Victoria's Birth Day

Charlotte A Bennie

I can remember the day you were born. I know that sounds so squashily sentimental, the type of remark made by an aged and dotty auntie whos over indulged in the sherry at a family do, but I can. The day and the announcement. Out of all my nephews, nieces and great nephews, your birth day is the one I can remember. Even your cousins birthday, the year before is more vague, all confused with your parents wedding and your Grandpa being ill. But March 19th, 1964; that is surprisingly vivid.

I am standing in the tiled living room. Even although its early, before breakfast, theres muffled clatter and chatter echoing along the lobby as the shop opens up. It is cold, very cold. I dont know whether this is because global warming has raised the temperatures or simply because there was no central heating. The coal fire would have to be cleared out, set and lit. Your Grandpa is sitting in his leather chair beside the roll top desk and he is on the phone. Unusual. A phone call so early in the day. Private calls were made in the evening and during them, everyone kept quiet so as not to block the voice coming through the crackle. He holds the phones handset upside down; he always does this, so that he can hold the earpiece close to his hearing aid. He is wearing his dark green cardigan, the one with the brown, leather buttons and his flat cap is tilted over his right eye. The flex for his hearing aid snakes down from his left ear into the small box clipped to his shirt. I dont know where your Gran is, but she must have been there. Standing just out of vision. ... (continues)