First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘The least we could do,’ said Mike. ‘I’ll have to get round to tracing the bloody suitcase.’

  ‘Haven’t you done anything yet?’

  ‘All in good time, Bill. They wouldn’t arrive in Austria till early evening, and then it’s all go for the next couple of hours as you know. I’ll ring Rüdesheim as soon as we’ve finished our meal and see it they’ve got the address in Austria. If not, then it will mean getting on to Richmond Travel in the UK. There are times when a driver’s lot is not a happy one!’

  At the table a little distance away the six travellers, who were by now good friends, were enjoying the bottle of Riesling wine recommended by the proprietor, Herr Grunder. It was one of the priciest on the wine list and was proving to be a great success with all of them.

  ‘There’s not really enough for all of us,’ Arthur had remarked. ‘I’ll order another bottle of the same; no arguments – my treat.’

  Dave had argued that Arthur had bought wine the first night in Calais. So after a bit of good-natured quibbling, the two men had agreed to share the cost.

  ‘Ellen won’t want any,’ said Shirley, ‘unless I can twist her arm …?’

  ‘Do you know, I think I might!’ said Ellen with a sly grin. ‘Just a teeny drop, I might not like it.’

  Shirley was flabbergasted. ‘Well! I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!’ she exclaimed. The others all laughed.

  ‘Don’t ask me what it means,’ said Shirley. ‘It’s one of those old Lancashire sayings my mother used to use. Good for you, Ellen! I bet when you’ve tasted it you’ll want some more.’

  Jane wondered if Shirley might be guilty of persuading her friend to act against her better judgement, although Ellen didn’t seem the type of person to do anything against her will. ‘Why don’t you try a mixture of wine and lemonade, Ellen?’ she suggested. ‘It’s called a spritzer. You can have wine with soda water, but it’s nicer with lemonade.’

  ‘Thank you; I think I’d like that,’ agreed Ellen. She was quite pink-cheeked with excitement, although she hadn’t drunk anything yet. And when the drink arrived she said it was refreshing and very much to her taste.

  Shirley fended off all enquiries about her suitcase. ‘It’s a banned subject,’ she declared. ‘I want to enjoy my meal.’

  They all agreed that the first meal at the guest house boded well for the rest of the stay. The main course was delicious, though different from anything they would eat at home. And the Apfelkuchen – or apple cake – that followed, served with whipped cream, left them feeling that they could not eat another mouthful.

  They retired to the lounge for coffee. Arthur and Mavis, Shirley and Ellen, decided that they had had enough excitement for one day and would stay in the hotel for the rest of the evening. So it was just Dave and Jane who decided to walk down to the village.

  They strolled down the leafy country road enjoying the warmth of the balmy evening. It had been another glorious summer day, and the light was just beginning to fade, the sky turning to a darker blue, tinged with golden and crimson streaks. How long could this weather last? Jane wondered. There must be rain in Germany sometimes, though maybe not so much as they had at home. They had been very fortunate so far.

  After a few moments Dave took hold of her hand, and she stole a sideways glance at him. He was smiling at her.

  ‘You enjoyed your meal, did you? I noticed you were struggling to finish your apple cake.’

  ‘So I was; and I had to leave one of the dumplings as well. It was all very enjoyable, though a little … dare I say stodgy? Satisfying and filling, at any rate. Certainly more than enough for me.’

  ‘I think it may well be the same sort of fare for the rest of the week,’ said Dave. ‘They don’t go in for dainty meals in Germany. Their cuisine has developed from the dishes that the peasants used to eat, especially in the country districts. A meat and potato diet, such as we have at home, but more of the dumplings instead of potatoes. I’m afraid we might go home a few pounds heavier.’

