I'll give you my card,

then later on you can ring me, perhaps to do something together
this weekend."

I handed her one of my cards. They had both my addresses

and phone numbers on them.

"But you have an address in London. Or is that defunct

now?" she asked.
 57

"Er no. I still use it, but I'm having it decorated at the
moment. That's why I'm staying at the Grandly."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you picked that hotel."

We left the restaurant and took a stroll by the lake.

"I am so happy," Francesca declared. "It is such a joy to see

London in this way. Usually company does inhibit me, but
you…you don’t."

"Perhaps you're a bit of a recluse yourself."

"Perhaps, though I don’t like to think so."

We arranged to take a taxi that would drop Francesca off at

the National Gallery, and I would go on to the Grandly. But on our
way there, I felt myself changing my mind. Yet I was too shy to
tell Francesca that I would like to come to the country with me that
very day. Happily, she was a little bolder.
 58

"Samuel, do you think I might come out to…Worthshire, is

it?…this afternoon, with you?"

"Course you can, if you want to."

"I'd love to."

"Let's then," I responded. "Driver, the Grandly, please, we've

changed our mind."

From that moment Francesca and I changed. We relaxed and

spoke more freely. Being in our 30s, it was noticeable to us both
that we suddenly felt and behaved like mad 20 year old. But we
loved it. We loved doing it that way. We felt young. We laughed
and smiled and joked and felt alive.

"How shall we get there?" asked Francesca.

"Train. We shall take an afternoon train. It'll only take an

hour, and we'll be picked up by a taxi. I had better arrange that
before we leave the hotel, and then we can be met."
 59

Francesca didn’t pack much. She had decided naturally to

keep on her room at the Grandly. She didn’t want to bother with
her large luggage.

We only planned a few days away.

"You're very fortunate," I told her in the train, "that the sun is
shining."

"Yes," she replied. "Everything looks so lovely. I have

never seen such greens, yellows, and that blue in the sky is
wonderful."

"The greens are famous, of course," I commented.

"It looks so lovely, thank you for bringing me."

"I'm glad you spoke out about it."

"Well, I suddenly realized that this evening I would miss

you."
 60

"Me too. I got that feeling. I tried to convince myself it

would be best to have a little time apart, but really that is not so."

Francesca enjoyed every minute of the journey, and I was

pleased.

We arrived at Westwich Station. Westwich is the cathedral

town of Worthshire. Our taxi was waiting for us, and it drove us
out into the remote parts of the countryside, and to the village of
Peaceton.

"I have never encountered anything so magical," Francesca

told me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 61

That night, Francesca slept in the second bedroom. She had been
enchanted by the whole experience: by the drive, by the village,,
by my garden, and by the cottage itself.

The country roads were dusky in the midsummer warmth.

They were bordered by the thick greenery of ferns, grasses, and
white flowered weeds that grew very high, as much as four feet. In
the warmth, this all offered a humid, sweet, thick and heavy scent
to the air.

"Perfumes of the English countryside," she commented.

"And this is you, your countryside?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"This is you," she continued, and she turned her face away
from me, and carried on looking out of the car window. I could
just detect a soft, confident, and contented smile on her lips.

When I slept, the dream came, that bizarre dream of the

scarecrow and the field of cocooned women. I remember my mind
 62

drifting amongst the wheat in the field, amongst the statued ladies.
The sky suddenly turned a thunderous purple, and there was Jet,
my huge black panther, waiting for me at the edge of the field.

On his back, I flew to the valley with the misted castles and
awoke.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 63

"I care for you. Go on, tell me about yourself."

I was astonished by these words. They just tumbled out of

my mouth, freely, yet determinedly. I didn’t hesitate. How could
I? I was happy, and it felt right to be clear and direct.

Francesca laughed, and pushed her long fingers through her

thick black hair, round the back of her head, all the way upwards,
until she was clutching the sides of her head, her fingers drowned
in those curls.

We were sitting under the large beech tree, enjoying the mid
morning sun that was warming the air.

"A bit at a time, then. My age, early thirties. My nationality,

American. I live in Redtop, which is a region to the north of New
York. I live with my mother. My father is a lawyer, spends his
working week in New York. I am alone in myself there."

I was puzzled by this last statement, and showed so in my

expression.
 64

She picked this up and elaborated:

"I was once to be married. We were in our mid twenties. He

was in the forces. He was killed in action. Ever since then, I have
been shy of romances."

She turned away, blushed, and laughed.

"Hey, why don’t we go north for the day, and visit my

parents?"

"North?" she queried, "yes, OK."

I phoned my parents.

"Do they want us to come?" Francesca asked.

"Yep," I replied.

"I heard you tell them you were bringing me."

 65

"Yes, I bet they're amazed. I haven't taken a girl home for

years."

Within minutes, I had the car out of the garage, and had
thrown a few things in it.

When Francesca saw the car, her mouth fell open.

"Are you sure it is a car?" she asked.

It was one of those flat, sporty models.

"Yes, sure,…why?" I asked.

"It's just that it looks more like a…sandwich…"

And off we drove…together. We felt great. And it was fun,

sheer fun.

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 66

"We shall take tea with them."

"Take tea," responded Francesca. "How wonderful."

"You think you'll like it?"

"I think so."

We sped along at a good 70 miles per hour.

Later, Francesca spoke.

You don’t think your mother and father will ask me awkward
questions, do you? I wouldn’t really like that."

"I shouldn’t think Dad would, but Mum might. Take no

notice though. She won't do it intentionally. More out of a dislike
of silences. She'll do it just for something to talk about, so don’t
take it too seriously."

"I'll try not to."

 67

I glimpsed Mum at the window as we drove up. My parents

lived in a village called Littleton, annexed to the town of Berby in
the northern part of Worthshire, where they had spent their whole
lives. Mum looked dull and tired, and I wondered if I had made a
mistake suggesting this visit. But it would seem she had not yet
seen us, because, as soon as she did spot us, she changed: her
whole face lit up, and she threw her arms in the air, clapping her
hands together delightedly.

I got out of the car and walked round to open the other door
for Francesca. I helped her out of the car.

"I'll say hello first, get that over with for dear Mum, and then
I'll introduce you," I instructed.

Francesca quickly nodded in agreement.

She had to be quick because Mum had already opened the

front door of the house and was scurrying down the garden path.
Her arms were wide open and she was smiling. She was upon me,
and she was hugging me, and I was cuddling her, and we loved it.
 68

"Oh, I am pleased to meet you. Won't you come in?"

Mum had beaten me to it. I didn't have time to introduce

Francesca. Mum had already noticed Francesca. Mum pulled
herself away from me, as if discarding me like a used rag, and she
was next approaching Francesca, and inviting her into the house.

I turned and watched this.

I decided to go to the back of the house. It was a detached

bungalow with bedrooms in the roof. It had large gardens at the
front and at the rear. There were many bungalows on the estate.

At the rear of the house I expected to find my father in a

shed, at work on something, and I was right.

"Your mother told me you were here. How are you? All
right?" he asked, not worrying for the answer.

"Fine," I think I threw in somewhere.

 69

"I didn’t want to leave this bit. It's rather tricky. You have to
be very patient with these fiddly bits, and it's at a critical stage."

He was talking about his passion: his wooden models of

horses and carts. Like many men of his age, his heart pined still
for the old days, when man and horse did the work.

He stopped his work. He wiped his broad hands on some

cloth that lay on his work bench. The light shone brightly over
everything, and I noticed his thick, hard fingernails and his old
hands.

We went into the living room where I could hear Mum

talking to Francesca.

"This is my husband, Frank, our Samuel's father," Mum over

fully explained.

After tea and cakes and how I had wasted my life according
to Mum, Francesca and I drove to Peaceton.
 70

At Amber Cottage, the evening passed well, and we were

quite happy to listen to music together. Francesca retired to her
room, and I stayed up a little longer. I noticed shadows on the wall
caused by the coal fire, and I gazed through the window at the
crescent moon, and I remembered the day with Francesca and my
parents.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 71

"Your mother doesn’t seem to have appreciated your pop world

success," Francesca commented the next morning.

"No. She doesn’t really count it. Too dubious, you see," I
said.

"Was it dubious?" she asked.

"Naw. Fun, but sometimes even having fun can be dubious, I

suppose. I told you not to take her too seriously."

"No, I can see that that's wise."

"She just says things for the sake of it."

We were interrupted by a tapping at the back door. I went to

answer it, and admitted Little Eddie from down the road. He was
just in jeans and sneakers and a tee shirt. It was still sunny and hot
outside. He was carrying a small basket.
 72

Francesca was thrilled to meet him. Her face beamed as I

introduced him. I could see they were going to get along.

"Eddie, met my friend from America. She's called

Francesca," I said to the small boy.

"Hello, France…." he said, having a little difficulty

pronouncing her name.

"Fran…ces…ca," she said, helping the lad out a bit. "Hello,

Eddie, how are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you, Francesca. My friend, Uncle-

Daddy saved me from a big fire," the boy said.

"Did he? When was this?"

"Just a few days ago."

"Well, you seem to be all right now."

 73

"Yes, but I lost my mummy and daddy, so now I have to live

with my Aunt Betty."

"Oh, I am sad about your mummy and daddy. I'm sure

they're looking after you from where they are."

"That's what Aunt Betty says. I think it's true."

"Do you like Aunt Betty?" Francesca continued.

"Yes, she's very kind to me. She has sent me over with this
basket of eggs for you, if you would like them?"

"Let's see, Eddie," I interrupted.

Eddie lay the basket on the table, and drew back the gingham
cloth that covered a clutch of eggs amongst straw.

"They look lovely," Francesca declared.

"That's very thoughtful of your Aunt. Please thank her for

me, won't you?" I asked.
 74

"Yes, sure, Uncle-Daddy. My Aunt has a few hens in her

back garden and they lay lots of eggs. I have to go and collect
them in the mornings before I go off to school."

"Do you like doing that?" Francesca asked him.

"Oh, yes, it's smashing," he said.

"Well, I hope you don’t smash any of the eggs," I joked.

"Oh, no, I'm very careful. And I'm very careful not to tread
on any of the hens too. They make a lot of noise, clucking about.
They're frightened of me, I think. They always run away when I
go near them."

"Well, they probably think you're a big giant come to eat

them," I said.

"Do you know about giants?"

"Oh, yes, I know all there is to know about giants," I said.

 75

"Tell me, tell me, please. I want to know too."

"Maybe another time. Would you like something to drink?" I

asked.

"Yes please. Have you got any orange juice?"

"I think so," I said.

Francesca jumped up and went to the fridge to get out a

carton of chilled juice.

"Here we are," she said, as she poured some into a long glass.
"Can you manage that? You won't drop it, will you?"

He shook his head vigorously, as he took a long sip from the

glass.

Francesca and I continued drinking tea, as we talked a little

further with Eddie.

"How do you like school?" Francesca asked.

 76

"I like it a lot, thank you," he declared.

"What subjects are you good at?" she continued.

"I like counting and reading and writing, and I like games. I
like playing football with the other boys. I'm going to play in the
school team tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to come and
watch me?"

"But tomorrow is a Saturday," I said.

"Yes, I kow, but our school is having a competition with a

school from Merton."

"I hope we'll be able to come," said Francesca, " but we can't
promise."

"Do you think you'll win?" I asked.

"We might. I hope so. I like to win, but I don’t mind if we

lose. It doesn't seem to really matter. We just like playing. We've
got a very good center forward. He's called Terry Smith. He's
 77

really fast. I play on the right wing. I have to run up and down the
field a lot. I like that. I don’t get out of puff."

"I'm sure you don't, Eddie," I said.

"My daddy used to come to watch me play, but he won't be

able to now. I cried last week, but I'm feeling better now."

"Do you have plenty of friends?" Francesca asked.

"Oh yes, Terry Smith is one of them, and then there's Billy
Jones, and Walter Burnham, and Johnny Grout….and…"

"Don’t you have any lady friends?" I asked.

"Girls? No, I don’t really like them. They always want to

play in houses with dolls, and I don’t like that. I want to be outside
running around. When I grow up, I want to be an airplane pilot,
flying about, way up in the sky."

This prompted Eddie to show us how, by stretching out his

arms and trotting round the kitchen table.
 78

Francesca and I laughed at him, which he didn’t seem to

mind.

After he had made a safe landing, he stopped to catch his

breath, and he declared:

"Thank you for the orange, I have to go on to school now."

"All right, Eddie," I said.

"Goodbye, Francesca," he said in farewell. "I hope you can

come to see our football match."

"What time does it start?" she asked.

"2 o'clock in the George Tulley playing fields," he said.

"We'll see. Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye, Uncle-Daddy," Eddie said, throwing his arms

around me, and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
 79

"So long, Eddie, and thank you for coming over."

With that, Eddie ran out of the kitchen and disappeared to

play.

Francesca was smiling and looking dreamily at the table in

front of her.

"He's a lovely boy," she said, "simply lovely. What a terrible

tragedy to have happened to him."

"Yes," I said.

Later that day, Francesca and I were taking a walk along the
river bank. We'd been watching the edges of the water. We had
discovered that if you watched for long enough you could see the
still water be disturbed by bubbles. We debated for a while as to
the cause of these intermittent gurglings, and we decided that they
were caused by some fat frog, sitting in the mud several inches
beneath the water's surface.
 80

As we walked, I posed Francesca a question. It was not my

usual style to pry, but I felt I wanted to know.

"Have you ever had children?"

"No," she replied.

"I hope you don’t mind my asking?"

"Course not. Why should I?"

"Eddie's such a good boy. He makes me wish for a child

myself."

