New Friends and Old

Story contd

I learned a lot working back stage on ‘The Summer of the Seventeenth Doll’ and had dreams of directing a play myself. At the wrap party Pete the director, introduced me to his wife, Julia. I had heard a lot about her. She was a writer, producer and actress and about ten years older than me. I heard her before I saw her and she was clearly a ball of fire – surrounded by a group of appreciative listeners whilst she held the floor. What intrigued me was the fact that she was lively and bouncy with black hair and a pale face but with tragic eyes. I recognised that look of a hidden sadness and when we were introduced the recognition was mutual.

We became friends – kindred spirits really - and when I saw her productions and saw her acting I realised how very talented she was. I told her I would be happy to help in any way in her next production although I was getting a variety of acting parts. I must have had a good report from Pete because she asked me to be assistant producer on her next play. She said I would have to take rehearsals when she was kept in town so it would be great experience.

Every year William and I took the boys on typical children’s holidays to Devon and Cornwall, Wales and the Lake District, Southwold, Frinton and sailing on the Broads. There would be Easter visits to cousins in Gloucester, week-ends withWallace and Fleur and trips to my parents in Lancashire. Apart from this, William and I had widely varying interests. I was something of a social butterfly and he was content with his books and music. His outdoor pursuits were walking, sailing and archery. We got into the habit of one of us looking after the children whilst the other went off and did their thing.

William was fortunate to have six weeks annual leave so when I saw an advertisement f or a drama course for acting or producing I asked William if he would mind if I went away for a week to do the production course. He was happy about it and we agreed that he would go sailing with his brother in the summer. We had started to make money in the shop. We now had an accountant as well as a solicitor. We wanted to do things properly – stay solvent, pay tax etc so Dave the accountant gave us an analysis book; on one half were Receipts which was all the money that came into the shop and the other half was Payments with columns for everything that was paid out. With his help we worked out our annual expenses with a bit extra for contingencies, divided that by 12 to estimate our monthly expenses. Dave suggested an approximate figure for the partners to withdraw each month but I had a better idea.

To make it more interesting and fun, I suggested that whatever the takings were each month we would subtract the monthly expenses and whatever was left over would be our salary. If we didn’t clear the expenses we would take nothing. Dave thought this was unnecessarily complicated but the other girls recognised what fun it would be each month to see what we’d get. I was happy to do the work. It’s the sort of thing I love to do. I still remember the glee when we had had a bumper month in the school holidays and the resigned shrugs when it was peanuts. Dave never understood.

Out of the blue I heard from a friend from our Epsom days. Beryl was one of the young mothers who had befriended me when I had my first baby. She and her husband had become very wealthy. He had left the large engineering firm he had worked for and set up in business with a partner. They had enormous success and gone public.

‘We’ve got this smashing house near Brighton; we’ve met lots of exciting new people, we’re gonna have a BIG party and we want you and William to come.’

I remembered she had once admitted to me – after a drink or two - that she fancied William – because of his brain, she said. I knew parties weren’t William’s scene but I wanted to see Beryl and was curious to see how her life had changed. The house was fantastic with beautiful views of the Downs. There were lots of impressive oils on the walls individually lit and the whole place reeked of opulence. It was the sixties; the women were very glamorous with legs and bosoms on show, and the men seemed to be in a uniform of black silk shirts with gold medallions round their necks.

I was very conscious of William being bored out of his mind and decided we would leave after supper which looked as if it was going to be delicious. Beryl had told me they had a covered swimming pool in the grounds over which was an apartment where they had two male lodgers who were air-line stewards. I told William I was going for a swim and then we would have supper and leave.

It was a fantastic pool with lovely plants and it was hot and steamy. I could just make out two men in the pool at the far end and assumed they were the stewards. I have never been a strong swimmer but it was so warm and inviting I decided to stick near the side and to do a length. When I was about half way there the men got out and I realised to my horror they were completely naked. I lost concentration, gasped, got my mouth full of water and panicked and floundered and yelled out. In flash the men were there and rescued me. They were sweet and said I only had to say. Just as they were lifting my shaking body out of the pool William walked in to see his wife in the arms of two naked men.

I wasn’t exactly dragged out by my hair but that’s what it felt like. We didn’t stay for supper, we didn’t say good-bye and on the journey home I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was too ridiculous both men were gay and I had done nothing wrong. When we got home to his dismay, William discovered he had some of Beryl’s precious silver cutlery in his pocket ready for the supper we never had. Then I laughed!

A week later driving in my little car to the country town where the college was situated I felt a rare thrill of delight. A week’s freedom!