Authors: Doris Davidson
‘Just go out, Paula,’ she says. ‘Your mother’s had plenty of time to learn to adjust, and she’s not all that old, is she?’
WEDNESDAY 29th
Went back to Milligan’s with Kerry at lunchtime. She was right, as usual. The green pants suit is perfect for me, and shows up my colouring. I let her persuade me to buy it, though I don’t know when, if ever, I’ll get the chance to wear it. It’ll likely be out of fashion by the time Mum’s able to stand on her own two feet, and it’s left me flat broke for the rest of the month. That’s not just a couple of days, either. Our salaries go into the bank on the 15th of each month, worse luck.
Tried the suit on at home after teatime. It’s really dreamy, and with the right make-up and a new hair style, I could be the belle of the ball, well the school hall, if only I could go.
Must have that talk with Mum, but I don’t suppose it’ll make any difference. Mr Dunne has just called in … I wonder?
THURSDAY 30th
Took the chance last night when Mum was making coffee, and Mr Dunne was very understanding. He’s going to insist on taking Mum out tomorrow to let me be free.
‘I’ll buy two tickets for that new show at the Palace,’ he said, ‘and I’ll tell your mother they were given to me. She won’t like to refuse. Rest assured, Paula, it will be OK. You’ll get to your disco and enjoy every minute of it.’
I dyed my white sandals before I went to bed, because I can’t afford to buy new ones, and I only hope they’ll turn out the right shade of green.
Mr Dunne rang at teatime to ask Mum to go to the Palace with him. I could just hear her side of the conversation of course, and my heart sank deeper and deeper into my old fluffy mules with each word she spoke.
‘Oh, hello, John … That was kind of him. It’ll be nice for you to see a show … What? Oh, no, I couldn’t … No,
I haven’t been out for … No, honestly, I mean it. Thanks for asking me, but it’s no use. I can’t go. Goodbye, John, and I hope you find someone for company.’
She came back into the living room. ‘That was John asking me to go to a show with tomorrow night, but I said I couldn’t.’
I said, ‘Mum, you’ll have to start going out again some time. This sitting cooped up in the house every night’s not good for you.’ Nor for me, I thought.
‘I can’t leave you on your own, dear.’
‘That’s rubbish and you know it. It’s just an excuse. Anyway, I’m seventeen now and there’s a former pupils’ dance I’d like to go to.’
‘You haven’t anything suitable to wear to a dance, have you?’
‘I bought a new outfit yesterday.’
She looked at me suspiciously, but made no comment, so I pressed on. ‘Why don’t you ring back and tell him you’ll go?’
‘I can’t go, Paula. I haven’t been out for so long I can’t face meeting people again. They only pity me and introduce me as a divorced woman.’
So that was it! And for years I’d been thinking she was suffering from some form of new agoraphobia that only affected women in the evenings. ‘Nobody thinks anything about divorce nowadays, Mum. A lot of my school friends had divorced parents, and a few of the girls in the office, too. In fact, there are at least three of the older women there that are divorcees. Anyway, it was three years ago, and it’s past history.’
She looked dubious, but seemed a little more cheerful. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes, I do really think so. Stop carrying on like a long lost soul and phone him back right now. You know he likes you, a blind man could even see that, and maybe …’
‘No, no. Don’t go reading anything into it. There’s a huge gap between liking somebody and loving them. I’ll tell him I’ll go with him this time, since he was given the tickets, but that’ll be the end of it.’
I should have known it was useless, but it was worth a try. She’s a really stubborn woman, my mother, and I don’t seem to have any more success as a matchmaker than Mike did. But at least it’s all right for tomorrow night … and the disco. Whoopee!!
FRIDAY 31st
Haven’t time to write much tonight. Kerry’ll be round shortly to do my hair. She’s got a special mousse she wants me to try, and she’s going to put it in a new style, and we’re going to the disco together. I wouldn’t bank on us coming home together, though.
The sandals turned out fine, a shade darker than the green seersucker, but toning in perfectly. I wonder if Tim is taking somebody else? A new girlfriend? I hope not.
SATURDAY 1st
Well, that’s that! What an anticlimax! I didn’t enjoy the disco all that much. The only good thing I can say is that it was a change from sitting in the house. All the boys I used to know are going steady and there wasn’t one unattached male there. I see now what Mum felt about being the odd man out.
