Yes, you remember, twitched a bit — withdrawn.
Her husband seemed to settle in but then
it’s hard to tell with teachers. She had times
she could have done without, but don’t we all.
God, one was funny – when she tried to form
that drama group – that evening at the hall
when two turned up, one drunk. That took her down
a peg or two. She needed shortening. Plays?
A drama group for Christsake? Here? This town?
My God, we roared, she knew it too. Some days
weren’t funny though – their kelpie – who would do
a thing like that? Not locals, mind – those lairs
from up the line most likely . But she knew
that mob was ratshit – should have watched it. When
I told her at the time she seemed to blame
herself a bit. She let things get her. Then –
– that Sunday morning when the parson prayed
for our two heathen teachers – seemed a shame
that no one had the guts to front him. They
were busy spreading empty rumours – minds
like dunnakins some people. Not a word
of truth in it, but some smart bastard made
damn sure she heard it all. About that time
she changed, seemed strained, shut in – not ill you know
but distant – looked away. Between ourselves
we wouldn’t wear it – saw it as a way
of being different, building stages when
her education failed her. I suppose
you know the way it ended – nasty business. Hell,
I still can’t take it in or see the reason.
Christ Almighty, what a way to go.