Flight Of Fancy

After lighting a cigarette Brian Cooper relaxed his heavy mass back into the rocking chair, and blew a cloud of dream like smoke over his head. He was a middle aged man, around fifty, who’s facial features had long since been dissolved in fat.
'What time did he say he’d get here, Jenny?' He asked.
'He didn't! He told Mum his flight gets in to Manchester at eleven. But he'll still need a couple of hours to get here.'
Jenny, Brian's sister, was an attractive woman in her forties, slim, with fair short cut hair, and blue-eyes. She sat with a magazine on her lap on a large upholstered couch, which seemed to want to eat her!
She took up and poured herself a cup of steaming tea from a very large brown teapot, which stood audaciously on a rather small coffee table, and cautiously sipped a little.
'Well, I hope he doesn’t go gallivanting off somewhere and leave us all waiting for him'.
'Why would he do that?' objected his sister, 'he knows we're expecting him. Mum told him that we'd also be here.'
'It would be typical of him wouldn't it?' Brian asked, 'To change his plans at the last minute, I mean.'
Jenny's lips pursed a little, but she didn't answer. She sipped her tea and looked up expectantly now and again from her magazine to the window.
The muffled sound of a radio being turned on, and the clatter of pans came from the kitchen.
'So what's mother cooking for the return of the prodigal son?' Brian asked with a dastardly grin on his face.
'Vegetable pie. Mum says it was always his favourite. I don’t remember that!'
'Bet he's getting sick of eating that sour kraut all the time!' Brian scoffed.
'I've never tried it,' she said. have you?'
'You must be joking! I don't like all that foreign muck. Give me a good English roast, any time.'
Brian Cooper struggled to his feet and stood before the open window looking both ways along the tree-lined village street. His large frame dominated his mother's small living room -- blocking the bright sunlight coming in from outside, causing Jenny to frown.
Brian for some reason didn't feel himself today, something was niggling him... Something he couldn't put his finger on. The day had such a strange feel to it. For example: he couldn't for the life of him explain why he was wearing this old grey suit – he hadn't worn it for years... And the weather... so warm, the sun was shinning, the sky was so blue. Isn't it February? Even the bloody birds sound strange... so loud... and so... well, tropical! The air was scented with flowers, there was the buzz of bees, and swooping dragonflies as big as birds! The feeling was too queer to put into words. The puzzle of it all.... Everything: the sun, the breeze, the shades of greens of the trees and gardens, and even those impossible bird-songs.... Yet, at the same time, nothing seemed to matter, not one drop in a bucket!
A warm breeze blew through the open window and brushed his face, and for a brief moment, he had a strong feeling of not been quiet real himself...! He noticed that when he focused on anything it became blared, and there was a flicking at the edge of his vision. It made him feel uncomfortable. Weird! Had there been something in the tea? Was he ill, but he felt fine. No, of course not! He caught his breath, turned away from the feeling, pawed the ground with his foot like a horse, and continued his observation of the street.
He thought about his brother; he resented being here at his bidding, he felt manipulated. That he was somehow here under false pretences. And wasn't there something else he should be doing today...?
'Did Mother say how long he'll be staying?' he said to the breeze.
'Three weeks, but he’ll be going to London in between, he has some business to do there.' Jenny said.
'Business! Ha!' What business? he said, his voice rising as his head swung round on his sister. 'What kind of business? When has Martin ever had anything to do with business? I suppose that's just an excuse... not to stay so long. I just hope he isn't bringing any of that cannabis with him!' He turned his gaze back to the strangeness of the street.
'He’s so bloody inconsiderate; he comes once in a blue moon -- mother goes to all this trouble, and then he's here for a couple of days, and goes swanning off somewhere.'
'He's here for three weeks, Brian! I'm sure Mum doesn't expect him to spend the whole time with her. And he’ll want to see some friends, as well, I suppose -- he’s been away a long time!'
'Course, his friends! They have always meant more to him than us lot!' he said grudgingly. 'Our kids have grown up, and they don't know him! -- they must have seen him no more than half a dozen times!'
'No! the kids do remember him... The last time he was here our Sonya couldn't stop talking about him! She thought he was great -- cool!' she said.
'Oh yeah, cool, one of his words, and he always did manage to charm the women, didn't he? One affair after the other!' He turned his back to the window to face his sister again. 'You remember when he turned up here that time with that little man girl?
'Brian! Her name was Rose!' Jenny said angrily, 'and she was a really nice girl, I really liked her.'
Brian couldn't believe he'd just said that... he wanted to hide.
'Well, you know what I mean...' His words jammed... then he said, trying to temper his language, '...he had to pick a foreigner!'
'She was born in Leeds, Brian!'
'She was half his age! It was embarrassing! That night we all went down the pub everyone was looking and whispering behind their hands...'