"Maybe you will have a family some day. Why haven't you,
if you don’t mind me asking you?"

"No, I don’t mind. As to why I've never had one, I can only
say I never really got it together with the right woman. Let's go
further down the river bank. Who knows, we might even see one
of those fat frogs?"
 81

We continued our walk.

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End of Recluse 2

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82
 83

RECLUSE 3
 84

That night my dream exploded. I lay alone in my room. The dark

walls had set up their breathing pulsations. The ceiling had begun
to evaporate, and I found myself astride Jet, riding through the
mists, and heading towards the castles on the hills; the castles that
were themselves made of mist. Before I reached them, I passed
over the field of cocooned ladies with their scarecrow. As I flew
over him, he looked up and smiled and shook a fist. I sent a
thunderbolt down from my hand to turn his gaze away from me.

I remember that I had drunk brandy before going to bed. I

wonder if that had anything to do with these visions. I really don't
know.

But the violence to come was disturbing to me.

Jet carried me higher and higher above the fields and the
valleys and the hillsides, until I reached the first of the misted
castles. Their colors were wonderfully rich, being purples, golds
and greens. We rode through the misty portcullis of the first castle.
In the courtyard, we were surrounded by knights with lances and
swords. Everything they threw at us I redirected back to strike the
knights dead. Jet and I were gloriously invincible. From the
 85

towers, balls of fire were hurtled down at us, but these I

extinguished with my breath, as did Jet too.

Then, the castles themselves, and the courtyard we were still

occupying, rose from the hilltop. I could see all the landscape
plummeting away from us. We were swirling upwards and
outwards into the stars of the sky. Soon, there was no more
upwards and outwards, there was just aimless movement, so swift
and chaotic that I thought I would go mad. I had to hold onto Jet's
neck. I could not tell how many castles there were. I think there
must have been about four or five. Jet had leaped onto the parapets
of the castle whose courtyard we occupied. This enabled us to get
a better view. It was as if a thousand fireworks were exploding all
around us again and again, never extinguishing themselves,
burning their fire, rekindling and beginning again. The colors were
brilliant and ever-changing. The misted castles swirled further
away from our castle. Eventually, one by one, in the distance, they
exploded. The castles crumbled in multi-colored showers. Only
our castle remained; its transparent walls glittering and reflecting
the cascading rainbow deaths of the other castles. My eyes were
streaming with salty tears of perspiration. I could feel my body
quivering. Jet was flexing all of his black, sleek muscles in an
 86

attempt to keep himself, and me, upright. Without the power of his
legs, both he and I would have been hurtled to annihilation. My
head was pounding inside from the effect of what had happened.

Things had quietened down a little after the other castles had
shattered themselves. I say they shattered themselves because
there was nothing attacking them, as far as I could see. I could not
see any outside force causing these calamities.

The courtyard below us, we were still perched on the

parapets, had turned to a molten, seething mass of reddish and
yellowish lava. It was just as well Jet had jumped up to the castle
heights as he had done. Our troubles were not over. The castle,
which had always been moving, now set up a spin. The walls, and
us on them, began to spin in such a way as Jet had to move in
contrary motion to resist the spin. He had to gage his pace
carefully so that we did not come to a terrible end. How he
managed to keep upright, and control the furious spinning of the
castle, I will never know. This spinning of the castle seemed not to
be for our benefit, or rather for our disaster, it seemed to be to
accelerate the mist castle itself, and to send it into some other
dimension. Here I'm only speculating. It was only a dream. But
 87

dream or not, I was in the midst of it. I was riding Jet against the
motion of the spin, and we were being transported.

We arrived.

I guess you could call it arriving.

The spin stopped, and the mist castle was now totally
surrounded by darkness. Above us was darkness of an
unimaginable blackness. As we strode around the entire parapet of
the castle, we were able to see the blackest of darknesses,
spreading out around the castle. I say we, because Jet was taking it
all in too. Not only above and around us was this pitch, but
beneath us too. As we looked over the wall, we strained to see
what was beneath us: darkness, blacker than anything. You might
wonder how we could know there was nothing beneath us, and that
we were not simply perched on a mountain top, which we could
not see because of the darkness. There was no mountain top, I
assure you. We know because we tested for one. I launched
thunderbolts from my hands, and they flashed down into the
gloomy abyss. They traveled for ages, never hitting anything.
They simply carried on traveling at great speed, until they
 88

disappeared in minuteness. Jet too tested by breathing fire from

his mouth; a trick of his. The flames also, like my lightning
thunderbolts, tumbled endlessly into the blackness, until they
disappeared in the obscurity.

We had been hurtled and pummeled. Our senses had been

bombarded with spectacular visions. We had trembled. We had
faced these things bravely. We had been frightened. We had held
on. We had felt finished, and then we had revived ourselves.
Now, all was still. The castle was still. The blackness gave no
sign of any movement. The courtyard was lava but this too was
still. It had solidified. It was hot though, as we could tell from the
heat rising from it.

After we had rested, I guided Jet along the parapet. We came

to an opening in a wall. We jumped down from the parapet and
entered the opening. We traveled along the mist floor which
seemed to support Jet.

We were surprised by a figure jumping out at us. It was the

scarecrow. He was laughing, and ushering us to follow him. We
did.
 89

The scarecrow took us to a hall where the walls were

transparent, displaying people from all ages in mankind's history.

Suddenly, the scarecrow was gone.

Jet reared and almost threw me from his back. There was an
eerie sound beginning. The sound increased to a certain pitch, and
then its howling whine changed into words. To begin with, I could
not really make out the words. They were more like growls and
groans. Reddish mists rose around me and engulfed me. These
began to clear gradually and made recognizable images. As these
images became a large face, that seemed to be overhanging me, so
the words became clearer:
"FREEDOM!!!"
"PEACE!!!"
"LIFE ITSELF!!!"
were the ones I could make out most clearly. The face's features
became clearer too. The mouth was thick, and the nose was flat
and very broad. The eyes were huge and they glistened brightly.
They were beautiful eyes. They changed color from brown to
blue, and back again. The pupils dilated. The lashes were long
and curling. The intensity of the eyes varies from cold indifference
 90

to sweet love, and then to cruelty, and then to a soothing, knowing

expression.

I had to look away from the eyes. They were so vast that
they filled everywhere, and they threatened covering me
completely.

Jet kept rearing and trying to throw me.

I held on tightly.

I turned Jet around and we galloped out of that place.

I ran us down corridor after corridor.

I saw a door and we charged through it.

Jet stopped and lay down. I was forced to walk alone to the
bed in the room.

There was no one in the bed.

 91

I lay down.

A voice came:

"You are in competition with me. Watch out! Watch out! I

will win! I will win! Watch out, Samuel! Beware, Samuel!
Beware!"

The bed felt soft, and I fell asleep there, with the voice
whispering its words into my ears. It was a most sinister voice. I
made no attempt to answer it. I was so exhausted that I could not
be bothered. It could say what it liked, I thought.

Jet was asleep on the floor, by the bed.

The voice continued a little longer with its threats. It was the
same voice as I had heard from the giant face. It kept repeating the
words:

"Freedom. Peace. Life itself. I am your foe. You will have

to battle with me. You are dead. I will win."
 92

And so on.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 93

The next day, Francesca and I went to watch little Eddie play
football. It was very enjoyable. The little lad loved it, and he was
very glad we had come. He hugged us, and jumped around, and
thoroughly entertained us. Aunt Betty was there too, and she came
over to say a few words. She seemed most pleased to meet a
young American lady.

In the evening, however, Francesca asked me to take her

back to London that night.

I did so.

In her hotel, we talked for a while, and then I went on to my

riverside flat. We had arranged to meet at lunchtime.

But it didn’t happen.

I arrived at the hotel, as arranged, and I went up to

Francesca's room. She was waiting for me. She had packed
everything, and had had it sent on to the airport.
 94

"I'm leaving on the afternoon flight. I think it's best. Please

don’t be upset, or try to persuade me to stay. I've made up my
mind."

I didn’t say anything. I sat on one of the chairs and looked

around.

"Shall we still have lunch?" I asked.

"Yea, sure," she replied.

We took lunch in the hotel restaurant. We talked loosely

about things.

She did not want me to take her to the airport. She wanted to
go in the taxi on her own.

It all seemed over. I accepted it. I didn’t really register her

giving me her American address. I thought she did it just out of
courtesy. She was very polite in her profuse thanks for a
marvelous trip out to the country and so on. She said she would be
back. I said she could always stay at Royal Heights rather than in
 95

a hotel. She thanked me for that. She thanked me for everything,

and then she was gone.

I went home, and spent the evening halfway between

depression and listlessness. I knew I wasn’t going to get real low
about it, but all the same, it did take the wind out of me. It was so
sudden. I had expected her to stay around a little while, then we
could have got to know each other better, and who knows what
could have happened then…had we given things more of a
chance…but, no….she had decided, and that was that, she was off.

The irony of it all…

That night, Eck called on me again…he would, wouldn’t

he?…and what a job he had for me…oh boy, who needed it?…

"Quick, Sam, Vauxhall Bridge. A young woman is about to

throw herself into the river."

"What of it?" I said. "Let her!"

"Sam, you don’t mean it?"

 96

"No, I don’t, but, oh Eck….oh Eck, I'm going to have to do

something about your name. I cant go on calling you Eck. Oh Eck
indeed."

As I prattled on, I put on my shoes and a jacket, preparing for

my outing to the river rescue. It was about 3 o'clock in the
morning.

"Will I be in time for this distressed soul, Eck?"

"Yes, I should think so."

"Is she a distressed soul? I mean she might feel I'm

interfering. Some people can commit suicide out of contentment.
They can do it, you know, after they have thoroughly enjoyed life,
but just don’t fancy any more, thank you very much, and who are
we to question that? I don’t know why we always assume they are
depressed. I'm depressed, not suiciders."

"Well, this girl is unloved and depressed, and she needs

someone to care for her."
 97

"Well, just as long as I'm not going to get on her nerves.

Come on then. Lead me to her."

The night was clear and cool. There was hardly anybody
about. I saw an occasional late night car, a taxi, an odd pedestrian
or two, but that's all. There were still many bridge lights on,
decorating the riverbank. It seemed a bit of a waste for so few
people.

I walked along Vauxhall Bridge…twice…but there was no

sign of the young girl. I leaned over the edge and gazed into the
river. I looked down the length of the river. It stretched for quite a
distance, curving to the left after Chelsea. I remembered some of
my memories from the area. We used to do late night discos up
and down the river on Saturday nights. Riotous fun. What was I
thinking about? This girl. How was I going to persuade her not to
commit suicide? Who knows, meeting me might just push her
over the edge. Drive anyone to it, I would. Hadn't I just driven
Francesca back to the States?

"I'm not up to this one, Eck. You should find easier things
for me to do."
 98

I was silenced by the soft sound of feet, scurrying along the

bridge.

I stayed hidden in the shadows. I could see the young

woman come to about the middle of the bridge. She waited. She
then quickly looked round and climbed up onto the parapet. I had
to run. She was going to be over in a second. I got to her in time.
I grabbed her arm and brought her down. She screamed a bit and
cried and yelled, and I waited until she had calmed down.

She was quite well dressed and in her mid twenties.

"Get off, leave me alone," she cried.

"What's the matter? Boyfriend been mean, has he?" I

couldn’t think of anything else…it sounded pretty dumb.

We wittered on at each other like this for quite a while, not

really understanding what either of us was saying.

I tried to get a settlement, or arrangement, made. I wanted to

go home.
 99

"Look, I want to go home," I said. "Now either let me take

you home, or come home with me, so I know you'll be safe, or I'll
take you to the cops. Which is it to be?"

"Take me home, please."

So I did. I took her home, and that was the safe end of her. I
got home, exhausted and relieved. It had taken my mind off
Francesca, but all the same, it did seem a very strange coincidence,
coming the day Francesca had gone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 100

A few days passed in slightly sad contemplation of my future.

Francesca had made an impression on me, and her sudden
departure had upset me. I spent my time in flat 100 at Royal
Heights. I watched television; news programs and movies mostly.
I cooked for myself and drank some of my red wine reserves. I
listened to music. The nights I passed looking through my
windows at the glittering river. From my flat the power station at
Battersea was visible, as were three of the big bridges. In recent
times their illumination had been added to enhance the beauty of
the city. I loved to watch the reds, greens and blues of night lights
from traffic as well as from decorated monuments.

I forget which night it was, but it must have only been about
the third or fourth night since Francesca's departure when Eck
appeared on the balcony. It was only a narrow balcony, outside the
sliding window-doors to the living space of the flat. It was just
wide enough to sit on, at a table. In fact, I was sitting there when
Eck popped up. He was wearing all blue. I thought the material of
his trousers and blouson were satin. His fair hair shone, it was
wavy, and very light, or fluffy you might say.
 101

I was pleased to see him. I think I was ready for a bit of

company. I had been alone for days.

"Eck, come and sit down. Good to see you. How are you?" I
asked.

He sat in a chair at the table.

He turned his head a great deal, looking out to the Thames,

and then up into the sky, and looking back inside the apartment,
and then at myself. He had a gentle expression on his face, and he
smiled sweetly at me. I felt a bit unsure of him, so I looked away
from him.

"I do hope I'm not disturbing you, dear Sam," he said.

"Not at all. Or rather, you are, but I don’t mind. I'm into
being disturbed. I'm fed up of being a recluse."" I declared.

"All of us are recluses, to some degree," said Eck.

