First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Oh dear!’ said Ellen again. ‘How dreadful! Never mind, though; it could have been a lot worse. You could be ill, you could have fallen and broken your ankle or … it could have been raining all the time. It might not be too long before you get it back. Don’t let it spoil your holiday. We’re having a lovely time. And you always look nice, whatever you wear. And not everyone gets dressed up for dinner. You can wear those trousers and top tonight. You’ll look as smart as anyone.’

  ‘Tonight and tomorrow and the day after that!’ Shirley retorted. It irritated her how Ellen always looked on the bright side, trying to find the good in everyone and everything – although she knew it was really an admirable character trait, one that she feared she did not possess.

  ‘Yes, I think I can understand how you feel,’ said Ellen, her eyes full of sympathy. ‘It’s such a shame. You wanted to wear all your nice clothes, and you’ve bought some new ones as well. I know you like to wear something different every night … But I’ve brought loads of clothes with me, far too many. You’re about the same size as me, aren’t you? You could borrow some of mine.’

  ‘What!’ Shirley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was adding insult to injury. She didn’t stop to think what she was saying as the words burst from her. ‘Really Ellen! I wouldn’t be seen dead in your clothes!’

  Her friend’s demeanour changed in an instant. The kindly concern disappeared from her eyes, and her face started to crumple as though she was going to cry. ‘Shirley, how could you!’ Her voice was faint and trembling. ‘What a dreadful thing to say! I know I’m not as attractive as you, but my clothes are always clean and tidy and—’

  ‘Oh, Ellen! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that, of course I didn’t. It’s just a figure of speech, something people say, but they don’t really mean it. And I’m so worked up that I scarcely know what I’m saying.’ She put an arm round Ellen as she sat beside her on the bed. ‘It was very kind of you to offer, but—’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Ellen stiffly. ‘They’re old-fashioned – like me – not all stylish and chic, if that’s the right word. But that’s the way I am. It was silly of me to even think of you … wearing my clothes.’

  Shirley was mortified. She felt so ashamed of herself. She had upset her friend really badly and she did not know how to make amends. But she could not let this spoil their holiday any more than she could let the loss of the suitcase do so. Careless words – how quickly and thoughtlessly they were uttered, and once said they could not be taken back. She tried again.

  ‘Ellen … I am truly sorry. Please, please forgive me. You know I wouldn’t want to hurt you for the world. We’ve been such good friends, so don’t let this spoil things between us. Perhaps I overreacted about the case, but I was so cross, with the drivers or whoever it was, for making such a stupid mistake. I suppose “There are worse troubles at sea”, as my mother used to say … although I always thought that that wasn’t much help to us!’

  Ellen gave a weak smile. ‘My mother used to say that as well. No, I don‘t think you’ve overreacted. It should never have happened. Somebody is at fault, and I know I would have been cross as well if it had happened to me. Although it wouldn’t have been such a great disaster to me. Nobody really notices what I wear. I was hurt though, Shirley, it’s no use pretending I wasn’t, but I know you spoke in haste.’ She reached out and put her hand over her friend’s manicured one with the red painted nails. ‘Let’s forget it, eh? Don’t think any more about it.’

  Shirley felt like hugging and kissing her, she was so relieved, but she didn’t do so. There had never been anything like that between them, and she wouldn’t want anyone to get that impression. That was one of the reasons why she, Shirley, had suggested that they should have single rooms. She hadn’t said that to Ellen, of course. Her friend was very naive about the ways of the world, even in today’s climate, and it may not even have occurred to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, simply. ‘I’ll try to watch my tongue in future. There is something you could lend me, though, if you don’t mind.’ This would be a sop to her own conscience, and no doubt Ellen would be pleased to help in some way.

  ‘Yes, of course. What is it?’ asked Ellen.

  ‘Er … some underwear,’ replied Shirley.

  ‘Underwear? What sort?’ Ellen looked puzzled.

  ‘A pair of knickers,’ said Shirley, more bluntly. ‘I’ve got a spare pair in my travel bag. I always change them after a journey, but I shall need a fresh pair for tomorrow.’

