LOVE IN MONTREAL - (part two)

Peter had to go to work next morning, so after a hurried breakfast and the barest minimum of instructions, he left me to explore. Although the size of the streets and some of the shops had me amazed and enchanted, people are people whether in Gibraltar, Montreal or Timbuktu. I am not a shy person by nature, so talking to people in shops, restaurants and pizza parlours came easy to me. All the more so since thanks to Bro.Murphy (aka Malvaloca) at the Grammar School he had hammered enough French into my head and I could even hold basic conversations in French. It was funny to realise that Canadians in Montreal speak a type of Yanito, though in French and English. Mr Corso and the Gib Tourism Minister would have been proud of me as I spread the SPQR/British Gibraltar matchboxes to everyone and told of our political sorrows everywhere I went.

I did not visit EXPO'67 that day.
Instead I familiarised myself with the area and on instructions from Peter, bought food and drinks for our flat. The difference between Lipton's then in Gibraltar and supermarkets in Montreal was a revelation in itself. Milk and orange juice came in quarts, not the pints or even 1/2 pints as of Supermilk! Anything to do with food and drink came in gigantic portions compared to European equivalent. My first day’s adventure saw me overloaded with groceries plus a couple more bottles of Dubonnet. I was becoming something of a drinker!

That night Donna came over too. We had a very friendly get together which lasted till those bottles were empty. Yes, we shared the bed together, all three of us, but in the most chase way possible, keeping all but our shoes on.

In the morning, Peter went off to work and Donna and I went to Expo. If Canadians, Americans, Europeans and all the many other nationalities that were there were amazed at the sheer magnificence of this World Fair, you can imagine that to me it blew my socks off!  Just the very size of the pavilions was something to admire. It is difficult to put it into context but it opened my mind to the vastness and wonder of the world we live in and the country I was visiting.

Now you have a choice, I can explain and describe in detail the pavilions as I visited them, or I can tell you how Donna and I were getting on.

OK, good choice, you randy readers!

But let me give you one glimpse of one display in just one Pavilion. Inside the Great Britain Pavilion was a presentation telling the world that Britain was the country where most newspapers were printed and read per capita. And to bring that point home, newspapers like the Daily Express, the Daily Mirror, the Financial Times and others had printed huge examples of full newspapers that must have measured 15 by 20 meters, easily!

I felt so proud of being British even though at that time, we Gibraltarians were essentially almost second-class British citizens.

Donna and I walked from one Pavilion to the next, we stopped and ate together, had refreshments together, sat by a fountain together taking our shoes off to cool our feet .... and all during that wonderful day we enjoyed a  semi-platonic closeness that challenges all logic. We held hands in a very particular way of Donna's, just as we had in Gibraltar 3 years previously and somehow the anger in me dissipated, the jealousy disappeared and a friendship pure (out of necessity) became a bond between us that has lasted to this day.

Peter, in all honesty was a superb host ….. except for the bed bugs.... but I suppose that was not his fault.
We had an evening ritual of wine and... come to think of it we did not even have television in the flat... but wine, yes! Sometimes the three of us sometimes just two of us when Peter had over time to complete (no, don’t ask and yes it was all… almost… chaste!). But in the morning both Peter and would wake up with more than a few bites on legs and arms. Yes, bed bugs in both beds!
Our choices were to complain and leave the flat, or stay and declare war on the bed bugs. Over fifty million visitors went to EXPO'67. Leaving the flat would have us hunting for another and probably ending somewhere near Vancouver! So, Peter and David, the two Big Game Hunters, made ready that night. We bought four big bars of soap and left one flat side of them soaking in saucers with water for a few hours. We went for dinner at a nearby restaurant, where, fortified by the grape, we planned an assault on the bugs.

Once back home, we donned our protective gear which consisted of pyjamas with the bottoms stuck into socks, keeping our Y-fronts on for greater protection and the sleeve cuffs of our pyjamas secured with elastic bands. Donna was in charge of the lights and Peter and I got each into our beds with the four saucers where the bars of soap had soaked in enough water to make them soggy, these were on the bedside tables.
We were ready for war!

We got into our beds, Donna switched off the lights and we waited.

After about half an hour, immobile under the covers, we started to feel some nibbling on our toes. Having been trained in warfare in the Gibraltar Regiment I was in command.

"Wait, wait" I whispered.

Giving the enemy another 10 minutes to lull them into a false security ..... (even as I am writing these words now I can see I must have been destined to be a Field Marshal but took the wrong path into business LOL)...

