First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘And how did you enjoy your day in Freiburg?’ asked Jane. She guessed that the glow that was emanating from Ellen was not entirely due to her discreet make-up and her hairstyle. ‘You and Trevor looked very contented together. The man you were with – he is Trevor, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, that’s Trevor.’ Ellen smiled, a gentle, secretive sort of smile. ‘He’s two years older than his brother. Malcolm’s just turned sixty, and Trevor’s sixty-two. They’ve both retired recently – they worked in local government – but they decided that they’d worked long enough and want to enjoy their retirement. Trevor is seven years older than me,’ she added in a whisper, ‘but that’s not very much, is it?’ She looked questioningly at Jane.

  ‘No, not at all,’ Jane replied. ‘It doesn’t matter how old you are, or who is older than who, so long as you get on well together.’ She felt that Ellen was dying to confide in her. ‘Are you saying that you and Trevor are getting … friendly? That you like one another … quite a lot?’

  Ellen gave a quiet contented sigh. ‘Yes, I think so. He wants us to meet when we get back home. He lives not very far away from me, in Stockport. It’s only a short journey away from Manchester on the train, although we both drive a car.’

  ‘Do you really?’ said Jane. For some reason it surprised her that Ellen could drive.

  ‘Yes, I decided, when I was in my forties, that it was something I must learn to do. It was handy for driving my parents about. My father had never learnt to drive, but he became very much a back-seat driver! They were glad of the convenience of it, though. I don’t drive as much now, it can be murder driving in Manchester. I’m near enough to my work to walk there, but I’ve kept up with my driving licence. It’s handy sometimes.’

  Still waters run deep, thought Jane. ‘And … what about Shirley and Malcolm?’ she asked. Shirley was not listening. She was talking animatedly to Dave.

  ‘Oh, I think they’re getting on OK together,’ replied Ellen, ‘but for Shirley it’s just someone to be friendly with on holiday, and I think Malcolm feels the same about it. Trevor’s the quiet one of the brothers – more like me – but Malcolm’s much more lively, more like Shirley. I haven’t said very much to her. You know what she’s like, she’d tease me unmercifully. No, I think that’s the last she’ll see of Malcolm, after this holiday. She’s had a few men friends, you know, since her divorce, but she doesn’t want to get married again.’ Then she looked at Jane in some consternation.

  ‘I’m not saying that Trevor and I … nothing like that, but I really think he means it when he says he’d like to see me again.’

  ‘I’m sure he does,’ said Jane, ‘and I’m really happy for you. We must keep in touch, then you can let me know how you’re getting on.’

  ‘And you and Dave, as well,’ said Ellen. ‘You two are very happy together, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes …’ replied Jane, a little uncertainly. ‘I thought so, but things aren’t always as simple as they seem. I’ve got a mother who’s getting on in years, and Dave … well, there are one or two problems.’ She decided not to say exactly what they were. ‘He’s a farmer, you know, and he has a lot of responsibility. We’ll just have to wait and see how things work out.’

  When the meal ended they all adjourned to the lounge for coffee and, after a short interval, the festivities of the evening began. An ‘on the house’ drink of white wine, lager or fruit juice was brought round to all the guests by the waitresses and Marianne, all dressed in what must he their best National dress they wore for special occasions: dirndl skirts in forest green with a fancy red border at the hemline, richly embroidered peasant blouses, white stockings and highly polished black patent leather shoes with silver buckles.

  Then Herr Grunder appeared, dressed likewise in National costume – dark green jacket, knickerbockers and bright red socks. Everyone stopped talking as he stood on the dais at the end of the room.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘I would like you please, in a moment or two, to raise your glasses and we will drink a toast to our two very good friends, Mike and Bill.’ The two drivers were sitting together near the dais and, as Johann Grunder motioned towards them, they stood, each giving a somewhat embarrassed nod to the assembled audience. Then they sat down again as the proprietor went on with his speech.