  ‘Certainly,’ agreed Ellen. ‘I always change my undies after a journey as well. And I’ve got lots of spare ones in my case. What about a nightdress? You won’t have that either, will you?’

  ‘Oh no, of course not …’

  ‘Well, I’ve brought two with me. They’re not all that glamorous, but no one’s going to see you in your nightwear, are they?’

  ‘I should be so lucky,’ murmured Shirley.

  ‘What did you say?’ asked her friend.

  ‘Er … no,’ she said with a laugh. ‘As you say, nobody’s going to see me.’

  ‘I’ll pop next door and get them for you now,’ said Ellen.

  Shirley was pleased to see that she was back to her normal, eager-to-please self. Well … almost. There was still a little constraint there, but Shirley would work hard to make things right.

  What would the garments be like? she wondered. But what did it matter? She was satisfied, though, when Ellen returned with a pair of ordinary white knickers. She had wondered if it might be a pair of what they used to call ‘Directoire’ knickers such as they sold in old-fashioned draper’s shops; voluminous bloomers with elastic at the waist and knees. Her own underwear was of pretty colours. Not thongs – she couldn’t imagine wearing those – but briefer ones with high-cut legs. But these of Ellen’s would suffice until she could find a shop and buy some more. This was something she could not manage without. The nightdress, too, was plain and serviceable – not like her own garment with lace and ribbons – but she was very grateful to her friend.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘These are great … Shall we go down and have a drink before dinner? It might cheer me up a bit.’

  They agreed to meet in half an hour when they had had a wash and tidy-up; and when Ellen had changed her clothes and she, Shirley, had tried to add a fresh look to her daytime trousers and striped top. Fortunately she carried her costume jewellery with her in her hand luggage.

  Eight

  There was a small, but adequately stocked bar, at one end of the lounge. When Shirley and Ellen arrived there were already a few of their fellow travellers sitting around the small tables at the sides of the room. This area was carpeted, the centre of the lounge being of highly polished wood. Maybe for dancing, thought Shirley, or for evening entertainments. There was a dais at the other end of the room, a low platform where visiting artistes might perform. They had been told there would be entertainment on a couple of nights.

  The receptionist, Olga, was serving behind the bar. It seemed that she helped out there when she was not occupied at the desk in the foyer.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ asked Shirley. ‘My treat tonight, so put your purse away.’ They usually paid their own way on holiday – it saved a lot of arguments as to whose turn it was – but Shirley was doing all she could to make it up to her friend for her tactless remarks; and Ellen seemed to understand this.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll have my usual Apfelsaft.’ It was a sparkling apple juice, popular in Germany and Austria.

  ‘And I’ll have my usual Cinzano and lemonade,’ said Shirley. ‘Oh … by the way, there’s wine for us tonight, courtesy of Galaxy, for me and my friends, Mike said. It’s his way of making amends, of course, for my suitcase.’

  ‘Then make sure you choose one of the best wines,’ said Ellen, rather surprisingly.

  Shirley laughed. ‘If I’m given the choice. They may present me with a bottle of the house
white. And I’ll make sure you get the tipple of your choice … unless I can persuade you to have a drop of wine?’ she asked with a questioning smile.

  ‘I’ll see,’ replied Ellen. ‘You never know, I might well do that.’

  Pigs might fly, thought Shirley as she made her way to the bar. The polished floor was rather slippery and you had to watch your step. She was not wearing her high-heeled sandals as she would normally have done; they were a hundred miles or more away with the rest of her smart gear. She had to be careful, though, in the wedge heels she was wearing.

  There was no one else at the bar. Olga smiled at her pleasantly, saying that she hoped she would enjoy her stay. She spoke almost perfect English. She was an attractive young woman, possibly in her late thirties, quite tall and slim with dark brown hair and eyes, a contrast to the more usual flaxen hair and blue eyes of many of the German people. She wore a plain black dress, a uniform of a sort, but it was clearly expensive and stylish, the dark shade relieved only by a silver cross and chain around her neck and small earrings.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Shirley as they settled down in the comfortable chairs, wicker work ones with bright floral cushions, complementing the pinewood and the light and airy aspect of the guest house. She raised her glass and Ellen followed suit.

