CONFESSIONThe love I have for you,is as many-coloured and multiformas these flowers growingin the garden . . .yet single and whiteas its one rose.JOAN MASWESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1 968
Judith ClarkeTHANK YOU MRS. GREENBERGERLai Chandra walked along home by the river.The tide was out. He watched the seagullspicking their way sadly over the mud-flats insearch of scraps.Lai Chandra was worried. His scholarshipcheque, he knew, would not have come, andat home Mrs Greenberger would be waiting.What would he say? Of course she would pretendnot to mind, just as she always pretended,when he had the rent, that there was nothingfurther from her mind than money. He wouldplace it delicately on the edge of the sideboardwhile Mrs Greenberger pretended not to noticewhat he was doing. Some quarter of an hourlater, wandering back out through the kitchen,he would observe that it was gone. His mindedged away from the picture of Mrs Greenberger'slittle white hands closing over themoney.It was very cold. Lai Chandra walked bravelyinto the wind, his head thrown back, his armsfolded tightly across the front of his brownjacket. He never wore an overcoat. After all,there was really no need. If it rained, or evensnowed, he could wear his grey raincoat—thatwould keep him dry—much drier, in fact, thana heavy coat which would only absorb moisture.And to keep him warm, there was alwaysthe striped scarf which his little sister Indirahad knitted and sent over for his birthday.This he wore beneath his jacket. Thoughwrapped several times about his neck, it wasso long that the fringed ends trailed downbeneath his jacket, all the way to the back ofhis knees. Lai Chandra turned away from theriver and walked up the street to the PostOffice. Perhaps, after all, his cheque had comein the afternoon post. He walked up the stepsand into the dark little room.Mabel Higgs, the S.E.3 postmistress, sat firmas a rock behind her counter, stamping thedates on the letters for the five fifteen mail.Whap whap-whap, whap, went her littlemachine. She was in no mood for nonsense.She pursed her Ups and looked each lettergrimly in the face before the stamp descended.Lai Chandra stood there patiently. Therewas no-one else in the Post Office.Whap whap-whap, whap.He watched the red second hand on thewall clock go round and round and round.He shuffled his feet.Whap whap-whap, whap. Whap whap-whap,whap.Lai Chandra coughed.Whap whap-whap, whap.What should he do? She must know he wasthere. He almost fancied he could see a sinistergleam in the woman's eye, as if, indeed' shewas enjoying the whole situation. Finally heventured.'Excuse me,' began Lai Chandra.'Do you want something?' growled the postmistress,lifting her head, her little bright eyes,Hke an adder's, darting at Lai Chandra. Shetook him all in, from head to foot, her eyesresting a moment on the fringe of his scarf,dangling beneath his jacket. A smile of greatsatisfaction passed across the face of MabelHiggs. Lai Chandra mistook it for a softening.Ts my cheque here?' he asked.'Cheque?' demanded Mabel Higgs, in tonesof outrage. 'Cheque? This isn't the Bank. Thesign outside says Post Office. P, O, S, T, post,O, F, F, L C, E, office—Post Office,' shespelled, and sank back down behind hercounter.Whap, whap-whap, whap.'I meant, is there a letter for me?'Whap whap-whap, whap.Lai Chandra stood there.'Name,' said Mabel Higgs, very very softly.'What?' enquired Lai Chandra.'NAME!' roared Mabel, at the top of herWESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1 968 23
- Page 1 and 2: westerlyA QUARTERLY REVIEW PRICE 60
- Page 3: westerlya quarterlyreviewEDITORIALC
- Page 6 and 7: Some JOURNALS published byUNIVERSIT
- Page 8 and 9: "WeU, maybe this one is, too.""With
- Page 10: a leer. What really infuriated her
- Page 13 and 14: Guest of honour? No less than the G
- Page 15 and 16: THE NAVIGATORS(To Albert Tucker)Bei
- Page 17 and 18: Mother of navigators.Beater of men.
- Page 19 and 20: Horizon-haunted men.Looters and Pir
- Page 21 and 22: On the table Taki had left a crumpl
- Page 23: FEARA thousand, thousand stars and
- Page 27 and 28: Oh no, thought Lai Chandra, oh no.
- Page 29: "Nuance," she said- and "poetry,"an
- Page 32 and 33: TO WAKE, TO FLOWfor my wifeFor me t
- Page 34: With apparent indulgence Lola encou
- Page 39 and 40: or another, and some of the paintin
- Page 41: I do not think it has been fulfille
- Page 45 and 46: important thing for a writer who ha
- Page 47 and 48: from which she herself had sprung.
- Page 49 and 50: They are looking for him now in the
- Page 51 and 52: departure from what had come to be
- Page 53: ary degree the atmosphere of a trib
- Page 56 and 57: Blessed is the mother with her chil
- Page 58 and 59: IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOWDON'T DO ITft>
- Page 60 and 61: And yet perhaps both men drew from
- Page 62 and 63: other respects his attitude was mor
- Page 64 and 65: clearing and, as they are usually t
- Page 66 and 67: WHAT IS THECRITIC?The Critic is a c
- Page 68: JOHN KEATSBronze cast from a life m
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