  ‘Marianne and I have known these two worthy gentlemen for quite some time, Mike for a little longer than Bill. They have come here several times each year bringing you lovely people from the United Kingdom, and we have had some happy times together. Now they have decided that it is time for a change. I know it cannot be easy spending so much time away from their families and friends at home. And so, as I think you may know, they have decided to carry on with their work as drivers in your own country. I confess that Marianne and I have never visited the place you call the UK, but perhaps when we retire – or maybe before – we will pay a visit to your country, to see London and the other places I have heard you talk about: your Lake District, your Yorkshire Dales, and your Scottish Highlands. And your seaside towns, all around the coast of your little island. That is something we do not have in our own Black Forest.

  ‘So, ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for being such pleasant and friendly guests this week and we hope we may see you again, although it will not be with Mike and Bill. So—’ he raised his glass of lager – ‘good luck, good health, and a happy life to our friends, Mike and Bill.’

  ‘Mike and Bill …’ they all echoed as they stood and drank the toast to the men who had become more like friends than drivers over the week that they had known them. Then there came the applause and cries of ‘Speech, speech …’

  But Mike and Bill, unusually, could not be persuaded to say very much. It was Mike who answered. ‘Thanks, ladies and gents, for your good wishes, and Johann for his kind words. You have been a grand crowd this week, and I hope we may see some of you again on our holidays in the UK. That’s all I’ve got to say except … enjoy the rest of your evening.’

  There was time then for general chatter amongst the thirty-six members of the coach party who all knew one another well enough now to find something to talk about. They were all present there that evening, the older ones as well as the younger ones, eager to make the most of their last evening in Germany.

  Johann and Marianne Grunder proved that they had other talents as well as those involved in being host and hostess to a guest house full of visitors. Johann took to the stage carrying a huge piano accordion which he played competently to accompany Marianne as she sang some traditional German songs in her melodious mezzo-soprano voice. The words were not familiar – nor did any of them know sufficient German to understand the lyrics – but some of the melodies were well known. Soon everyone was humming or lah-lahing, clapping or tapping their feet to the rhythm of the catchy tunes.

  After they had finished their recital, to prolonged applause, it was time for the audience to let their hair down, or to sit back and watch and listen, if they preferred. It was obvious that Herr Grunder, over the years, had collected tapes and CDs of music and songs that would appeal to the visitors from the UK. Songs from the British Isles included ‘Lassie from Lancashire’, ‘Blaydon Races’, ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner’, ‘We’ll keep a Welcome’, ‘Loch Lomond’, and ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling.’ Everyone joined in all the songs with gusto, although they were all from the north of England or the Midland Counties.

  The more energetic amongst them danced along to ‘YMCA’, the ‘Birdie Song’ and the ‘Hokey Cokey’; then there were tapes dating back to the time of the Twist, when it became the norm to ‘do your own thing’ and dance with or without a partner. There were tapes or CDs of Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Cilla Black, Matt Monro and Andy Williams.

  Jane, as usual, sat with Dave. They talked from time to time, they joined in some of the communal dances, they danced together to a waltz or quickstep rhythm. The problems that they had discussed previously were not menti
oned, although Jane guessed that they must be present at the back of Dave’s mind as they were in hers. She watched with interest the people with whom she had become most friendly over the last week.

  Mavis and Arthur, of course, did not take part in the dancing, although she felt sure they would have done so at one time. They sat close together, holding hands from time to time and smiling at one another, clearly so happy that Arthur’s illness had been short-lived.

  Shirley and Ellen sat with the two brothers, Malcolm and Trevor. A very different Ellen now as she talked and laughed in a way she had not done at the start of the holiday. Not as unreservedly, though, as her friend, Shirley, who was having the time of her life and whose laughter could be heard above the general hubbub of voices. She and Malcolm – possibly two of a kind – seemed to be having a riotous time, whilst Ellen and Trevor sat quietly together. Jane saw him take hold of her hand as he spoke quietly to her. He was still a good-looking man in an unobtrusive sort of way, with greying hair and kindly grey eyes behind rimless spectacles. She looked away, aware that she was being nosy. But she had become fond of Ellen and felt that she deserved some real happiness in her life, just for herself, as she had spent so much time caring for others.

