Luca sat in his car his mind a million miles away in remembering.
As a boy he had worshipped the ground she walked on. He had hung on her words like they were sacred scripture. In his eyes she was the most beautiful of women. He would watch her move elegantly and serenely through the village and revel in her courteous good mornings as she passed other villagers.
Most nights she would go out leaving Luca with the old Mrs Curry as a minder. Always she was dressed in the latest fashion with her make up as perfect as her red enamelled nails. He’d lie in his bed listening for the click of her high heels as she returned. He never heard them as sleep would defeat him and he’d wake up to find her home.
One morning was different, she wasn’t there. Mrs Curry didn’t know where she was. Sergeant Davis, the village bobby, a surly man who smoked a pipe, suggested Luca went to school his mother had probably been delayed.
After school Luca’s mother still had not returned home so Sergeant Davis enlisted favour of Mrs Curry to look after the 8 year old boy. His questions about his mother were left unanswered with the comment ‘you’ll find out soon enough, lad!’
The next day Luca’s aunt and uncle arrived to fetch him. He remembered clearly the drive out of the village past the school, his school, and waving at his friends as if he was going on holiday. It was the last time he would see any of them.
© JG Farmer 2014