Tim Reynolds had taken that stuck-up Angie Davis, and she looked like a cat that had got at the cream - tickled pink with herself. At one point, she sidled up to me when I was standing trying to look as though I was having a super time, but failing miserably. ‘I was just saying to Tim,’ she purred, ‘that I hadn’t seen you for ages.’ She was absolutely gloating that she was his partner, I could tell that. It wasn’t difficult.
He did ask me up once, though, but he hardly spoke a word while we were on the floor, and I danced with some other boys, but I came home by myself. Eric Morton saw Kerry home, so I bet she’s pleased with herself. She’s fancied him for months.
Mum’s night out didn’t go any better than mine, unfortunately. ‘The show wasn’t all that good,’ she confessed over breakfast, ‘so John took me to Pelham’s afterwards for a few drinks to make up for it.’
That sounded quite hopeful, but her next words sent me down in the doldrums again. ‘I told him I’m no good at socialising these days, and he didn’t argue. I’m sure he found me dull - no scintillating repartee - so it’s no good you hoping something will come out of it. ;
I wouldn’t have minded my own fiasco so much if Mum had enjoyed her evening out - but here we are. Back to Square One.
SUNDAY 2nd
With all the excitement of going to the disco on Friday, and yesterday’s depression, I forgot all about it being Mum’s birthday today, until Mike and Lorraine came in with a huge box of chocolates for her, so I’d to phone Kerry to borrow some cash.
Of course, being Sunday, the shops were closed and I couldn’t buy the kind of present she’d want, so I decided to take her out for a celebration meal. Not that either of us had much to celebrate, Mum being a whole year older and me well on the way to being a dried-up old maid, but I had to make an effort of some kind. I mean, you can’t just let your mother’s birthday pass unmarked, can you?
Kerry came round after lunch with £12, all she could spare, and I told Mum what I had planned. She wasn’t keen on going out, not even with me, and it took a lot of persuasion to make her change her mind. ‘Slap on some warpaint and wear something really nice,’ I urged. ‘You’ll feel better, I promise.’
We went to the Carvery on the Ring Road and had a lovely meal - I don’t know how they can do it for £5.60 each - but it didn’t make either of us feel any better. Then just before the coffee came - I couldn’t afford a sweet but Mum said she wasn’t able for one anyway - I noticed her smiling to someone behind me and blushing a deep rosy red. It actually comes as quite a shock when you discover your mother’s still a beautiful woman.
Her hair’s dark brown with just enough silver in it to make it interesting, and her blue eyes matched her dress exactly. Someone else evidently thought she was beautiful, because, while we were still waiting for our coffee this tall, handsome man with short grizzled hair came to our table. The recipient of her smile, presumably.
‘Sylvia!’ He beamed at Mum as if he thought she was the best invention since TV dinners. ‘I thought it was you when you came in, but I wasn’t absolutely sure till you smiled at me. It must be twenty-five years since I saw you and you don’t look a day older.’
It was a cheesy thing to say, but she giggled like a young thing. She’d have been eighteen when they’d seen each other last, of course. But she wasn’t fooled.
‘You were always good at paying compliments, Martin, but don’t overdo it. Today is my forty-third birthday, and I feel every year of them.’
‘I meant every word I said. May I join you? I’ve just ordered my coffee.’
‘So have we. Please sit down. This is my daughter, Paula. Martin’s an old friend, dear.’
He shook my hand but his eyes scarcely left Mum’s face. ‘I can’t believe you have a daughter as old as this.’
How old did I look, for heaven’s sake? ‘I’ve a married son, too, Martin. He’s twenty-three. Have you any children?’
‘Two daughters, both married.’ ‘Is your wife not with you tonight?’ ‘She died five ears ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Mum looked confused. ‘I’d never have said anything if I’d …’
‘It’s all right, Sylvia. I’ve got over the shock, now, but I suppose a person never really gets over the loss.’
‘No, it’s a dreadful wrench when you’re left on your own. I know all about that.’
‘Oh, is your husband … ?’
‘We were divorced three years ago.’
Were my ears deceiving me? Was this my mother speaking so matter-of-factly about something she was usually so uptight about?