  Bill and Christine, the lady he had met this week appeared very happy and relaxed together. Jane guessed that it might be because of Christine that he, as well as Mike, had decided to work in the UK.

  But what about herself and Dave? It had all started so unexpectedly, the attraction they had felt for one another, then had gone on so well, until he had dropped the bombshell that had made her think it had all been a hopeless fantasy.

  ‘Penny for them,’ said Dave, taking hold of her hand. ‘Come along, let’s have a dance. It’s a waltz, something I can do quite well.’ She smiled at him, and they took to the floor to the tune of the once popular song, ‘Around the World’.

  ‘For I have found my world in you …’ she hummed to herself. She had believed it might be so, only to have the wonder and magic of it all snatched away again.

  Twenty

  By Tuesday morning, two days before she was due to go home Alice had reached a decision. She usually had every confidence in the decisions she made and, in her self-assured way, would ask for advice from nobody. This time, though, she felt that she wanted to talk it over with someone. And who else but the person she had come to know best during the last week, Flora, the woman she was now regarding as a friend. Alice knew that she had made few – if any – new friends lately, and the ones she had had in the past she seldom saw any more.

  Breakfast was a meal that Alice had enjoyed very much at Evergreen. There was a choice of menu – not a big fry-up, bacon and sausage being available only at weekends – but there were eggs cooked in various ways, cereals, porridge, toast and fruit, and muesli for those who liked it. Alice had always thought it tasted of sawdust. This morning she had enjoyed tinned grapefruit slices and a poached egg on toast. At home it was usually cornflakes and toast. When Jane was dashing out to work she had little time to prepare anything more, though she sometimes made bacon sandwiches as a treat on a Sunday. Alice was beginning to appreciate more and more all that her daughter had done for her, and, she admitted to herself, for very little thanks.

  When breakfast was over they adjourned to the lounge, and Alice drew Flora away to a corner away from the rest of the guests. ‘There’s something I want to talk over with you,’ she said. ‘Let’s go over there away from the telly and all the chatter.’

  They settled themselves on the settee at the far end of the room. Flora smiled at her. ‘Fire away,’ she said. ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘I’m thinking … well, I’ve already thought,’ Alice began, ‘and I’ve decided – well, almost – that I’d like to stay here permanently.’

  ‘Wow!’ exclaimed Flora. ‘That’s a turn-up for the book, isn’t it? When I think how set against it you were when you first came here, determined not to like it …’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Alice, just a little tetchily. ‘You don’t need to remind me what I was like, but I’ve changed my mind. I know I’ll have to eat humble pie. I said to Henry the other day that I most definitely would not come and live here.’

  Flora laughed. ‘I think that Henry, for one, will be very pleased if you decide to stay here. That couldn’t be the reason, could it? Henry and you, you’re getting on very well, aren’t you?’ she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ scoffed Alice. ‘Yes, I get on well enough with him, and I’m determined I’ll beat him at chess one of these days. I hope he’ll be pleased if I decide to stay.’

  ‘We’ll all be pleased,’ said Flora. ‘Those of us who have got to know you, at any rate. I would really miss you now, Alice. I was feeling quite dejected at the thought of you leaving us on Thursday. We’ve found that we have quite a lot in common, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes, so we have,’ Alice agreed. Apart from our previous lifestyles, she thought to herself, but didn’t say, and the fact that Flora was loaded whilst she, Alice, would have to consider the financial aspect very carefully because Evergreen was far from cheap. One of the most expensive homes in the area, she guessed, but then you got what you paid for, as with everything in life.

  ‘So, how has all this come about?’ asked Flora. ‘Why the sudden change of heart. I thought you were looking forward to going home and seeing your daughter again. After she rang you the other day you said she sounded a bit low.’

