Nell read the letter through twice to make sure she hadn’t missed anything out. It was hard to explain in writing everything that had happened but then again, she couldn’t really afford to ring Wendy regularly and have a proper chat so this would have to do.
Sealing the envelope, Nell sighed as she listened to the sounds of Molly stomping about in the bathroom. Her room-mate had turned out to be a really good friend and Nell knew she wouldn’t have survived so far without Molly’s ingenuity and determination. But no matter how much fun they had, even on the twelve-hour coach journey from Nantes, across France and along the hair-raising roads into Switzerland, and despite the adventures they were planning, Nell missed Wendy more than she expected.
The worst time was after the apple harvest, once winter set in and the stuffy summer caravan turned into a depressing damp icebox. Nell thought she would die from the cold and with the arrival of dark nights, being stuck on a farm with bugger all to do, was utterly dismal. The looming spectre of Christmas forced Nell to face facts – she could either go home and admit defeat or come up with a plan. After much soul-searching the former was out of the question because after all, where would she stay? Her Aunty Sue wouldn’t welcome her with open arms so the only other option would be Wendy, and gatecrashing her best friend’s loved-up Christmas wasn’t a brilliant idea. Not only that, Nell didn’t want to be under the same roof as Mike because despite what Wendy said, there was no love lost between them. As far as Nell was concerned, he was still a creepy letch.
Poor Wendy had always done her best to smooth over the wrinkles but as hard as she tried, Nell couldn’t take to Mike and vice versa. The thing was, Nell knew exactly why. How could she ever tell Wendy the truth? It would break her heart and anyway the messenger always took the bullet and Mike would love to pull the trigger.
It went back to an incident at the local golf club when Nell was fifteen. Aunty Sue was working there as a barmaid and after a while, managed to get Nell the job of pot-girl. It was only on a Friday and Saturday night but the pay was okay. All Nell had to do was clean up, collect glasses, then wash and stack them. It was here that she first came into contact with Mike who was a member. She first noticed his eyes on her as she wiped down tables, and now and then when he came to the bar and ogled her skinny legs as she filled the shelves with clean glasses. But it was the time in the tiny beer garden that freaked her out, when she found him alone having a smoke. Nell cleared the other two tables first but had no option than to approach his and get on with her job. She had no intention of chatting but he spoke first.
‘Hello. Nell, isn’t it?’
‘Yes that’s right, do you mind if I clear your table, has your friend finished his drink?’ There was still almost half a pint of ale in the glass and Nell would get into serious trouble if she threw it away.
‘No, leave it where it is. He’s gone to use the bathroom. I must say you’ve certainly brightened the place up; us chaps do like to have something pretty to look at.’ Mike smirked before taking a swig of his pint then a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke straight into Nell’s face, causing her to splutter and cough.
It happened within seconds really, because once Mike had patted her back, apologising profusely as his fingers took on a more exploratory role, his hand slid downwards, over her bottom which he gave a hard squeeze before descending further, to the hem of her skirt and upwards in the direction of her knickers.
Nell was about to scream and push Mike’s hand away when voices could be heard approaching and in an instant the probing fingers were quickly removed and wrapped around his pint. Overcome and trembling, her cheeks on fire while tears stung her eyes, Nell picked up her tray and barged past the two other men who were seemingly oblivious to their drinking partner’s antics.
What made it even worse was that later, on the way home, when she told her Aunty Sue what had happened, Sue laughed loudly and brushed the whole incident under the carpet.
‘Oh don’t you go fretting over things like that, Nell. It’s part of life, get used to it. Men are dirty bastards and will cop a feel whenever they get the chance. You mark my words, it won’t be the last time some pissed-up bloke makes a pass.’
Nell stopped on the pavement, astonished by Sue’s words. ‘But he’s a grown-up, he can’t touch me like that.’
‘But he has and they will, stop going on. You have to learn to laugh it off or give them a dig. Anyways, you should take it as a compliment... I would. Now stop dawdling otherwise we’ll miss the chippy, get a move on.’