"Individuality itself encourages it. but it is something to be kept in
perspective."
 102

"Eck, do you want something? I mean, have you got a

mission for me?" I asked, fully expecting him to be about to
suggest I rush off to Paris to rescue some poor dog in the street
from a passing lorry.

"I? Want something? Not at all, dear boy. Not at all. I've
come to see you to see how you are getting on."

"You don’t need to see me to know that."

"No, that is true. All right, I've come because I see you are in
need of a little company. I've left you to yourself for a while, and
now I've come. I'll go, if you prefer."

"No, Eck, stay, please. I am glad you've come."

We continued to sit, watching the stars and the river. The

sounds of the city were like music. The traffic, the water, the
buzzings in the air, they all made up a tapestry of noise that
occupied both of us for quite a while. With the regular changing of
the traffic lights, the sound would intensify and quieten,
alternately. I felt relaxed in Eck's company, possibly for the first
 103

time ever with him. You have to admit, it was strange talking to a
personification of one's bedroom. In fact I was still apprehensive
about having a bedroom that spoke to me at all. The first time he
had done it, I had nearly jumped out of my skin. I had spent ages
looking around for some possible human explanation. I had gone
all round the cottage, but had found no one. Then Eck had spoken
again, clearly explaining that he was the room. Very bizarre. And
now, in his materialized form, he was sitting on my balcony in
London enjoying a beautiful summer night.

Big Ben struck midnight.

"That must be Big Ben," Eck said simply.

"Yes. I can't always hear him. It depends on the wind, and

the traffic, I suppose."

"Can you see him?"

"That depends on the visibility, but yes, if you lean out and
strain your head round to the left you can see his tower, and part of
the House of Lords."
 104

"How exciting," Eck commented, seeming genuinely thrilled.

"Well, sort of," I commented.

The early minutes of post-midnight then passed in silence.

I had my left hand stretched out on the table, the fingers

wrapped around the foot of my wine glass. Slowly I felt a cooling
of my fingers, and looked down to see Eck, stretching out his
fingers to touch mine.

"Don’t be alarmed," he said.

Then he held my hand firmly, and then he quickly let it go.

From the moment of his touching me, a change came over

me. I seemed to become like light, and I was gone from 100,
Royal Heights. I seemed to be swirling through water and glass,
and I seemed to be traveling upwards. All my clothes fell away,
and I was left wearing some kind of blue velvet nappy. Eck was
beside me smiling. He was flying upwards too.
 105

"All right, Sam?" he asked.

Silly question, I thought.

"What is happening, Eck? What are you up to now?"

"Don’t worry, my boy. Enjoy yourself. We're off on a

futural," he said.

"A what?" I asked. I could hardly make out what he had

said.

"A futural," he repeated.

"And what is that?" I asked, not wanting any nonsense from

him.

"You'll see, you'll see," he answered.

He showed me the earth, inhabited by families, living in

harmony. They were free and at peace.
 106

He went on to explain that he was showing me the future. It

was unlike my present world where he said people expressed
themselves by taking opposing sides. He pointed out that in my
world everything was treated as a conflict, as a contest, but that
that would not be so for much longer. He showed me the end, and
the introduction of the new harmonic variety. I was thrilled and
uplifted.

Soon he returned us to the balcony and the futural was over.

"Eck, you've done me proud. I feel cheered up. I feel a new

man. I feel like having another go. Well done. Smashing,
thanks," I said.

"Good. Well carry on, my old fruit. Carry on. Have a bit of
fun. Now, what about this girl of yours? Francesca. You know, I
don’t really approve of women. They do complicate matters."

"Yes, I suppose they do, Eck, but I want to have children."

"So, get yourself a test-tube."

 107

"Eck, don’t be silly. It isn't the same thing."

"No, I know. I was only kidding you. Still, it is a thought.

Make things a lot simpler."

"And nowhere near so much fun," I declared.

"No, I guess not. Well, what are you going to do about her?
Write to her? Phone her? Go and visit? What?"

"I don’t know just yet. I'll have to think about it."

"But what have you been doing these past few days, if not
thinking about it?"

I became silent. It's true I had been thinking about it, and
still I had not resolved what to do. Writing letters seemed such a
Victorian thing to do. I couldn’t express myself in a letter. You
get no immediate response. And as for the telephone, everything
would seem so rushed. And it would crackle at the wrong time,
and I need to see a face so that I know what to say next. You
 108

might be saying sweet nothings to her, and she might be raising her
eyes in boredom at the other end. You never know. No, I couldn’t
phone. I could fly off, but there's always a danger you arrive
feeling a right lemon, and she's rather busy that weekend, going
riding with some other bloke.

"What do you recommend, Eck?" I asked him, dreading the

worst from him.

"Use your head, boy. Use your mind, your brain. The power
of Eck will take you to her, right this instant. Close your eyes, if it
helps."

I did. I was prepared to do anything that would help.

Of course, I was there…in an instant. The white, full length

lace curtains at Francesca's bedroom window stirred a little in
response to my arrival in the center of her large bedroom.

The only light was from the moon and the stars. Shadows
danced around the bed and the other bedroom furniture. For a
 109

moment I was made breathless by the sheer beauty of the place. It

was heavenly. The bed was large and had a high head board, all
satin and quilting. The bed was covered in broad white satin
sheets. Around the room, everything seemed to be lace and satin
and soft carpeting. There were plenty of small lights to give
contrasted lighting to the room. The wardrobe was built into a
wall, and its doors were mirrors. The dressing table was plain but
large, and it had several items on it for make-up; just basic items,
there were no extravaganzas. By one side of the bed there was a
box with a quilted lid, and I decided to sit on this box from where I
could easily speak to Francesca. She was asleep. Her thick black
curls spread over her pillows. Her face was in profile as she lay
with her left cheek caressing the pillow. I gazed at the scene in
delight. I felt warm and exhilarated. I wanted to wake her and kiss
her instantly. I don’t know why I didn’t. something held me back.
Eck, probably. Eventually I moved to the box and sat down. It
was on the side from where I could now see Francesca's face full
on sleeping.

She then, without warning, sat up and greeted me with the

words:
 110

"Thank you for coming. I knew you would.".

"I wanted to, so here I am," I replied, noticing that a

transparent form of Francesca was still sleeping, head on the
pillow, whilst the speaking Francesca was sitting upright and
facing me.

She leaned forward and embraced me gently.

"I have bad news for us," she declared.

"Nothing could be bad for us," I said.

She pulled away and looked down to the covers of the bed.

"My father wishes me to marry someone."

"Who?"

"The son of a colleague of my father's. the man's name is

Bronly. Leon Bronly."
 111

Bronly. Leon Bronly. How that name was to burn in my

brain over the next months! How it was to cause me such distress!
It became, to my mind, a horrible name. it had a horrible sound to
it even when Francesca first uttered it to me.

"Tell me what to do. I don’t want to marry him. He's

hideous. I met him for the first time yesterday. It was awful. I
had nothing to say to him. There was nothing I wanted to say to
him. I could scarcely look him in the face."

"My dearest, don’t worry, I will rescue from him."

"All I want is to see you and to be with you. Will you help
me? Will you save me from this loathsome marriage? I can't bear
the thought of it."

"I will have no difficulty in dealing with the matter. I have

full confidence in us both. You shall see, my dearest. I will never
let you down."
 112

"Oh I knew you would come. I've been crying all day. I felt
so alone. Now I can sleep well, knowing you are near, and that
you will save me from this beast of a fortune hunter. He only
wants to improve his social position you know. He doesn’t want
me. He doesn’t love me. Not like you do."

"How true, Francesca. I love you as no man has ever loved a

woman before. I am the first to ever truly love a woman. I am the
first to know what loving a woman really means. I will serve you
and I will protect you. You will be cared for like no woman ever
has been. We will be supreme."

"Oh darling, your words raise me. I know you will not let me
down. I know you will stay true to me. I know you will rescue me
from that man."

"Then I will lead you to a new world, where we shall have

children and rear new people. We will help them build a new
world, where freedom is harmonious, and not conflicting. It will
be done by us."
 113

"We will do all these things. But first, my dear, what about
Bronly? He may prove dangerous."

"Then I will prove more dangerous."

"My Samuel, hold me," Francesca called in absolute ecstasy.

I embraced her, and then rose. I raised my arms and I drifted

away as she returned to her sleeping form and reunited with
herself. I was back in Royal Heights. I was thrilled and elated. I
looked around for Eck but he had gone. I wanted to thank him. I
wanted to hug him. I had really been so excited. As I took a
shower, I kept running the encounter with Francesca over and over
in my mind. I wanted to remember it always. I didn’t want to
forget one detail. I kept speaking out our words to each other,
again and again. I kept seeing her in my mind's eye. She had
asked me for help, and I would give it. I would not let her down.
As I lay in bed I thought of all these things. I ran through the
scene again. I heard her words of love, and her pleas for help. I
heard my own words. I saw her. I saw myself. Bronly would
have no chance.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
 114

The next morning my mood was quite changed. I awoke without

my confidence from the previous evening. Instead I felt drained
and confused. It took me a while to leave my bed. When I did, I
fumbled around, getting dressed slowly, thinking over my vision of
Francesca, and considering what she had said. I doubted the
encounter's validity. And I felt uncomfortable with myself.

By the time I had got myself together I was feeling very

upset. I decided to call on Eck.

He did not appear, but he did speak to me.

"What's the matter, dear boy?" he asked.

"What am I doing, Eck?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?" he continued, choosing not to answer

my questions.

"Well, I'm mixed up. Am I having an affair with Francesca

or a relationship with you? Where is it al leading?"
 115

"My dear boy, both is the answer. I am here to help you, as

you help me with our escapades. I can help you in your affair with
Francesca. That is what I am trying to do. Am I not of use to
you?"

"Yes, you are. But I'm not sure of what I want."

"But you yourself made it clear. You said you would like to
have a family, and with Francesca you may have a chance of such
a future."

"How can I help her though when she's on the other side of
the Atlantic?"

"We'll find a way, you'll see. Now go down to the mail box
and collect your post."

I went down to the foyer of our apartments and collected my

mail from its box. There was only one item. It was a letter from
Francesca, an express letter.

Once back in my flat, I sat down and read the letter.

 116

The tone of Francesca's expression in the letter was different

from her tone in my Eck encounter with her.

The letter read:

"My father has suggested I might marry Leon Bronly as it

would be a fruitful marriage in terms of family life and business. I
must say I am attracted to the idea myself for those reasons, but I
am torn, because I have grown so fond of you, dear Samuel. I am
uncertain what to do. I thought you might like to come to Redtop
and visit me for a while so we could make our wishes clear. I
understand if my scheme does not interest you. But all the same I
would like you to visit. I am nervous of taking a plunge with Leon
when my heart is so attracted to you. Could you do this for me?
Please come, and we'll have a good holiday either way."

I spent the next hour trying to grasp the meaning of

Francesca's letter. It did nothing to ease my already advanced state
of confusion. Eck agreed it did seem strange. He quite understood
my bewilderment.

"But what shall I do, Eck?"

 117

"Go to her and have a fun trip to New York. See what
happens. See how things develop. Don’t try to tidy your life into
neat little patterns all the time. Be chaotic. Jump in and go."

I laughed at his melodramatic phrases, and perhaps the

laughter did me some good. I decided he was basically right, and
that I might as well go to see Francesca since she had asked me to
go. Give us both a chance, and give Francesca a chance to be sure
of her future, or at least a little more sure. After all, it wouldn't be
fair to Leon if she married him half heartedly.

That afternoon I enquired about flights to the States. I

decided to go the next day. No time to hang about. I telephoned
Francesca and surprise surprise I got through to her right away.
We spoke briefly and excitedly. I just confirmed with her that the
following day would be convenient, and she said it would. She
said she would be at the airport.

In the evening I phoned my parents. I thought it best that I

tell them I would be away for a while.

"Where are you going, Samuel?" Mum asked.

 118

"To America, Mum," I replied.

"Oh, are you going to see that nice young woman,

Francesca?"

"Yes," I said, dreading Mum's questions would get too

numerous and funny.

"Well, I think that's a lovely idea. I hope you have a good

time together. You want to take her up the Empire State Building.
I'm sure it's lovely up there. Give her my best wishes and your
father's, won't you?"

I agreed to everything Mum said. She was very sweet but I

didn’t want her getting carried away and jumping the gun. She
was always reminding me that I wasn’t getting any younger. She
didn’t know of the Bronly complication. No way was I going to
mention that to her.

Francesca was waiting for me, she and the chauffeur, Claude.
We drove in a huge black limousine with polarized windows.
 119

"I hope this isn't too imposing for you," Francesca said. "I
had hoped to come in my sports car, but it's in the garage."

"No. It's an experience I'm used to. Takes me back to my

pop star days," I said.

"Of course. Ah well, that's good. Now we're going to meet

mother first. Father won't be home until the evening, when we'll
all have dinner."

"How much have you told them about us?" I asked.

"Everything there is to tell. They are most fascinated by my

Englishman. They'll like you."

"And Bronly?"

"We won't meet him until tomorrow."

"Do your parents know that I know of him?"

"No. They are not aware of that. It doesn’t seem to matter."

 120

"No, I'm sure it doesn’t."

I settled back in the leather seat and watched the city of New
York become the countryside of the North, and waited to see what
the house, the family, and the weekend would be like.

