Turtle Diary

53 William G

Autumn kept going with fewer and fewer brown and yellow leaves until a big rain came just as it always does. Wham! Bare trees, winter, black mornings, people walking fast.

This morning near the bus stop by a tree a dead cat said hello to me. There he was, he too had gone into winter with a wham. He looked as if he’d been flying high until he was brought down. I’ve never seen such a lively-looking dead cat.

The morning had nothing special to recommend it, the shop was full of people wanting biros and greeting cards, neither of which we sell. But I felt good.

At lunch-time I bought a bottle of Moët et Chandon and went up to the Zoo. In the tube I thought about Miss Neap and Mr Sandor and Mrs Inchcliff. With no funeral to go to we’d found ourselves drawn together somehow and remembering her but not altogether mournfully. In fact we all got drunk and Sandor sang gypsy songs. Rather well too. Odd but not really. If Flora Angelica Neap was going to be an undeparted presence she’d have to share the good times as well as the bad. And I could imagine good times, why I don’t know. Nothing was different or better and I didn’t think I was either but I didn’t mind being alive at the moment. After all who knew what might happen?

Camden Town is the windiest tube station I know. Coming up on the escalator with my hair flying I felt as if I was coming out of a dark place and into the light, then I laughed because that’s what I was actually doing.

At the Aquarium I said hello to the two turtles, then opened various PRIVATE doors until I found George Fairbairn. Neaera was with him and they were eating sandwiches by the salt-water tanks. I gave George the champagne.

‘I was just passing by,’ I said, ‘and I thought I’d drop this off.’

‘Lovely,’ said George. ‘Cheers! What’s the occasion?’

‘Just that I was passing by,’ I said.

They wanted me to stay and drink it with them but I couldn’t stop. I took a taxi back to the shop, it was that kind of day.