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Authors: Stephen Curran
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if for a procession but all was empty. A thick dark fog slept above the buildings. At street level there seemed to be an excess of air.
Far ahead I caught sight of two women strolling arm in arm along the pavement. Because of their relaxed pace I was able to catch up without any effort, eventually drawing level on the opposite side of the road. As they crossed between the flickering pools of light, they seemed unaware they were being watched. At this proximity I had no difficulty in recognising one of them as the young woman from Regent's Park.
The Familiar
I slowed down and waited for the distance between us to increase, fixing my gaze on the back of the nanny's head: her smooth neckline and her unblemished white skin. After crossing to her side of the roadway, treading as lightly as I could, I concealed myself in a butcher shop's doorway. Resting my hand on the blistered architrave I discovered a crude carving, a blasphemous word. The shifting fog dropped, weighty in the night sky.
Only once the women had turned the corner did I emerge from my hiding place and make after them. Finding my business bag cumbersome I dropped it behind a garden fence with the intention of collecting it later, then stopped to peer around the side of the wall just in time to see them disappearing down another street. Somewhere in the distance a dog dispatched a single bark like a pistol shot. Through this new and sparsely lit thoroughfare I followed, sidestepping into doorways and alcoves whenever I feared I might be detected.
I cannot say for how long I pursued them, or how far. I only wished to reassure myself that all was well with Elise and no personal misfortune had prevented her from taking her morning walks. I was also intrigued by the presence of the second woman. Who could she be? The two of them were clearly at ease with each other, strolling arm in arm and quietly chatting. Was she Elise's friend? Her sister?
Eventually we came upon a procession of houses overlooking a stretch of undeveloped land. The night air was crisp and tasted something like metal. I was unusually conscious of my breathing, needing to concentrate to keep it regular. Small sounds carried far. Preceded by her footfalls a bony-faced girl of eight or nine years emerged from the darkness, sprinting headlong and as fast as she was able. A few moments later she was followed by a big-bellied man with a thick beard. Elise's companion – a slender woman with pearl-white skin and yellow hair - looked inquisitively over her shoulder towards them, adjusting her gloves. The little girl bolted past me and away down an alleyway, her expression a mixture of determination and terror. Red faced and panting, her pursuer paused in the middle of the road and rested his hands on his knees before hopelessly lumbering off again. With them both out of sight, the yellow haired woman glanced suspiciously in my direction. I had been spotted.
There being nowhere to hide I had little choice but to keep walking as if nothing had happened. Following in the steps of the bearded man down the alley would have meant turning on my heels, an act that could only make me appear even more sinister, something I dearly wished to avoid if Elise had already recognised me from the park. How could I explain myself? I reduced my speed but seemed unable to extend the gap. Stopping briefly I made a show of consulting my pocket watch, lowering my head and hoping the night would obscure my features.
When I looked up again the women had vanished. Caught in a sudden panic I ran forward, struck by the realisation I might never cross paths with the young nanny again and my opportunity to spark a relationship with her would be missed forever. To my relief I saw they had turned another corner and were now opening a wrought iron gate towards the end of a row of Georgian terraces.
“Elise!” I yelled. “Elise!”
Either oblivious or indifferent to me they climbed the steps to an opening red door, their
Far ahead I caught sight of two women strolling arm in arm along the pavement. Because of their relaxed pace I was able to catch up without any effort, eventually drawing level on the opposite side of the road. As they crossed between the flickering pools of light, they seemed unaware they were being watched. At this proximity I had no difficulty in recognising one of them as the young woman from Regent's Park.
The Familiar
I slowed down and waited for the distance between us to increase, fixing my gaze on the back of the nanny's head: her smooth neckline and her unblemished white skin. After crossing to her side of the roadway, treading as lightly as I could, I concealed myself in a butcher shop's doorway. Resting my hand on the blistered architrave I discovered a crude carving, a blasphemous word. The shifting fog dropped, weighty in the night sky.
Only once the women had turned the corner did I emerge from my hiding place and make after them. Finding my business bag cumbersome I dropped it behind a garden fence with the intention of collecting it later, then stopped to peer around the side of the wall just in time to see them disappearing down another street. Somewhere in the distance a dog dispatched a single bark like a pistol shot. Through this new and sparsely lit thoroughfare I followed, sidestepping into doorways and alcoves whenever I feared I might be detected.
I cannot say for how long I pursued them, or how far. I only wished to reassure myself that all was well with Elise and no personal misfortune had prevented her from taking her morning walks. I was also intrigued by the presence of the second woman. Who could she be? The two of them were clearly at ease with each other, strolling arm in arm and quietly chatting. Was she Elise's friend? Her sister?
Eventually we came upon a procession of houses overlooking a stretch of undeveloped land. The night air was crisp and tasted something like metal. I was unusually conscious of my breathing, needing to concentrate to keep it regular. Small sounds carried far. Preceded by her footfalls a bony-faced girl of eight or nine years emerged from the darkness, sprinting headlong and as fast as she was able. A few moments later she was followed by a big-bellied man with a thick beard. Elise's companion – a slender woman with pearl-white skin and yellow hair - looked inquisitively over her shoulder towards them, adjusting her gloves. The little girl bolted past me and away down an alleyway, her expression a mixture of determination and terror. Red faced and panting, her pursuer paused in the middle of the road and rested his hands on his knees before hopelessly lumbering off again. With them both out of sight, the yellow haired woman glanced suspiciously in my direction. I had been spotted.
There being nowhere to hide I had little choice but to keep walking as if nothing had happened. Following in the steps of the bearded man down the alley would have meant turning on my heels, an act that could only make me appear even more sinister, something I dearly wished to avoid if Elise had already recognised me from the park. How could I explain myself? I reduced my speed but seemed unable to extend the gap. Stopping briefly I made a show of consulting my pocket watch, lowering my head and hoping the night would obscure my features.
When I looked up again the women had vanished. Caught in a sudden panic I ran forward, struck by the realisation I might never cross paths with the young nanny again and my opportunity to spark a relationship with her would be missed forever. To my relief I saw they had turned another corner and were now opening a wrought iron gate towards the end of a row of Georgian terraces.
“Elise!” I yelled. “Elise!”
Either oblivious or indifferent to me they climbed the steps to an opening red door, their
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