Jessica

Jessica Charlotte George
2011 — 2018
R.I.P.

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School of Escher

During the school-run at Acacia Primary, Scarlett’s silver hatchback and Mr & Mrs Wormwood’s estate car are often parked next to each other. Frequently I see them alongside, or near, number 35. Mr & Mrs Wormwood interact with other people during the school-run, and Scarlett appears to be on very friendly terms with quite a number of the other parents. Yet I have never seen the slightest interaction (friendly or unfriendly) between Scarlett and Mr & Mrs Wormwood.
They are like figures in a drawing by Escher.
And what of Miss Wormwood and the two boys? I can’t remember seeing her and the boys on the same stretch of pavement.

[Original posting 2 August 2013]

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“…I shan’t resile…”

Friday 21 June 2013

At 07:20 the minibus is parked nose downhill, with its tail alongside the Thornboroughs’ driveway.

Scarlett has parked alongside the upper end of Vinnie’s long hedge, with the nose of her car just reaching the downhill end of his driveway. Mrs Pavane’s car is still at the kerb opposite, though a car’s length further downhill.
When Scarlett and the boys are returning from the school, I see her first, traversing the “gap”. The boys are not in sight, but must be following her. When all three of them are in sight — Small Boy is some yards behind Scarlett, and Tiny Boy a similar distance further to the rear — and Scarlett is approaching Vinnie’s garden-gates, she calls out: “++++++ and ++++++, come on!” Her voice is mezzo-soprano, like the voice I heard yesterday; it is unmusical but not harsh. Her local accent is not very noticeable in such a short utterance. She doesn’t turn round, or even look round, towards the boys even when she calls out to them.
As the boys walk by the long hedge, there is no spring in Tiny Boy’s step, and not much spring in the step of Small Boy. Have they had a hard week? Tiny Boy must be exhausted, to judge by his body-language, his gait, and his rather firmly closed mouth.

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Washing-line? Slim-line?

Sunday 9 June 2013

Before 05:00, the little silver MPV is parked nose uphill at the kerb alongside the Efords’ house.

Two hours later, Mrs GS is advancing down her back garden, carrying in front of her what looks like a medium-size pile of washing. She is wearing a sleeveless top and red-brown trousers; she seems to have lost a little weight lately.
I can’t see her washing-line — it must be at the bottom of her garden, concealed by the JGs’ big trees. She passes out of sight behind those trees.
Mrs JG has had washing out on her line overnight.
The Junior Golfer’s tent has vanished, but his car is on his back garden, and to the left of his car, the handlebars of his microscooter.
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Goodbye

Saturday 8 June 2013

At 05:28, windows 2 and 3 of the BE are still open from yesterday evening.
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The future’s so bright…

Friday 7 June 2013

Just before 05:45 Mr Trimot is reversing his car off the driveway. The sunlight is streaming through the bathroom of the Old Man’s house and onto the landing, as it was earlier this week.
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All the way from Wellvale

Thursday 6 June 2013

The day starts under a dull sky.

At about 07:10 or 07:15, the usual minibus has parked alongside the gates of Vinnie’s driveway and the uphill end of his long hedge.

A car that I mistake for Mrs Pavane’s is parked with its bonnet alongside the school-house path. Later, I see Mrs Pavane’s car is parked alongside the Old Man’s garden-gate and front side lawn.
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Picture and piggyback

Wednesday 5 June 2013

There is quite a dull start to the day. I can glimpse, via the foliage of the tree, that the security-light at the far corner of the school is on.
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Acacia ninjas

Tuesday 4 June 2013

Early in the morning, the sunlight is streaming through the bathroom and onto the landing, as it was at about this time yesterday.
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Most probably Mrs Tanbrit

Monday 3 June 2013

At 05:29 the sunlight is streaming through the open doorway of the bathroom, onto the wall of the landing — to the right of the airing-cupboard, and above the tumble-dryer.
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Double, double… hieroglyphs

Sunday 2 June 2013

At the place where I stop on my journey to Peakville, a couple in their mid-to-late 40s (if not older) are seated on the low wall outside the entrance, with a girl aged three or four. The girl is at the man’s left hand; she is wearing a black dress with white polka-dots. She makes reference to two red cars, and the man responds that those cars are red “like daddy’s car”.
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