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End of Part 3

"RECLUSE"

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 121

RECLUSE 4
 122

Corenne Willit, that was Francesca's mother's name. The family

name was Willit. Francesca was a Willit. And Mrs. Willit, Mrs.
Corenne Willit, was one of those smart middle-class ladies in her
fifties. She had blonde hair that had to be "done" every week and a
heavily powdered complexion, framing red lips and pale blue eyes.
She dressed well and moved graciously. She spoke courteously
and meticulously, and she didn’t like me. She was all over me as
an Englishman, displaying that all-embracing American passion
for loving the English, but me, myself, she did not like. I could tell
right away. She reminded me of a maths teacher I had had at
school. They were similar. The maths teacher appreciated I was
clever and capable, but there was something about me she did not
like; something that made her suspicious of me; it was as if to her I
gave off a bad smell. Just the same impression came to me from
Corenne Willit's opening words to me:

"Mr. Ashton. I do hope you'll stay with us a long time. We

do so like visitors, especially from across the Atlantic, and that
kind are so rare. So, be assured, you are most welcome in our
home.
 123

She sounded insincere, and throughout the afternoon and

early evening she talked agreeably, but to me, with a crooked eye.

I was shown my room almost too quickly. It felt like I was

being disposed of into the back of the cupboard. I was put in the
Oak Room.

"I do hope you'll be comfortable, Mr. Ashton. May I call you

Samuel?" Mrs. Willit asked.

"Certainly, Mrs. Willit," I replied.

She did not give me permission to call her Corenne.

"It's such a strong biblical name, isn't it?" she continued.

"Yes, I suppose it is." I responded.

"This room is one of the prides of our house. We call it the

"Oak Room" for obvious reasons," she lectured on.
 124

The obvious reasons were that everything in the room was

made of oak, like, everything: the bed, the walls, the ceiling, the
floor, the furniture, the window frames, the light fittings, even the
mats looked like oak-strippings. It was certainly impressive,
magnificent in fact, but a bit heavy. Most of the wood was dark in
shade. The room stank of furniture wood, or furniture polish. I
couldn’t tell which.

"If the room's odor is too strong for you, I can have Marie put
lavender in bowls to sweeten the air," Mrs. Willit said. She
sounded like she was trying to impress me, as if she thought or
wished I were English Royalty.

"Actually I would like that, Mrs. Willit, if it's no trouble," I

said, eager to relieve the room's air somehow.

"No trouble at all. Now, I'll leave you with Francesca. We'll
dine at 8:00. Do dress if you wish, we will. You'll then meet my
husband, Mr. Willit. In the meantime, Francesca dear, I shall
probably spend the remainder of the time in the conservatory with
my tapestry. Do come and chat, both of you, if you wish. Give me
a chance to learn more about you, Samuel."
 125

Mrs. Willit drifted off and I had felt a softening in her

attitude. Perhaps she wasn't too bad. Perhaps she was just a little
shy, and it made her protectively austere. I decided not to judge
her too harshly. She was ok.

Francesca distracted me from my assessments of her mother.

"I can get the room changed if it is too much for you," she
said.

"No. It's fascinating, really it is. It's just a bit

overwhelming," I admitted.

"I think mother thought you being an Englishman you would

really appreciate the 'Oak Room'."

"Well I do. I shall butter her up about it later on," I said.

 126

I started taking clothes from my suitcase.

"Do you want me to leave you to do that? Francesca asked.

"No. It's ok. Stay," I declared.

"Oh, is this all right, dressing for dinner? If you haven't got
anything, I can fix it for you."

"No, that's ok too. I brought a set of evening wear, along

with a couple of sets of day wear, and a set of leisure wear."

"Are you glad you came?"

"Course I am. This is a real holiday for me."

 127

"You didn’t mind me asking you to come?"

"Not at all. That's what I'm here for. I'm here for you."

"Thank you," said Francesca.

It was at this point that she did something she had never done
before. She leaned forward to embrace and to kiss me. I recoiled.

"Please, don’t do that to me," I stammered.

I had not approached her familiarly before, because I had

decided to keep distance. I did not want her to break that herself. I
made no explanation of this to her. She flushed briefly and smiled.
Too much embarrassment was spared by a tap at the door.

"Come in," I said.

 128

In entered Marie. She was the house's main household help.

She was a chambermaid, a French chambermaid would you
believe? A French chambermaid in a wealthy American' country
house. She was carrying a large bowl of lavender. The bowl was
blue and white china, Victorian Ming, I should think, or at least
that's what our American friends probably called it. It was
beautiful, and the smell of the lavender was most welcome, giving
the room a refreshing lightness to the air.

"Marie, this is Mr. Ashton, an English friend of mine who

will be staying with us for a while," was how Francesca introduced
me to Marie.

"Comment ca va, Marie" I asked.

"Ah, tres bien, monsieur, merci. Oui, Madame told me of

your visit. I hope you will be happy. Just ask if you want
anything, " Marie said.
 129

She left quickly, not wanting to be indiscreet I guess. She

was in her mid-twenties. She had a beautiful figure. Her hair was
fiery red, and she had a lovely face. She must nave been quite a
taunt for all the local lads.

"I'll have to watch out for Marie," said Francesca.

I threw a slightly cautioning glance, and she smiled back,

relieved to see she did not need to worry.

"Would you like to chat with mother, or shall I show you

more of the house and grounds?" she asked.

"Let's do a little of both."

So, we went downstairs, passing Francesca's bedroom on the

way.
 130

"Do you want to look in on my bedroom?"

"Yes," I replied, interested to see if it looked as it had done in

my Eck encounter.

I was amazed, it looked just as I had seen it; the same satins,
the same blues, the same lace.

"It is a vision of heaven," I declared.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think that?"

 131

"Course I do. I wouldn’t say it otherwise, would I?"

"You are extraordinary. Come on. The rest awaits."

The house was very grand. It seemed to be mostly made of

wood. It was white painted wood. There were I should think
about ten bedrooms in all. So you can imagine the house's size,
and the size of the staircase needed to support them all. In fact,
there were two staircases; a major one and a minor one.

The grounds to the house were also extensive. Gates to the

roads were not visible from the house, they were so distant. The
land was gardened in several ways. Some of it was very formal,
mostly at the front of the house, as you would expect. To the side
of the house the land rambled wild and free as a coppice laced with
patways. At the rear of the house formality mingled with
informality to give shape to swimming pools, tennis courts, and
even a hedge maze. Some of these sections of the gardens were
made for strolling and relaxing in, being rose gardens and other
 132

floral extravaganzas. It was all a magnificent spectacle. I was

fascinated by it all. I wondered where in England one should se
such an example of gardening. Further exploration revealed
rockeries and glades where I was able to relax with Francesca, the
trees protecting us from being seen by household members. I had
decided that the Willits must employ a great number of people to
maintain this wooden Versailles.

"There are so many birds," I announced to Francesca. "I love

birds. I watch them for hours at home. I had an Aunt who used to
say she listened to the birds all the time, and had taught herself
how to whistle like them. And she could too. She had a really
strong clear whistle. She used to make it warble. I like Baroque
music, like Mozart, for its birdlike quality; all those trills and
ornaments. I have a theory that people today play Mozart's music
too regularly. It could be played as birds sing; loose and free, quite
irregular; that's how it becomes expressive and interesting.
Spontaneous."
 133

Francesca was smiling when I began my little spiel. By the

time I had finished she was laughing.

"What's so funny? You're laughing at me."

"Yes, but kindly, Samuel. Quite kindly. It struck me as

wonderful how sensitively you can talk about birds, music and
Baroque art. We Yankees love Euro culture etcetera, and yet I feel
we don’t really understand it. You tell me some of its inner
depths. You understand it. It's in your consciousness."

"Glad to be of some use," I said. "I didn’t mean that

sarcastically. Why should it make you laugh though?"

"I don’t know. Maybe, because I'm a vulgar American."

"I don’t think you're that."

 134

"No? What do you think me then?"

I waited. Couldn’t think of anything to say.

"I bet you think I'm rich and beautiful, but like Eliza Doolittle
I need some training in life-sensitivity."

"I do not think that. I wish I hadn't mentioned those birds

now."

"No, I love to hear what you think and know about things.
You are remarkable and so few people are. In my life anyway I'm
surrounded by nice family-role people who actually work very
hard at being dull and ordinary. They are very nice and so on but
sometimes I could scream."

"Let's go away. Let's take a trip across America together,

you and I. I could fix the money with my bank in Wall Street."
 135

"But you've only just got here."

"Well, soon then."

"OK. But I want you to meet my father first. And of course

I do want you to meet Bronly."

"I'm not so sure that is a good idea."

"I can't force you, but please meet him. He's coming
tomorrow. It should be helpful to us both. Give you an idea of
what he is like."

"All right, for you. I suppose it's what I've come all this way
for. To rescue you, or something daft like that."
 136

"Come on, let's find mother and talk to her. You'll amaze
her. She usually amazes other people, but I think you'll outplay
her."

I made no attempt whatsoever to outplay mother, needless to

say. I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing to an elderly lady
who was also my hostess. But according to Frnacesca afterwards I
still did pretty ok.

We found mother in the conservatory. This was a large

edifice at the rear of the house. It was over filled with green
plants. They were monotonous. As I looked around I thought the
place cried out for a splash of red or yellow. Mrs. Willit was
seated at the far end. She had a large tapestry mounted in front of
her. By her side was a table with tea things.

"Over here dears," she called out to us from behind her

handiwork.
 137

Francesca and I strolled down to her.

"Have some tea. Marie brought extra crockery in case you

came along."

"Thank you. I would like some," I said, throat dry as

sandpaper.

Francesca generously offered to do the service. As she did, I

looked hard at Mrs. Willit's tapestry. It was a country scene.
There was a cottage with a little lane, and some trees, and a horse
and cart being led by some farmer chap. A young girl was in the
garden. It was very attractive, and Mrs. Willit was making a good
job of it.

"I like that very much, Mrs. Willit," I declared. "You must
have great patience to match your skill."
 138

"Thank you, Samuel. I enjoy them. They occupy me, and at

the end of the day one has something to show for one's labors."

Francesca and I sat, and Mrs. Willit lay down her needle.

"Francesca tells me you used to be in a pop group?"

"Yes."

"Was it very exciting?"

"Sometimes. It was also very hard work in the early days

when there were many people getting groups together."

"Did you have to wait long for success? I believe you were
successful. I'm afraid I had never heard of you, but then I
wouldn't, my tastes being entirely classical."
 139

"No, not very long. Pop music is a bit like sport. You have
to hit early on, or you miss the boat."

"Yes, I suppose that is so. But you have made a great deal of
money, I believe?"

"Yes. Enough for me to live…" My words dried up. She

was playing the Grand Inquisitor, and I was falling for it. No, she
didn’t like me. That was clear. There was only one thing to do:
encourage that dislike.

"Course, being loose with people helped me to success in the

group."

"Loose? Whatever do you mean?" Mrs. Willit asked, her

attack crumbling.
 140

"Well, we had to be keen to get on so we had to be prepared

to do unsavory things sometimes. But I managed to pull through
somehow."

"Samuel's teasing you, Mother. Take no notice of him,"

Francesca put in, trying to save her own face rather than mine.

"Business is business, Mrs. Willit. And sometimes the call is

beyond duty, even beyond human endurance you might say."

"Oh I do believe you are hoodwinking me. Still that's good.

I like a sense of humor."

I made no comment.

"Yes I like to see a sense of humor in a man. I like Mathelius

for that."
 141

I know that my self control did not fail me. I did not flinch at
the sound of the name "Mathelius". My instinct told me from the
way Mrs. Willit said the name: "Mathelius", that this name
"Mathelius" was the name of her beloved husband, Francesca's
father. What a name though!

"Yes, Mathelius has a wonderful sense of humor. It is

something very rare in such a man as he; such a distinguished
lawyer, I mean. Many of his colleagues really are "stuffy", I think
is how you English would put it. Yes, stuffy. They take
themselves over seriously, but not Mathelius. Oh I'm sorry, you
don’t know, do you Samuel? Mathelius is my husband, Mr. Willit,
Francesca's father."

"Really? I'm sure you give him good cause for having a
sense of humor."

What had I said?

 142

My double-entendre caused consternation. Both the women

didn’t know what to say. They both laughed, using that ever useful
sense of humor.

It was left to me to pick up the clanger I had so indelicately

dropped.

"Francesca has inherited your husband's sense of humor. We

had many laughs in London."

"Oh yes, do tell me of London, " Mrs. Willit interjected,

eager to change the subject.

"It has become a lovely city of money being financed and

culture being museumized," I suggested.

"Sound a little strenuous when you put it like that, Samuel,"

 143

Mrs. Willit commented.

"Oh I don’t know. You, being a lover of the classics will

know that it has many great wonder on display."

"Oh yes indeed I do. Mr. Willit and I were there about 10
years ago and we enjoyed it immensely. Of course, many of its
great art joys are outdoors. I mean things like that column to the
Admiral, Lord Nelson. Such a wonderful piece of art. And the
Houses of Parliament. Living architecture, don’t you think?"

"Indeed I do," I said to all this, again and again.

"So pleased you have the right values and respects, Samuel.
Too many people don’t appreciate what we older people stand for.
Shameful. In my day it would never do to have questioned or…"

We were interrupted thankfully by Marie.

 144

She had come to ask if Mrs. Willit would come to the

kitchens, as cook was having a fit about something to do with the
evening meal.

"I don’t know what is the matter, Madame, but cook is very
upset. She keeps screaming and shouting about gooses and
chickens…"

"All right, Marie, thank you. Tell cook that I shall be along
right away."

Marie scurried out quickly, glad to be gone, I should think.

She didn't look as if she enjoyed kitchen upsets.

"I'm sorry to have to interrupt our conversation, Samuel, but

since this is a kitchen matter I had better go and attend to it. I will,
of course, be glad to talk further with you this evening."
 145

"Goodbye, Mrs. Willit," I said courteously.