  ‘I don’t put much weight on as a rule,’ said Jane, ‘so I’m not unduly worried. I’m not always watching my weight, like some women do. I should imagine Shirley is very conscious about that sort of thing. She’s always so immaculate and concerned about how she looks. It couldn’t have happened to a worse person, losing her case … I like her though,’ she added. ‘They’re a nice little crowd at our table, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, so they are, and it makes such a difference to a holiday like this, who you sit with for meals. They very rarely have tables for two; the idea is that they want you to mix and mingle. I’ve found that it’s better to be on a table for six rather than four. If you get stuck with a couple you don’t get on with it can be deadly. But we all seem very compatible. Different, of course, but that adds to the interest … And I’m so glad that I met you, Jane.’ He squeezed her fingers just a little as he turned to look at her.

  ‘Yes, I’m glad too,’ she replied. ‘I was dreading coming away on my own, although I knew I had to do it … to prove that I could. And it’s made such a difference, getting to know you. I’m having a lovely time.’

  They had arrived at the village, which was little more than a large hamlet. The road widened a little as they approached a row of houses, a church and a few shops. A general store, a pharmacy, a butcher’s shop, and what looked like a charity shop such as they had at home, with all sorts of odds and ends in the window. There was a gift and souvenir shop, too; they obviously had their share of tourists passing by.

  All the shops were closed, but at the far end of the street there was a beer garden, set back from the road in its own grounds. Strings of lights flickered amongst the trees, beneath which there were wooden tables and benches. Further back there was a white painted building with more seating accommodation inside. There were a few couples sitting outside and a waiter in a long green apron taking an order at a table in the corner.

  ‘Look at that!’ said Dave, sounding surprised. ‘Just the job! I was doubtful that we would find anywhere open, but this seems as though it might be a popular place.’

  ‘How lovely!’ Jane exclaimed. In her present mood everything was delightful. Here was another idyllic scene to store away in her memory along with the other sights and impressions that had followed, one upon the other, these last few days.

  They sat down on a bench beneath a spreading lime tree, and Dave handed her a large menu card. They served meals, as well as lighter snacks and a wide variety of drinks. The menu was in German, with no English translation, but it would be easy enough to order as the names of the beers and wines were familiar.

  ‘A beer for me – Helles, I think,’ said Dave. ‘That’s what they call a blond beer, not too heavy. Some of their beers would knock you out, they’re so potent. What about you, Jane? White wine?’

  ‘The only German wine I know is Liebfraumilch,’ she replied, ‘apart from the Riesling we had tonight. And that was quite enough for me, for one evening. Perhaps I could have a spritzer, like I suggested Ellen should have. I rather think it was the first time she’d ever tasted alcohol.’

  ‘It didn’t seem to have any ill effect on her,’ said Dave. ‘A very nice lady. I hope her friend’s case turns up, though, or Ellen may well have to bear the brunt of Shirley’s bad moods. She was OK at dinner time – Shirley, I mean – but she was obviously very annoyed earlier on.’

  ‘What an awful thing to happen, though,’ said Jane. ‘I do feel sorry for her. I should hate it to happen to me.’

  ‘You wouldn’t let it spoil your holiday, though, would you?’

  ‘No … I’d try not to. But ladies do like to have a change of clothes in the evening, I know I do. And Shirley seems to dress as though she’s on a catwalk. Her clothes are jolly expensive, but she was telling me that she gets a very good discount at the store where she works.’

  ‘She’s certainly a very elegant lady,’ said Dave, ‘but there are other things that are far more important than the clothes we wear …�
� He stopped speaking as the waiter arrived at their table.

  It was clear that he was quite used to ordering from a German menu, as the waiter seemed to understand what they wanted. Jane commented on this.

  ‘That sounded very competent. Have you been to Germany before?’

  ‘Er … yes,’ he answered, a little hesitantly. ‘Not with Galaxy, though … and it was a long time ago. My wife and I went on a couple of Continental coach tours, before our son was born, to Austria and Bavaria. The whole business of coach travel has improved no end since that time. I remember en-suite rooms were few and far between; you had a washbasin in the room, that was all – no shower or loo. And the breakfasts were very meagre: rolls and butter and jam. They have to provide more variety now to cater for tourists from all over.’

