Maddie’s going.

Story contd

Since I left home as a young girl, Maddie and I had had a fairly volatile relationship mainly because I had developed a mind and opinions of my own. She and her husband came over each week-end and I valued her friendship so it was a blow when she told me they had decided to emigrate to the States - a much bigger step then than now.

She had my aunt, as a resident – a GI bride who lived in Rhode Island and Liam, Jamie’s brother who lived with his wife and family in NY State. Maddie asked me if I ever thought of Jamie and I said the recent experience with Gary had make me think of him and regret that we hadn’t taken our relationship further.

‘If it had been Jamie instead of Gary I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I feel I cheated both of us. But it’s all over now. I’m a different person and I’m sure he is too.’ I assured her and stuffed any further thoughts of what might have been way out of my consciousness.

Maddie and I decided to have a few days walking together before she left and we had a really bonding time in Wales- getting to know each other as adults, although I would always be the younger sister to her – dammit! We stayed in an interesting hotel with a lake in the garden and nearly froze to death. Each night we would huddle in the bar where mine host and his attractive wife would regale us with tales which might have come straight out of ‘Under Milk Wood’. The locals would come to inspect the two English ladies and the whisky flowed freely. The bedrooms were so icy we dreaded going to bed.

It wasn’t all decadence – we climbed two mountains; one was Y Garn and the other one’s name escapes me. I do remember – when we were at the top, having a blonde moment and suggesting we went another way down, which looked rather pretty. At the bottom we realised we were miles from where we had left the car and had a long walk in pouring rain before getting a hitch. We were terrified we may have missed dinner (the food was excellent) but our worried hosts had kept it for us.

Maddie asked me if I would go up to Mum and Dad’s with her to soften the good-byes. All went well until we were on the station at Manchester and Dad was in a huff- God knows why. As it got nearer and nearer to the time when we got on the train I couldn’t stand it any longer and took Dad off.

‘Dad you’ve GOT to say good-bye properly. You may never see Maddie again.’ By this time I’d lost it and we ended up all hugging each other and smiling through our tears but all the tension had gone. I’m happy to say that the parents visited the States many, many times for the rest of their lives and Maddie came over at least once a year.

At the theatre club I decided to do Shaw’s ‘The Devil’s Disciple’ as a big public production. The character of Dick Dudgeon had always attracted me and I persuaded Alan, who was our solicitor, to play the part. He was a fine actor – more cerebral than physical; I treasure the look he gave me when I asked him to leap onto a table to hold forth. It was difficult for him but we got there in the end.

We had an old film actor in the club (he appears in the film ‘The Lady Vanishes’) and I thought he would make a great General Burgoyne but Charles wasn’t going to give in so easily. He leant over me from his great height, a lank lock of too- black hair flopping over his moustached face,

’ Who played the original part?’ he demanded. I looked up at him, blinking a little.

‘Laurence Olivier.’

‘Harrrrrumph!’

And I knew he was mine, but he was very high maintenance and I had to provide a pair of thigh high suede boots before he was happy. Those wretched boots; every time Charles was on stage they seemed to me to be the focus of attention. Actors can be difficult at times!

What I discovered was that each act is written in a different style so one could get beautiful Chekhovian movement in the first act – then it’s all war, war, war and finally funereal with the Dead March. Still it went down well and it was a learning experience.

We had a bit of bother at the shop. Someone had opened a shop run on the same lines as us in the next town. They were perfectly entitled to do this but they named it using four words only one of which was different to ours and then by only three letters. People would come in the shop and say we went to your other shop. It’s called ‘passing off ‘as if someone opened a store called Marks and Spicer. Alan, our solicitor was convinced when his partner said,

‘I see Pat’s opened another shop.’

Alan was great and sent them some strong letters and they had to change it. Cheek!

All was going well; the family were fine, the shop was booming. I was in demand a an actress and director and then I met Tim

PEOPLE LIKE ME (Part 1)
Story contd.

Just before I left Altrincham to join William we heard some shocking news: one of the girls in Maddie’s year at school, who had also joined BOAC as a stewardess had been killed in a Comet plane crash. Maddie was still flying and she had a frightening incident when the plane she was in developed a problem, and was forced to circle the airport for hours to use up petrol. Maddie had to keep herself calm and reassure the passengers. They landed safely and she was given a citation from Sir Miles Thomas. We all hoped that she would find a safer and less stressful job.

I set off down south with the luggage, a few prejudices and a slight chip on my shoulder - I was a northerner after all. I determined to be open- minded and give people the benefit of the doubt but I knew I was going to miss the cheery, friendly, general nosiness I had known all my life. The thought of an uncaring society frightened me.

I soon had the flat looking as if it belonged to us and our first visitors were Maddie and her boy friend George. They had some great news; they were going to be married and were buying a large house, with the aunts in Caterham. Maddie’s son Matthew was going to leave boarding school and be educated locally. They seemed very happy and it was great to think Maddie would be reasonably close.

We met our neighbours in the flat above. She was Rumanian - very sweet and friendly but I didn’t take to her husband. He looked and sounded exactly like a wide boy – a spiv. During the war a spiv was a person living by his wits and engaging in petty black market dealings. You wanted a bit of extra bacon, sugar, coal or petrol (gas) the spiv was your man. Never mind that the sailors in the Merchant Navy and on tankers risked and often lost their lives providing these things; the spiv didn’t have a conscience. William said I was imagining things and when they asked us to go out with them for a drink we agreed.

It was a perfect summer evening and the spiv took us to a pub on the river. We sat in the garden with willow trees drooping elegantly in the water, where the swans were like a corps de ballet warming up for Swan Lake. William went to get drinks and I tried to be as friendly to the spiv, as I genuinely felt to Renata his wife. After a few sips of wine I began to feel more charitable and I thought maybe he wasn’t such a villain after all.

He certainly was good company and told us how he got round the gas and electricity charges. Both flats had separate meters and the money was collected from the meters by Mr Sweeney. The spiv had manufactured a shilling (the required coin) on a wire so he could insert it in the meter and then retrieve it. I looked at William’s face and could see he was shocked. This was cheating – not the gas board etc, but the Sweeneys who were providing both our families with homes at a reasonable rate at a time when there was a great scarcity.

As the evening wore on the spiv said you couldn’t sit by the Thames on a summer night without tasting a Pimm’s. I had never had one and he told me that Pimm’s #1 was a mixture of gin, quinine and herbs made into a long drink with lots of fruit floating in it. Pimm’s #2 had a Scotch base and #3 a brandy. I decided to try one but William said he would stick to beer. It did taste delicious and looked so pretty but when I tried to stand up to go to the rest room I fell over. Suddenly I felt very ill, my head was swimming and I had to be half carried to the car.

The next twenty four hours were the most wretched I had ever spent and almost put me off alcohol for life. Later we discovered that the spiv had thought it would be a jolly wheeze to put a double rum in the Pimm – in addition to the gin. I think I was right about him the first time.