Then she did a strange thing. As she was leaving she turned
to Francesca, and quite within my earshot, in fact probably for my
benefit, she said:

"Most fascinating young man, Francesca, my dear. Most

exciting.".

Mrs. Willit departed with a little less haste than Marie had
done moments earlier.

Francesca and I remained silent together.

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 146

"You gotta have commitments." Mr. Willit droned on. He had

arrived home around 7 in the evening. I had been introduced to
him. He was in his mid-fifties I would say. He was a little fat. He
had a shiny red face and silver white hair such as was common
amongst American businessman of his generation. In fact, he
looked like a White House Senator. He had been charming in the
introduction, and then had scurried off to his bedroom to change
for dinner.

We had all dressed for dinner. Dressing was ok.. I didn’t

mind too much. the food was tolerable, nothing to get excited
about. I refused the meat as always. I'm not a vegetarian I had
explained. I just don’t eat meat. My hosts seemed a little put out.
I regretted what I had done.

And then, Mr. Willit started to dig at me. Bit by bit, his
questions became ever so slightly more probing. Having told him
of my appalling lack of interest in religion, politics and moral
issues he became more spiky in his approaches. My wit failed me.
 147

He didn’t think it was funny. Public issues were not to my taste I

protested.

"I'm a recluse," I declared, " and glad of it."

"You gotta have commitments," he said, several times.

My last attempt was to say:

"All my life people have bullied me to do this and that; take

an interest, pass exams, get a job, take up a career. I did all those
things and then found to my horror that they did not make me
happy. In fact, those very things made me unhappy. So, when I
finally did something for fun that I liked, and made money at, I
broke free to become myself…a recluse…a happy one…for the
most part…"

Mrs. Willit smiled, and laughed sympathetically.

 148

"I think that's all very interesting and quite unusual; you have
to admit that at least, Mathelius," she had said smoothingly.

"Yes, yes, very unusual. But it seems such a waste, Samuel.

You are young and strong and capable. You're just wasting
yourself by turning your back on the world. There are so many
wonderful things out there. There are so many wonderful people.
Oh, we know there's a few bad ones, and a few bad things, but
they're not important. No, my boy, get yourself armed with a few
commitments and go out there and fight."

He paused to sip the wine.

"D'ya know," he continued, "I had an uncle back in the old

days. I'm talking about the 1940s. Oh, he was a character, an
amazing man. Actually, I believe he was a nut but no matter. He
had a commitment to be contrary. He never voted for the political
party he believed in; he always voted for the other one. A nut you
see. Twister was his name. Jeremiah Twister. He thought by
 149

voting the opposite way he would be giving the other guys a

chance and testing the strength of his own party. Mad. But at least
he did something and he did it consistently. I used to admire old
Uncle Jeremiah. There's commitment for you. You young uns
today, ever since that hippy surge, have lost all commitments. You
just don’t know what to believe. You don’t seem to want to
believe anymore. Maybe you don’t care. You don’t seem to think
our civilization is worth anything. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, who
knows? But you gotta have commitments. Or you're sunk. And,
maybe you're sunk, my boy…"

"Father, I don’t think you should talk like that," put in

Francesca.

"No, I'm interested, Francesca. I don’t mind what your father

says," I said.

"That's right. Samuel knows I'm not being personal. I'm

talking generally. The young need to get themselves some
 150

commitments. If they don’t like our old-fashioned ones, fair

enough, then go out and get yourselves some new ones."

"Now that's an appealing idea, Mr. Willit," I said, genuinely

enjoying his speech.

"Right. Like when your underwear wears out, what do you

do? You go out and get some new underwear. So, if the
commitments don’t suit, go and get some new ones."

Mrs. Willit broke into laughter.

"You girls should have retired, and left me and Samuel to the
port like in the old days," Mr. Willit continued.

He was becoming just a little merry.

 151

"You seem very fond of the old days, Mr. Willit," I asked.

"I am. Most men of my age are. We all talk of the old days
as being wonderful. And they were. Because men were men and
women stayed at home, and everything worked. Now, it's all
freedom and chaos. And people are not happy."

"I'd have hated those old days," Francesca put in, sensibly.

"Yes, I suppose you would have, my dear," said Mr. Willit.

"Let's go into the drawing room together," Mrs. Willit said,

obviously hoping a change of battleground would bring about a
change of subject.

In fact in the drawing room, both Mr. Willit and I dried up

completely and had nothing to say to each other for the rest of the
evening. We all felt sullen and embarrassed for a few moments. It
 152

seemed comical, and I fantasized that perhaps we should return to

the dinner table and continue our after dinner chat. But we sat
gloomily staring around each other, tinkling glasses and
floundering over our empty brains trying to think of something to
say. I almost suggested we watch television; yeuk!

Francesca saved the evening by playing the piano. They had

a very handsome grand piano and it sounded lovely. Francesca
played quite well. She could play classical music and delighted us
with a little Mozart. She played it quite in tempo making no
attempt to take my advice about spontaneity. I was feeling so
flattened by Mr. Willit's crushing attacks that I didn’t let on I
played the piano. It might have looked too much like a
commitment, and now he had decided I didn’t have any
commitments I didn’t want to disillusion him; not right away
anyway.

The night faded away in Chopin nocturnes. Mr. And Mrs.

Willit retired first. Mr. Willit obviously delighted in francesca and
in her playing. He kissed her forehead without interrupting her
 153

playing, said goodnight to me quietly and left with Corenne. She

smiled her evening farewells. I waited for the final cadence.

Francesca came over to where I was sitting.

"I'm sorry about my father," she said.

"No need to be. He's all right," I said.

"Yes, he is quite sweet really. He probably had a busy day,

and wanted to let off a little steam."

"Probably."

We walked up the stairs and I said goodnight to Francesca.

She was waiting for me to kiss her. I could see that. But I
 154

pretended I hadn't noticed and left her standing outside her

bedroom door. I quickly stepped into my room, the Oak Room.

Once inside, I thought over my journey: the flight, the drive

from the airport with Francesca, the afternoon with her mother, the
dinner with her father. Did it all feel right? Was it as it should be?
Did I feel comfortable? Were my senses fulfilled? Should I be
here? I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time without
undressing. I felt cold. I felt lonely. I had lost contact with
people. I didn’t know what to think, or say, or do. I felt clumsy. I
was odd. I was like a cripple. Suddenly in that coldness, I felt
myself try to turn away from life once more, never having to
return. That's why I didn’t kiss her. How could a person such as I
presume to kiss a woman like her? How could I touch her?
Looking around the room my eyes chilled. I was alone. I had
made myself become alone. I had left behind me so many people I
had really loved. I had deserted them all. I had abandoned them. I
had had to leave. I had not been able to stand myself anymore. I
had run away. I knew that I would always run away. I would
always be a recluse. What did it matter that I had done all these
terrible things out of love? What did it matter? Love was my fuel.
 155

Love had been my ammunition. Love had made me destroy. Now

love would take me away. On its gentle wing, I would be carried
into sleep, and to the dreams and fantasy trips that were my joy and
relief. And, if I were lucky, I might just glimpse my loves all
there.

At the window, I watched the trees sway in a soft, night

breeze. I thought of little Eddie, all those hundreds of miles away
in England. I thought of his little heart beating, and of his mind in
dream too. I wanted to care for him. Would I let myself, though?
That was my difficulty. Dare I love? Dare we, Francesca and I,
allow ourselves that bliss, that torture?

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 156

I did dream that night. I dreamt of scarecrows, panthers, and of a

giant face, housed in the misted castle, drifting in its vacuum. I
was troubled by the dreams, rather than pleased by them. They
became very repetitive, drawing me into them more horrifically
each time. I awoke prematurely at about 5 in the morning. I knew
I had to go back to sleep in order to keep fit for the day. I had a
terrible time trying to drift off again.

I woke up for the second time, around 9. Someone was

knocking at my door.

"Come in," I announced.

It was Francesca. She entered, wearing a large dressing

gown with a fur border. She carried a silver tray with morning
coffee on it.
 157

"Do you like coffee in bed?" she asked.

"I do now," I replied.

She placed the ray by the bed on a table, and we drank as we

talked.

"You strike me as a man of many mysteries, do you know

that?" she declared.

"Do I? Well, we all have our pasts."

"Yes, but yours, I imagine, is a little more unusual."

"Why do you imagine that?"

 158

"Because you have such diverse interests and abilities.

You're musical, artistic, sports like and I suspect, a philosopher."

"You think me a philosopher?"

"Yes. I bet you're working on some new commitments for

yourself right away, and who knows, other people might find them
of interest."

"I doubt it," I said. "No one's interested in what I think. In

fact no one's interested in what anyone thinks anymore."

"I wouldn't say that."

"20th century man lives with a bag of preconceived tricks and

ideas that save him from having to think. Dip in, and take your
pick, or just accept what you're born into. It's all the same."
 159

"You could be wrong. People may be interested in you."

"Thank you, but somehow I don’t think so."

"Well, never mind people. I'm interested. Some day I'm

going to get you to tell me."

"The only thing I think is: think what you want; make it all
up if you want; turn life into an arrangement of fantasies being
fulfilled according to your personal wishes.

"There you are, that's interesting."

"There is no need for any one reality. People get obsessed

with things like unity and reality; nonsense words. Hey, this is all
a bit heavy for first thing in the morning. I've only just woke up. I
didn’t sleep too good."
 160

"No. Why?" Francesca asked.

"I tumbled through a few old familiar dreams, and they woke
me up sooner than I wanted."

"Dreams. I like them. Tell me. I bet they'll reveal

something of great interest about you."

"Hm. I wonder if you're not just after me for my brain. What

about my body?"

"Well, you're the one who's holding out on that. You didn’t
kiss me goodnight. You never touch me."

"I know. I know. I'm working up to it."

 161

"Well, I like that. And I do too. It makes a change to see a

bit of patience. Meantime, back to your very interesting brain,
what about these dreams?"

"The most interesting is this face. It's a giant face and looms
up at me out of walls and corners in this huge misted castle."

"Hm, the castle is obviously very significant. I wonder what

of though?"

"Could be the state of my mind…all blurred, and useless," I

commented.

"Be serious. It probably represents the landscape of the

universe, the attitude of defense and establishment."

"Misted because it's worn out, seeable through, transparent, a

con, washed out, done with and needs renerwing…"
 162

"Steady on, maybe."

I was amused Francesca was trying to psychoanalize me so

early on in the morning.

"What about the face?" I asked her.

"Oh that's easy, that's obviously some fear you have haunting
you. How clear is the face?"

"Not at all really. It's more sort of mushy. It's big though. a
big nose, mouth and huge eyes."

"What fears have you got?"

"Fears? Oh, loads of them. Could be any one of them."

 163

"Yes, but what?"

"Oh, women mostly."

"Ah, I bet. Be serious."

"I am, deadly."

"Could be an enemy. What enemies have you got?"

"Oh, none at all. Nobody knows me. It's one of the pluses of
being a recluse."

"No one dark and sinister from your dark and sinister past or
future"
 164

"Oh, I shouldn’t think so."

"There might be one today. Leon's coming. He'll be here

around lunch time. I wonder how you'll get on with him?"

"Like I do with most people, not very well. I've been

thinking, I don’t think your father likes me, so Leon's got no
problems. He'll be well in with Mathelius no doubt, and they'll do
their best to persuade you to marry Leon. Do you like Leon?"

"I like him enough but I don’t think I want to marry him."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"That I have yet to find out."

 165

"And how are you going to do that? Put Leon and me in

some kind of jousting match?"

"Jousts were more for testing a lady's honor."

"Oh well, I trust to your honor completely."

"That's very kind of you. Anyway I want you to be nice to

Leon."

"Nice to Leon? Sure. I'm nice to anyone, especially here

where everything is so nice."

"Do you like Redtop?"

"Yes. Is it the name of the house or the district?"

 166

"Both. My father called the house Redtop after the district.

So we just talk about Redtop and the house as one."

"That's a wonderful idea."

"I really liked your cottage in Worthshire, you know."

"Thank you. I'm glad you did."

The coffee had been drunk by this time.

"I'll leave you to get ready for the day," she said.

"OK. I hope we're not going to be doing too much."

"Not too much, no."

 167

She left me to myself.

Lunch time arrived, and with it, Leon. He appeared in a large

Chevrolet car. It was white, and, for all the world, he looked like a
dream. His clothes were smooth, and so was his manner.

"I've heard about you, Samuel. This is a great pleasure."

His voice was smooth too. The way he raised his arms and
moved his head were also smooth.

Mrs. Willit was obviously enchanted by him, and treated him

as if she would have liked to marry him herself.

Mr. Willit treated him as a brother, as a friend of great

confidence. Whenever they spoke together they always did so in
whispers, as if they were discussing some vital state secret.
 168

Francesca treated him as if he were a child. She seemed

genuinely fond of him.

We were all herded by Marie onto the lawns at the rear of

Redtop to take lunch.

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 169

I remember the colors of the flowers in the garden made me giddy.

They were such dazzling colors. There were purples, reds, blues
mostly. They were a very strong and even sickly combination. I
felt my mind go dizzy. I did not find the drinks, nor the food, nor
my company relaxing. I felt like I was on some kind of rack. I felt
as if I were being stretched. The heat was quite intense. The
sunlight was very brilliant and heavy, and the atmosphere was
extremely humid. I had never known such conditions before.
Francesca looked across to me once or twice. I believe she was
checking that I was all right. But by the time she was asking me
that, she had become a distant wash of hair and skin and frock. I
could hardly see anything. I decided to close my eyes and breathe
slowly, letting everything around me drift over me.

