Marie
Marie.
Easter 1968
It was up there on that god-forsaken stretch of road that runs between Uniondale and Knysna.
A girl was killed in a motoring accident. She was asleep in the back seat when her fiancé rolled the volksie they were travelling in.
Her name was Marie.
They say she still roams that old road; hitching a ride. She’s trying to reach her mother with the exciting news of her engagement.
Sadly, she had another engagement waiting.
Marie’s accident is factual; it happened.
Whether or not the ghost stories surrounding it are true, is a matter of what you want to believe.
Since no one can prove that ghosts exist, no one can prove they don’t either.
Many things cannot be proved by rational means yet we believe them.
The element of mystery in life is something which will always be with us; it’s part of what makes us human.
I believe we all at one stage or another make contact with that part of us we cannot see or understand.
It’s the other side of being human.
It really doesn’t matter what you call it.
I call mine Joey.
This wasn’t meant to be a ghost story.
But since Joey, in essence is no more that, then it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find another ghost has weaved itself into the tale.
The fact that it’s a female ghost is all the more intriguing!
In spite of the fact Joey and I travel parallel paths; there is a subtle variance in the way that mutual events are perceived and therefore interpreted.
Apart from this there is no difference between us.
Do ghosts communicate?
Is there a kind of bond between them as there is with humans?
The places and events here are all linked by peculiar circumstances. Is there a reason for this? Or is it just a case of what we conveniently call coincidence?
They say a ghost is a manifestation of a restless spirit; one that has failed to complete an important mission in life.
(Does that sound familiar?)
Marie was carrying an important message in her heart!
She was interrupted and could not deliver it. Did it break her heart?
Was the break powerful enough to prevent her natural transition to the perfection of eternity?
If so, it would indicate a sympathetic line of communication between form and non-form.
Perhaps this is the true meaning of love!
When Jesus said; “I am with you always;”
Did we really understand what he meant?
In the relating of these events I realize I may just be getting a little closer to understanding Joey; perhaps it is the real reason for writing;
Who knows?
If Joey (as I suspect) has a sense of humour, it is evidenced here; Ironic though it may be.
So whose story is this then; mine or Joey’s?
Hey! How the heck should I know?
Let’s just call it collaboration!
I have chosen to begin this tale at the end; trusting that as I go along I’ll find my way back to the beginning.
That’s how life is isn’t it?
Well that’s what Joey taught me!
These are my thoughts.
I’m going to suggest that Joey knew Marie.
I’m going to suggest that Marie had a message for him
I’m going to suggest their lives were linked in a way that is known only to them.
If this sounds crazy fine!
But many disturbingly uncomfortable thoughts pass through my mind when I look back on things.
And Joey always seems to have had a hand in the pie somewhere!
If at the conclusion this story still sounds crazy, then I will just have to accept responsibility for allowing my imagination to have taken advantage of what may be no more than pure conjecture; (and of course coincidence!)
If that doesn’t wash I’ll just blame it all on Joey!
Another reason for this tack is that Marie’s story is the difficult part for me.
Joey on the other hand is far better equipped to tell it.
Handing over the reins however is not as easy as it sounds.
It’s where the difference of perception and interpretation comes in.
I cannot read Joey’s mind, no matter how hard I try.
Whatever my perception of events may be, there will always be that imperceptible little ‘thing’ separating us.
We are linked; inextricably; yet there is something I cannot access.
Perhaps it will only be realized when my own form has returned once more to the dust it came from.
But let’s not go there now.
My basic problem is explaining what Joey was doing up there on that road that night,
Time is a funny thing; being able to move backward and forward simultaneously it creates the illusion that it has not moved at all.
Maybe it’s not an illusion.
Joey knew about these things. I have yet to learn.
One day when the time is right I will.
Mid-October 1972
After finishing work on Friday night, and leaving Plettenberg bay with his pay burning a hole in his back pocket, Joey had gone looking for some action; somewhere in the direction of Knysna.
Here’s the twist;
Plett, to Knysna is about thirty odd ks.
Uniondale is just over a hundred, and doesn’t even run along the same route. It cuts inland from the coast and is a hell of a long way of getting from Plett to Knysna!
Ok, Joey was pissed! Pleasantly pissed! Hey, it was Friday night, everything had shut down in Plett and the boy was hungry, if you know what I mean.
I need to go back a bit to get things into the right perspective.