Nell had been dumbfounded and confused because no matter what her aunt said, what Mike had done was wrong and no way would she ever get used to it. The whole thing was embarrassing and disgusting, which was why she kept it to herself and didn’t even mention it to her best friend, Wendy. Fortuitously, Nell was spared facing Mike again because two weeks later, Sue was sacked after the bar manager caught her slipping a bottle of vodka into her handbag and as a consequence, Nell lost her job too.
Eventually, the incident faded from Nell’s mind and she did in fact get over it, right up until the moment in the pub when Wendy told her about the chap she’d met the night before, at the Conservative Club Summer Dance. Apparently he was dishy, a bit older but that didn’t matter because her parents thought he was a catch, even if he was recently divorced.
‘He should be here any minute, then you can meet him. Mike rang this afternoon and asked me out but I couldn’t stand you up so I invited him along too. Wait till you see him, Nell, he’s dreamy and you are going to be so jealous.’
‘So, come on, dish the dirt before he gets here. I want to know everything about him so I can mark him out of ten... you say he’s divorced. Bloody hell, I wouldn’t have thought your mam and dad would approve of that.’ Nell sipped her lager and lime then settled back to hear the juicy details.
‘You know what my mum’s like, the proverbial social climber, so being the son of the Con Club Chairman got Mike extra brownie points. Not only that, Colonel Summers, as he is fondly referred to, is a very upstanding member of the community.’
Nell sniggered. ‘Colonel bloody Summers, you’ve got to be kidding.’
Wendy tapped Nell’s arm and smirked. ‘Stop it right now, no taking the piss, I mean it. Then again, you should see the Colonel, he’s got one of those twisty moustaches and wears a blazer with his regiment badge on the pocket, like a uniform and, he carries a cane.’ Wendy giggled.
‘This gets better by the minute. He sounds like someone off a sitcom.’
‘Shush, we haven’t got long, Mike will be here soon. Anyway, Mum says the Colonel’s a magistrate and on loads of council committees so she’s completely smitten and has been sucking up to his wife for ages. It seems she’s a tough nut to crack, very private and a bit stuck-up. They went to dinner there once and Mum said the Colonel runs his house like a barracks, barking orders at his wife who scurries around doing his bidding.’
‘Sounds wonderful... a right laugh a minute. But what about Mike? Please tell me he’s not got a twirly moustache or is a trainee control freak like his dad, and what about his ex, how come they got divorced?’
‘No, Mike’s lovely and very well-educated. He went off to boarding school at seven because his parents were posted overseas and moved around a lot. Then he went to university and married a year after he graduated. According to Mike, they were just too young and the whole thing was a sad mistake which left him feeling like a failure. He said he found it hard to adjust to married life even though he longed for a happy loving home, you know, after being sent away to school so young. That’s all he said really and I certainly didn’t want to be talking about his bloody ex-wife all night. I had other things on my mind.’ Wendy winked at Nell.
‘At least he’s got a softer side, not like his stiff dad, or downtrodden mum, for that matter.’
‘I think he just needs a woman’s love and to be understood. I bet it changes you, being away from your parents at a young age, the poor little thing.’ Wendy had a faraway look in her eye.
‘Oh, I get it. You think you’re going to be the one who makes everything okay for poor Mikey-Wikey. Saint Wendy of Sheffield rides to the rescue. Pass me the sick bowl, quick.’ Nell began making retching noises until she felt a hard dig in the side.
‘Nell, stop it. He’s here so behave. I mean it.’
With that, Wendy began to wave, far too enthusiastically for Nell’s liking because in her opinion it looked a bit desperate.
Searching the faces in the crowd that were engulfed in a haze of cigarette smoke, Nell focused on the one heading in their direction, pushing his way through the bodies like a steamboat parting the waves. He was wearing a polo shirt and blazer and at the time, Nell didn’t notice anything else, he could’ve been wearing his underpants and stilettos for all she knew. Instead, her body froze as she fixated on his face, unable to believe who she was seeing. Once his piggy dark eyes dragged themselves away from their quarry, they turned to Nell and in a heartbeat, Mike’s face stiffened, if only for a second. He recovered remarkably quickly and somehow smothered the panic Nell imagined he was feeling.
