Noble Gestures 4

Old Martin Holborn came upon a young mother sneezing herself towards a structural fault beside a fine display of azaleas in the Isabella plantation. He was surprised she’d ventured out. Even allowing for seasonal fluctuation, an allergic reaction like that seemed severe enough to keep the sufferer indoors all summer. A small, fat boy with a face covered in half eaten chocolate held stolidly to one of her hands and rocked with the seismic shocks of her nasal explosions. The young mother, in track suit bottoms every bit as colourful as the azaleas, snatched feebly at her pockets as her eyes watered and her face turned rose red.

Holborn mounted an annual expedition to view the Isabella Azaleas. An expedition that became annually more onerous and significant. For as long as he could shuffle down to the wondrous blooms and colour swathes, Holborn knew he would live the year out.

The young mother’s asphyxiation continued unabated so without hesitation, Martin pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his sleeve and proffered it to her. She seized it and evacuated her nasal passages deeply into its soft paisley folds. Then drawing in breath like a warhorse she gathered focus enough to see her son’s chocolate spattered face. She grasped the back of his head and scrubbed at him briskly till his skin started to appear through the smear. Then indulging in three or four good extra nose-blows for luck, she held the hankie out to Holborn. “Ta.” She said.

Martin drew his hands back from the squelching mess. “No, no. Please. Keep it.”

She waited till the old fart had hobbled round the corner before dropping the sodden silk bundle into a litterbin. She didn’t want it either.