We want you to come to our “House Cooling party”, said my
old friend Liz. Not a “House Warming Party” you understand, which is what you
attend when your friends have just moved into a new abode. No, this was a bash
to celebrate that Liz and Vince, newlywed and about to embark on the treadmill which
is a 30 year mortgage were leaving the 2 bed roomed rented flat they shared
with another couple in leafy Surbiton, in Surrey.
I first met Liz when she stole Vince away from my best
friend, June, in 1972. June, Vince and I were working as shop assistants and
trainee buyers at Bentalls, a prestigious department store in
Kingston-upon-Thames. June was great fun and she and I lived in separate rooms
in an all female hostel in Avenue Elmers, Surbiton, which was a beautiful
double fronted detached residence owned by the Bentall family and used solely
to provide a safe haven for its young or unattached female staff. There was a
middle aged married couple living in the basement flat, who made sure there was
no inappropriate behaviour between the girls and any male guests. The rent was a
princely sum of £3.00 per week but as I earned no more than £11.00 a week,
seemed quite extortionate at the time. We had access to a staff canteen and could
eat well every lunchtime for about 2s and 6d or 12.5 pence in today’s money.
When June started her romance with Vince she moved out and together
they rented a double ground floor room in a house nearby. I once made the grave
mistake of looking through her partially draped bedroom window when I failed to
attract her attention with the doorbell, only to find the couple in a somewhat
compromising position, a sight seen which can never be unseen! Needless to say,
red-faced, I made a speedy, silent exit down the garden path.
I’m not sure how I first met Liz as she didn’t work at
Bentalls, but the attraction between her and Vince was instant, I believe the
French have a suitable phrase for this – “coup de foudre” or thunderbolt, but
sadly this rang the death knell on June’s love affair. Liz was also a great pal
and it was difficult to retain a friendship with both girls though I was
reluctant to lose either. Eventually, I grew tired of life in the retail trade
and I returned home to live with my parents whilst searching for a more
permanent and better paid job. Meanwhile Liz and Vince’s relationship
progressed and they became engaged. Liz invited me to be her chief, or
actually, only, bridesmaid, and I eagerly looked forward to their nuptials.
Sadly, it was not to be, as my darling dad suffered a
massive heart attack nine days before the wedding and I was unable to face the
celebrations which nevertheless went ahead as planned. I never did discover
what happened to the bridesmaid’s dress that poor Liz painstakingly made for
me. I stayed with my now widowed mum and started a new job in a local
Government department. I made friends with some of the other single girls and after
a few months one of them, Jane, asked me if I would come to London with her to
a Barry Manilow concert. Though not an enormous fan of Barry’s, Jane had no-one
else to go with as her sister had let her down at the last minute, so I agreed
to go with her.
Then the invitation arrived from Liz and of course the party
was on the same night as the concert. What should I do? Attend a party, stay
for the weekend and possibly meet some attractive single men or go to a concert
in London and face a daunting train journey home the same night? No contest
really, so although I felt a bit mean I explained to Jane that an old friend
had begged me to visit her and I couldn’t let her down, (white lie alert). She
wasn’t very happy about it but I was young and ruthless and I suppose rather
selfish. At the party I got chatting to a young musician in the Household
Cavalry whose name was John and three months later we were engaged. We have
been married now for over 40 years so Barry Manilow's loss was definitely my
gain.
No comments:
Post a Comment