  ‘Yes, cheers,’ she echoed. ‘Here’s to a lovely holiday. It will be, you know …’ She looked intently at her friend. ‘You look very nice tonight, as you always do.’ Shirley was wearing a chunky necklace of brightly coloured beads that looked well with the plain top she had worn all day. ‘Nobody really cares two hoots about what other people wear, you know.’

  Shirley did not agree, but she did not say so. For her part, she always looked at other people’s clothes, assessing whether the outfit suited them or not. She was just naturally interested, or maybe just plain nosy!

  ‘Anyway,’ Ellen went on, ‘You could always buy one or two nice things in the shops here, couldn’t you? I know it might make a hole in your spending money but …’

  ‘Nice things? Here?’ Shirley gave a bitter laugh, despite trying to look on the bright side as her friend had urged her to do. ‘I’d end up looking like a German hausfrau!’ Even as she said it she knew she was being difficult. The young woman at the bar was very smart. ‘I’m not likely to run out of money,’ she added. ‘I’ve got my credit card with me.’ Ellen never used one. She still used the old-fashioned way of paying by cash, or the occasional cheque, when on holiday.

  ‘But I’m not likely to see anything I’d want to wear. Don’t let’s talk about it any more, Ellen. It’s too depressing! Oh look … there’s Bill. He’s on his own. I wonder if they’ve a room each or if they have to share?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ asked Ellen, smiling at her friend. ‘You’re too nosy by far, that’s your trouble,’ she added good-humouredly.

  ‘Yes, I admit that I like to know what’s going on,’ said Shirley. Ellen had voiced what she herself had just been thinking. She liked to know what made people tick.

  She noticed now that Bill and Olga were deep in conversation; in fact, it looked as though they might be having an argument. She knew that Ellen would laugh, and probably tell her that it was none of her business, but she couldn’t resist commenting on it to her friend.

  ‘Oh … yes,’ said Ellen, not laughing at all. ‘It certainly looks as though they know one another quite well.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve been friendly,’ said Shirley. ‘Well, maybe rather more than just friendly. I know that both Bill and Mike have stayed here several times before.’

  ‘Well, it’s not really any of our business, is it?’ said Ellen. ‘As far as I’m concerned Bill and Mike are both very nice young men, very helpful and considerate. I know you may not agree right now, but they’re doing all they can to make the holiday interesting, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, I do agree; they’re great,’ said Shirley. ‘But you never know what problems other people might have, do you? I wonder if they’re married? Somehow, I don’t imagine that Bill is … It’s not an ideal job for a married man, is it, being away from home such a lot of the time?’

  ‘You’ll have to find out, won’t you, about their marital status?’ said Ellen with a mischievous grin. ‘I’m sure somebody will be able to tell you.’

  ‘You’re laughing at me,’ said Shirley, ‘but I admit I’m curious.’

  Bill and Olga were still talking, but not smiling at one another. Then two people from the coach party went to the bar to be served, and Bill walked away, out of the room.

  He was quite a good-looking chap, Shirley thought to herself; a bit overweight, though. He had what was termed a good head of hair, an attractive shade of ginger and with a natural wave; such as some straight-haired women might envy, saying it was wasted on a man. He had a cheerful round face, and bright blue eyes. No doubt he would appeal to quite a lot of women …

  The drivers dined at a small table on their own, away from the coach party, although they were served at the same time. They preferred it that way. They needed a bit of space after dealing with their clients and their problems all day. And the passengers seemed to understand that, and did not pester them at meal times.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Mike, as they sat down at their table in a far corner of the dining room. ‘You look as though you’ve lost the proverbial pound and found a penny. Is it Christine? I thought it was all going well.’