Leon talked on and on about himself and his work. He had a

great deal to say about the cases he liked to handle most in court.
He didn’t discuss any one case specifically, he was too cautious
and professional for that. I'm sure Mathelius would heartily have
disapproved if he had. No, Leon contented himself with his
outpourings:
 170

"Justice is such a part of our living culture, that everyone

should be taught it at school. People remain too ignorant of it.
They only contact it when they bump into it as it were: if someone
dies, or is murdered; if something is stolen, or property is
mishandled in some way. Ours is a property society, and the
preservation of that property. We have to see to our rights. We
have our rights, and our rights are our rights."

He went on about rights. He would not have understood

anything I might have said about these things. I preferred to keep
my trap shut. With people like Leon, it was best to listen. He
didn’t want to be contradicted. He was one of those talkers.

No wonder I was feeling giddy. My plastic, white summer

chair collapsed beneath me, and I hit the green grass with my
mouth.

I know there were screams and yells from the ladies, and
gasps of astonishment from the men.
 171

Next thing I knew, I was back in the Oak Room. I was quite
amused that I hadn't really managed to get much further than
lunch, before having to be transported back to the bed.

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 172

For the evening I hoped to fare a little better. I could hardly do

worse. I decided that I would really make an effort to met Leon
halfway, as they say. I reckoned that if I relaxed, and pretended I
was like him, I could get along chatting and buttering him up, and
keep the whole encounter civil. Would it work? Could I give such
an act?

I wandered down for dinner at around the right time. I had

been left alone. I had wondered what had happened to Fancesca.
Maybe Leon was monopolizing on my incapacitated state, and had
whisked her off to some thrilling rodeo, or something or other,
whilst I whimped about Redtop. I had dressed for dinner, and so
had Leon, who was the first person I met, on coming down stairs.
He was in the drawing room alone, hugging a glass of whisky, or
as he called it of course, bourbon.

"Sam," he called out in greeting, "how's it going, old man?

Feeling any better? I was real upset when you fell over at lunch
time."
 173

"Yes, it was pretty weird, thanks for your help," I responded

civilly.

"Get yourself a drop of bourbon. That'll fortify you for the

night."

I took his advice.

"So, how do you like our country?" he asked.

There was something about the way he stressed "our" in the

expression of "our country" that made me wince. I suddenly
recalled it as the wild west, and as the rape of a land from other
inhabitants. Leon was the sort of Yankee who had no thought for
that. No, this was "our country", and no one else's. Oh well, so be
it, who was I to argue? And besides, wasn't I going to pretend to
be some kind of Leon buddy, and rub along real good with him?
The best way would be to accept everything he said…use his
 174

terminology…use his logic…become a sort of embellishing echo

to everything he uttered…he would never see through it…he'd just
decide I was a good sort…he'd probably even tell me I was ok.
…for an Englishman…oh well, smooth along…maybe just
occasionally I might throw in the odd little spanner of
disagreement…just to spice the conversation, and stop old Leon
from getting bored.

"Your country is wonderful."

"Have you been here before?"

"Yes, several times. I was here in bi-centennial year."

"Oh really. Whereabouts?"

"Well, I started with New York. It had just been christened:

the "Big Apple", I think, in those days."
 175

"Yes, that's right, just a little before, I think."

"Yes, a little before. And I did a tour…Chicago, Los

Angeles, San Francisco."

"Cisco. Oh fabulous. Were you on holiday, or what?"

"No, I was with my band. We were on tour."

"What, a band? You mean like the Strolling Moans."

"Yes, that's right, though we weren't as big as them." I didn’t

want to dwell on my pop career too long so I scurried on with my
eulogy of "his country". "I made several trips to the Sates, back in
the '70s. I always enjoy coming. I think New York is about my
favorite city. It's so tall."
 176

This caused Leon to choke on his drink, as you might expect.

Had I over played myself? He looked suspiciously at me, and then
laughed.

"I guess you could say it's that. I've lived and worked here,
most of my life. As for your country, I know London quite well.
It is a great study for anyone like myself, interested in law."

"Yes, I'm sure it is, Leon," I continued butteringly.

"I love all that 18th century part around Temple and Inner
Temple. Oh, the atmosphere you get there. Those elegant,
Georgian buildings, and all those barristers and articled clerks.
..what a lovely expression, articled clerks, oh, to be an articled
clerk in Inner Temple, London. Super. Always makes me think of
Dickens."
 177

"He wrote a great deal about it. The opening chapter of

"Bleak House" gives a stunning, and not altogether flattering,
account of Chancery."

"Does it?" Leon asked.

"In fact, quite a scathing account, but wonderfully vivid and

evocative."

"Is it?" Leon asked.

I had overdone it now. It was obvious that Leon was

ignorant here, and I should be careful not to show him up in any
way. I had to quickly restore his self-esteem.

"The wide open spaces are what make your country great I
would say."
 178

"Ah, yes," Leon said, "the wide open spaces. Breathtaking,

aren't they?"

"I haven't seen very much of them yet."

"You haven't?"

"No. The cities are more what I've seen. I would very much
like to see more of the spaces."

"Perhaps you will this trip. Do you fly?"

"I can fly light aircraft, yes."

"Maybe you should hire something and take a look."

 179

"Is that possible locally, would you say?" I asked him.

"Oh yes. I'll give you the address of someone you can go to."

"Thank you. That might be of interest."

We became silent. Exhaustion, I think.

I glanced around the room.

Aha, the house. Redtop, yes, brilliant. We'd talked about the
country, now talk about the home.

"This is a magnificent house, Leon" I began gently. "I'm

amazed at its size, and the way the gardens are kept."
 180

"Do you like the style of the gardens? Are they what you
would call English?"

"Yes, I think so. They have a very English look to them."

"And do you approve of that?"

"Yes, of course."

"Even in this climate?"

"I wouldn't know too much about that."

"Well, I don’t suppose it differs greatly from the heart of

England…the home counties part."
 181

"No," I said, flagging, as I felt us approach the weather as our

next topic of conversation. Oh dear, perhaps I should collapse
again in a heap, and have to be carried off to bed for a second time
in one day?

Rescued!

Francesca walked in to greet us both.

"Gentlemen, an especially fine evening to you both," she

wished.

She was very elegantly dressed in a pale red gown.

"Francesca, ravishing," Leon fawned.

He kissed her hand.

 182

She turned to me.

I felt very shy all of a sudden.

"I trust you are feeling better, Samuel," she said to me

formally. She spoke to me formally. I was astonished.

Why was Francesca being so distant?

She made me feel quite sad.

I was glad to be relieved of my burden of Leon; she could

talk to him. She could entertain him in that imperious manner she
seemed to have adopted for the evening.
 183

She even took him to one side, out of my earshot, and

whispered with him. That was it. I just sank into the sofa and
sipped the whisky.

Mr. And Mrs. Willit entered. They were both in evening

attire, of course. Mrs. Willit was in blue. She realized
immediately I was feeling lonely, so she approached me directly,
and launched into an inquiry about my health, with respect to my
collapse in the afternoon.

"Samuel my dear, how are you feeling? A little better I hope.

Did you sleep at all?"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Willit, I did."

"I expect you were suffering from the journey. Jet-lag, you
know, is what we call it."
 184

"Yes, I know."

'That, and the heat. It became quite sultry this afternoon.

The Archduke collapsed."

"The Archduke?" I asked quickly.

"It's one of our dogs. Am Afghan," answered Mrs. Willit.

"I should like to meet him," I declared.

"Do you like dogs?" Mrs. Willit asked.

"Yes, I do."
 185

"Francesca, dear, you never told us that Samuel was fond of

dogs," she shouted over to Francesca, eager to draw her daughter
into our conversation and so pay me some polite attention.

"Didn’t I? Well, that's because I didn’t know," she replied,

holding her ground with Leon.

Mrs. Willit was visibly surprised, and upset by Francesca's

refusal to join in with us more enthusiastically.

"Do you have any dogs?" Mrs. Willit asked me.

"No, I don’t."

"Oh, why, may I ask?"

 186

"I don’t like to get attached to them, and they become trying.
I don’t live in the cottage all the time."

"Oh, no, I believe you have a flat in London?"

"Yes, that is so."

"It must be wonderful for you to be able to choose between

the countryside and the city."

"I enjoy it," I continued.

"It is such a pity we live life in extremes. The city is

sometimes too overwhelming, and the country is sometimes too
quiet, don’t you think?"
 187

"Yes, though I would call them contrasts rather than

extremes."

"Contrasts or not, they are rather extreme, are they not?"

"Yes, I suppose they are."

"Corenne, do you want a drink?" It was Mr. Willit who had

asked the question. I think he felt it was time to spare me too
much interrogation from his wife. I was glad of the diversion.

"My usual," she replied quickly, then she continued with me.
"I wish I could spend more time in our New York apartment,
where Mathelius stays during the week, but, as you say, animals
and household duties are rather tying, and so I don’t."

Mr. Willit thrust a drink into his wife's hadn, and I just
glimpsed him give her an admonishing look.
 188

She took no notice.

"This evening, we shall again have meat, but I had a word

with cook, and you shall be full satisfied, I think…some omelette
creation."

"That's very kind of you to trouble."

"Not at all. Francesca, Leon, don’t conspire in that corner,

come and join us."

I think Mrs. Willit was flagging, or at least afraid she might

dry up at any moment.

Francesca approached us, with Leon trailing behind her,

making a vague attempt to clutch her hand, but she wasn't too
interested in that.
 189

"Leon's promised not to bore us tonight with law-talk,"

Francesca declared, and I was glad to hear it.

"I've done no such thing," Leon protested.

"No, but you're not going to, all the same," Francesca
insisted.

"I quite agree, Francesca," Mrs. Willit piped. "It really is not
good enough a topic of conversation."

"I think it's a perfectly good one," Leon persisted.

"Not all the time, Leon. You'll become a social bore, and
everyone hates social bores. Do they still have society in
England,Samuel?"
 190

"I wouldn't know of it personally, Mrs. Willit. I believe in

the upper echelons it is still practised. There aren't any more
debutantes, I know that."

"Ah, but you have the Royal Family. Such a delight."

"I would guess that you Americans probably indulge in

society gatherings more than the Europeans." This was a bold,
chancy remark, but I wasn't going to be bored, so I thought maybe
I would throw in a few fireworks, small ones to begin with, witty
ones later, and then real big bombs for the end…if I lasted.

"Do you think so?" Mrs. Willit asked. She was being
tantalized.

"Certainly," I endorsed.

"Why's that?"
 191

"Probably because we're behind the times," Mr. Willit put in.

"Be quiet, Mathelius. I'm sure Samuel doesn’t think that's

the reason, do you?"

"No, I don’t, Mrs. Willit. No, the reason is probably money."

"Money?" she asked.

I was nervous that I had mentioned a delicate subject, but I

was to learn that that was my English sensibility…our shyness and
embarrassment at the vulgarity of the subject.

"Yes," I said, "in England, the wealthy are not so wealthy. In

fact, they probably haven't got any money."
 192

"Oh well, that's very sad to hear. Yes, you're probably right,
we have great wealth in this country, and where there's wealth
there's society, I suppose. Look at all the old courts of Europe.
The days of Vienna and "La Traviata". Gone." Mrs. Willit
emphasized her comments with a little, lost far away look in her
eye.

"Course they've got money," Mr. Willit put in,

disbelieveingly.

I had to be careful.

"Not as much as in the old days, Mr. Willit," I answered.

"Why ever not? Where's it all gone?" he continued.

"It's gone to the country, and to the people rather. It's been
spread out more," I ventured.
 193

"Fascinating. Death tax," Leon spoke. "Tax the rich and

level out the wealth more…been going on throughout the century,
really."

"Leon, we told you not to talk law," Francesca teased.

"Sorry, but it's only what Samuel was saying. I was just
joining in. It only goes to show you can't keep law out of life."

"Quite," Mrs. Willit said, firmly so as to stifle Leon's

threatening legal flow. "In the States, Samuel, you may come to
see that here people flaunt their wealth. They show it off. Some
people find that unpleasant, but not we Americans."

"Comes from having to compete for it, I suppose," Mr. Willit

said.

"Tell me, Samuel, do you find us vulgar?" Mrs. Willit asked.

 194

"Vulgar is not the word," I gingerly answered.

"No, what is?" she continued.

"Out-going," I said.

"Hm, I like that," she said. "Tell me more."

"Well, in comparison to ourselves, you Americans are very

full of life, energy, very positive, up-up-up, whilst we are more
reserved, docile even, apathetic at worst, ingenious at best."

"You're all very charming," Francesca commented, looking at

me for the first time in ages.

"Charm can be wonderful, charm can be ghastly," I said.

 195

"I don’t quite understand what you mean by that," said Mrs.
Willit.

She did not receive an answer, thankfully perhaps, as dinner

was announced, and we all socially trooped into dinner.

At table, the conversation twittered.

The food came and was eaten.

The wine was poured and drunk.

We returned to the drawing room.

There, we took seats and waited. There was no suggestion

from Francesca that she might play the piano for us. She had sat
herself beside Leon, away from me. Mr. Willit sat in a large
 196

armchair opposite me. He looked around, a little lost, as if he were

looking for a subject of conversation to snatch from the air.
Nothing came so I excused myself for the night.