Sept 1972
Joey had worked as a stevedore in the docks back in Cape Town. He’d run into some trouble with an alimony case and was down on his luck. At this point he’d met a girl who was also down on her luck, and for precisely the same reasons. The only difference being that it wasn’t her that was in trouble, it was her husband. Get the picture?
A bitter irony for sure!
Stick around.
Now Joey knew the husband; a work colleague, and at the time this guy was arrested, Joey was sharing a caravan park site with the couple and their two kids; (Although they were legally separated). Joey was living in his V-dub kombi; the family, in a tent.
Joey used to drink Port wine back then. Funny that should come to mind. It was a 1955 vintage, and I can still see the black label with the white printing on it. It’s as clear to me now as if I were holding it right here in my hand; I can taste it even!
Memory’s a funny thing isn’t it!
Anyway, never mind the port, I’m not sure if it has any significance on the story; probably not.
Here though are two things which were very significant, and occurred in rapid succession;
One: The money was running out.
Two: The money ran out.
Joey was now the only one with an income, half of which had to go towards his alimony. He wasn’t exactly in a position to support another family.
There was understandably much anxiety on behalf of the lady in question; (who we’ll call Maggie.) It was clear they’d all soon have nowhere to live.
She said she had family somewhere in the Eastern Cape; her parents.
She made a call and they told her to come over.
They would take care of her and the kids.
That was half of the problem sorted.
The other half was getting there.
Joey knew what had to be done; He would take them in the kombi.
Simple!
But, the parents lived in Port Elizabeth.
Port Elizabeth is six hundred kilometres away!
Not so simple!
The kombi might have trouble making the distance. It had its own share of woes not the least of which was a dodgy gearbox.
As far as the fuel cost was concerned, well, the alimony would have to take another back seat wouldn’t it? And pray his ex-wife never found out where it went!
She did of course.
But that comes later.
For now, Joey had a head start, and that’s all that mattered.
While we’re on the subject of heads, let me tell you something about Joey’s.
It never agreed with anything his heart wanted to do.
Constant battles raged between them, and the head always lost.
In ways, the heart was considered to be a good heart; (as of course hearts are meant to be!).
On the flip side, they also have the ability (albeit unintentional) of getting their owners into trouble.
Joey was no exception to the rule, and this particular little episode got him into a lot of trouble.
They say there’s a silver lining to every dark cloud.
Sometimes you have to look pretty hard for that silver lining, but I believe it’s there just the same.
Events beget events don’t they?
Without this one, a lot of other things might never have happened; logical!
Apart from anything else there’d be no story to tell!
And so it was, one moonless night, the little party snuck out the camp and hit the road, leaving God knows how much unpaid rent and dirty laundry behind them.
They drove through the night without incident.
Maggie eventually joined the kids in the back and went to sleep.
Joey stayed behind the wheel; a bottle of port keeping him company.
Morning found them negotiating a long steep incline somewhere in the vicinity of Keurbooms River.
This is a much sought after venue nowadays among the tourist fraternity. Back then however it was just another wild spot along the Garden Route, about midway between Cape Town and Port Elizabeth.
The coastal resort of Plettenberg Bay is just a few ks from here; One km exactly from where the kombi broke down, on that hill.
I did mention the dodgy gear box didn’t I?
Yup, well that’s what did it.
It was October. That’s when all the shit happens. That’s what Joey believed anyway. He had this thing about October, but never mind that now.
Maggie flagged down a passing car and got a lift into Plett to make a phone call.
Then she came back, and they all sat and waited.
Around noon, the parents arrived.
It was hot and humid; the kids were getting on everyone’s nerves and Maggie was very irritable.
When she’d got her belongings; and kids, transferred to her father’s car she thanked Joey and that was that.
Nobody offered Joey any assistance whatever. They all made the usual crappy commiserations about how sorry they were for the unfortunate circumstances and so on, which didn’t help anyone, and after that, they just drove off.
Joey never saw any of them again; never even heard a word.
This is the kind of thing that can either make you crazy, or if you’re philosophical about it you might just accept the fact that it could have been worse.
It wasn’t the first rough patch Joey had been in and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
It seemed that his life was just cut out that way. Questioning things only made them more complicated.
What he needed to do was figure a way of keeping calm and not let the situation get on top of him.
The scenario needless to say couldn’t possibly have been riper for a confrontation between heart and head!