"Ready?"

Peter "Yes!"

Donna "Yes yes yes!"

"NOW!"

Donna switched on all the lights ... Peter and I jumped out of our beds, pulling back the sheets and there ... was the enemy! And quite a few of them too, frozen for a few seconds in the bright light.
Armed with our heavy artillery, a bar of soap on each hand held by the dry side, blam blam blam. We slapped the soap bars down on the sheets and the bugs stuck to the soggy part, unable to escape. I know this sounds stupid, or at least silly, today, but that evening we repeated the process till there was no soap left, no wine left, and the laughing, victorious army of three called it a night!
In the morning we showed the proof to the landlord and new mattresses & bed linen replaced the night’s battlefields!

I spent two weeks in Montreal and they were wonderful weeks full of fun with two wonderful friends that I can never forget. But it could not last. Donna and I still had feelings for each other and my being there was creating a conflict in her. How curious, all the wonders of EXPO’67 and yet nearly everything I saw there has faded from my septuagenarian memory ……. except Donna.

Just as I was about to board the plane back to London, she gave me a heartfelt embrace and a kiss that curled my toes …….and a sealed envelope.
"Promise me you will not open this till you have taken off...."
and with those words, she turned and ... that was the last time I saw her.

But that was not the end of the story.

Donna and Peter married shortly afterwards. They sent me a beautiful photo of the wedding and I felt very happy for them, happiness filled with nostalgia as well as the warmth for Canada and these two beautiful people.
Sadly, Peter passed away a couple of years after that.

I heard nothing more from Donna for too many years. But sometime in 1995 or 96, I was in my office in Gib, working at around 8:30am when the phone rang.

"David?"

"yes...?"

"It's Richard from the telephone exchange. I have someone who wants to talk to you"

At 8;30am? ....

Click ... click...

"David?"

My heart leapt up to my mouth! I recognise the voice and the accent immediately

"Donna?"

"Yes .... ha ha ha Yes! I wanted to talk to you but after 30 years I no longer had your address nor phone number. I just had to talk to you. So on impulse, I called my phone company and ask them to link me to the Gibraltar telephone exchange. It's 11:30 at night here but early morning with you?"

"yes, yes ... that's right "

" The Gib telephone operator sounded like a nice guy so I asked him if he knew David Bentata and could you give me a contact number."

"El David? .... wait a minute ... hmmm 8:30 ... He's probably at the office already I'll put you through"

Only in Gibraltar, right?

"I dreamt with you last night and just HAD to talk to you ....."

What an amazing morning.
We chatted for a long time .... It was wonderful to hear from her again. She had remarried and moved to Anchorage in Alaska from where she was calling me. I no longer remember what that dream was about but it was .... so so amazing..... to hear from her after so many years.
(Donna, if you ever get to read this, you know now how to get in touch with me xxx)

And as if that were not enough, a few years after that, a local Gibraltar sports team went to Anchorage on some competition or other. On their return one of them stopped me in the street and said:

"You won't believe what happened in Anchorage. We were walking down the street in our Gibraltar tracksuits and woman ran up to us and says 'Do you know David Bentata?' when we told her that we did she was so happy she gave us a lot of hugs and kisses and smiles to send to you "

Back to the BOAC flight in 1967.

Once strapped in and we had taken off, I opened the envelope.
In it was a little black book that looked suspiciously like a missal. This was very strange but I opened it.  It was a 1966 edition of a beautiful book called The Prophet written by the Lebanese philosopher Khalil Gibran.

 I have kept the book with me through over 50 years of a complicated, turbulent, happy, sad, exciting life, the twilight of which is where I find myself now. I still read it and I have learnt a lot from it.
It has been the inspiration of many a poem I have written and especially the words I close this chapter with which will always remind me of Donna.

"And a youth said:

Speak to us of friendship

And he (the prophet) answered saying:

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with Thanksgiving.

And he is your resting board and your fireside

For you come to him with your hunger and you seek him for peace

When your friend speaks his mind, you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay"

And when he is Silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart

for without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed

And when you part from your friend you grieve not

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence as the mountains to the climber is clearer from the plane 

Let there be no purpose in friendship save for deepening of the spirit

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth and only the unprofitable is caught

And let your best be for your friend

If he must know the ebb of your tide let him know its flood also

for what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live

for it is his to fill your need…… but not your emptiness

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures

For it is in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."