'Well that wouldn’t worry Martin, he's never cared what other people thought...'
'Maybe that's his problem!' her brother quickly said, 'He goes through life without a care in the world. You'd think he'd have settled down years ago. But he always had his head in the clouds, so irresponsible – such a dreamer!'
They fell silent a moment. Brian moved from the window letting the light back in, and returned to the rocking chair, and lit another cigarette. Even the room looked different, but he couldn't say just what was different.
He was about to ask Jenny if she had also just heard that cuckoo! when Jenny said, 'Well, there’s one thing you can't say... that his life has been boring. He's lived and travelled all over the place -- none of us have ever travelled much. And he’s always so full of ideas -- in a lot of ways I can’t help admiring him.'
'Yeah!' Brian said, with a laugh in his voice, 'one big crazy idea after the other -- never sticking to anything.... I don't think he's ever kept a job longer than three months. And he's never had two pennies to rub together!'
'He's always managed... Jenny said. The last time I spoke with him on the phone, he seemed to be doing all right.... He gives English lessons, and spends his time painting and writing. I mean that must be interesting. He said he sometimes sells a picture or an article. It sounds like a good life to me. And he always seems happy!'
'Well, Jenny, I see all that as a lot of stuff and nonsense, and you always did have a soft spot for him. You're now starting to sound like him...!
'Look! while he was bumming around, playing the artist, taking drugs, and womanising, I was working hard -- building up the business from scratch. I’ve brought up two fine kids, who have kids themselves now. And what’s he got? Nothing! Nothing from doing nothing. To me, he’s just wasted his life. I don't see there's anything to admire about that.' I could have gone to university, too... But there was money to be earned.... And what did he study? Bloody art! What's the good of that? And he didn't finish it – took off to...wherever.
'That’s him Brian!' his sister snapped. 'You two are so different -- chalk and cheese! You can’t be in the same room longer than ten minutes without arguing! You're both as bad as each other! And Brian, I really hope it's not going to be the same same old arguing this time -- Mum and me can't stand it!'
Brian shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, setting his jaws firmly for a moment.
'Well', he said, 'I've given up arguing with him.... I know there's no point. He's never listened to me, or anyone else, for that matter.'
There was another moment of awkward silence, both occasionally looking to the window. The sound of their mother's voice singing along to The Beatles' Penny Lane on the radio wafted from the kitchen, making them both laugh out loud.
'I offered him a job once!' Brian finally said, 'I went round to that place he had in King Street. He was living with that hippie-girl; her who was always wandering around half naked – what was her name?'
'Angela.'
‘Angela! Yeah, right!. The place was a dump -- he had the walls covered with his so called art! I told him he should pack it all in, and throw the lot on the rubbish tip. I offered him a job in the office -- good money! All he had to do was to get a hair cut and smarten himself up a bit... You know what he said to me? He laughed in my face, and said, ''I don’t have time to make money''. Can you believe that?'
Jenny giggled and said, 'Well, what did you expect? Could you really imagine Martin working in an office? -- and with you as his boss, it's ridiculous!'
Suddenly, they heard a loud roar of a car pulling up sharply outside. Brian and Jenny both sprang to their feet and went to the window. ‘He’s here Mum!' they shouted together. They were soon joined from the kitchen by a smiling Mrs Cooper – an old, tall, thin woman with a kind face. They all gathered staring through the open window.
'Bloody hell! he’s not alone!' said Mrs Cooper.
'She might only be a taxi driver', said Jenny.
‘That’s not a taxi!' said Brian. 'It's a bloody BMW!' Brian then noticed – looking from on to the other – that the BMW was exactly... exactly the same blue as the sky!
Mrs Cooper went to the front door to welcome her son, leaving the others watching the arrival curiously through the window.
'What's he bloody wearing?' Brian asked as Martin Cooper, a tall slim man with blond shoulder-length hair, wearing a large rimmed black hat, and a black, short-jacketed, tight fitting suit emerged from the car. He had a longish, tanned, smiling face. He was followed a moment later by the driver, a tall slim woman wearing something like a very smart grey and black mini-skirted uniform. She had long brunette coloured hair with loose locks. Brian's mouth became a large black hole, as the woman followed Martin down the garden-path with long looping strides. Jenny giggled like a little girl with her hand to her mouth.
Mrs Cooper returned to the living room accompanied by Martin and the attractive woman.
'Hi', said Martin! greeting his brother and sister; embracing Jenny, and shaking Brian's hand.
He introduced each of them to the young woman, who's name was Rachel.
'I promised Rachel lunch, Ma! I hope that's OK? She brought me from the airport', he said.
'Of course, she’s welcome', said Mrs Cooper with a smile, 'There's plenty. Would you like a cup of tea for now, Rachel?'