And that, was the last thing Joey needed.
He paced up and down a bit taking stock. You might say he was counting his blessings.
Joey knew something about blessings; he knew that they never run out!
Something else that had the uncanny ability of never running out was booze.
He fetched a bottle from the van and made himself comfortable on the grassy verge.
The sky was a perfect azure blue, nary a cloud to be seen.
Joey stripped off his shirt and allowed the gentle rays of the sun to replenish his vitamin D supplies.
In the initial stages of his reverie, he thought he heard his head mutter something like; “what the fuck am I gonna do with the rest of my life now?”
But this and all other attempts at negative dialogue were quickly dismissed with a slug or two from the bottle.
Joey eventually fell asleep.
Motorists passing by would not have known a thing of Joey’s woes, undoubtedly taking him for a traveller.
It was not uncommon in those days, to see a hippie sleeping in the sun, next to his van.
A long ways from home!
Just before you get into Plett, there’s a garage. Or there used to be. We’re going back forty years now and a lot of things have surely changed.
It was here that Joey, after a brisk walk arrived and discussed his situation with the garage owner.
They went out with a tow truck and pulled the kombi back to the workshop.
After a thorough examination, the man made a couple of phone calls.
At length, he told Joey the gearbox was kaput and would have to be replaced.
The nearest source was P.E.
It would take a day to get one there and another couple to have the bus back up and running.
Joey didn’t tell the guy he had no money, he just said; “ok, go ahead, I’ll give you a ring in the morning and let you know where I’m at.”
That was fine with the man. He had no reason to suspect anything. In any case, he had the kombi didn’t he?
Plettenberg Bay:
Early October
Joey packed a couple of essentials in a rucksack, thanked the man and left.
He headed down into Plett, looking for a place to cool off with a beer.
Having a good nose for such things, it didn’t take him long.
At the bar in the Lookout Restaurant he ordered a beer and bought another bottle of port to drink outside later, on the deck.
Plett’s a really beautiful place, more so in my opinion the way it was back then than it is now. I guess I’m a bit old fashioned, but that’s the way the memory goes isn’t it?
The old Lookout is just what its name implies, perched on a promontory overlooking the Keurbooms river mouth it offers views that are beyond description.
One couldn’t wish for a better place to get lost in.
The sun was going down across the bay.
Joey’s muse was running hot. It could’ve been the wine, it could’ve been the scenery and it could’ve been the bargirl. It was no doubt a combination of all these things and more probably.
He’d pushed the kombi right out of his mind. For the moment, it simply didn’t exist.
And for all he knew, it might never again.
Joey’s saving grace was his ability to live in the moment; enjoying the singular pleasures that he found there.
“Fuck it all!” he was wont to exclaim; “It happened, so it happened, what the fuck d’you want me to do about it?”
I’m pretty glad I had him around; I can’t imagine where I might’ve been right now if he hadn’t been.
I relied on the strength of his imagination. I ate, drank, slept and dreamed it.
It crosses my mind sometimes that as I recount these memories I do it for Joey; I do it to let him know just how much I appreciate the influence he’s had on my life.
I’m not intellectually minded; I walk around with my heart on my sleeve and don’t particularly give a damn who notices.
That’s something else I inherited from Joey.
*
Pete:
Joey asked the bargirl for a pen and paper. He then went out onto the deck and began to write her a poem.
It was the first of many.
Meanwhile, back in the bar a group of roughnecks had just come in.
One’s name was Pete; I don’t remember the others.
Pete came out to the deck, pulled up a chair and said to Joey; “Hey man, you a poet?”
“You kinda look like one!”
That was the beginning of a solid friendship, and as it turned out, a very useful one.
They say angels come in all shapes and sizes; what do you think?
I reckon they do!
It was quite a night, to say the least.
These guys were artisans (electricians). They were working on the new Beacon Island hotel, situated close by.
It didn’t take long for Joey to become a part of the gang.
The boys were restless, and so decided to go down to Knysna for the night.
They all jumped into the company’s van and hit the road.
Joey included.
What happened in Knysna that night is a bit sketchy, understandably.
It was a piss-up. These guys were on contract, far away from home;
Rolling stones without a care in the world.
Joey was in like company.
The next morning, around five Joey was roused by Pete poking him in the ribs. He opened his eyes and saw the bars in front of him.
“Oh fuck!” he groaned!