  ‘So she did,’ said Alice. ‘And that’s one of the things I have to think about carefully. I just wonder how she would feel if I decided to stay here. I really like it here now. I’ve settled down far better than I ever imagined I would.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I’ve realized what an awkward so-and-so I’d turned into, finding fault with everything and everybody. I was well on the way to becoming a crotchety old woman. It’s no wonder people didn’t like me, because I didn’t try to like them.’

  ‘Oh, come on now,’ said Flora. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. ‘I think you’re a great person, and so do a lot more of us. Yes, you’re dogmatic, and you’re not afraid of speaking your mind, but that’s because you’re such a strong character. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all as the good Lord made us.’

  ‘Yes … I know,’ said Alice. ‘But we can all recognize our own faults if we look for them, can’t we? And try to change them.’ She hesitated for a moment, pondering the issue that was uppermost in her mind.

  Flora prompted her. ‘You mentioned your daughter. You think she might not be happy about you coming to live here permanently?’ She could not help thinking to herself that the young woman might well have been relieved at her mother’s decision if Alice was always so difficult and hard to please as she had seemed on first acquaintance.

  ‘I really can’t say,’ replied Alice. ‘I’m sure she must have wished sometimes that I was somewhere else. We did tend to get on one another’s nerves living together – just the two of us – for so long. But as I’ve just said, I know now that I’ve not been the easiest person to live with.’

  ‘Are any of us?’ said Flora, diplomatically. ‘We all have to try to get on with the people we live with, but it isn’t always easy. It’s a question of give and take, isn’t it? In marriage and in other relationships as well.’

  ‘Give and take, yes,’ repeated Alice thoughtfully. ‘Jane has shared her home with me – Jane and Tom at first, of course. And they both assured me it was my home as much as theirs. But I like to think I’ve pulled my weight, especially since Tom died and Jane was left on her own. I’ve helped quite a lot financially, and I’m concerned about how she would manage if I wasn’t there to help. I know she has a reasonably well-paid job and her widow’s pension, but there’s still a mortgage on the property, then there are all the bills and the maintenance of the house and the cost of running her car. I don’t want to swan off and leave her to manage on her own.’

  ‘People do manage,’ said Flora. �
��I know it’s easy for me to say because money has never been a problem for me, not for many years, at any rate. But, as you say, she has her job and her pension, and – who knows? – she might get married again.’

  ‘She hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to so far. She and Tom were so happy together – just right for one another – and I’ve heard her say that there could never be anyone else. It would be nice for her if she did find someone, but she’s a very reserved sort of girl – more so since Tom died – and she keeps herself to herself a lot of the time. She has a few close friends, and she seems content to leave it at that. I was really surprised when she decided to go on that holiday on her own. It must have taken some courage.’

  ‘And she seemed to be enjoying it, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, everything seemed to be going well. Good weather and good hotels, so she said, and she’d met some nice friendly people. But the other night, like I said, she sounded a bit down. Perhaps because it was coming to an end or … well, I just don’t know, do I? But I can’t very well tell her, as soon as I see her, that I’ve decided to come and live here … can I?’

  ‘You don’t need to blurt it out as soon as she arrives, no, of course not. Just play it by ear, as they say. Anyway, have you made enquiries? Do you know if there’s a room for you? They keep pretty busy, you know. Sometimes there aren’t any vacancies. You might have to wait a little while.’

  ‘That’s what I intend to find out today. Then I’ll talk it over with Jane. It would be a big step for me, of course. When I went to live with Jane and Tom I had to get rid of a lot of my furniture and bits and pieces. They talk a lot about ‘downsizing’ on those house-hunting programmes, don’t they? It seems to be one of the ‘in’ phrases at the moment. Well, I’ve downsized once, but this time it would be even worse, wouldn’t it? There’s not a great deal of room here for your own bits and bobs, is there?’

  ‘We manage,’ said Flora. ‘A few of your own possessions around you, photos and ornaments and books, and it soon comes to feel like home. In fact you’re quite at home here already, aren’t you?’