  ‘No doubt you have happy memories, though, of your early holidays,’ Jane remarked. Dave had sounded a little uneasy when he mentioned his wife. It was the first time he had spoken of her since that first day when he had told her that he, too, was on his own. She thought about the happy times that she had spent with Tom – although these had receded even further to the back of her mind over the last few days – and she guessed it might be the same for Dave. Maybe some poignant memories had returned to him as he mentioned his wife.

  He was silent for a few moments before he answered. ‘I’m sorry to say that not all the memories are happy ones. I know from what you have said that you and your husband – Tom, wasn’t he? – had a wonderful marriage …’

  ‘Yes … we did,’ she answered quietly.

  ‘But it was not the same with Judith and me. We were happy at first. We were young and in love, or so we thought. I soon realized, though, that we had very little in common, not enough for a satisfactory marriage. Judith was a town girl, and she couldn’t get used to the quiet of the countryside, or to being a farmer’s wife.

  ‘She had a part-time job in Shrewsbury at first – she was a shorthand typist – and she drove there and back each day. But she had to give up when Peter was born.’

  ‘How old is your son?’ asked Jane.

  ‘He’s twenty-two, and he’s already engaged to a girl he went to school with. I did try to tell him, tactfully, not to rush into things. But he’s a sensible young man, and I don’t foresee any problems there. Kathryn’s a lovely lass, and she’s from a similar background. Her father’s a market gardener, and she does the bookkeeping for him as well as helping out on the land. She’s told him, though, that he’ll have to find somebody else next year, because she intends to be a ‘hands on’ sort of farmer’s wife.’

  ‘Are they getting married soon?’

  ‘Yes, next year. They’ll live at the farm with me. There’s plenty of room, and I shall make sure they have their own space, and plenty of it. I’m sure it will be a happy marriage, as far as one can ever predict such a thing.’

  He paused, and Jane made no comment. She did not want to pry. If he chose to tell her more about his own marriage, that was OK. If not, then she would not ask. However, he went on. ‘As I said, Judith was not happy as a farmer’s wife, and it was worse after Peter was born. She loved him – I never doubted that – but she felt even more tied down. She still had a lot of friends in Shrewsbury, and she wanted go on meeting them the same as before. And I’m afraid that’s what she did. We didn’t have much of a home life, but I suppose we stayed together because of Peter. I used to worry about her being out late, especially if she was driving.’

  He stopped suddenly, and Jane wondered if she had been killed in a car crash. He had not said how his wife had died, and if it had been a road accident it would still be painful to talk about it, even though their feelings for one another might have changed.

  ‘Anyway, that’s all in the past, and we have to look to the future. And it’s already looking very promising.’ He placed his hand over Jane’s, smiling into her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied quietly. ‘I knew that I had to start enjoying myself again, if it were possible.’

  ‘And you are, aren’t you – enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Very much so. It’s more than two years since Tom died. And it’s longer for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, more than four years since Judith …’ He sighed. ‘But things had not been good for quite some time.’ He let go of her hand and took a long drink of his beer. The waiter had put down their drinks unobtrusively whilst they had been talking. Jane sipped at her spritzer and found it very palatable.

  ‘This is nice,’ she said cheerfully, hoping to lighten the rather sombre mood that their conversation had evoked.

  ‘Good.’ He grinned at her, his good humour restored. He took hold of her hand again. ‘Jane … I would like to think that I could go on seeing you after the holiday has ended. How do you feel about that?’

  The idea had been forming in her mind as well, and she was pleased that he felt the same, but the practicality of it was another matter. So she did not say at once that she would be delighted to see him again, even though she wanted to do so.

  ‘We haven’t known one another long, have we?’ she said.

  ‘Three days,’ said Dave, ‘but it seems much longer. I feel as though I’ve known you for ages.’

  Jane felt the same. They had shared so much over the last three days. They had been together constantly, except for the night times. They did get on very well together, but this was a holiday situation. How would they fare when they were back home without the excitement and glamour of new sights, new experiences? Dave lived quite a long way from her own home, and there was her mother to consider.

  ‘Let’s see how it goes, Dave,’ she said, trying to be sensible and follow her head, not her heart which was urging her to throw caution to the winds. ‘We do get on well, and we’re having a lovely time here … but there would be obstacles at home. Where we live, for one thing; then there’s my mother.’

