by RJ Hunter
In the time she had been there, Sally had transformed, what was once a cold, depressing, prison cell into something decidedly more habitable. Now, her room reflected her own tastes and style, with various pictures and posters of Elvis Presley, and Cliff Richard adorning the walls. She had even brought some brightly-coloured scatter cushions from town, which added the perfect finishing touch. She could now look upon her room as her own little home-from-home.
As it was her birthday, Sally decided to play some music on the new record player her parents had sent her. There were also a few bottles of Babycham in the back of the wardrobe, she opened two, then went and sat cross-legged on the floor, and began to go through her record collection. Lizzie had just popped back to her room to get the dreaded dress, but seemed to have been gone for ages. However, just as Sally got up to tap on Lizzie’s wall, her friend returned.
“What kept you? I was about to call Whitehall 1212!” Exclaimed Sally, offering Lizzie one of the Babychams
“I’m sorry, I was just reading one of the letters I got earlier, and didn’t realise the time.“ She replied, laying the dress out neatly on Sally’s bed. Lizzie, then tried to hide her face. But it was obvious she was tearful. Concerned, Sally put her drink down and asked what was wrong.
“Sally, I don’t know what to do, I got this letter from my sister, it’s just so awful, and on your birthday too.” Lizzie then began to sob, as she passed the envelope to her friend. Sally quickly turned off the music and read the contents;
Dear Lizzie,
I’m sorry this letter is so short and to the point. I do hope things are going well with you at university, way out there in deepest Wales. It’s very difficult to contact you by phone - it’s either engaged, or you’re out! Please try to keep in contact, we must all try to stick together, especially now. You can’t just run away from things, Lizzie. I had to give up a lot for Mum, and now she needs us all.
I wish there was some other way of telling you this, but Dad has decided to have Mum committed. He feels that it’s all getting too much, trying to keep her at home. Mrs. Gardener does all she can, but she’s getting too old, and anyway, Mum’s condition has deteriorated since you last saw her. There is more, but it’s something I can’t put in a letter. Please phone as soon you can, as there’s much I need to tell you.
With love,
Janice
P.S. Bobby and Sandy are staying with us for the time being.
Sally glanced at Lizzie, not quite sure what to say. It was unnerving seeing her best friend like this. Lizzie was always so strong and confident, and didn't seem to get upset by anything. Sally handed back the letter, and sat down next to Lizzie, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“Dad can’t do that, have Mum committed, not without saying anything. It can’t be true. I don’t know what Janice means.” Cried Lizzie, as she clutched the letter tight, and began rocking to and fro. She then glanced at the door and suddenly leapt up, and ran from Sally’s room. “I’ve got to phone her, I can’t bear it.”
However, there was only one telephone on that floor, and already a queue had formed waiting to use it. “Lizzie, please come back - you need to think this out first!” Called out Sally, to deaf ears.
“Why can’t they put in another damned phone - they know how busy this one gets! It’s like living in the dark ages!” Shouted Lizzie, out of pure frustration. The other girls in the queue, some standing and yawning in dressing gowns, just stared at her in silence, as if she had gone mad. She heard one of them mutter something about it being the time of the month, then she heard giggling, before storming back along the corridor.
Sally was waiting in the doorway looking concerned.
“Please Lizzie, stop. I can’t bear to see you like this, let me help you.” She said, beckoning Lizzie to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, sometimes it’s best to confront your problems, before they really get out of hand.” She then passed her friend a tissue, before taking one herself.
“I’m so sorry Sally, I feel so awful about ruining your birthday. I’ve even got you crying now. I’m just a silly cow. Look, please try the dress on and we can see how it looks.”
Lizzie, then scooped up the expensive garment and held it up for Sally to see.
“No, Lizzie, I can’t try it on, it wouldn’t seem right.”
“Thanks, Sally, for all you’ve done." She replied, tossing the dress aside. "You’re a great friend, and I think what you said was right. I’ve got to go home, I must. I’ll leave a note for Ken downstairs, and perhaps, if you see him, you could explain what’s happened.”
“Look Lizzie, I’m coming with you. I can’t let you go like this - you need support. Don’t worry about my birthday, it’s nothing compared to your problems. You’re more important - I’m coming, and that’s final!”
It came as a surprise even to Lizzie, that she could actually pack a hold-all, and an overnight case, then get changed, and be ready to leave, all in less than thirty minutes.
Sally struggled to lift the heavy case into the tiny boot of Lizzie’s, Austin 35. When she eventually succeeded, she placed her own small bag onto the rear seat, then stepped back in amazement to look at the odd-looking little vehicle.
“What on earth is this thing? It looks like a cocktail onion on wheels!”
“Meet, Isaac, the best car in the world!” Exclaimed Lizzie proudly. “Isn’t it just wonderful, and so unpretentious. Come on let’s go. Have you left the note for Frank and Ken?”
“That’ll be £3’6d thank you, Mrs Davies."
“Bless you, Mr. Morgan. Now I wont have to go out again for a few days,” she replied gracefully, tying the strings of the plastic rain hood under her chin.
"How's business at the post office these days?" Asked the shopkeeper, as he loaded the bread and dog food into the old woman's shopping trolley.
“It's very quiet at the moment, but it'll pick up once the students get their grants topped up again."
"Don't talk to me about students. Bloody noisy bunch there are!"
"It frightens me, Mr. Morgan, these youngsters of today - they have no respect for their elders. Not like in my day. Just to think, my Thomas lost his life in the war fighting for the likes of these people. It’s all wrong you know, and the police - they do nothing about it, especially that Constable Price, and you should see the mess on the streets of a Sunday morning. It’s getting worse, you mark my words.”
