Return To Sender

In 1994 snow drops sank, and a woman died.  




They said: “Oh, isn’t it sad? Mrs Next Door has slipped 


away.”




“Passed on”, others said, “Gone to a better place”, said 


the rest. 


(But they were wrong, she’d just died).

A little time passed, and little less was said. 

But then they began to pack and to parcel. 

They packed and then they parcelled and then they 


packed some more.

 Scarves, silken and pressed soft. 


 Cats and dogs in miniature, a porcelain horse and cart.

 A woollen rug, from Widnes Market, that held over a 


 hundred species of flowers. 




 And three towels and some white plates, a fridge, some 

clippers. Even a toothbrush. 

 They packed and they packed.

 They would not stop; except for tea and “Maybe some 


biscuits?” She’d bought them in case of visitors.

 Marks and Spencer’s, of course.

 And then the rooms were bare. 

Stripped and white like a picked bone. Ugly. And we 


left, locking the door, heading home.

They changed their minds though and said they needed 


to pack and to parcel, “Just a little more”. 

 A box was bought, it was elegant and strong. Two 


yellowed feet were pushed in.

 And a white head, and nineteen fingers and a porcelain 


face. 

She refused to look, of course. 

Eyes clamped down in refusal. 

 The satin pillowed her (it actually out-staged her), 


glimmering, flirting with any wandering eye. 

 But they shut her in, to be alone with the silk. And fed 


her down, packed her over with peaty, moist soil. 

 And we left; they dribbling wet, hunched over and 


sodden from all that packing.

They took a little rest from packing. They even stopped 


parcelling. But then they started talking. 


 And I saw the scissors and brown paper peeking from 


beneath their chairs.

“Oh, she was always such a kind hearted little lady!” 


(But they were wrong; a beating red temper pulsed 


beneath them).

“She used to say good-morning to me every single 


day!” (I saw two snide words and a curling lip though).

They parcelled all of her. It took hours; wrapping. Cello 


tape and brown tape and parcel tape. 


Then the FRAGILE: TO BE HANDLED WITH CARE 


tape.


And then, we sent her off.

Posted.

If lost please return to sender.