I entered the Oak Room, and wished I was back in my

bedroom at Amber Cottage, and that Eck was talking to me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Part 4

"RECLUSE"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 197

RECLUSE 5
 198

The wish arrived. The wish fulfilled itself. I was there, looking
out over my cottage garden, and Eck was in manifestation, in the
bedroom, laughing and talking with me.

"You had to talk to them about the Brits and the Yanks?" he
asked, almost choking in hysterics.

"It isn't that funny, Eck," I commented, laughing a little

myself.

"They are very…?" he searched for a word, nut couldn't find

one.

Neither could I.

"I wish I wasn't there. I wish I hadn't gone. Francesca

ignored me all evening. I felt rather foolish. But worse, I'm
unhappy."

"Never mind, take the next plane out of there," Eck said.
 199

"I think maybe I had better. How wonderful it is to see my

old cottage and garden, and to be near Little Eddie. I wish to be
back as soon as possible."

At my room in Redtop, my reverie was disturbed by a

tapping at the oak door.

In mind, I quickly returned from Amber Cottage to Redtop

and answered the knock:

"Who is there?"

"Francesca."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"To talk to you."

"You've had all evening."

"I'm sorry."
 200

"So am I."

"Samuel, let me in."

"Go away."

"I don’t want to, and I won't."

I crossed to the door and unlocked it to admit her. I returned

to my oak seat by the window, and stared out into the black night.

She closed the door behind her, and came and sat beside me.

For a while, she remained quiet.

"I'm sorry I came," I said, softly. "It was not a good idea. I'll
leave, as soon as I can."

"Is it because of my family?"

"No."
 201

"Me, then?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's how I feel. I go by feelings, and they tell me to return to

London."

She stopped asking me questions, and she looked dejected. I

got up from the seat and walked around the room a little. It all felt
foolish. I sat on the bed. I felt ridiculous. I sat in another chair,
but I still felt odd and stupid.

Francesca remained seated at the window.

"I was distant with you tonight, because I thought, after this
afternoon, that you were a loser," she said, slowly and very
distinctly, but softly.
 202

She had obviously been working out the sentence in her head
for a very long time, and only uttered it after many mental
rehearsals.

I was confused by it, of course.

What did she mean?

A loser?

What was she on about?

I had to think for a while, myself.

I didn’t say anything for so long that she spoke again.

"I realized tonight from some of the things you said that I
was wrong. There is more to you than I had suspected."

"Those were just a few silly opinions. I'm not really into
opinions. You needn't take too much notice of them. I change
them everyday."
 203

I became silent, as I did not wish to disturb Francesca's train

of thought with an outburst from myself.

She remained seated. She looked through the window. She

was silent for quite a while.

"Yes, I know," she said, eventually. I wasn't quite sure what

she was referring to, but I didn't interrupt. "I see that I was wrong
to judge you as a winner or a loser. It doesn't really matter. What
matters is that I feel something special for you, and I don’t really
need to try to understand it."

She turned to me and there were tears in her eyes.

"Francesca, come on, don't cry," I urged, as I moved towards

her, and took her hand.

"I feel so cross with myself for having been so … so vulgar,"

she sobbed.

"Ah, don’t take it too seriously. I'm really quite a misery

myself, a dreadful loser, a useless nothing, but that doesn't matter.
 204

Life can't be tied down to purposes and longevities.

Achievements, achievements … what's the use of them, if you're
not happy. Have a laugh, instead," I urged.

I didn’t know how good my attempts at cheering her up

would be, but, considering her state, I thought I had better throw
out a few comic lifelines, well worn and much used ones at that.

"I'll go now," she softly said, and left the Oak Room.

I drifted into sleep in my huge oak bed.

My dreams came. They rose up to me. They offered

themselves to me. I had to absorb them. I tried to move away, run
away from them, but still they pursued me.

… and soon, I was drifting towards the misted castle.

There, I found Jet, my panther, in combat with another

panther that was green and called therefore Jade. The two cats
fought and fought. They roared ferociously. They rolled in the
 205

misty halls of the castle. I found myself encouraging Jet. I carried

a sword and a spear. I was in battle dress. I almost terrified
myself. Jet fought hard, and Jade proved to be strong. As I called
to Jet, I looked across to see the Face from earlier dreams. The
Face was calling on Jade to win. Face yelled across at me and
goaded me. I could take no more. I ran around the panthers and
challenged Face myself. He breathed at me, and I almost froze in
his icy breath, but I lunged at his body, and we fought.

After we had wrestled each other, and run after each other
through the misty corridors, I found myself returning again and
again to Jet fighting with Jade, and to my own fighting with Face.

I drift away to another level of mind, and I spot the scarecrow

in his field of cocooned ladies.

The scarecrow beckons me and I rush to him. He smiles and

dances through his field. He touches each of the cocoons, and as
he does, each cocoon evaporates, and a woman inside steps out
into the field. The women dance, and circle the scarecrow, and
then they move away, leaving him alone, so I can approach him.
As I reach him, he reveals he is Eck. His old rags fall away. Eck
 206

smiles and laughs, and urges me to have strength to confront the

Face, and to win Face's treasure.

Suddenly Jet gallops onto the scene, and I leap on his back,
and we ride after Face.

Face is lurking in a hall, at the very rear of the misty castle.

He protects a treasure chest, accompanied by Jade.

Jet and I charge. I jump from Jet and fight the villain. Jet
causes Jade to flee the scene. I scare the Face away, just as I
recognize him.

Approaching the chest, I strike at the padlocks. They burst

off easily. Jet strolls beside me, and purrs as I open the lid to
discover the treasure…Francesca, inside.

I awaken.

After the vigor of the dream, the Oak Room appears like a
silent and distant planet, at the outer edges of the universe. The
light came through the window with an early morning gray luster.
 207

It slanted upon the curtains and across the chair to the wall en face
to the window. The wardrobe was made to look as if etched into
the room. Everything seemed to be part of my mind, and I was
lying there, simply staring at it all without understanding. I
realized that I had spent my entire life staring and listening without
understanding.

Happiness could only come to me by taking Francesca with

me everywhere. Like a real man, I will protect her. We will have
children. We will have a home. We will be private. We will be
secret. We will be reclusive there.

My eyes are streaming tears.

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 208

At breakfast, I am very relaxed, and in excellent good humor, as I

believe old fashioned people call it. There was something about
Redtop that reminded me of the old fashioned.

Leon appeared, and smiled at me as he went to the buffet to

take some food.

Mrs. Willit was very lively. She was at table, talking and
joking, and proposing all sorts of games and adventures, and
pastimes for us all to do "this lovely, glorious Sunday."

In the event, we spent the afternoon in the garden. Francesca

and Leon were by the swimming pool. Occasionally, they would
dive into the water and swim a few lengths. Mr. Willit and I tried
to play a little golf at the back of the garden. He had a couple of
putting greens there, which we had to approach from various
positions to make up a kind of match. It was quite entertaining,
especially as Mr. Willit was no better a golfer than I was. Mrs.
Willit sipped long, iced drinks under a cedar tree, and seemed to be
in a very contented state. There was a table by her side, with other
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chairs around it, and, from time to time, she would be joined by
Francesca, myself, Leon and Mr. Willit.

Leon invited me for a stroll in the wooded arear behind the

garden. I accepted.

We had to leave the garden, and walk over a small, fragile

wooden bridge to enter the woods. Beneath the bridge, there
flowed a small stream. The banks of the stream were thickly
covered by matted bushes and shrubbery, that trailed down into the
swirling water. Since the day was very hot and humid, the
greenery lapping the water caused the water to be steaming.

Leon led the way, commenting on how he liked the woods,

and warning me to take some care where I tread. He asked me if I
liked the woods, and said that if not, we would turn back. I
assured him that I was quite content.

After we had walked some way, we came to a clearing.

There was a large boulder to one side of the clearing, and, as I
looked upwards, I saw the trees make a ring in the sky. The tops
of the trees gave the impression of giants, gazing down on us two
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men. When I lowered my head, Leon had taken off his jacket and
was rolling up his shirtsleeves. He took up a fighting position,
holding up his fists.

"Come on then, I'll fight you for Francesca," he said.

I wanted to laugh. He looked like a schoolboy.

"You're ridiculous, Leon," I said.

"I am, am I?" he said.

Then he hit me on the nose, and I fell over.

I wasn't hurt by the blow. I was surprised, though. I started

to laugh at him.

"You are ridiculous," I said.

"Stand up, or I'll give you another one down there," he

growled.
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Such pugnacity.

"Let's talk about this," I suggested.

He thought for a moment. I could tell he was thinking,

because his face took on a slow, sluggish, puzzled look, with the
lines in his forehead, furrowing deeply.

"All right," he droned, "I'll give you a talking chance, but not
for long."

He lowered his fists and sat on the boulder.

"Do you love Francesca?" I asked him.

"Course I do," he replied scornfully.

"Why?" I asked.

"Look, I should be asking the questions," he said. "I don’t

have to explain things to you."
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"I think, if you do love her, it's only for yourself. You may
well love her, but that does not mean to say you care for her, nor
even know her. You don’t know what she may need."

"Now don’t you start running away with all sorts of ideas like
that. I love her, and she loves me, and we're going to get married."

"But, Leon, your marriage would be for business," I declared.

"What if it is? Nothing wrong in business, boy."

"Not if it's a caring business. Otherwise, it's a boring

business. I suggest you find someone who is more like you,
Leon."

"You do, do you? I don’t want to talk about this. Let's fight
for her. The loser walks away from her for good, right? Come
on."

I was still reluctant to fight him.

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"What's brought all this on? Why not ask Francesca what she
wants?" I asked.

"I know what she wants."

"You know that, do you?"

"Yes, and I'm going to paste you."

With that taunt, I was truly in danger, because he came at me,

with his fists flying, and I fell to the ground again. This time, my
lip was bleeding. His onslaught continued with his diving on top
of me, and wrestling with me.

"I'll get you to submit!" he yelled.

We became locked in our rolling around the ground struggle.

I'm sure the tree giants were quite entertained by it all. Leon and I
were so engrossed in our battle that we did not hear Francesca
arrive. She rushed into the clearing, crying to us to stop.
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We did eventually realize she was there, and we did stop,

accordingly.

"What fools you are!" she shouted. "There's nothing to be

gained from this childish behavior. Come back to the house with
me, the pair of you, at once."

We were both so exhausted, Leon and I, that we were

secretly glad of Francesca's intervention and firm manner of
command. We struggled to our feet and brushed ourselves down
as we walked back through the woods, with Francesca continuing
to scold us, and ensuring that we were not hurt. It was quite
surprising that, apart from my slightly cut lip, and a bruise on
Leon's forehead, no other damage had been done. Our clothes
were a bit of a mess.

I remember that, as we walked back, and the walk seemed to

take ages, the three of us felt strangely united. The chlorophyll of
the leaves, the azure expanse of the high sky, the dusty crumblings
of the tree bark and earth, all seemed to bewitch us. We could
smell the heavily scented flowers around us. Nature seemed to be
intoxicating us; the three of us, playing out the timeworn conflict
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of men and women. And as we walked, I felt we each knew

ourselves all the better for the fight. I knew I would marry
Francesca and she knew it too. Leon also knew now. We did not
express our knowledge aloud to each other. There did not seem to
be any need for that. Everything was obvious. We knew the
situation, clearly. Not doubt, at some point, Francesca would have
to announce her intentions publicly, even to Leon himself, but,
during our languid stroll back to the house, when we felt so at
peace with each other, the message of the contest, and its
conclusion, were quite apparent.

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The dream of the night before had had its echo in reality. Face
had, of course, been Leon, and the misted castle had become the
wood.

Now, Francesca and I were on course.

That evening, Leon made it clear that he accepted the

situation. He said so, directly to Francesca, in private. To
everyone else, his eyes spoke for him. He stayed on for the night.
We dined, and passed a quiet evening together. Francesca did not
inform her parents of the set-up. She left her mother and father to
play their intuition games, which they did with considerable
accuracy, I should think.

The next day, after Leon had left early for his home and then
office, Francesca and I spent most of our time in the gardens,
trying to arrange what to do.

I again mentioned the idea of touring across America with

her, but she was not sure that this was a good time for that. So, I
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suggested a flying trip, as Leon had told me I could hire a plane,

but, again, such an adventure seemed too headstrong for her.

We decided we would marry immediately. We considered

whether or not to invite my parents. We talked about children, and
how we were both very keen to have them.

We went off in search of her parents, and, together, we told

them of our wish to marry. Mathelius hd stayed at home that day,
which was unusual for him since the day was a Monday.

Whether or not Mathelius preferred me to Leon, I could

never say.

I did not care.

Mr. Willit was very funny about one other thing. He kept
cornering me, and saying:

"Go into business, Samuel. Find a business."

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Francesca and I arranged the marriage, and it was done

within a fortnight, at Redtop.

Leon sent flowers and a well wishing card.

My parents did not make the trip.

Francesca and I did go to visit them, however, as soon as we

returned to England, which we did only a few days after the
wedding. Mum and Dad were thrilled.

It seemed a long time before Francesca and I settled into

Amber Cottage, and spent our first few days there together, as
husband and wife. It was, in fact, only three or four days after the
wedding, but all the traveling and visiting had made the time seem
long.

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Sleeping in my room, as we did, I wondered about the presence of

Eck, since this was the room where I had first heard him speak. He
gave no sign, no intimation of his presence.

We had been at the cottage about a week, when one morning

there was a tapping at the back door. We opened the door together
to see Little Eddie, standing there with Aunt Betty. We greeted
them, and welcomed them in right away. They had brought a
small basket of flowers.

"It's a little house present for you both to welcome you to the
village. Francesca, we hope you'll be very happy," Aunt Betty
gushed.

