The Testimony of Taliesin Jones (4 page)

A
cross
th
e
ro
ad
,
pu
shing
a broom along th
e
p
avement,
th
e g
reengrocer's
w
ife
s
weeps th
e
shop front. Taliesin
can
see
her
blu
e-rinse
h
air cle
arly thi
s
m
orning
.
La
st
week it wa
s a
confu
sed w
hite-grey, tod
ay i
t is
a
l
ivid
purple
.
It i
s a
lso
c
urly
a
nd
s
hort, th
e way
old
wo
men's hair i
s
.
H
e
ne
ver s
ees an old wom
an w
ith lon
g
h
air.
It
's a
lways cut short or
in a bun
-a
nd
blu
e.

Handycott,
the grocer, is arranging his fruit, talking to them and petting them as if they
were his
&ch
ildren. The sun
b
a
th
e
s
h
is
d
isplay i
n an
e
dible li
ght.
All th
e
fa
re i
s
l
aid
o
ut
w
ith
a
n
a
rtist's
eye
for
co
lour
a
nd
co
m position:
t
he
g
reen
app
les
co
ntrasting
w
ith th
e
r
ed; t
he
ca
ulies
an
d
c
a
bb
ages off
se
tting
t
he br
occoli;
th
e
p
otatoes
l
ined
up
in
asce
nding
o
rder
o
f
s
ize; tom
atoes,
o
ranges
a
nd
a
pple
s
f
orming traffic
l
i
g
ht rows. T
he appl
es
a
re pr
ominent i
n
th
e canvas
.
They a
re th
e
g
r
oce
r
's
p
ride a
nd jo
y;
hi
s c
hoicest
f
ruit. H
e
i
s emp
tying
a fres
h b
ox
o
f th
em
now
,
fu
ssing a
nd
cosse
ting th
em as
h
e
wo
uld
a yo
ungest
d
aughter.
H
e says
that h
is
l
ove
f
or
hi
s
fru
it
m
akes
th
em
t
aste
b
etter a
nd T
aliesin
bel
ieves
him
.

The g
roc
er
is a
bi
g
man
,
hi
s f
rame
co
mfortably
ca
rrying
a midd
le-
aged
co
rpulence
.
Hi
s eyes
h
ave
h
eavy
b
ags, as
d
oes
h
i
s c
hi
n
. H
e
h
as
n
o
h
air o
n hi
s
h
ead
but pl
enty o
n h
is face
.
Ta
lie
si
n
ca
lls him W
alrus (
never t
o
h
is
f
ace),
b
ecause o
f hi
s ma
ssive
bu
ild a
nd deli
cate c
urling
m
oustache. H
e
h
as
n
o
c
hil
dren of
hi
s ow
n
.
H
e ca
n't h
ave
th
em
.
A
ccording
t
o
J
onathan, Ta
liesin's
broth
er,
Walru
s
h
ad
hi
s
b
alls ra
ked in
a
g
a
m
e of
ru
gby a
nd that
wa
s
i
t f
or
him
.

T
a
liesin
c
rosses the ro
ad.

The
grocer is humming and emptying apples into one of th
e
display trays. He too is bathed in sunlight and Taliesin has
t
o
s
q
uint
a
s
h
e
foll
ows
the b
ig
m
an 's
m
ovements. Ta
liesin i
s a
l
ways
h
is fi
rst
c
ustomer o
f
the d
ay
.

'
Goo
d m
orning,'
th
e g
rocer
says
.

'H
ello,'
T
aliesin
r
eplies.

'A
nd h
ow a
re
y
ou this b
eautiful
Tu
esday
m
orning?'

'I'm
tidy,' Taliesin says. He looks and wonders at the poli
she
d
fruit. He tries to think of all the countries they come fr
om
:
b
ananas
from Brazil
,
or
anges f
rom
Spa
in, p
ears f
rom
E
ngland
.

'Goo
d birthda
y?'

'
Ye
s.
Th
ank yo
u.
'

'So,
h
ow
d
oes
it f
eel
t
o
b
e
el
even?'
th
e g
rocer
ask
s
,
n
ow
turnin
g
th
e a
pples
s
talk-up in th
e
tr
ay.

'
I d
on't
f
eel
th
at
diff
erent,
r
eally, '
T
aliesin
says.

'
Did
yo
u
ge
t
w
hat
yo
u w
anted? '

'
Books.' T
aliesin
n
ods
to
s
how th
at
thi
s
is what h
e
w
anted.

T
he
g
rocer's wif
e, a
fri
ghtening
woman, walk
s
t
o
th
e
f
ront
of th
e s
hop
a
nd tak
es
th
e
br
oom
b
ack
in
side. '
Morning,'
s
he
says, i
n
a vo
ice th
at
i
s
d
eep
f
or a
w
oman.

'
Morning,' T
aliesin says.
N
o so
ubriquets for h
er,
n
ot eve
n in hi
s
h
ead.
H
e ca
nnot und
erstand
h
ow a
man
as ge
nial
as
th
e g
rocer
co
uld b
e
m
arried to a
w
oman s
o fierc
e.
Th
e g
rocer i
s as
f
earful o
f h
er as Ta
liesin i
s;
h
e
h
as
t
o
ch
eck
th
at s
he i
s o
ut
of ea
r
a
nd
eye s
hot b
efore co
nversing. Th
e
doo
r
cl
oses a
nd W
alrus
turn
s a
nd pl
aces a
h
and o
n T
aliesin's
h
ead,
m
easuring
him
.

'
You're n
ot exac
tly
a
b
ean a
re you
?
You
're
m
ore o
f
a
pot
ato
-
yo
u
grow a
t
a s
teady p
ace
.
An
yway,
th
ere's
n
o
hurr
y.
M
ake
th
e
m
ost o
f b
eing yo
ung, th
at's w
hat I
say
.'

T
aliesin
h
as
n
ever co
nsidered b
eing a
nything el
se.
Th
e
h
ere a
nd now
is w
hat m
atters
t
o
him
,
not tomorrow, n
or eve
n y
esterday.
It'
s o
nly th
ose a
round him who show
co
ncern f
or
th
eir age a
nd th
e
p
assing o
f tim
e
:
h
is
brother w
ith
his
a
ttempt
s a
t
s
having, hi
s
moth
er
with
h
e
r in
appropriately yo
uthful
ha
ircuts, hi
s fa
ther with hi
s
pl
ans
f
or a
n
i
mpossible futur
e.