SILLY ME

SILLY ME!

Story contd.

When we got home after the lunch party I asked William what he thought of Marta.

‘She seemed to know what she was talking about.’

‘But what did you think of the idea of me trying to model.’

He gave me one of his grown up looks.

‘You’ve always been very pretty dear. And remember that photograph I took?  That won in a national newspaper.  You’ve got nothing to lose.  You might as well give it a go.  You’d have to stop nursing soon when we start a family.’

Why did it always make me furious when William said I was ‘very pretty’?

The next day his mother Dodie came over to see him before he left for London.  She was soon to leave herself; Wallace and Fleur had found her an apartment in Southsea, within reach of them, but not too close.  Her house had been sold, and some of her excess furniture was being stored for us until we were settled in a house.

I had mixed feelings saying goodbye to William at the station.  Part of me was dreading being alone at night but I also felt a frisson at being able to please myself what I did in my spare time; I could eat what and when I liked, go to bed when I liked – keep the light on - reading all night if I liked.  My job would keep me occupied during the day.  I just wasn’t sure how many week-ends alone I could cope with (William’s idea to save money.)

The first week-end I phoned William at his brother’s house he seemed quite cheerful.  He had been looking round a town called New Maldon for a flat, was settling in the job and said I should probably hand in my notice now.  When I told Sister she was very sweet and said how much I’d be missed and that the ward and the children had never looked so well cared for before I came.  That was down to Pendlebury – my training school.

I did what all lonely people do – kept the radio on from dawn till dusk and had long chats with shopkeepers and the ladies in the hat shop, who found it odd that William didn’t come home at the week-end.  The second week-end I was really fed up.  Why did everybody have to be away at the same time, and then I remembered Keith Barker.  He was a bachelor we had come to know – quite studious with a dry sense of humour and we both liked him – which was something of a rarity.  On an impulse I rang him and asked if he would like to go for a walk on Sunday morning.  He immediately said yes and we arranged to meet at 10.30am.

The minute I hung up I regretted it.  What had I done?  A married woman asking a man out.  I was suffused with guilt and didn’t know what to do about it without making an utter fool of myself.  I couldn’t phone him again and say I’d made a mistake.  I went for a walk to calm myself down.  After a while I realised I was near
Carol’s antique shop and had a brainwave.  She was a level headed person and a good friend, maybe she would help me out.

When I told Carol what I’d done she roared with laughter, said I was an idiot to get my knickers in such a twist and of course she would join us.  It turned out to be quite enjoyable after the first flicker of surprise when Keith saw Carol and they both came back and had a simple lunch with me.  That night I phoned William who had been enjoying one of Fleur’s dinner parties.  I put my foot down quite firmly and said he had better be home the next week-end.  Something in my voice must have rung a bell and he got the message.

By Saturday I was in high spirits – everywhere was spick and span, there were fresh flowers, I’d made a trifle, bought a bottle of wine and there was a chicken (still a treat in the fifties) roasting in the oven.  Even the ladies in the shop were excited and beamed at us as we returned from the station.  We both had missed each other and for a while basked in a happy glow.  The bell rang from down stairs to warn us that someone was coming up.  The door opened and in walked Dodie her arms outstretched to embrace her son.