It was Martin’s turn to be confused. ‘I’m sorry. Trust me to say the wrong thing. I’m well known for always putting my foot in it.’
Mum laid her hand over his where it rested on the table. ‘Don’t worry about it, Martin. I’m just beginning to see things in perspective - it’s past history now.’
My very words. Sitting there listening to their conversation I felt like the proverbial gooseberry, but my spirits were soaring. Could this Martin be the answer to all my problems? Or would Mum retreat further into her shell if I tried matchmaking again? I’d have to watch my step.
The coffees arrived and I closed one ear when they began to talk about their respective homes and families, and allowed my thoughts to wander in the direction of Tim Reynolds. He couldn’t be serious about Angie Davis, she was such a creep. He must have taken her to the disco because … he thought I was unavailable? And he might have been off-hand with me because he felt embarrassed at being there with her?
I could make myself believe anything, as long as it was in my favour, that’s the effect Tim had on me, and if Mum started going out with Martin, I’d be free to start again with Tim where I’d left off. If. A small word to have such an important meaning. I’d have to give my full attention to the talk across the table to find out whether there could be any likelihood of my dreams coming true. Stranger things have happened.
Mum was looking quite animated, as if she’d found a new lease of life. ‘What brought you back to Aberfithie? Are you on holiday?’
Martin smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m being transferred back to Aberdeen, after all these years in Newcastle, so I thought it over and decided I’d rather commute again than live in a city any longer. I’m staying in my sister’s house for a couple of weeks, but she was called away to look after her mother-in-law, and Bill, her husband, had to go to some meeting in London. That’s why I came out for dinner tonight, and I’m very glad I did, otherwise I’d never have met you again.’
‘What a coincidence that we were eating here, too.’
A potential miracle, that’s what it was. And it wasn’t over yet. Martin was still talking.
‘My nephew has been looking after me so far, but his cooking’s a bit unimaginative and that’s being euphemistic. His mind’s not on it, of course. He’s mooning over some girl he met at a disco on Friday night. It seems they used to go out together, but she broke it off because her neurotic mother didn’t like being left on her own. Poor Tim.’
Once my heart stopped roller-coasting and settled back into its own position, I found my tongue. ‘Is your nephew Tim Reynolds, by any chance?’
Martin looked as if he’d forgotten I was there. He probably had. ‘That’s right. Do you know him? No! Don’t tell me you’re the girl?’ He turned to Mum with a stricken face. ‘And you’re the neurotic … Oh, oh, I’ve done it again.’
Mum’s face was pale. ‘He was quite right, though, Martin. I
have
been neurotic, but not any more. I’ve seen sense at last.’
He looked at me. ‘Your mother and I were very much in love once, but we had a senseless quarrel and I asked for a transfer. That’s when I was sent to Newcastle.’
‘It was all my fault,’ Mum said sadly. ‘I fell for David’s charm and it took me nearly twenty years to see through him, though I’d been suspecting for a while that his nights away weren’t really on business.’
‘Well, that’s all behind you, Sylvie, and we’re both older and wiser now. Do you think we could make a fresh start?’
The way she looked at him was enough. I knew she was out of my hair at long last. Mind you, I was rather upset at learning the truth about Dad. But it made me understand the strain Mum had been under and why she’d been acting like she had. Anyway, I’d succeeded in bringing her to her senses. Well, it
was
me who’d made her go to the Carvery in the first place, wasn’t it?
She’s downstairs with Martin right now, and things seem to be very quiet, but I don’t intend being a spoilsport. Let them recapture their old romance. I’m very happy for both of them.
This has been some week. I wonder that the next seven days will bring? Me and Tim back together as well, I hope.
***
Word count 3468
Sent to
Just 17
29.5.86 - rejected 5.6.86
Sent to
Woman’s Realm
10.8.86 - rejected 17.11.86
Sent to
Woman’s Story
- not returned, but never printed
It wasn’t fair! Janey Martin pouted at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. Why should she always be the one to take the dog out? After all, she’d only been fourteen, a mere child, when she asked for a puppy for Christmas two years ago.
Her mother hadn’t been keen on the idea. ‘I know who’ll be left to look after it. The same as I was left to clean out the gerbils and the guinea pig, when you were tired of them. It won’t always be a cute little puppy, remember.’