memoirs of wicKham sTreet...

[IED0DXM%UCLAMVS.BITNET@wiscvm.wisc.edu]

Here is the last of the three short short stories which have
appeared in past Kate Bush Club Newsletters. "On the Road Home"
was published in Number 15, the Christmas 1983 issue; and like
the two earlier stories, this one is set off by snow, cold rain and
a dark winter night...

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                            On the Road Home
                            ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

     It had been a good day, and as I tied the tree on to the roof
it showered me in its green perfume. For just a moment it took me to
that place where all my Christmas days meet as one; where there are
reindeer and chimney pots and blazing fires. It hung in my head for an instant
and then was gone as I checked the clock and made for the shops.
     It was unusually quiet for an afternoon so near to Christmas. It
had even snowed that morning, and the shop attendants seemed almost
happy at their work. It felt like some kind of magic, wrapping everyone
and everything up.
     The ever-growing list was finally getting smaller -- tick, tick,
tick: the turkey, the pudding, the crackers. Tick, tick: a present
for David, a present for Granddad.
     With just five minutes to spare, I had finished the shopping and
was wading back to the car through the snow. It really was quiet that
night, and it had been dark for a good hour. I opened the car boot and
wedged as much as possible into the already full space.
     It was great to be in the car and on the way home. Everything
looked so beautiful in the snow! It was like driving down a tunnel
of trees to Narnia. I was in no hurry, and didn't feel like the radio
-- the snow and my thoughts were just right together. Not too fast,
remember the driving conditions, ease off the accelerator, check the
mirror (no-one around), nice and easy...
     It was just as I started thinking about checking the tree on
the roof that I got this feeling...this feeling that there was
someone else in the car. I dismissed it -- ridiculous, I'd have
seen them. Check the mirror. There. Nothing. But what if he's lying
down on the back seat and I can't see him?
     I slowed right down, and twisted my head round. Nothing.
     Check the mirror. It must be paranoia. I'm going just a little
faster now. I know it's nothing, but it's just this feeling...
     Then his face is right there, in between the two front seats:
     "Look out, look out...Stop."
     My eyes turned from his moving lips to the road, my foot
already reacting on the brake. I skidded to a stop. After just a
few seconds I had taken in that there was nothing in the road. Nothing
in front, nothing behind...and no-one in the back of the car.
     The thought of having to get out into the night -- out of the car --
was more terrifying than staying in it, so I started up the motor,
put my foot steadily on the accelerator and turned on the radio --
light music, nice and loud.
     By the time I turned into the drive I was wondering if it had
really happened at all. I was shaking, and hadn't checked my mirror
once since I'd had to stop. I ran into the house. As soon as I
saw David I released the tears.
     I don't know if he believed me or not, and it didn't matter at
the time. He acted like he did, that was all I needed. After all, I
was seriously doubting it myself.
     It was a week later, and we were all to go out for the evening.
We arranged for our friends to pick us up on the way. It was Christmas
Eve -- the first time for years we'd left the house on that night.
We were looking forward to the break, and once we were at the party
we relaxed and enjoyed the rest from the rush. None of us really drank,
but we ate as much as possible, working our way up the table -- the
food was delightful; and like perfect guests, as soon as we'd had our
fill we left, in order to be in our homes to celebrate Christmas.
     Since we'd arrived the weather had broken into a storm -- heavy
wind and rain. We piled into the car -- our friends in the front, David
and I in the back -- and rolled toward home. After a while I realised
what route we were now taking on the way to our house: past the shops...
My eyes fixed on the road ahead. I felt uncomfortable  -- it was that
same feeling -- I would not panic --
     We came to the spot where I had stopped that night, that figure
shouting in my ear. We were travelling at a fair speed. Then there he
was -- standing in the road, waving his arms to and fro. He was right
in front of us.
     "Look out, look out...Stop."
     The words came out as if they were not my own.
     The car ground to a halt, all four of us staring ahead. Still
held by my fear, the other three slowly turned their faces toward mine.
     "God, what's the matter with you?" shouted David, his face pale.
     "Didn't you see him?" I screamed.
     "See what?"
     I couldn't believe it -- he must be joking.
     "What did you see?" queried my two friends, now laughing a little
as they shook off their fright.
     "The man...in the road!" I gasped.
     As I pushed open the back door and got out, I looked back --
nothing. I looked ahead of the car -- nothing. I would not have this!
I knew I had seen him this time -- he was real. The car headlights
-- the light beams filled with rain -- stopped dead about six feet from
the car. After that, darkness. Maybe he had fallen down. He must have
been further ahead than I had thought. My friends, now concerned by my
worry, were sitting with knitted brows in the car.
     "Please," I said, "move the car forward very slowly -- I need the
light on the road."
     The light slowly moved across the tarmac. I waited for a shoe, a
hand. Then the edge of the light hit a rough brown surface.
     "There's something here!" I shouted. The light steadily moved
forward and revealed the huge bough of a tree. It must have been a
twenty-, thirty-footer, fallen in the storm. The car stopped. All
four of us stood, fixed on the object.
     "The speed we were going..." David said. "How did you see it?"
     "I didn't," I answered. I hadn't seen it.
     None of us could say anything -- we were too shocked. We couldn't
believe it. It had been close. So strange.
     In the distance the clock struck the first chime of Christmas day.
     And in the distance but coming towards us was the constant buzz
of an engine. We'd all heard it. Something travelling fast: a motorbike,
and now he's in view, he's coming straight towards us. He's not wearing
a helmet, and with his hair pelted back by the rain, his face is white
and stark in the night. His face is very like that man's -- that man
who was first shouting, then waving, is now coming straight for us.
     "Look out, look out...Stop."

-- Kate Bush

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Nice little story, no? A bit more art to it than in "A Could Be Story".
Judging from the driving paranoia in it, it's fair to assume that
it was written about the same time that Kate was learning to drive
(she's said she learned during the hiatus between The Dreaming and
Hounds of Love.) Also of interest to IED are the image of car headlights
(as in "Full House" and "Don't Put Your Foot on the Heart Brake"); the
shifts from past to present tense at crucial dramatic moments; the phrase
"something traveling fast" (as in "Hello Earth"); and the reference
to a meat Christmas -- not the first time Kate has let negative
traditions override her personal convictions for the sake of their
beauty, or of their associative or artistic power.

-- Andrew