  ‘No, it isn’t her. Like I told you, we got on famously last night, and she’s agreed to have a drink with me tonight as well. I think we’ll have a stroll down to the village, away from the busybodies here. No, it’s Olga. I’m afraid she didn’t like what I had to say, not one little bit.’

  Mike looked puzzled. ‘I thought you’d agreed, the last time you met, that there wasn’t much future in it?’

  ‘So we did, at least that was the impression I got. But it seems as though she’s changed her mind. She says she looks forward to me coming every few weeks, and she doesn’t see why we can’t carry on as we are. I think, between you and me, that she’s hoping I’ll see a way to making it more permanent. But how can I?’

  ‘I suppose you could if you really wanted to,’ said Mike. ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way, as the saying goes. The problem is, women get more serious about these things than men do, depending on the woman, of course. Some are just out for a good time or a casual fling, but a nice well brought up lass like Olga – as I’m sure she is – she probably wants more than just a relationship like yours, here today and gone tomorrow. You can’t blame her, Bill.’

  They stopped talking as the waitress brought their starter – thick pea soup in deep bowls with chunks of brown bread.

  ‘I’ve got in too deep, that’s the problem,’ Bill continued, ‘and now it’s difficult to back out. I feel dreadful, really; I’m very fond of her. I suppose I’ve just let it drift on without thinking too much about the future. I thought she felt the same as me, you know – it was good while it lasted, sort of thing.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? How have you left it?’

  ‘It’s stalemate at the moment. She was busy at the bar, so I just left her to her work. I’m hoping she’ll realize I’m right, that it’s best to call it a day. There would always be problems if we were to consider a future together. For a start, she’s a Catholic, and that always causes strife in families.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ said Mike. ‘It isn’t as if you are much of a churchgoer, are you?’

  ‘Christmas and Easter if I feel inclined. Olga doesn’t go much either, to Mass or whatever it is. But her parents are very keen. She left home to get away from their control – they live in Stuttgart – and she’s had a fair number of jobs like this one, living in hotels since she was twenty or so.’

  ‘She must have had a few boyfriends – well, men friends, relationships, surely? She’s an attractive woman.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose she has, but I haven’t enquired too closely, just as she hasn’t asked too much about m
y past, but I think she’s getting rather bored, stuck out here in the back of beyond. She’s ready for a change of some sort.’

  ‘And so are you, it seems. Olga doesn’t know you’ve got somebody lined up, does she?’

  ‘Good Lord, no! I’ve had a quiet word with Christine. I suggested we might go down to the village after dinner. She’s a great girl, Mike. I really like her.’

  ‘But you can’t possibly know from meeting her just once, that she’s right for you.’

  ‘I’m not saying that. But we hit it off straight away. She’s from the same neck of the woods, too, from Manchester, like me. Not the same district, but near enough; her home’s in Didsbury.’

  ‘Ooh … posh, eh?’

  ‘Well, she does speak nicely, and I can an’ all – I mean as well! – if I make an effort. It’s an advantage, though, living in the same area, not like a friendship with someone in another country.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t be in the same town, would you? You’d be working over here. There’d only be the occasional weekends.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but you were saying the other day that there’s work in the UK. I might consider that. Some of the lads are dying to get on to the Continental tours. And we don’t work during the winter, do we?’

  The Galaxy drivers were laid off during the winter months, apart from doing day trips now and again, and a few Christmas tours which were a new innovation. Some of them found other part-time jobs or drew unemployment benefit. They knew that their jobs would be there for them, come the spring.

  Their conversation stopped for a time whilst the main course was served. It was a typical German dish; roast pork served with dumplings and red cabbage, an introduction to local cuisine. They did not talk much as they enjoyed the succulent pork and the substantial helping of dumplings.

  Bill glanced across at a nearby table where there was the sound of laughter and high spirits. ‘Mrs Carson seems to have recovered from the loss of her suitcase,’ he remarked. ‘Unless she’s just drowning her sorrows. That was a nice gesture, offering her a bottle of wine.’