MILLICENT BELL
Eliane
She in sisted o n a pi cni c in the ga rden o f her famil y ho use
Beyond the Bo is de Vincenn es-
Circa
1 9 1 0
w ith ga bles and pseudo-No rma n la th -a nd -plaster,
A balcony sagging over th e door li ke a rifl ed p urse.
T he ga rden was narrow, d a rkened by th e wa lls o f a pa rtment ho uses.
Open doors o nto the terraces let o ut in bursts
T he music o f telev isio n sets a nd tape- pl aye rs
And t hrough the blac k bra nches o f th e o ld cherry tree under w hi ch
they sa t
Th ey could see th e sha rk -too th glea ms o f televi sio n sc reens.
It
sho uld no t have been a ll owed , she sa id.
O nce thi s was the qui etes t pl ace in the wo rld .
But a t least we still have the ga rden.
And she bega n to ta ke their mea l o ut of the sacks and bas kets t hey had
carried from the t ru nk of her car.
She threw a cl o th o n the iron ta bl e w ith its fee t sunk in th ree inches of
g rass
And they helped he r to put down three pla tes a nd fo rks and kni ves
And glasses and a bo ttl e o f w ine,
Co ld asparagus, and the
gigot,
sa lad o ut o f a p lasti c bowl,
A fr uit tart.
All thi s wo uld have been fine if it had been somewhere
In
sun shine, under a country sky.
But in ea rl y Ap ril
T he shadows from the buildings we re co ld , a damp win d
Lifted the cl o th from the edge o f th e ta bl e
Whil e they ca ught up their glasses.
T he ga rden smelt o f something-
Garbage or ca ts, th o ugh neith er we re visibl e.
