It was hot, and I was hitching to Edinburgh. I needed to renew my passport, the American�s preferring not to trust the postal service, or their own citizens. It was the days of Viet Nam, and I was in love with a man who already had a wife. I would probably not see him again, and I had almost no money.

I knew as soon as I didn�t get a lift in the first fifteen minutes, that I�d be there ages. I was getting discouraged, and a bit spaced in the heat, and was thinking of the man I always thought about. It was kind of a delicious melancholy at first, but then it started to feel scary. By the time the Mercedes stopped, I was out and out sad.

�Where are you heading?� I asked the man, who seemed very wholesome, with his suit and short hair.

�Edinburgh�.

We didn�t talk much, this hero and me. I was drowsy. When we got to the bridge, he asked where I wanted to be let off. It was too late to go to the Embassy, so I asked if he knew any cheap place to stay.

�Stay at mine�, he said. I have to go out, but you�re welcome to stay.

He lived by himself in a tidy council flat. I felt honoured that he trusted me. After he showed me where everything was, and how to use the telly and stereo, he changed into jeans and left, saying he�d be back late.

And then I was alone. I had a look at his record collection, and there was �Harvest�, by Neil Young. It had come out four years ago, and I�d heard a few of the tracks on the radio, but never really listened to the album. I put it on, and stood at the window and watched the day end in Edinburgh. It was that year it hardly rained, and everything looked dusty.

In �A Man Needs a Maid�, almost as an aside, because it has little relevance to the lyrics, Neil sings: �When will I see you again?� His voice is wistful, plaintive, like he needs a glimpse of this woman in order to keep breathing. As if there is a magic to her presence that cannot be found in anyone else. I picked up the needle and played the track again, just for that line. For the wistfulness.

So, there I was in a city where I knew no one, and a stranger was going to return to this flat after it was dark, and I might hear him and be afraid, or I might hear him and have a cup of tea with him and we�d tell each other stories. Or I may not wake till the morning. Anything at all might happen, and I was glad I was in love.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.