But he wasn’t in Jail as he’d thought.
Pete was laughing uncontrollably. Next minute all the guys were there laughing.
“How the fuck did you get in there?” asked Pete between tears.
It was a baby’s cot!
“Better get out quick before someone complains!” said Pete.
But the complaints had already reached management’s ears; security was hot on their trail!
They exited the hotel got in the bakkie and headed back to Plett. It was almost time to start work.
Now the previous night Joey’s story had spilled out. Everyone knew about it. And you know how it is with guys! They stick together.
Furthermore, a plan had been hatched to get Joey in work and accommodated.
“What do you know about electrical work?” Pete had asked.
“I can change a light bulb!” Joey told him.
So, it was all agreed then!
The company were short of an electrician and the completion of the contract was due the first week in December. The hotel already had reservations for Christmas.
“It’s a synch!” said Pete; “The boss won’t even ask, just say you’re qualified.” “If he wants papers say they got lost when the van broke down, whatever. They’re so desperate right now they won’t even bother”.
“You’ll need some tools” said Pete; “I’ll organise it.”
The ‘interview’ went off without raising a single eyebrow. Joey was now officially employed.
Pete taught him as much as the limited passage of time allowed.
It’s ironic perhaps that Pete was as much inspired by Joey’s feelings for poetry and music, as was Joey’s fascination with Pete’s views on electrical behaviour; its influence on the human brain and the Universe in general.
When we speak about bonds, one must bear in mind that these were the days of Aquarius as the period was so-called.
The time and the season!
UFO sightings and other phenomena were commonplace;
What about ghosts?
Were they more perceivable then?
Whatever the case, it was indisputably a time of cosmic alignment.
It is a time we have lost to the past.
But one must remember that everything is cyclical.
It will come again; there is no doubt; just as everything comes again; ghosts notwithstanding.
That night after work, Joey moved into digs with the other guys.
A silver lining was beginning to show around the rim of Joey’s dark cloud.
Joey called the garage and told the man; “I’m working at the Beacon Island hotel, here’s a number you can leave a message at.”
*
The first Friday rolled around and with it, Joey’s first pay packet. The kombi had been repaired but the bill was out of his reach for the moment.
He made a payment and told the man the whole story. “I was afraid to tell you at first in case you thought I was a chancer and wouldn’t take on the job” said Joey.
“Sorry I didn’t exactly tell you the truth.”
“Well you didn’t exactly tell me a lie either!” said the garage man.
“There’s no harm done.”
“That’s a re-conditioned box in there” he told Joey; “comes with a full factory warrantee, good as new!”
“Yeah, I’m pleased it happened this way, I’d never have had it done otherwise!” said Joey thoughtfully.
The kombi remained at the garage for another week. When Joey came to make his next payment the man told him he could take it out, so long as he kept up the payments; He was half way there.
The contract at Beacon Island had two and a half months to run. The pay was far more than Joey had earned as a stevedore.
Joey gave a thought about October. It hadn’t been such a bad one after all, he mused.
However, October wasn’t quite done with Joey yet. There were still two weeks left.
A lotta shit can happen in two minutes, never mind two weeks!
On the subsequent Friday after work Joey had gone to the Lookout with the boys, planning to pay the garage in the morning.
Bad decision!
He’d now moved out of the lodgings and re-located to his old kombi which was conveniently parked on-site.
They’d had a nice little piss-up and then a last minute decision to go down to Knysna had been called off on account of what had happened there the previous time.
“Let the dust settle” was the consensus.
Joey and the bargirl meantime had fallen in love big time.
Due to some little indiscretion on his part however, the relationship had taken a knock and the wheels were already coming off.
He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sustain it much longer.
It would be all over before it hardly got started.
He was feeling a tad uncomfortable and needed to get out by himself for a bit.
That’s when the heart said; “Let’s go to Knysna!”
And that’s when the head said; “No fucking way hose!”
He went back to the kombi and fished out a bottle of port.
It was gone midnight when he finally gunned that motor to life and hit the gas pedal.
He should’ve known better than to underestimate the wiles of October!
But the wine sang like a melody in his veins; throbbed like a drum in his heart.
As I’ve said, Joey’s life was a series of little calamities one after the other. No sooner had he crawled out of one frying pan than he‘d landed in the next.