  Dave forbore to say that her mother was an elderly lady and would not live for ever, but that would be too unkind, and he did see the problems. ‘My mother has been very accommodating,’ he replied. ‘You might well be surprised. And we’re not a million miles apart, are we? And we both drive … But you’re right; let’s see how things go.’

  They were both quiet for a little while, each deep in thought. Jane noticed a familiar figure at the other side of the garden.

  ‘Oh, look – there’s Bill,’ she said. ‘And isn’t that the lady that sits at the front of the coach? I don’t know her name.’

  ‘So it is,’ said Dave. ‘It looks like another holiday friendship in the making.’

  The two of them looked very friendly and happy together as they sat at a table, heads close together studying the menu. ‘Good luck to them. Bill seems a decent sort of bloke – well, they both do, he and Mike. But some drivers do have a reputation for getting off with the single ladies.’

  ‘So long as he’s not married,’ said Jane. ‘You never know do you …?’

  Nine

  ‘Now, Christine, what’s your poison?’ asked Bill. ‘I’m afraid I shall have to stick to a half of lager or Pils, or maybe a shandy. And then it’ll be orange juice or Apfelsaft. Both Mike and I obey the rules; most drivers do.’

  ‘And do you always obey the rules, in everything?’ asked Christine with a sly grin.

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ Bill replied easily. ‘I’m a pretty straightforward sort of chap. I would certainly not drink while on duty, and that goes for evenings as well. There’s too much at stake with a coachload of passengers. We’re responsible for their welfare.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine there are problems from time to time, aren’t there?’

  ‘You can say that again! We’ve done alright this time, so far, apart from the missing suitcase. And Mike has managed to trace the hotel in Austria where the Richmond coach has gone. The main problem is when people are late back at the coach. We’re not allowed to leave anyone, even though it’s a blasted nuisance at times. They usually turn up in the end; they’ve mistaken the time,
or they’ve got lost. If they’re too long we have to go looking for them. Then sometimes people are taken ill and have to be rushed to hospital. Or they complain about the rooms or the food … But it’s all going well up to now, touch wood.’ He tapped on the table. ‘What about you? You’re enjoying it, are you?’

  ‘Yes, very much, and so is Norah. She made friends with two ladies of a similar age to her. We’re sitting with them for meals and we all get on well together.’

  The conversation was interrupted as the waiter appeared to take their order – a small Pils for Bill and a glass of Liebfraumilch for Christine. ‘I think you will find it far superior to the sort we get at home,’ Bill told her.

  ‘There’s quite a big age gap between you and your sister, isn’t there?’ he asked when the waiter had gone.

  She grinned. ‘That’s a polite way of asking how old I am, is it? I don’t mind telling you, why should I? I’m thirty-six, and Norah is fifty-two, although she’s looked older recently. Her husband was ill for a long while, and she cared for him all the time. I’m hoping this holiday will help her to look to the future again. I’m afraid she’s often mistaken for my mother; she did look after me a lot when I was little. I was something of an afterthought in the family. I don’t think my parents really intended to have another child! But I was loved all the same.’

  ‘Are your parents still living?’

  ‘Yes, both of them. We’re lucky in that respect. We’ve all got our own homes, of course, not very far from one another.’

  They stopped talking again as the waiter arrived with their drinks. Christine took a good sip of the pale golden wine.

  ‘Delicious!’ she said. ‘You’re right. It’s far superior to the stuff I buy from Sainsbury’s.’

  ‘I think they keep the best for themselves, and export the rest,’ said Bill. ‘You were saying, Christine, about your home … You live alone, do you?’

  ‘At the moment, yes,’ she replied with a smile. ‘You’re asking if I’m single, aren’t you?’ She knew that the term ‘single’ no longer just meant unmarried as it used to do. Nowadays it seemed to mean anyone who didn’t have a partner at that time, a partner of either sex. Whether you were widowed, divorced, or just on your own you were referred to as being single.