Evelyn by Heather Moulson

Arts Richmond

Online - 11 August 2020

Evelyn

Oh Evelyn, where have you gone?
I miss those teatimes with you,
ripping off your school tie, before you 
            did the same to my Sindy doll, 
            putting her to bed with Action Man.

 Us, rushing to the Co-op for sherbet.
You’d always be mouthy to some 
            miserable bugger behind the counter.
Then, abusive calls to the operator
            in the local phone box. 
Legging it when threats of tracers were on the line.  
Hiding behind the pub, terrified of Borstal.

After tea (chops and chips), you’d
            pull my hair, and I’d scratch your face.
My Mum taking you home, us sticking
            two fingers up at each other. 
What a marvie time we had had.

Then, Sindy wasn’t enough for you anymore.
You wanted the real thing with dishy sixth formers.
Your blonde hair stiff with lacquer,
            mascaraed up to the eyeballs.
I could only watch at a distance,
            from the coldness of the Science block.  

When your beaus finally cleared off to art college,
you worked in the Midland Bank,
            and got engaged to someone called Ron.
I wished you luck as you filled your bottom drawer –
the loss within me endless:  
Childhood friendship buried under white tulle – 
            it didn’t stand a chance.
Saving up for a mortgage, you said, 
no more 2ps spent down the phone box.

No invite to the wedding, no giggly confidences
            of doing what Sindy did.
In fact, you’re not talking to me at all.
And all I said was:
You could have done so much better.

Oh, Evelyn, where have you gone?! 

                              by Heather Moulson