I was sad. Meg said she had to go back to Canada. Suits needed her.
"Is this freedom I am finding all a dream?" I asked.
Meg laughed.
When she laughed I felt wanted, needed, loved. Her laugh reminded me of Mummy.
We went for a walk in Frogmore Gardens - meandering like the voice in Megs eyes, deeper than roses - among the graves of my ancestors. I didn't know any of them, of course. They had all died before I was born astride a grave. But I couldn't help but wonder if they they would like Meg. If they could recognize the love we share. Silly I know. Most of them were too busy being dead to worry about me. And the one's who weren't would be more worried about Willy.
We stopped by the lake. I slipped my arm around Megs waist, running my thumb up her spine to feel her bra strap. I could feel the old chap oscillating. I felt despair wash through me. Here was I, semi turgid, trapped in this wasteland mixing memory and desire. And soon she would be back in that new world, where prolonged candle-flames flung their smoke into the laqueria.
"Shouldn't you answer that," said Meg, her voice piercing my gloom like a lark ascending.
Confused, in an ecstasy of fumbling I found my phone in the pocket of my casually frayed trousers. Mistakenly I had confused the vibration of the phone for the oscillations of my semi-erect todger. I quickly grew limp when I saw it was Granny.
"She wants to meet you."
"Me?" Meg's hands were all a flutter, tousling her naturally straight and lustrous hair. "But, but..."
"Don't worry," I soothed, "just remember to curtsy."
"Curtsy?"
"You do know how to curtsy?"
"Of course."
Even though it was just past breakfast, the grounds were busy.
First we met Fergie, she greeted Meg warmly saying, "you must be the hot stuff Harold has been telling us about. Sucked your toes yet has he?"
Meg rolled her eyes, but was politeness itself, blushing from virtue in demonstration of the discretion and good breeding of her kind.
I introduced Meg.
"Remember you must curtsy," Fergie said.
"Curtsy?"
"You do know how to curtsy?"
"Of course."
Next we met Sophie, for all the exterior of good breeding, she could not hide her vicious commonness. She was smoking an un-tipped roll up, her foot resting on the foot-pump of the ball pool. Picking a strand of tobacco from her lip, she held out a hand. Demonstrating all her polite, gentile manners Meg ignored the chipped purple nails. "This the new bird is it" cackled Sophie, her voice cracked and raspy from Blue WKD and speed.
I introduced Meg.
"Remember you must curtsy," Sophie said.
"Curtsy?"
"You do know how to curtsy?"
"Of course."
Then we met a cat with eyes as big as saucers.
I introduced Meg.
"Remember you must curtsy," the cat said.
"Curtsy?"
"You do know how to curtsy?"
"Of course."