Ismailia and Angela lying a foot apart

Like they did for 35 years still together under the ground down back with the other Turkish graves by a sodden path and just off the main driveway like they wanted. There’s a little coy look on Angela in the photo a smile that got noticed before when Angela must’ve worked in the launderette next door to the kebab shop which wasn’t called a kebab shop then different times- Constantinople Grill- and had seats and a bar and he had passed by the launderette and got a suit done and smoked like the chimney he was and she swore at the astray being full and he had tried to sweep a bit as he was sure she was angry. She was not angry and gave him the look and then went on smoking for 35 years just less then.

Angela died 8 years after Ismailia after he had hacked up several full sets of lungs and not been able to eat properly and wheezed and sweated and then not walk and stopped altogether.

Ismailia smoking and the back of the flat became a regular round there. How was he working with dead pigs he liked a drink and he worse the fez like everyone else when United or City was it lost in Turkey. And he hit one lad one time who really did have it coming calling him Mustafa and shouting about tanks or something and his kebabs were horrible and it was better with the bar left in- did this guy need to be going anywhere for more drink?- did they ever wash their hands and so on and the rice being left on and recooked and so on and Angela had given the last quite the stare, not like the stare for Ismailia. The lad missed the stare and Ismailia tried telling the lad the Turkish people can live next door to kebab shops and not work in them and not everyone knew each other.

Big man Ismailia was big shoulders. Hair back and tidy bear sometimes stubble rare shaven. Nose hair growing at a rate after 25 stopped after chemo Angela got called stout once or twice but could bring her hips to Ismailia and make him focus on nothing else. She pouted and wore shorts to keep Ismailia noticing wore trousers too as time got on easier to work in and carry on when he needed replacing or cleaning and didn’t need to be worrying about a sang or a hitch.

Angela never acknowledges the feeling so they said. I know your mum and dad. A little only from work. Not well. But I can see them in you. Dad all formal and mum all nervous, they did know Ismailia and Angela. So you keep going I suppose and Ismailia and Angela carry on and do the things they did before but she’s a little lost. A little quieter.

Angela's daughter took ages to name and the relationship had ended after with her not really getting a name. Ismailia took over soon after and the name never stuck and she did get oh so sick of being called pixie when his nickname for her never really passed. Not-Pixie took to the man with the fags and the seriousness and the gloomy demeanour and the man all told as he moved in an entwined with Angela and her and lived in the flat above the launderette for a bit and then the 2 up 2 down further out where they were now buried. And she looked at the Turkish grave and that picture and the smile of angels next to Ismailia and wasn't going to cry was not at all on this eleventh year but something stuck and saw them both with a glow next to each other late after she woke up as a small girl, maybe after they were signing loudly maybe just Ismailia, Sinatra something Angela laughing and she looking hiding as they giggle, huddled Not-Pixie behind a door and she jumped in and the memory goes and she's back alone just off the wet path and misses them and the air is bracing so she goes away for another year.