A Long Woman

 

            Is that the Long Woman, Mam? I heard a wee boy say to his mother, referring to an old legend we could all at the very least half-remember.  

            The Long Woman’s long gone, said the mother.  This one’s far worse, so stay well away.

            The town had been fed many ghosts and legends down the years and it was a meal that continued to be prepared evidently.  There was the Long Woman, of course, and the Sacked Man, and the Very Late Bus Driver, and the Lady of Lally’s Electrical Supplies.  Even though Phyllis was not in fact a tall and shadowy phantom, her height was still the stuff of legend.  Next to her even Sue Ellen Deane reaching almost six feet herself looked rather diminutive.   

            What are you doing lurking back here? said Sue Ellen, with purpose in her voice.

            Well, you said it, said Phyllis.  That’s what I’m good at.  Lurking.  Unseen.  An ominous anonymous.

            And talking pure shite as one has come to expect.

            How would one expect that?  I’ve never met you before now.

            We’re all aware of you and your . . . brother.

            Sue Ellen spoke brother in an insinuating breath.

            Okay, and what do you mean to do now?

            Do?

            Indeed.  You are in my face now as though meaning to DO something.  The more effective confrontations are those that go beyond standing and looking.

            I could do plenty.

           Well, I’m not accustomed to this, said Phyllis.  I thought I would come out to pay my respects.  Is all.

           She attacked me once! cried Rita suddenly, her interjection enlarged by the microphone. 

Phyllis turned to the stage and said, I did not attack you.  As I remember, an issue arose after you mistakenly thought I’d jumped the queue in the chemist’s.  I can assure everyone here with a working pair of ears, as I assured this young woman on that occasion, that I did no such thing.  As one who does not come outside too often due to a loathing of people, I have a strong and natural aversion to such procedures which would have me standing in their proximity for extended spells.

          You absolutely muscled your way past us in the line, yelled Rita.  And you were so rude.  Do you remember calling me a bitch to my face?

          Now that’s simply not true, responded Phyllis.

         Calling me a liar now?

         I’d no reason to call you anything before.  Not even that.  But things could change.

         You condescending old witch!  How dare you show your face at this vigil!  You of all people.  Now we know it was you and your sick brother behind those Tout articles.  Murderers!

Phyllis closed her mouth and puffed up her cheeks as if wary of letting any words fly out.  Then she nodded some nods.  Deep, slow nods.   

         I was party to it, sure, she said.  The columns.  But we had no involvement in your brother’s death.  In fact, I and my very own brother would like to send you our greatest condolences. 

There were gasps.  Massive shock and outrage.  The reaction suggested the whole town had just been slapped across the face by the woman.  It wasn’t that bad.   I believe the passionless manner in which she expressed her sympathy caused offence.  Neither of the Berrills siblings had the politeness bone.  They might have inherited this disposition from their parents, but from all the talk of that couple throughout the years, as darlings of the district, the generational gulf appeared to be tremendous.

            This is beyond disrespectful, said Sue Ellen Deane. 

            I apologise.  I’ll be on my way. 

            You could sense animosity growing in the air and I noticed some likely Gullivers nearing.  Brendan Colreavy had broken away from his wife and had joined another presumable Gulliver with a faded Liverpool FC jersey from the time they were backed by Crown Paints.  On any other day, I might have slipped over to flirt a bit with Caitriona but those times were behind us now since all the furore with the secret.      

I could feel the mob tugging for my support.  In a town of factions, you were used to being pulled this way and that which consequently made you more ambidextrous in the scrutiny of things.  I could see Phyllis had offered the coldest comfort..  There was something in her uppity demeanour which made me understand slightly the feelings of the people.  I could sense why someone might fall for the hype and go in with the mob.  Pick on the alleged perverts.  Not a bother.  And why in God’s name would you want to have those Gullivers on your back?  (I could see them now swarming.  You’d think there were no other factions left.  Since the Gullivers cornered the market in dead boys, they now had control of the whole town.)           Nonetheless, I was essentially on the Berrills side in this matter.

Another faction had made their advance.  The other Screaming Deanes were now standing behind their older sister like nose-pierced knights of old.

            Phyllis blinked like one in disbelief.  But did not recoil.

            The peace faction, I take it? she said.

            In response, Mary Deane held up a sign which read:  No Peace Til Harmony!

            I was meant to be home by now, said Phyllis.  I have a show to watch.

            We all have shows to watch, grunted Sue Ellen.

            So are you keeping me here?  What is the meaning of this? 

I could see a little retreat in Sue Ellen Deane then.  She turned and looked back at Rita Gilgan and the Gilgan clan for support or advice.  Who were boiling with rage and apparently unwilling to accept anything but bloodshed.  She also glanced at Brendan Colreavy who was triangulating militaristically with the other Gullivers in attendance.     

            Are you going to do anything? Kerley asked me; and rightly so, as we were just standing there gawking miserably at the unfolding drama.

            Probably not, I said.

            It looks like they’re going to lynch the poor woman.

            They wouldn’t.

Of course, I was not completely without feeling in the circumstances.  It was mere cowardice that kept me from going over to help Phyllis out.  So after some mustering of what valour I had in the back, I began to move closer towards them.  I’d no intention of fighting Sue Ellen or the Gullivers but I might be able to create a bit of commotion which could aid in scuppering the mob’s momentum. 

Sue Ellen Deane didn’t like me at all.  And I sort of knew why.  Some years ago she was working for one of the big national charities and stopping people in the street to chat to them about it and when she attempted to stop me I said to her, flatly, No change.  She was puzzled by this, sensibly, and said, Don’t you mean no time?  And I then replied, No, what I mean to say is I was never charitable and I’ve yet to change my position. 

Ever since that day, she had it in for me. 

            When near the front of the crowd less than a metre away from Phyllis and the Deanes, I pointed up at the sky and shrieked: What’s that up there?  The individual beside me was Cathal Rice, a renowned loudmouth and fantasist, so when I had his attention he had everyone else’s, and it wasn’t long before I had most of the crowd, including a few Gullivers, staring up at that mud-cloud canopy above us. 

What are we looking for?

I don’t know.  Someone said there’s something up there.

What?

I don’t know.

This mild interruption didn’t completely distract them from Phyllis but it did the work of tempering the mood, which was my goal.  Sue Ellen remained in her stalemate stance but she was silent now that many of the people behind her were searching for flying objects in the sky.  Phyllis said farewell and began to leave the square.  Some of those that noticed her striding off made a point of booing her.  But there were others there who shushed these booers, superstitiously.  There were those who believed without a shadow of doubt they were looking at the Long Woman, being as we had a town that was easily arrested by certain abstractions of reality.   

I didn’t stay at the vigil too long after that.  Ray Wilmott returned to the stage with his guitar and did a Paul Weller tune.  One of his newer ones.  Kerley and I talked about close calls for a wee bit and then I said my good-byes and departed.  I planned to visit the Berrills tomorrow and ask Phyllis just what the hell she was thinking.

On the way home, I made it into the Costcutters.

Wine

Pies

Waffle

were all I could afford.

 

 

Image: Wikimedia Commons