THALIA, Bergotte [read my book txt] 📗

PART ONE
(Thalia’s friendship)

CHAPTER I

“Hello, what’s your name?”
“Thalia,” replied the red-haired Welsh beauty. “Well,” she explained, “Megan is my real name, Megan Phillips, but I like to be known as Thalia.”
“It’s a lovely name,” replied the man sitting down on the park bench next to the sixteen year old, “but why do you want to be known as Thalia?”
“Because I identify with the Thalia of Greek legend.”
“In what way?”
“Thalia was the Muse of comedy and the patroness of festivities. I’ve just been reading more about her in the Reference Library.”
“And what have you discovered?”
“From Apollodoros I learned that Zeus married Hera, who gave birth to Hebe, Ilithyia, and Ares, but slept with many other women, including Eurynome, the daughter of Ocean by whom he had the three Graces, namely, Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia.”
“Very good, but ‘Thalia’ is a Greek mythological figure rather then a legendary one, but we’ll let that go.”
“Very kind of you!” thought Thalia. “I used to think that I had made up the name myself, but a friend at school told me that it was Greek and meant ‘flowering’.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You know about these things?”
“I have an interest in Classical culture. Tell me, how does the figure of ‘Thalia’ connect with you?”
“She doesn’t in any direct way. For the past three years I think I have had a gift that comes to me in my dreams.”
“What is it?”
“I’m too embarrassed to say. It sounds rather pretentious. But, please tell me who you are and tell me something about your life.”
“When I was walking past you just now I thought I recognised you. When you told me your name, Megan Phillips, I realised I was right. In fact, we’re related. You’re my cousin. Your uncle John is my father. I would never have spoken to you had I believed I didn't know you at all.”
“John Phillips, the money man,” said Thalia, staring in disbelief at the figure sitting next to her.
“Yes, that’s him and I’m his son, David.”
“I’ve never met you before, have I? So how did you recognise me?”
“I’ve seen photographs of you. You are in a family photograph, taken at the get-together following your parents’ funeral a few months ago. My father has it in a large frame in his study.”
“My life has changed dramatically during the last few months. 1968 has not been a good year for me. After my parents were both killed in the car crash in March, leaving me alone, I went to live with my Aunt Jane and Uncle Billy, but it hasn’t been working out very well. To tell the truth, I’m looking desperately for somewhere to live and some means of supporting myself financially. That’s really why I was in the Reference Library this morning, scouring the dailies and the Chronicle, in search of employment and housing.”
“Found anything?”
“A few openings. I wrote down the relevant addresses and telephone numbers of the people concerned.”

David stared hard at the girl but made no comment on what she had just said. She looked down at her shoes, not knowing what to say or do. The silence seemed to last for minutes, but was probably only a space of some thirty seconds. Eventually, he spoke, and Thalia lifted her head to meet his steady gaze. She was beginning to find her new acquaintance rather unnerving.

“You can stay at my place if you like," he said, quite deliberately and slowly. "It won’t cost you anything. I’ve got a back room that I use for storing things. It can be cleared out. It’s yours if you want it.”
“I’m still only sixteen, seventeen in November, so I will have to get permission from my aunt and uncle who are now my legal guardians. They might be agreeable if they know that you are my cousin and it will save them money. Whereabouts do you live?”
“Bathwick Hill. I have a ground floor flat there. It’s within easy walking distance of the city centre. Presumably you have just left school.”
“Yes. I had a temporary job in a local park during the summer months, after I had left school, but now I have nothing.”
“Let’s walk back to my place. You can have a look at the room and see if you like it. Perhaps you will want to phone your aunt and tell her the news?”
“Yes, let’s go,” replied Thalia, rising from the park bench.

