People you meet in pubs VI

I loved to hear how during the war his squadron

had been stationed for a while in South Africa

and he was billeted with a family at an address

that had become imprinted on his memory,

and after only a few repetitions, on mine too:

77 St. Albans Road, Mayfair West, Jo’Burg. 

He reminded me again the night before I left

for the airport, as he steadied the shimmer

in his glass-hand by gripping his wrist

with the other, and with a glint in his eye

and despite the forty years, he could still picture

the daughter of the house, and I practiced her name

as he repeated it in his quiet but clipped voice:

Suzanne Labuschagne, Suzanne Labuschagne…

and the side of his mouth rose ever so slightly,

accentuated by his neatly trimmed moustache. 

I kept my promise to look her up once I’d settled in,

and found the house quite easily, and my knock

was answered by a girl who only rented the place

and didn’t recognise the name, or know the owner.

A year later I returned to the pub to let him down

gently, anticipating his repressed excitement,

but fixed to the wall by the bar where he

liked to stand, was a propeller and a small plaque

that read: ‘In Memory of Freddie Lane,’

and despite my sadness, I was pleased that both

those memories were now conjoined and

strengthened and recycled like that repeated address:

77 St. Albans Road, Mayfair West, Jo’Burg.

John H Davies

17th May 2011