Kat Wright Tic Tocc 3

Tic tocc 3 702 words by Mooncakelizzie

Whilst fetching in the dry washing from the line something catches your eye that certainly wasn't there when you pegged out the laundry that morning. Nearly hidden behind the last items you see.........................

I happened to be reaching into the center of the rotary clothesline for the bits and pieces; you know the sort of things, socks, bra's, bits of cut up shirts used for dusters. Well, a movement caught my eye from the upstairs window of one of the flats beyond. I was quite hidden behind the sheets and big items on the other side so felt at liberty to stare as nosily as I liked. Normally I wouldn't even glance over there, if you can imagine what it's like you'd understand why.

Let's see... My place is on the ground floor so it's easy for me to use the bit of garden. Most dont bother and stick to their tumble dryers. The flats opposite are about twelve stories high and all the windows angle down onto our block. We have to keep our nets over or blinds down all the time. Out the front the main bus route between St Austell and Truro goes by so you can see, there's no privacy. We just get used to looking at a place beyond, sort of unfocussed, I mean beyond eye contact, recognition. It's kind of tiring to be catching people's eyes all the time. Mostly they stare as if you didn't even exist. I dont know which is worse, that or having to nod or make some kind of gesture of recognition.

You might ask, why dont I move? Easy, where else would I go? My kids say they want me, but realistically, who really wants an old woman with lung disease, bloody great oxygen bottles in the rooms that I use regularly, especially after the effort of getting my washing in and out. But I like to do as much as I can. At night I lie comfy in bed, which has a lever to pull it about into different positions and one of those soft mattresses. Like being on a cloud. I hear the rumble of traffic from the main road and the individual noises of cars and busses going past down the side. Then there's the sound of footsteps next door, faint voices and other people's telly's. On all night some of them. It's all right. It's comforting. I couldn't be doing with living with Martie or Jenny, making myself a burden. They wouldn't be keen on me carrying on doing things for myself. Too much of a risk I might keel over.

So, now you get the picture, you'll see that I'm a stubborn old woman, maybe a bit sorry for myself at times, but making the best of things. So it was odd to see an angel standing in the window of the third floor end flat, just looking out. And before you say it was some kid in fancy dress, I can tell you it certainly wasn't. What do you see behind someone looking out of a window? Especially if there's no second window behind them. Just black isn't it? Well, behind the angel there was a beautiful summer sky, speckled with tiny clouds that had taken on an apricot colour from some hidden sun. It certainly wasn't sunny out here with mizzle just starting and the sky as black as your hat.

I thought at first it might be a statue, it looked a sort of ivory colour with big wings, bobbed hair, it's hands outstretched. Couldn't tell whether it was male or female. But as I watched, one hand on the post and one keeping the tea cloth from The Giants Causeway still so it wouldn't keep flapping in my face; the angel turned it's head. It looked straight down at me and smiled.

Beautiful! We just stood still, staring at each other. I was breathing quite normally, just lost in time. When I went in I was suddenly sure I was doing the right thing, staying put in my flat and doing my own thing, as it were. Then I had a funny thought: I wondered if the angel had been as pleased to see me as I was to see it? I think it was. An angel appeared, just to me, and smiled!

Now that's really something to discover when you're getting the washing in.