It was as though he thrived on challenges. When things were going smooth he got bored. It was an anti-climax. He needed the adrenalin; he needed to be in the shit, just so he had a reason to get out of it.
He needed to be a junkie just so he could kick the habit. He needed the hangover just so he could feel better when it wore off.
It’s like banging your head against the wall just because it feels good when you stop!
I know that doesn’t make sense but I can’t think of a better way to describe Joey’s predisposition.
I recall an old biker pal once saying; “You can’t say you’ve ridden a bike until you’ve fallen off one”
Maybe that’s the same as saying; “You can’t say you’ve lived until you’ve died…”
But maybe that’s stretching it a bit!
It’s the kind of thing Joey would have come up with though!
*
Knysna:
The wrong way around
The wrong way or the long way! It doesn’t make much difference, both descriptions are adequate!
This is the part of the story I get lost. The irony of this statement is that it’s where Joey got lost too!
I’ve tried to calculate times and distances here but to no avail.
The only thing that might hold a shred of light is why what happened that night, took so long to culminate.
Joey left Plett around midnight. He should’ve been in Knysna in fifteen minutes max.
He can’t say exactly where he got to but I do know the time he got there must have been about 2 am. That would explain he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up pretty damn close to Uniondale.
He knew the route, it’s so straightforward. He wasn’t that drunk he could’ve made such an error in judgement.
So why, did he detour?
Which brings me back to the question; Do Ghosts communicate?
Stick around!
The night was dark, in more senses than one; morose would be an accurate assessment, It matched perfectly, Joey’s frame of mind.
There was no moon visible; a veil of cloud held it in check.
A mist had come up quite suddenly obscuring the road. This had nothing to do with why Joey got lost. He’d already taken the turn off to Uniondale. I know this because I know the road.
It climbs away from the main artery which is the N2 and which links the major towns along the Garden Route; specifically Knysna.
The deviation to Uniondale is the R40 which later becomes the R339 as it enters Uniondale. These are minor roads; running through farmlands and not as well demarcated as the N2.
They are often obscured with mist due to the sudden escalation from the coast.
Something or someone had influenced Joey into making that switcheroo.
*
The Hitch-hiker:
Joey recalls seeing a flock of sheep in the road, close to an intersection.
As he slowed for the sheep a figure appeared. It was a girl hitch-hiking.
He stopped, pulled over and opened the passenger-side door.
As he did so, he heard another door close and looking around found she was already in the back seat!
They drove on.
No words were exchanged until after a relatively short distance the girl said she wanted to get off. They were still in the middle of nowhere.
Joey turned around to see her out.
She spoke. These were the only words she uttered; “Thank you; perhaps we’ll meet again!” and then she screamed!
The flock of sheep were all over the road directly in front of them!
Joey remembers hitting the brakes and twisting the steering wheel in a frantic attempt to avoid the flock.
The kombi went over four times. Bang, bang, bang, bang!
When the dust settled it was right back on its wheels; it had done a complete somersault.
Joey found himself lying in the back of the vehicle unable to move.
There was no sign of the girl, or the sheep.
A couple of youths came by and robbed him blind.
*
Joey woke up the following morning in hospital. The kombi had been towed into the police station, whereupon the garage owner had been notified, and came to collect it.
(Joey had supplied the information to the police).
Joey’s sojourn in Plett was for all intents and purposes, over.
So was the kombi.
It is hoped the gearbox was salvageable at least! Joey never found out; he never asked!
Many years later on a trip to P.E as a truck driver, Joey had seen the rusted shell of an old kombi in a field near Keurbooms River. It stood next to a gnarled oak tree. Its wheels were missing and all the other parts that had once made it a functioning vehicle.
A strange feeling went through him as he wondered where all the ‘living’ parts had gone.
*
This is essentially the end of the narrative as I had intended it to be.
However, there is still another twist to the tale.
It’s important for me to tell it.
Joey was in the hospital three days, and while not yet fully mobile when he was discharged, he nevertheless had to get back to Cape Town.
There’s only one way to travel when you’re broke!
Before he hit the road however, he decided to pay a last visit to Plett; and say cheers to Pete and the boys.
He got a lift back and hung around the Lookout until the day-shift had ended.
“So what’s new?” he asked the bargirl.
“You’re an asshole!” is all she said!
The boys came by.
There wasn’t much laughter this time.
Joey had turned into a different person; and so had everyone else.
