Millie grew quiet, apparently deep in thought. Tyne glanced at her and wondered if, after all, she should enlist her aunt’s help. It was an accepted fact in the family that Millie was the only one to whom Jeff Milligan paid any attention. But would he listen, even to Millie, when it came to his daughter’s friendship with a man of another faith? “You know, Aunt Millie,” she said suddenly, “Dad would love to see me dating Larry Warner again.” “Of course he would, good Catholic boy that Larry is.” “But he was never too happy when Larry and I were dating.” “Your father,” Millie said dryly, “would not be happy if you dated Prince Charming. Even if the prince happened to be of the Roman faith.” Tyne gave her aunt a curious look. “You’re of the Roman faith, Aunt Millie. How come you’re not as strict about such things as my parents are? Is it because Uncle Emory was a Protestant?” “Your Uncle Emory was neither Protestant nor anything else. That was the heartache of it for me.” Tyne nodded. “And yet, you married him.” “I know, dear, because I loved him. And, I might add, I married him against your dad’s wishes.” “But Dad’s younger than you. What right had he to tell you what to do?” “When our father died, Jeff as the eldest son, became the head of the family.” “Archaic practice,” Tyne muttered. “Nevertheless, my dear, that’s the truth of it. And I’m not so sure it was all wrong. It kept some order in families, and provided stability for women who had no education, and no hope of supporting themselves adequately.” Millie sighed and took a sip from her glass. “Our mother, at least, welcomed Jeff ’s guidance and support. Poor darling Mum was never strong, and knew nothing but housekeeping and raising children.” “But you would have been strong enough to take over the family, Aunt Millie,” Tyne said quietly. “I can’t see you needing guidance from anyone.” Millie laughed. “Am I so obviously a Tartar then?” Tyne blushed and began to protest, but Millie waved her hand. “No no, I’m joking, child. I know what you say is true.
He switched over to the local news: a serious accident on the road down to the Second Narrows Bridge. He had better take Lions Gate Bridge this morning. The pileup on the approach to Second Narrows would make it impossible for traffic to resume for at least two hours, according to the news anchor. The phone rang. It was Herb on the other end. After the briefest of greetings, he brought up today’s buy order. He told him that a man he knew, someone who seemed to have good connections in Europe and other places, had assured him this was a good one, Platinum Properties Inc, to play with for the next few months. Eteo listened to Herbert Swanson attentively, but when he expressed some skepticism, Herb said he would pass by the office around ten to talk about it. He smiled. Herb always had a link to someone with information, and in the Vancouver Stock Exchange in those days, with its mining fliers and dubious promoters, information was of great value. Even if the information was often questionable at best, decisions were based on it, and today’s bet that Herb had placed on this new company, Platinum Properties, wasn’t any different from many others. For years, Herb had worked his way around each and every regulation in order to survive the debacle called investing in V.S.E. listed companies. In most cases, they lacked anything of substance, yet they could fly high for a few days, even a few months, before sinking into nothingness or simply going out of fashion. Sometimes they were still at the reorganizing stage, a lengthy process that provided a second chance for companies that had been unsuccessful in proving the value of their first mining asset and raising funds on that basis. This involved a reverse split of their shares, or consolidation, in other words, issuing new shares to raise new capital. It was usually an opportunity to turn their focus to a new asset, sometimes even to change course and concentrate on a new line of business. When a company was in that reorganizing stage, it wasn’t unusual for it to take a good twelve months to achieve its goal, and investors who didn’t like to wait that long rarely invested in such a company.
