Shattered Image

“… and that you did with said intent procure

the aforesaid Sidney Alexander Green

being at the time a minor.…” Aleco—

He always was just “Aleco” to me,

The shy turn of the head, the troubled eyes,

The freckled stubbiness, the curve of thigh,

Nape of the neck—my trusting Aleco.

Amateur typing by a constable

Filled in the gaps along official buff.

An after-door-chime silence. Strawberry pink

This leadless glaze and yet I can’t be sick,

And strawberry pink the basin and the bath.

In bathrooms people often kill themselves.

And this new flat is such a good address—

One-seven Alvarez Cloister, Double-you-one,

(No need to put in Upper Berkeley Street):

Under-floor heating, pale green wall-to-wall,

Victoriana in the sitting-room.

Mother insisted on the powder-blue.

When Charlie got the maximum two years

He said the lack of privacy was the worst—

Having two others with you, boring talk,

Racing and football, and the dreadful stench

From that filled bucket all the bloody night.

Of course they found out why he was inside—

And that’s a thing they never will forgive,

Touching the little children, better pooves

Or murderers, they said. I didn’t touch—

Well not in the way that Charlie used to do—

“… and that you did with said intent procure.…”

How many Tuinal have I got left?

Will twenty do it? But I mustn’t try,

Especially now that I’m a Catholic.

“It is the thoughts, my son, that lead to acts

Which cry to heaven for vengeance.

Ye’ll try to put those wicked thoughts away,

Ye’re truly sorry for them, aren’t ye now?

God in His mercy sent ye here to me.

But British justice—Oi can’t help ye there.

Let me have word of where they’re sending you.

Oi’ll tell the Catholic chaplain. Holy Church

Never deserts her sons. Your penance now.…”

O Holy Mary! What will Mother say?

She takes the Standard and the Daily Mail.

Now let me see, let me have time to think.

What have I done that they could get me for?

Who could have talked? And when, and where … and what?

Look at it calmly. What can they really prove?

What is the worst that Aleco could have said?

And will they take his word against my own?

I’m only charged—the case unproven still;

I’m innocent until they’ve proved the charge.

They must have set a trap for him, the brutes.

Who could have set it? Not his brother Jim.

He came to Minehead with us in July.

The mother? No. She couldn’t have. She’s a pet.

As for the father—well, he doesn’t count.

Never trust women, though. I’ll ring up George.

“What rotten luck, what really rotten luck!

And if I could, you know I’d help you, Rex.

But frankly this is not a case for me.

I’m in another purlieu of the law,

Conveyancing. It’s rather as if you asked

An obstetrician to do a dentist’s job—

Not that we don’t respect each other’s skills.

I’ll give you my advice for what it’s worth

And that’s, get hold of a solicitor.

Maybe your family man is not the one

To whom you’d really want to spill the beans.

Well, try another. Who did Charlie use?

It doesn’t matter whether he got off

Or whether he didn’t, Rex. The law’s the law.

A lot depends upon the Magistrates.

They may dismiss the case. On the other hand

They may commit you, or you may be fined.

All sorts of things can happen … (That’s the child—

Olivia’s left me here to baby-sit.

It makes me hanker after bachelor days.)

So I must go.… Good luck—and keep in touch.”

“Good God, not that, but this is serious.

Who says you’ve done it? Have they any proof?

Now look here, Rex, I’ve known you long enough,

Since we were kids in fact, and I will swear

You never could have done a thing like that,

Who’s had the cheek—no, damned malicious spite—

To make this filthy charge? By God, old Rex,

Eileen and I have always looked to you

As someone, somehow, who was different.

I mean, you never fooled about with tarts.

I said to Eileen just the other night

‘Some people don’t need what we need, old girl.

Perhaps,’ I said, ‘if I’d not played around

I might have made the running—look at Rex,

Started from scratch, now top executive;

And look at me, still trailing on behind!

Of course it takes all sorts to make a world

And God knows what we do when we get pissed

But honestly I’ve never been so pissed

I couldn’t tell a woman from a man.’

Look here old man, you’ve been so good to me—

Remember how we went to Ambleside

And slept the night on Dollywagon Pike?

I wouldn’t have dared to do it on my own.

Remember camp at Camber, and your friend—

That funny chap so keen on railway trains?

And then the Major, I forget his name,

Who asked us to his house in Italy?

But look here Rex, d’you really mean to say

You did it stone-cold sober? Are you sure?

What was his age? Good God, man, let me think.…

We all have somewhere where we draw the line

And frankly I must draw the line at that.

I’ll tell you one thing, Rex, I give my word

Eileen shall never hear of this from me.

I’d like a day or two to think it out.

Just now I simply feel inclined to puke.

I’m sorry I must go. No, let me pay.”

“D’you like a slice of lemon with it? Good.

Look here, I’m awfully sorry about this.

Douglas has told me, and I thought it best

To have a private word with you myself.

You see, it’s very awkward. Usually

I never interfere with private life.

Live and let live, and, well, your life’s your own.

I’d never take a prudish line myself,

Although that sort of thing is not my taste—

But you’re intelligent and civilized.

Now had you been the porter or a clerk

It wouldn’t have mattered much. But then, you see

Our business is—well simply what it’s called,

Public Relations. And our image counts

Not with our clients only, but beyond

In the hard world where men are selling things.

And with the sort of bloke we’re dealing with,

Frankly, we can’t afford the sort of slur

A case like yours brings with it.

I much appreciate your work for us,

Your contacts and the valuable accounts

That may have stayed with us because of you.

I know you’ll understand me when I say

This isn’t personal. I have to think

Of all your colleagues and our clients too.

We’ve got some tough competitors. I’ll leave

The ball in your court now, and I suggest

Instead of letting me ask you to resign

You send a note to me, in which you say

That resignation is your own idea

And unconnected with your work for us—

Something quite neutral which will not reflect

Any discredit upon either side.

Good luck, goodbye. And would you, on your way

Please tell Miss Wood to bring me in my mail.”