Tim

Story contd.

Both William and I derived much happiness from our children. We had great family holidays and at week-ends visited local sights and fairs and from an early age encouraged them to walk fair distances. During sea-side holidays I would be the envy of all the other mothers as William plunged into the sea like a great seal and endlessly encouraged the boys to do the same, regardless of the temperamental British summers. They fished, sailed, climbed, skied on water and snow, swam, did archery, cross country and drove go- carts. I took them to the theatre club and they joined in the children’s entertainments besides playing the parts of aristocratic children in a public production. ‘Dreadfully boring’ the elder would say – in character, to be echoed by the younger in his piping little voice. They were so funny; blonde –haired boys in beautiful costumes, angelic in appearance and a handful to control backstage. The little hams started to time their applause.

When there were just the two of us- and as the boys grew older this was more often the case - things were not so satisfactory. William worked hard in a demanding job and when he was home and the boys weren’t around he was happy to hole up in his study with his books and music. I had plenty to keep me occupied with the theatre club and the shop. We were not your average married couple and at times I felt a failure. It was probably William’s brother Wallace, who suggested that we should spend more time together – that William should take me out - so we started meeting in town, having dinner and going to a concert at the Festival Hall. After a number of sessions at the same uninspiring (to me) venue I began to long for a visit to some of the wonderful London theatres but this didn’t appeal to William. So Wallace’s idea had limited success. However one of my girl friends had gone to live in town so we used to meet up and saw some great plays together.

When I first saw Tim it was at a public meeting and I became aware of this unusual looking young man giving me piercing stares. He was actually short- sighted without his glasses – thought I looked interesting, and was trying to get a better look.

He was tall but slight, with his shoulders hunched in a porridge textured, short overcoat. His severe, crew-cut hair was already flecked with grey and his baseball boots completed an unusual appearance. He had a squinting scowl – partly due to his eye- sight and partly due to the ever present cigarette clamped in his mouth. He had a gritty look such as a very young Tommy Lee Jones may have had, although Tim’s ears didn’t stick out. He looked bookish and introspective.

Later when I spoke to him I realised that, not only was he very shy but he had been damaged in some way and my compassion was aroused. I was at the age when I really felt for people who were worse off than I was and wanted to do something about it- which was why I eventually became a Samaritan. At the time I had a few lame ducks and was prepared to take Tim under my wing – I was about ten years older and he regarded me for a time as a mentor, which helped my somewhat battered self esteem a great deal.

When I look back it’s as if we were two weak swimmers who had got into difficulties, and managed to prop each other up until they reached the shore. As our friendship grew we confided in each other. Tim was brought up by very strict, puritanical parents; he was sent away to school and did well academically. He then went to medical school and went completely off the rails, rebelling against his parents. He chucked medical school, made a disastrous marriage which broke up almost immediately and had a rift with his family. He had also started to drink more than was healthy. When I met him he was in a dead end job which earned him enough money for bed and board and for fags and beer.

Underneath all this rough exterior was an artistic, poetic, damaged young man crying out for a bit of morale boosting and encouragement. As our friendship continued he began to blossom and people took the trouble to get to know him and to like him. We talked about his future and I was delighted when he decided to take an external degree which meant working long hours and travelling up to town after work. He also renewed contact with his parents and would visit them from time to time. With each achievement I felt proud as if he were a son.

Our friend ship continued for four years and during this time Tim completed his degree and was awarded first class honours. He was given a prize and insisted on choosing three books he knew I would like and presented them to me. He said I had earned the degree. Very soon he was offered a very good position which meant his leaving the area and of course I encouraged him to take it. I also encouraged him to meet other people; we were both afraid of how the other would cope in the end. Tim thought we could be friends for life but I felt that once he had left the area we should both get on with our lives.

He continued to phone and tell me what he was up to and eventually he met a girl he thought he could be serious about. I was happy for him and said this was time to say goodbye. I knew he was going to be fine and I had plenty to keep me occupied. For a start the shop had outgrown its surroundings and we had to start looking for new premises. Life goes on.