'No', Martin, insisted, holding up a bottle of Champaign, 'we have something to celebrate'.
'Ho! do we?' asked his Mother. 'Well, please sit down and make yourself comfortable, Rachel.'
'I'll get the glasses, Mum, you sit down,' said Jenny going to the kitchen.
Martin and Rachel took off their coats, and Mrs Cooper put them in the hall and returned.
'So you met Martin at the airport, Rachel?' asked Brian inquisitively, while Martin was opening the Champaign.
'Yes,' she said sitting down on the large settee, 'the flight was a little late, but we made good time on the motorway.'
Brian thought he detected a slight Russian accent.
'She's going to drive me down to London next week.' said Martin.
'Oh, do you live around here then, Rachel?' Brian asked.
'No, I live in Manchester!'
'But she’s working at the moment,' added Martin, smiling curiously at Brian.
Jenny came from the kitchen with four sekt-glasses and a chocolate cake on a tray, and set them down on the small table.
After a lot of blah blah about how nice the cake looked, and such, Brian inquired further:
'So, what do you do Rachel?'
'Well, I work for a publishing company.'
'And he talked you into driving him all the way here?' Brian asked with a frown.
'No, it's part of my job.'
When Brian looked into her dark hazel coloured eyes, he had an overwhelming sensation of being dragged bodily across the Russian Steps!
'Well', said Martin, popping the cork from the bottle, and skilfully filling their glasses. 'Before we drink the toast, I think I'd better explain. I can see by Brian's face that he’s bursting to know what’s going on here!'
He got up and took three slim oblong blue parcels from his travel bag, and gave one each to his Mother, Jenny, and Brian, saying they were presents. He sat back down, smiling like the cat that drank the milk, while they began to open them.
Through the sound of rustling paper, it was Jenny who exposed the contents first, and read loudly the cover of a book: 'All Said And Done -- An Anthology Of Short Stories, By Martin Cooper.' There was a moment of incomprehension on all their faces!
'It’s yours?' asked Mrs Cooper excitedly.
'Yes, they've published it!' said Martin in a proud voice.
'Ho, that's wonderful, Martin!' said Jenny beaming delightedly. She jumped to her feet, and throw her arms round her brother's neck.
'I can’t believe it!' said his Mother kissing him on his cheek. 'Does this mean you’ll be famous?'
'First he'll have to sell it!' said Brian, quickly, with a look of disbelief on his face.
'But it is selling!' countered Martin. 'Ten thousand copies so far! And I’m going down to London next week to meet my editor again to talk about a second print! That's why they sent Rachel to pick me up... And look!' he said, reaching into his inside pocket and throwing a handful of newspaper cuttings on the coffee table for them to read, 'the critiques love it!'
An ever growing, ever glowing smile moved around the room -- beaming first from Martin, then passing along to Rachel, then to his mum, and on to Jenny, until it stopped suddenly at the face of Brian, which displayed a look of shear irritation.
*****
Martin heard a noise and opened his eyes, and saw what looked like a drinks trolley coming shakily towards him! It took a few seconds longer for him to really comprehend that it was, in deed, a drinks trolley coming towards him! Then it took a little longer to remember he was on an aeroplane. Then came pangs of disappointment when he realised that all that had just happened had been nothing more than a dream!
He looked to his left -- there was the beautiful girl he had said hello to when he’d taken his seat. But she was also Rachel from his dream. It had all been so vivid. He was still a little disoriented when the air-hostess asked him, and the girl if they would like a drink. She ordered a gin and tonic, and he a whisky. He asked her if he had snored. Thankfully, she said no. When they got their drinks, she said cheers, and gave him her beautiful smile, they chinked their glasses. But she then went back to the papers she had been working on.
Martin wondered what her name really was -- he made up his mind to ask her later. When she didn’t look so busy, and maybe he would invite her to lunch when they arrived in Manchester.
He sipped his whisky and thought about the dream. He knew it had been brought on by his trip home. He always got wacky when he went home. How strange the mind was though!
Suddenly, an idea struck him! Yes! it would make a wonderful story! He felt sure he could remember the whole thing. All he had to do was write it the way it had happened; but with a few frills, then change a few names -- to protect the guilty! He laughed to himself.
He looked at his watch -- he had an hour before they were due to land in Manchester. That should be enough time to get it down on paper. He would also be able to work over it again on the train. He felt pleased with the thought of having a new story by the time he reached his mother's home. He slipped a small black book and a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, sipped his whisky, and thought for a while. Then he began to write:
‘After lighting a cigarette, Brian Cooper relaxed his heavy mass back into the rocking chair, and blew a cloud of dream like smoke over his head. He was a middle aged man...

Berlin 2012