Francesca was delighted.

"They're lovely, Aunt Betty, thank you so much. I'll put

them in the window."

Aunt Betty and Francesca went into the living room. I was
still in the kitchen with Eddie.
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"How's things, Eddie?" I asked him.

"Fine," he said.

"Do you want a drink of orange?" I asked.

"Hm, please," he answered.

As I fixed his orange drink, I asked him if he had brought a

ball so we could play in the garden. He quickly pulled out two
small bats he had tucked down the back of his trousers.

"I've got these," he said, his face smiling cheekily.

I gave him his orange.

From out of one of his pockets, he pulled a ball.

"Let's go into the garden and play then," I suggested.

We spent ages out there.

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It had been kind of Aunt Betty to come round that day.

Francesca and I were pleased, as it helped us to feel a part of
village life. We were fond of Eddie and we often wondered about
the prospect of having a boy of our own, like him.

It was a few evenings later that I was surprised by Eck. He

appeared to me, in my room, whilst I was alone, of course.

He sat in the armchair in the corner.

"I have come to show myself to you," he said quietly.

I said nothing.

"I wanted to come to you many times. I know your heart. I

have come to say goodbye."

"Eck, I shall miss you."

He vanished.

I felt tears.
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My heart thumped.

My eyes smarted.

He had gone. I was alone, again, always alone.

I recalled my dreams, the scarecrow, the cocooned ladies, the

Face in the misted castle, Jet and the treasure chest.

I stood alone, thinking of Eck's departure.

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Francesca and I spent the next few weeks at Amber Cottage in that
state known as early wedded bliss. I quickly overcame my upset
as regards Eck, and concluded that the relationship was over and
done with. It was part of my past and I now had to move forward.

With that in mind, I announced to Francesca that I wanted to

take a trip down to London and stay at Royal Heights, for a little
while. I suggested she could come if she wished, but she said she
was quite happy to stay in Peaceton, for the time being.

"Perhaps I'll join you later," she said.

At Royal Heights, I got back into riding my motorbike

around town, and I relaxed with a few shows, movies and nights
out on the town. One such night, I was in a local pub having a
drink, when an old friend came over from the bar to greet me. He
was Buzz Dayton. He and I had known each other in the old days.
We had played in several groups together, and we had known some
fun and some dramas. After we had spoken for a while, he
mentioned that he had a business venture in mind. I asked him
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what it was about, and he explained that he had always been

interested in computers. I expressed that I didn’t know very much
about such things. But I became interested when he said that he
had been developing, in his workshop, a new form of computer
graphics. I asked him how advanced he had got with it on a
commercial level. He said that he had got the prototypes
developed, and experts had shown great interest, but, at the
moment, he was stuck for capital. He needed to set up more
workshops, employing technicians to make the simple compact
equipment for marketing. I told him I was interested, and I asked
him to come round to Royal Heights, the next day, with more
specific information for me to look at.

The next day, he arrived. He was a little older than I, being

about 40. He showed me his drawings and some equipment.

"Tell me more about what cash you need, and how you
would use it," I urged.

He then produced documents and plans and references of

professional people, who were already interested. He had done a
great deal of work, and I was eager to see his project fulfilled. We
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spent the afternoon in a delirium of speculation, fantasizing,

planning, prospecting a marvelous career for our company.

The following weeks saw us set up a company, and I

suggested he come up to Peaceton with me, to see if a new
industrial estate in the neighboring small town of Greensand might
be of use to us. The estate had individual workshops for small
businesses, and I felt that it could be a convenient and practical
starting point. He agreed.

Shortly, we were riding across country on my motorbike,

heading for a new and prosperous future. I was delighted that I
had such an interesting venture. I often recalled Mathelius Willit's
advice about setting up in business, and here I was, heading back
to Francesca, with such a venture under way, with an old and
trusted friend.

Buzz took to Francesca right away, and she to him. Over the
next few days, we told her of our scheme, and she was most
impressed with what she called our "sense of enterprise".
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The industrial estate proved to be ideal, and quite quickly,

Buzz had fixed up one of the lager lets, and we were heading the
way of finding employees, and outlets into the market. Buzz's
professional experts proved very helpful in the latter direction.
They more or less said that should we produce the goods, then
there would be no difficulty in making our venture profitable. We
even advertised for local labor, about half a dozen to begin with, to
help with construction and running of the business. One of the
first things we had done was visit a local accountant called Martin
Stage. He was a gentle old man who ran an excellent firm, dealing
with other small businesses in the area. He was particularly
fascinated by our work.

After a couple of months, the whole thing was set up, and
had even entered that initial phase of running in quite smoothly.

"I'm worried," Buzz used to say. "Everything's going too

well. Something's going to drop through the floor soon."

I reassured him that that would not be the case.

He was pleased I had such confidence.

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At first, he stayed at Amber Cottage, but he did not want to

get under our feet, as it were, and so, he soon bought himself a
small house in Greensand, from where he could manage the
company adequately.

The crowning joy of life came in the form of Francesca

coming home from a visit to Greensand one afternoon. She was
smiling. It seems a bit of an understatement now, as I look back on
it.

"Where've you been?" I idly asked.

"Oh, just into Greensand," she replied.

"Do anything interesting?" I asked.

"I bought us a few things for the weekend," she declared.

"Oh, what things?"

"Just shopping, you know. Some food and drink."

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"Drink?"

"Hm, champagne, as a matter of fact."

She kept this up, with a smile.

"Champagne? Whatever for?"

She played cat and mouse a little longer.

"Well, I also went to the doctor."

I kept silent and looked at her.

Her black hair was curling in the sunlight.

"It's the second time I've been to see him," she asked.

"Francesca, you're not ill, are you?" I asked, suddenly feeling

a little concerned.

What was she up to?

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"No, not ill, exactly."

She couldn’t stand her own suspense.

"Oh, Samuel, I'm pregnant."

I dropped whatever it was I was holding, a book or

something, and jumped to my feet. I embraced her and she hugged
me. We did this in a mildly hysterical way.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"The doctor couldn’t be mistaken?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You're sure sure?"

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My pleas for reassurance persisted all afternoon, evening and

over the next few days. In fact, I don’t think I was ever really sure
until the delivery, 7 or 8 months later, in the summer of the
following year at Florran Hospital, Florran being the nearest town
large enough to have an adequate hospital for first-born babies. I
don’t think I was sure during the months whilst Francesca was
obviously "big", big with something, but what?

Our news brought the expected excitement from both our

families. Francesca's mother flew from New York, half-way
through the pregnancy, to stay at Amber Cottage for a couple of
weeks. She flew back to New York, vowing to return once the
baby was born.

It wasn’t too severe a threat as she was very well-behaved

with us.

My parents came down immediately for a couple of days to

wish Francesca well, and offer some advice.

I was glad of the business venture with Buzz, as Mathelius

had prophesied.
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Little Eddie was fascinated by Francesca's change in size,

and we had to explain some of the facts of life to him to account
for her changed condition. Once he had grasped what was
happening, he expressed considerable enthusiasm. He anticipated
some kind of playmate-brother from his uncle-daddy. We were all
pleased by this.

The winter passed in that gentle, almost soporific,

anticipation of the summer's event. Everything seemed to move
along under the influence of nature; at nature's own tempo. Our
task was simple: not to do too much.

Francesca and I talked about this a great deal. We expressed

caution at over-anticipation. We were careful not to expect too
much. I'm sure we displayed all the attitudes of most "pregnant"
parents. Contingency plans as regards a nursery and so forth were
kept to a minimum.

It was, to say the least, a dreamy, idle phase. Odd to think

how the most desired, cared for, event in life, the most dramatic
event, should take place with the least turmoil. Everything had to
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be kept under control. Everything had to be calmly sustained.

Stress had to be suppressed. Nothing must upset us.

At Peaceton, I think we had ideal conditions. There, we

could rest and enjoy the countryside at a placid tempo. We could
relate what was happening to us to all the examples of nature
around us, in the forms of the flowers, the birds, the ducks, even
the frogs and the field mice.

In that rosy quiet, there was nothing disturbing. A milk

bottle clinking on the doorstep would become as an earthquake.
The rustle of birds in the trees would be hurricaneous. No drama,
no turmoil, no agonized scream in the wild silence of our distant
dream. No wrenching of the heart. No bursting of the dam.
Nothing at all. But the soft rumbling of our baby inside
Francesca's womb. Sometimes, as she bathed, we could see the
little mite kicking against the wall of her stretched stomach. At
night, as we lay in bed, the three of us, I could place my ear to
Francesca's stomach and hear our child struggling to grow, to live,
to be born victoriously. No, no panic, no shaking of the
foundations, none at all…until…until, that is…of course…the
afternoon when it was time for the three of us to pass through birth.
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I imagine now that it was the gradual, peaceful lead up to the

birth that had psyched up Francesca and I to cope with this
explosive event. I reckon it is so for us all.

In our case, the drive to the hospital, at the eleventh hour,

was not too alarming. Francesca bore the strain very well. She
tried not to make too much noise. She probably didn’t want to be a
nuisance, disturbing the ambulance men with peculiar groaning
sounds.

In the delivery room, bearing the birth without anaesthetic,

she did climax our period of undisturbed 9 month long tranquillity
with some cries to match the explosive nature of birth. A nurse
and myself delivered the child. The stress of the moment, and the
event itself, brought out the best in self control in me. I was
amazed. My eyes were burning with intensity, as they strained to
take in clearly, and remember forever more, what they were
seeing. Francesca sat upright and pushed. The nurse and I coaxed
and tugged at the little form. My mind was blown. This event was
changing me. It was changing Francesca. The nurse had been
changed long before. I occasionally caught sight of my darling
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struggling to do her best for me, for herself, and, of course, for her
child. Her face was filled with pain, but a pain so joyous I'm
surprised I didn’t break down and weep. Too psyched up, you see.
Now, when I reminisce about the birth, I rarely fail to shed a
couple of bucketfuls of the salty liquid. But not then. Not at that
time, no. There just wasn’t time for it.

the delivery took quite a long time. A good hour or so, the
baby lingered, half out in the world, half staying behind within
Francesca. The baby seemed reluctant to leave its cocoon. The
baby also seemed exhilarated by the world it was now entering.

The baby emerged as a boy.

His exhilaration was expressed in loud cries.

Francesca's cries had dispersed long ago, as she had gained

control of the physical pain. She was no doubt aided by the
realization that in a moment she would be holding her child for the
first time.

We had little concern for his physical condition to start with.

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He was ours and we accepted him, however he was.

Like all fortunate parents, we were delighted and relieved to

find he was healthy and sound in all his limbs.

We had reached our fulfillment in that hour of drama,

turmoil, torture, thrill, passion, explosive and threatening, wild and
delirious, ready to sink back into the comforting cradle of our
home. It had nearly been too much. Now we were glad to accept.
Now we could appreciate. Now we wanted to live and develop.

Not for a week were we allowed to take our boy home. We

had decided to call him Peter.

And as Peter Ashton, he was received with pleasure by our

families and friends. The Willits came within a fortnight. My
parents came, and brought old toys I had had as a child. Little
Eddie cuddled and kissed him, and told him to grow up fast so they
could play together. Aunt Betty brought presents. Even Martin
Stage dropped in to see Peter's early weeks of life. And Buzz took
time off working to check the three of us out, to see we were
getting along all right.
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So much happiness.

So much contentment.

And why to us?

I never realized why. I never will.

With Francesca and Peter, I was to grow a changed person,

and a happy one.

In my life of realities, and dreams, myths and fantasies, I

have one fond dream I would like to share with you by way of
closing my story: my story of loneliness and struggle with myself,
of love with Francesca, of conflict with Leon and of birth through
my son, Peter.

In this dream, I sit by the fire with Francesca.

We are in Amber Cottage, waiting for the moment when we

will go upstairs to bed.
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Our son has grown up and left home to make his own way in
the world.

Francesca and I sit quietly, until she announces:

"I'm off to bed now dear, don’t stay up too long.".

"I wont," I say.

I kiss her cheek as she leans over me to receive the kiss.

Then she climbs the stairs, and I wait, whilst I imagine her
getting into bed and laying her head down on the pillow, ready to
drift off to sleep.

Remember, this is a dream.

I watch the fire die, seeing those mythical beasts, burning

once more in its embers, as the wood was around in those times of
the beasts.
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Their forms gone, I rise, and as I move, my world yields to

me. It seems to step aside, whilst I walk through it to the door that
leads to the stairs. I caress the walls as I climb the stairs. I stand at
the bedroom door, catch my breath, because I am old now, and
watch Francesca's face in the moonlight.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, she softly speaks to me:

"How are you tonight, old man, old love, old friend?".

And because she has lived with me for so long, I tell her. I
tell her what matters.

This is what matters: "I am well, and I love you.".

closing statements:

"Yes, you Francesca, I will make great. Sob no more. Your

dreams and wishes I'll fulfill. You'll see. My dearest, all is
possible through us. Freedom approaches us as it does our
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children. They, whether they be sick or healthy, pretty or ugly,

dull or bright, shall have the fateful power of our freedom. And
you our Francesca shall know such joy. I am always there now," I
declared to my smiling companion.

The night moved on, our faces turned away from each other,
our eyes had watched our mouths that had spoken what our ears
had heard. She and I, we were alone again in sleep, adrift as
recluses oblivious and one.

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THE END RECLUSE

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Recluse is the fictional-fantasy work of the author

M. C. Ward

c Copyright 1985/2008 by Michael C. Ward

Any similarity to persons or places is entirely coincidental and

unintentional
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