On the way David thought he would try once again to get Thalia to open up about her idea that she had a gift that came to her in her dreams. They walked slowly, as during the next five minutes, he tried to persuade her to trust him and confide in him.
“Having listened to you for a while, David,” she said, eventually, “I think I can tell you about it, if you promise me you will tell no-one else.”
“I promise.”
“From time to time I experience very vivid dreams in which I meet interesting people who usually tell me their life story, some adventure they have had, or a tale that interests them. These stories are, of course, open to different interpretations and when I think about them I discover in them, various levels of meaning.”
“I understand.”
“When I am wide awake and fully conscious of my own thought processes I have a burning desire to speak out publicly what is on my mind. I am convinced that the content of what I have to say has been given to me by my dreams. But that part of it is unconscious. I don’t understand it at all.”
“Have you ever put this into practice and made a speech anywhere?”
“No, I’m quite terrified,” replied Thalia. “Anyway, I’m so young. Who would want to listen to a sixteen year old girl making speeches?”
“People listened to Joan of Arc.”
“I don’t have that kind of courage yet. But my conviction is growing. I’m becoming more and more confident. I think that kind of courage will come.”
“What kind of things are you going to say?” asked David.
“I believe I have a gift of prophetic utterance, but saying that sounds rather pretentious, doesn’t it?”
“You are a prophetess, you think?”
“Yes,” said Thalia, unhesitatingly. “My first prophetic dream occurred when I was just fourteen and it gave me an insight into the difficulties old people often suffer in getting about on public transport. Now remember, I have never talked to anyone else about these dreams or my belief, which is quite firmly held, that I should prophesy in public. However, I am not at all sure how I should go about such prophesying.”
“Is there a religious angle to this? After all, a prophetess is a woman who speaks by divine inspiration.”
“I’m not claiming I am divinely inspired. However, I am given what I have to say. I’m convinced that I am not making it up. So I suppose its origin could be divine, perhaps.”

They walked on in silence, lost in their own thoughts. David wondered if he had done the right thing by inviting his cousin to live at his home. The thought then struck him that it would probably come to nothing anyway; Thalia’s guardians would probably refuse to entertain the idea of us living together, he mused. Eventually, they arrived at his apartment. He led the way up the steps, turned his key in the lock, pushed open the front door and motioned Thalia inside.

She examined the living room, kitchen and bathroom, with David hovering in the background. He then showed her the back room, which he had envisaged her using as her own. As they stood side by side in the doorway they were confronted by piles and piles of what Thalia would have described as rubbish. Everything there was very old.

“It needs clearing out, I know,” remarked David, "but it is a room."
“It’s going to take a lot of work to sort this stuff out,” she replied.
“I will throw most of it away," David promised her. "It’s been piling up for years now.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I left university in 1962 and continued living at home for a year, then moved here in 1963, so about five years, I suppose.”
“Which university were you at?”
“Bristol, studying English Lit. I lived at home in Bristol while I was there. Well, what do you think? Do you like it well enough to want to move in?”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied.
“The phone is in the living room. Try phoning your people and I’ll go into the kitchen and put the kettle on for some coffee.”

Thalia found the phone, dialled the number and sat down to wait for her aunt to answer the call, knowing that her uncle would be at work. After a few moments she heard the familiar voice and began to explain her situation to her guardian. Aunt Jane listened attentively to her niece’s request. She said that Thalia must wait until she and Uncle Billy had an opportunity to discuss the matter. Thalia detected neither animosity nor anger in Aunt Jane’s voice, taking encouragement from the conversation so far. Thalia suggested she might bring David home to tea, so that Aunt Jane and Uncle Billy could meet him. Her aunt accepted her proposal, agreeing with her niece to meet them at six o’ clock.

David appeared in the room, bearing two mugs of steaming liquid. “There’s some sugar over there,” he said, pointing to a dish on the mantelpiece.
“No thanks,” said Thalia, “I don’t take sugar.” She explained the situation with her aunt and told David of the invitation to tea.

CHAPTER II

“What are you going to do for money?” asked Uncle Billy, when the four of them were sitting at the tea table.
“I’m looking for a job,” said Thalia.
“I will look