The storm had blown over the Island during the night heralding a dawn that sent white clouds spiralling up against an azure blue sky,

 like gypsy dancers in a  fairground

 

‘Housewife’s Choice’ drifted through from the kitchen

on the breath of hot toast and breakfast.

I could hear Shirley’s voice in time with the wireless.

 

Da Dada da Dada da da…daa dah

Dah

 

Sitting up I looked about me,

how different it all seemed now in the soft morning light.

Suns and moons even the myriad of stars had lost their heavenly lustre.

The golden beasts of the zodiac had faded to pale ochre whilst I had slept, their arcane savagery lost in swathes of pleated curtains.

 Daylight had entered like a confession, absolving the indefinable; it’s brightness clearing paths to realism and the ordinary.

Cool disregard dulling exotic mystery, stark honesty stilling, turning back to wood the angry griffins,

their magic stolen by the light.

 

 

‘Good morning Paul, did you sleep well?’

‘Great thanks…Thank you.’

‘Breakfast is served,’ sang Shirley as she set about plumping the pillow and bolster kneading me into an upright position.

‘Now come on, get your gums around this flaming lot

 and you‘ll feel as

right as rain in no time’.

I shrugged a smile at her.

The sun danced through the window behind Shirley’s smile.

 

I wanted my breakfast in Shirley’s bed to last forever.

 

 

After breakfast I stood at the small bedroom window that overlooked the wild garden. Plopping droplets of captured rainwater splashed into the green tangle of rhododendron and bobbing blue mops of hydrangea that grew in profusion beneath sycamore and elm.

Late summer climbed lazily through billowing white clouds, painting the wild shoreline in rare soft colours warming the morning in thin shafts of sunlight.

 

We spent the early afternoon walking the shoreline; Shirley held my hand in hers, as she listened intently to my shy clumsy words. fears and emotion spilling from me in a torrent of tears and fervour every utterance carried out upon a stealing wind  scattering like ashes far out to sea. We kicked through the stony shingle close to the cold incoming waves. The wind began to chill as it cut low across the Solent, squalling as it flicked long plumes of spray from the crests of the foaming white horses as roll upon relentless roll they pounded into the beach and rocks. We searched amongst the rock pool’s waving weed, ostensibly for edible crabs but we would have been as well searching for Spanish Doubloons.

 

Shirley placed her arm around me squeezing me reassuringly as we pulled back up the beach towards her bungalow.

Panting and breathless, we exchanged glances.

‘Everything’s going to be fine from now on Sweetie,’

Just dandy’

she whispered, before pulling me tight to her.