For the rest of the evening, Nell could only watch as Mike sweet-talked his way into her best friend’s life, which going by the way Wendy was behaving, wouldn’t take too much hard work. In the end, Nell threw in the towel, uncomfortable in the extreme, the proverbial gooseberry, so she made her excuses and left the lovebirds to it.
As she lay in bed that night, Nell was tormented by many things, the past mainly. Her aunt’s uncaring words, the feel of those roaming fingers, that niggle of uncertainty that maybe she was being naive. In the present, she saw her best friend’s pink cheeks and bright eyes as Mike lavished her with attention, and there was a nagging portent of doom, a strange sense of inevitability, a changing tide perhaps. But whatever it was, by morning, Nell had decided to keep her reservations to herself and observe quietly from the sidelines.
Mike would deny it, she knew that, and Wendy would be hurt and torn. Wendy’s parents would stick the boot in too because they’d always looked down their noses at Nell. She was the bastard daughter of the woman who drowned in the canal, full of drink and drugs, the toddler nobody really wanted, who probably wouldn’t make much of her life and had annoyingly attached herself to their precious daughter. It still hurt, deep down, that stain that marked Nell, through no fault of her own. At school it was like they expected her to fail, and with little guidance or a decent role model, Nell had only herself to rely on, and Wendy. If she had applied herself, Nell knew she was a worthy match for Wendy in the brains department but instead, she sought adventure and an escape.
Where Mike was concerned, Nell was fighting a losing battle because he was a wily adversary, especially when you threw love into the mix. He did his best to drive an invisible wedge between Nell and Wendy, any way he could, in case she spilled the beans; that much was obvious. Within months he had won the heart of Wendy, game, set, and match. It was to be a short engagement and they quickly set a date. Wendy’s parents were thrilled, unlike Nell who felt sad but knowing how much her friend longed for a white wedding and fairy-tale honeymoon, who was she to deny her that, to ruin it all?
One thing Nell did know was that as soon as she’d done her duty on Wendy’s big day, and no doubt caught the bouquet that would be launched in her direction, it was time to go. There was no place for her in Sheffield, not really, not anymore.
Attempting to shake off the past and her maudlin thoughts, Nell placed the letter in her bag along with her camera and fastened her boots. After Nell’s doubts, it seemed that Wendy had made a good match, she was happy and that’s what mattered.
Maybe that night in the beer garden was down to a randy pissed-up bloke fancying his chances, or maybe not. Mike still gave Nell the creeps and try as she might, nothing Wendy could do or say would alter that fact. It still rankled that nobody ever spoke about his first wife, it was forbidden, and he acted like she vanished, the memory of her erased, her name never spoken. Weird, just weird.
And what the hell was that about the pay packet? Perhaps it was a middle-class trend, giving your wife an envelope at the end of the week for services rendered. Surely Wendy could see the deeper connotations of that. Nell should have put money on Wendy leaving her job because she could see from a mile off that Mike hated her working at the factory, albeit in the offices.
But Wendy said she was happy, she had everything. It was there in black and white. Nell took the letter out of her bag and pondered on its contents. Would her comments about Wendy’s stay-at-home lifestyle appear condescending or quarrelsome? Perhaps she should rewrite that page, just in case, but then again Wendy had questioned her love life and hinted she was being flighty, so it was only fair that Nell had her say where domesticity was concerned.
It had pissed Nell off that Wendy let Mike read her letters, but it made her giggle thinking of her comment about him playing old man bowls, he wouldn’t like that. And she had said hello to him too, so Nell had the moral high ground, sort of.
‘Sod it,’ Nell said as she pushed the letter inside her bag and called for Molly to hurry up otherwise the posh lot would starve to death.
It had done Nell good taking a quick trip down memory lane because it reminded her of why she’d left in the first place. No matter how much she secretly yearned for Wendy, and fish and chips, Nell had to keep moving forward, no going back. She could do this. She could face the unknown, endure early starts and manage on her meagre wages. She could even deal with a smattering of homesickness. What she couldn’t bear was the thought of anything bad happening to Wendy.
All Nell could do was hope and pray she was wrong about creepy Mike. Unfortunately, much as it pained Nell to accept it, Wendy had made her bed, and as the old saying went, she’d have to lie in it.