The evening was spent discussing life and all the shit that sometimes went with it.
Pete gave him a few bucks to help him on his way.
And that was that.
“Not advisable to come back to the lodgings!” he warned Joey. “Your best bet is to hit the road soon as possible”.
“Hope it all works out…”
But Joey, by the end of the evening was just too fucked to go anywhere.
Fortunately he knew the Beacon Island hotel inside and out.
The contract was almost up. The rooms were ready for occupation. The gala opening was just around the corner.
Joey snuck in via a back way where he wouldn’t be spotted by security; took the stairs to the top floor and in a five-star honey-moon suite spent his final night in Plett!
His honey-moon was over!
He’d had the dubious privilege of being the first guest.
Cape Town or bust!
January 1973
That should read Cape Town and bust.
Never mind.
Joey approached the stevedoring company. They gave him his old job back thankfully.
He slept around the harbour until payday, and then rented a room up in the Oranjezicht.
*
Meanwhile his ex who had been looking for him, suddenly showed up.
She’d been in touch with his work.
She’d hitch-hiked all the way from Josie’s with the two children; a distance of roughly 1300 ks.
This all belongs to another story. It nevertheless intertwines with this one briefly.
I’ll not spend more time than is necessary with it.
*
The relationship was patched up; as it had been so many times before.
Some things were never designed to last; I don’t know why.
That’s life as they say.
Someday, I might find the courage to go there, but not now,
When the ex finally walked out, Joey was left with a flat he couldn’t afford a job he was in danger of losing and a habit he couldn’t shake.
Alone and destitute one night, he sat on the floor of the apartment. The furniture had all been repossessed; save the mattress.
Empty wine bottles were strewn everywhere. Crumpled up pieces of paper containing crumpled, broken-hearted poems lay scattered on the floor.
All the bargirls and ex-wives were there.
Joey had reached the end of another chapter.
It was an important one.
But then aren’t they all important?
I never saw Joey as broke up as that.
It is no secret that thoughts of suicide entered his mind.
I was there.
*
They say there’s a silver lining to every dark cloud.
Sometimes you have to look very hard for that silver lining, but it’s there all right trust me.
There was a knock on the door.
“C’mon in” mumbled Joey, anticipating the cops or the landlady, or both and not giving a damn either way.
*
Frankie & Stel:
The young couple who stood at the door were known only to Joey as folks that stayed in the apartment block. He’d seen them around, perhaps exchanged a greeting or two but that was all.
Their appearance therefore even in Joey’s deranged condition triggered a faint ring of surprise.
They didn’t look like Bible-punchers. You can usually tell the type.
They had an aura about them. I can’t describe it.
Joey sat there kinda stupefied;
It’s that feeling you get when the wine is all gone; you know there won’t be any more and you don’t exactly know where you are.
Suddenly you think you see an apparition; A ghost of yourself maybe.
It’s only a brief flash; but it feels like you’ve just experienced eternity.
Because it’s something you never forget.
*
Are you following me? Is anyone following me?
I’m not altogether sure if I’m following me; although I’m trying very hard.
But don’t go away; not yet.
I have to reach the end of this and I want someone to be there with me.
Can you dig that?
*
Please?
*
Frankie came right over and introduced himself.
He introduced his girl Stel.
“Come with us” he said.
There was something in the way he said it that aroused something in Joey.
But Joey didn’t respond.
Frankie proffered his hand;
“So what’s up?” asked Joey.
“We’ve been where you are!” replied the affable ghost.
“How do you know where I am?” returned Joey.
But a smile was the only answer he got; as he stood up and followed these strange people into an equally strange new world.
His head enquired of him; “Is this wise?”
His heart asked; “Is there any booze?”
*
Joey was introduced to a chair while Stel went and brewed some coffee.
“Would you like something to chow?” she called from the kitchen.
“Er, no thanks, I’m not hungry, could do with a dop!”
Stel returned with some sandwiches anyway.
Frankie miraculously produced a pint of Castle Lager.
Joey returned the smile Frankie gave him as he put the beer on the table.
God knows why, Joey had the feeling his life was about to take another significant detour.
If that word was never more appropriate it was then.
He closed his eyes and tried to drift away somewhere; it didn’t matter where exactly.
And found himself suddenly back in the mist on the Uniondale road.
Frankie pulled up a chair next to him and after a moment’s rumination, tweaked Joey’s ear with his finger.
