The Map Collector and his Nurse

Whenever the engine
Of Denham Carter-Smythe’s impossible motorcar
Echoed along Selwyn Lane,

Nocturna barman Edgar Brillows instinctively
Straightened his waistcoat.
Not because of Denham.
Because of his nurse.

Denham Carter-Smythe
A keen cartophilist,
Visits the club once a month,
Ready to trade and purchase antique maps,
Of unusual or exotic places.

Denham himself is quite the antique now,
Following a very long life of adventure,
He is now wheelchair bound.
This old wooden Victorian chair
is pushed into the club by is private nurse.

He spends his evening trading maps,
Secrets,
and leatherbound volumes.

Denham is a small ancient grey haired man,
Dressed in a long burgundy house coat,
with a matching fez perched upon his head,
Small round small spectacles balance
on the end of his nose,
and his legs are covered in a dark wool blanket.

He is wheeled into his booth,
To conduct the evenings business.
His nurse then makes her way to the bar,
To a particular swivel stool in a dark corner,
To await the gentle tinkle of Denham’s tiny bell.

Frau Olga Knochen,
A large intimidating Austrian woman,
Standing over six feet tall.
She is as much nurse,
as she is Denham’s protector.

Her dark hair is slicked back into a tight bun. 
Rumoured to be a former psychiatric hospital Matron.
She is also an avid amateur chiropractor,
Who delights in the sounds of cracking backs. 

She is unnaturally strong,
With powerful hands.
Her dark judgmental eyes,
Constantly survey other patrons,
With a look of displeasure
on her face.

Her deep gravelled voice seems like,
It should belong to an angry longshoreman,
Rather than a personal carer,
She has been known to ask patrons,

“You want crack back?”.

Appearances aside, she is very attentive to,
The collector who she refers to as ‘Mr Denham’.

It is rumoured that she once
Carried her wheelchair-bound employer
Effortlessly up three flights of stairs…
Wheelchair included.

Olga always situates herself,
At the nearby bar,
Close to barman Mr Brillows,
Where she can converse
And closely observe,
For she is quite infatuated with him.

Edgar Brillows always greets her with
“Good evening, Frau Knochen.
Your usual?”

She smiles briefly with a nod,
and the barman slides across
A delicate crystal glass of sour apple schnapps.

After several glasses,
She fondly refers to him as her Mausi or little mouse.
To which he politely remains professional.
It’s that aloof yet engaging professionalism,
That holds Frau Knochen’s utmost attention.

Dressed in an old grey matron’s uniform
With a black knitted shawl cast across her wide shoulders.
This mountain of a woman is formidable.
And would love to nothing more,

Than to squeeze the life out of
the charming Mr Brillows,
With affection.

Some time passes before
the barman can breathe a sigh of relief,
As the tinkle of a tiny crystal bell tolls,
Olga empties the last of her schnapps,

Sliding her small glass onto the bar
Gently towards an uncomfortable,
But still smiling Mr Brillows,

“Danke, meine kleine Maus”
with a smile and a wink.

She reapplies her standard expression,
before turning and crossing the floor
To attend to Carter-Smythe,
Who is madly waving an antique map scroll
In her direction,
As if celebrating some great discovery.

“Mr Denham, we go now?”

As she pushes the wheelchair,
The elderly man regales her
With the evening’s exploits.

As they pass the doorway he is heard,
to say,

“I have a map to a location
Full of Patagonian Maras
How wonderful.”

and

“And this one shows
The Seventh Lighthouse
That only appears
During eclipses.”

The passenger door closes,
The street rumbles,
and the vintage car,
roars to life.
before it slowly putts away
in a cloud of smoke,
Down the dawn lit Selwyn Lane.