Preacher Down the mountainside I saw him descending like a warring blaze, a phantasm carrying behind him dissension hatred and fanaticism I saw him riding the rules and dogmatic iron bars tightly placed on slavery and servitude his spite and immense ego brandishing the foreigners’ holy medicine echoing valley of fear flowers hiding their blossoms time was for sorrowful chime of bells untethered and pious freaky creaks gathered to pay the paid-up leaders leading believers to salvation a mass of flesh ready for Purgatory simple-minded and stupid souls hoping for their forever salvation
IT’S A CLOUDY TUESDAY morning in Washington D.C. as Matthew Roberts arrives at his office. The night shift has gone home and he hears the sound of vacuum cleaners as they do their work. Matthew is early as usual. He had no reason to remain in bed longer. Where was his Emily to warm him? However, he likes to be in the office before the others to get organized, which gives him an advantage for addressing the day’s challenges. This morning he has to work on the Balkan file, a review he promised Bevan he’d look into but never found the time for. For a long time now, the attention of the United States has been focused on that side of the globe, and more so since the collapse of the Soviet Union, especially since the administration felt they were losing some of their grip there. After the Bosnia fiasco and the Croatian genocide they turned their attention to the country of The Former Republic of Macedonia (FYROM) a small country wanting to call itself Macedonia against the wishes of Greece and her northern province, Macedonia. FYROM’s ambitions of joining the European Union, has changed the dynamics by sending soldiers to Iraq, along with the United States, thus vying for clout when standing up to Greece. Similarly, Turkey has ambitions of joining the European Union with the support of the U.S., although the Europeans view the Turks with a different eye. Matthew’s attention today is on this file, and he has to come up with solutions to suit the government’s goals before turning it over to his superior Bevan Longhorn. A marine and one-star admiral, Bevan oversees the work of 120 people in the office, although Matthew and two mid-level supervisors take on the majority of his responsibilities. This leaves ‘the old man’, as they call him, with time on his hands to enjoy the odd game of golf. Mathew reads his messages from the receptionist’s desk, takes the file from his briefcase, and spends the next two hours working on it. At 9:15 the receptionist calls to tell him Bevan Longhorn wants to see him. “Right now?” “Yes, right now.” He wonders to himself, what now?, gets his notepad, and walks into the boss’s office.
As she entered, she could see the night staff hurrying along the corridor which stretched out before her. They were in the midst of morning care, preparing the patients for breakfast. She picked up her pace as she headed to an alcove to leave her handbag and retrieve her nurses’ cap. After pinning the cap in place in front of the one small mirror in the cubbyhole that passed as a staff cloakroom, she returned to the corridor and hurried to the nurses’ station where report would be given to the day staff in less than five minutes. She saw Inge Larson, the matron, walking towards her with a grim look on her usually pleasant features. “Mrs. Cresswell,” Miss Larson said quietly when she reached Tyne, “I would like to see you in my office. Never mind report. You can catch up later.” She turned and led the way. Tyne’s heartbeat quickened as she followed. What have I done wrong? Did I do something on my last night shift? Frantically, she tried to recall exactly what she had done that night, and which patients had been ill enough to require extra attention. Had she messed up? She remembered that she had been preoccupied with thoughts of Morley alone with the children, and Bobby’s fretting at bedtime. She also remembered she couldn’t wait to get off duty so that she could go home. “Please close the door, Tyne, and sit down,” the matron said as she seated herself at her desk. Tyne found some reassurance in the friendly tone, and the fact that Miss Larson had called her by her first name. She sat in a chair facing the desk, and waited. Inge Larson placed her arms on the desk top and folded her hands which Tyne could see were not entirely relaxed. “Tyne, I have bad news, shocking news really.” She took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Lydia Conrad died last night.” Tyne did not know how long she sat in stunned silence, staring at the woman who seemed to recede into a fog in front of her eyes. Finally, she choked out the words, “Why? How? What happened? Oh, dear God, no.”
12 It’s true when you’re tired It’s true when you sleep It’s true when you’re smiling It’s true when you weep It’s true when you’re happy It’s true when you’re sad It’s true when you cheat me If you ever have Was true when it wasn’t But of course it was true The last line, the dozenth Will read: I love you Shivers I said „sweet love”, and felt the shivers Right when I thought of you I said it twice, saw this delivers Most shivers hitherto I said it thrice, to test the feeling, But when the deed was done I realized I forgot believing And shivers are now gone
Manolis Aligizakis 