The Huntsman

 

 

On a hot, muggy summer’s evening, Brigitta, a petite prostitute from Bulgaria, with blonde hair and a pale complexion saunters up and down the pavement of the road bridge over the tracks at Kings Cross. She wears cheap clothes while at the same time looking smart. She sees, coming towards her, her husband of twelve years on whom she has not clapped eyes for several months. He is tall, athletic and well built. He wears an ill fitting blue uniform with a white peaked cap perched jauntily on a head of thick black hair. He is sweating slightly in the heat. A former corporal in the SAS, he now works for a security company. He does not notice her as he is about to pass by so she calls his name quietly: “Wayne!” 

 

Surprised, he recognises her though his body language indicates he is less than pleased to see her. He stops. Even though he knows her profession he asks what she is doing there. Her eyes light up as she answers him. She asks gently why he hasn’t visited her for so long, even though she waits for him every night, reminding him tearfully of their unconsummated marriage.  

 

He launches into a tirade, saying he only married her to please his boss after a mammoth drinking session together. He had felt sorry for her, knowing she needed a British passport. He tells her she’s a fool who doesn’t really understand him.  “We’re two completely different people”.  She protests. Anyway, he continues, each time he visits her he only gets drunk and beats her up. Besides, he is now a highly valued employee at the security company and his boss depends on him. He has even given him a room above the office where he lives. He needs his freedom and refuses to be held back by domestic ties. He has always been independent and is not about to change now.

 

He turns to go.  She looks sweetly at him. As he walks towards the main road she catches up with him. He turns to her. Almost as an afterthought he hands her a crumpled twenty pound note. She takes it absentmindedly. He mumbles: “Catch you later” striding off purposefully down the Euston Road. Her eyes, filled with tears, follow him until his erect figure merges with the distant crowds on the pavement.

 

“Goodbye, Wayne” whispers Brigitta over the noise of the traffic as she stands on tiptoe hoping to catch one last glimpse of the top of his white cap.

 

 

Julian Nokes

28^th September 2004

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