Heat Wave
“Tall buff grasses wave along the roadsides, the hogweed heads have turned from cream to brown. And the fields of winter wheat are straw-coloured. The landscape is a patchwork of fawn and green carved up by the dark lattice of hedges. The trees are dusky brooding shapes. The hay is down, the former hayfields are dotted with shiny black plastic drums. The summer has peaked, the year is tipping over. What became of spring? How can all this have come about in a few impetuous weeks? All this has hap...pened under her nose, Pauline sees, and yet only now is she aware of the extremity of change. This landscape is unstable. It rushes unstoppably ahead, locked into its impervious cycle.
Maurice is back. She heard his car late in the evening, but did not look out. This morning she saw him from the window – in the garden, briefly attending Luke. Holding Luke’s hand as the two of them tour the lawn, throwing a ball for Luke – the father. And then Teresa comes out and Pauline turns away.MoreLess
Maurice is back. She heard his car late in the evening, but did not look out. This morning she saw him from the window – in the garden, briefly attending Luke. Holding Luke’s hand as the two of them tour the lawn, throwing a ball for Luke – the father. And then Teresa comes out and Pauline turns away.MoreLess
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