“Pete?” Joey’s voice was almost a whisper; trailing away in the distance.
Frankie smiled and tweaked his ear again.
The past was rolling back and forth in Joey’s mind. It was all there. Everything he’d done thought seen.
He saw the sheep; heard the kombi going over, saw the girl’s face.
Slowly he opened his eyes, as Frankie’s voice penetrated the mist.
“Someone I’d like you to meet!” he said.
Joey looked around the room.
She must have been there all the time; in the corner opposite; looking shyly down at her hands.
How come he hadn’t noticed her before?
It was as though she’d just dropped in out of thin air!
Maybe she had.
For some reason Joey felt very self-conscious. He sensed another soul in turmoil.
Something stirred inside him.
In another fast moving flash of the camera Frankie and Stel had disappeared into another room re-emerging with their hats and coats on.
“We’re off to the club for a bit” announced Frankie. “Please make yourself at home, there’s the TV; help yourself in the kitchen!”
“Sorry there’s no beer left!”
And with that, they disappeared.
The girl in the corner stood up and said she had to go home.
She was a slight person; a wisp of a girl still in her teens, dark complexion and kinda sad- looking.
Joey had a very weird feeling he’d seen her before.
He was feeling very awkward; I mean this was a very strange situation to be in.
Everything was surreal.
“Um…do you stay around here?” he asked the girl.
“Green Point” she answered.
“Oh, so you gonna walk to Green Point?” it’s quite a distance from here isn’t it?”
“Taking a bus” she replied.
“Would you mind if I walked you to the bus stop?” asked Joey; not really knowing why.
“Ok” she said.
She was holding this little red purse. It appeared to be the only thing she possessed, judging by the way she guarded it.
All the way to the bus stop Joey couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen her somewhere.
The closer they got to the bus stop, the more anxious Joey became.
It was like he’d found something he’d lost, and was on the verge of losing it again.
In a last minute bid he said nervously; “Listen, I’m not trying to be pushy or anything but I have this weird feeling I know you from somewhere…?”
She stopped momentarily and looked at him.
“You need help” she said simply.
I never saw Joey really cry, but he cried that night, right there in the street; in front of everyone at the bus stop.
*
The head often considers what happened there that night. Things which Joey’s not too proud of; decisions he made and things he did. But looking back now, the heart knows that the events which followed and the changes they made in Joey’s life, were influenced by those decisions and actions, and could never have taken place any other way.
*
The Last Bus
It was revealed that ‘home’ was a rented room on the other side of town; lonely and friendless.
She was a runaway.
I’ll not discuss her circumstances here but if Joey ever writes another story, it will be hers.
I owe it to her.
Stories only get written once they have ended don’t they?
Well, hers hasn’t.
Suffice to say, she never caught that bus!
I did mention a little red purse didn’t I?
Yup! Well that’s what did it!
The bus fare was all it contained.
Coincidentally, it happened to be exactly the same amount as the price of a bottle of Lieberstein!
That’s not meant to be funny of course, but every time I think about it I feel a smile coming on!
They say there’s a silver lining for every dark cloud!
Would a silver coin serve as a metaphor?
Well, it got Joey through what was possibly one of the most important night of his life.
It marked the beginning of another story; one that would see many twists and turns down the strange road of life; one that was designed to last a very long time!
*
Oh, there’s one little thing I forgot to tell you.
Actually I didn’t forget I was saving it for last!
It seems fitting.
Her name was Marie.
(And she’s still around by the way!)
© John Scott 2011
Ps: Hands up all those who believe in ghosts.
Notes:
Bakkie: S. African term for any open-backed van.
Plett: Plettenberg Bay.
Dop: Drink (booze).
Lieberstein: S.A. Wine dating back to Jan Van Riebeck.
Josie’s: Affectionate name for Johannesburg.
Shebeen: Illegal liquor store. (S, Africa).
I wrote this back in 2011 (Seven years ago).
That was before the first signs of Alzheimer were detected.
In fact, I didn’t even know what Alzheimer was back then.
I think I do now but my memory refuses to have anything to do with it!
Perhaps some things are just impossible to forget!
Marie
37, Fairview Ave Woodstock,
Cape Town
Beacon Island Hotel, PlettenbergBay
RIP
‘somewhere in Keurbooms River…’
?
November 26, 2018
humblepye
Humblepye 