by Alan Townendwas expecting a visitor, who was due any minute, she opened the
door to the garden and threw out the rug that was causing the
trouble and whose stain was upsetting her. Unfortunately she forgot
to get off the rug first and threw herself out into the garden as well.
That was how she ended up in the hospital with a broken leg. There
were endless stories like those, which were probably exaggerated
and that had been added to over the years. Nobody really knew what
was true and what was complete fabrication. The one thing that
nobody could understand or explain was why she had gone to live in
another country where she had stayed for more than twenty years.
Everybody had something to say on the matter: she had had an
unhappy love affair with a man who was married, she wanted to
make a fresh start in a place where no-one knew her, she wanted to
get away from her family whom she couldn't put up with. Such
stories, which grew in number as the years went by, fascinated me.
The strange thing was that not one of these stories fitted with the
generally accepted belief that Aunt Enid was supposed to be a very
shy person, who wouldn't have the courage to say boo to a goose.
This was an enigma that I wanted to resolve and when I heard that
she was returning to the place where she was born, I hoped I might
have the opportunity to meet this living legend and get to the
bottom of these stories.
My parents had decided to meet her at the port where her ship was
due to arrive and I was allowed to go with them. I can still remember
the excitement and anticipation I felt as a child waiting for the ship
to arrive. My father, who was always making fun of Aunt Enid, made
some remark to the effect that she had probably missed the boat
and taken the wrong one to another destination that was probably
the other side of the world. We waited and then slowly through the
mist we saw the ship whose right side bore the name «Voyager»,
which I thought was very romantic since it aptly described what my
aunt had been doing for the last twenty years. I even imagined that
the small dot visible on the deck was Aunt Enid waving to us. But my
father pointed out that what I thought was Aunt Enid was in fact one
of the anchors.
Eventually the «Voyager» docked and as was to be expected the last
person to disembark was my celebrated Aunt. I must admit that she
was a bit of an anti-climax because she was small, frail, gray-haired,
spoke with a tiny crackling voice, which sounded like a tiny mouse,
and was to all intents and purposes a very ordinary old lady.
It was several weeks before Aunt Enid and I were alone together. In
fact it was the afternoon on which she was preparing to go back to
her home abroad. I had not had enough courage to put the question
to her, which I had promised myself I would. In a sudden rush of
confidence I burst out: «Why did you go and live abroad all those
years ago, Aunt Enid?» She smiled that smile for which old people
are famous, that combines compassion with wisdom. «I'll tell you on
one condition«, she replied «and that is that you don't tell a living
soul». I promised. As all the «living souls» to whom she was
referring are now no longer alive, I think it's reasonable to reveal
Aunt Enid's secret. Apparently the day on which she left home for the
last time she had taken a train to visit a friend, who didn't live far