“I know, Mrs. Davies, you’re right.” Replied Morgan, having had the same conversation with the postmistress now for as many years as he could remember.
“Just think, the university will be breaking up soon, and we can all enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. Look, it’s raining again, you’d better hurry and get indoors.” He helped her down the step, and breathed a sigh of relief, once she was out of the shop. He was hungry and wanted to close for lunch. Morgan shut the door and reached up towards the bolt. It was then that he heard the music. It was definitely music, he thought, possibly that rock 'n' roll that was all the rage. It was still some way off, but was getting louder by the second. Mrs. Davies must have heard it too, for she stopped and was looking around to see where it was coming from. In fact, the whole of the high street seemed to come to a halt.
The sound of Del Shannon's 'Runaway' playing at full blast on the car’s radio drowned out the purr of the E-type Jaguar’s powerful engine as it sped dangerously along the street. People crossing the road, quickly leapt out of its path and back onto the pavement for safety. They stared in awe as the sleek, shiny sports car filled the narrow road, causing other vehicles to give way to the majestic beast.
Although the rain was starting to come down quite hard now, the two male occupants preferred to keep the convertible roof down, and the music turned up full.
Frank felt like he and the car were one, and he marvelled at how they both complimented each other so perfectly. It was if they had both been created solely with each other in mind, and no matter what the consequences were going to be,
it felt right that he should be driving it. He was high on adrenalin and greedily thrived on the attention that he and the car were creating.
Frank slammed his foot on the brake and brought the machine to a screeching halt, to allow a young mother to wheel her pram over a zebra crossing. Ken then stood up from the front passenger seat and yelled sexual innuendo at the woman, who, feeling threatened quickened her pace to escape from the unwanted attention. Frank then howled with laughter as he hit the accelerator hard and felt the car surge forward, knocking Ken backwards into the plush, leather seat.
Substituting his own car for his father’s Jaguar wouldn’t have called for any major feat of ingenuity on Frank’s part. His father was away on a convention, and it was perfectly normal for Frank to go back to Bristol on a regular basis, especially if he wanted something. But now, Frank had the cash to buy his own Jaguar. The robbery at the post office had gone like clockwork, just like he said it would. It literally took just a few minutes. Even when they had to break the back gate down, no-one seemed to have heard them.
Frank had then taken it upon himself to book a suite for the night, and a table for two at one of the most prestigious hotels in Wales, the Falconbury, which is about five miles from the university. Frank felt smug, and couldn’t wait to get his plan into action. Sally would surely be ecstatic at this chivalrous and romantic gesture, and when he produced his secret weapon - a necklace, 'borrowed' from his mother, bedding Sally would be a mere foregone conclusion.
Laughing, they sped off again, towards the main gates of the university. Frank had to swerve sharply, to avoid hitting an oncoming truck, and then - like a fairground roller-coaster, the car plunged through a large puddle, sending up a wave of filthy, brown water from its thick tyres. This drenched an elderly woman, struggling with a shopping trolley. The sudden shock of the cold water, and the close proximity of the car knocked her off balance, and she fell heavily to the ground. The vehicle disappeared into the distance, and a well-dressed man and the young woman with the pram came rushing to Mrs. Davies’ aid. She was still conscious, but very pale, and she struggled for breath. They made the old lady as comfortable as possible and stayed with her until the ambulance arrived. Mr. Meredith told her, he would take the groceries back to Morgan, who could look after them for her.
The jaguar skidded to a halt on the gravel drive outside Lloyd-Evans Hall of Residence. Frank switched off the engine and got out of the car. He strode purposely towards the building, before noticing an envelope bearing his name was attached to the door.
It only took a few seconds for his confident, well practised grin to turn into an ugly grimace. Frank screwed up the note tightly in his fist, and hurled it to the ground in a fury. He screamed out a torrent of abuse, and faces that had been peering out of windows, quickly disappeared back inside. Frank then leapt back into the car, and they sped off as quickly as they had arrived.
Tonight was meant to be Frank’s special night. He had planned it all, everything was ready. He had gone to a great deal of trouble for Sally, and he expected his just rewards.
There was another envelope waiting for Frank. It had been in the post room for several days now. It was from John Meredith, the Dean of Students, requesting Frank’s attendance at his office to answer several serious complaints the university had received regarding his behaviour. However, Frank never found any real reason to venture anywhere near the post room, and wouldn't have known the meeting was set for the following morning.
It had been Ken, who had thought of the obvious solution to Frank’s current predicament, when he began to tire of his friend’s irritating bad mood.
“Look Frank, Lizzie’s gone too, I’m in the same boat. At least you can get that Pauline as a replacement for Sally.”
A hint of a smile came over Frank’s face, as he realised, the evening might turn out to his advantage after all.
4. GLOUCESTER
Lizzie flicked the indicator switch in the centre of the dashboard over to point right. The noisy intermittent flash was more like the wink from some hideous-looking beady eye, as it momentarily illuminated the interior of the tiny car. Both women were tired and hungry when they finally reached Gloucester. It had taken a good deal longer than Lizzie had expected, as the journey had been hampered by a constant, oppressive drizzle.
Sally was now having very grave doubts about whether this was a good idea. After all, Lizzie’s family affairs were really nothing to do with her, and they may take offence at a stranger arriving on their doorstep uninvited at such an awful time. However, she decided not to share her misgivings with her friend, as it would only add to her problems.
Lizzie had tried to explain the situation during the journey, but at times she literally had to shout, in order to be heard over the drone of the car's engine. Lizzie, told of how, a few years earlier, her mother, Margaret Marchmont had been knocked unconscious in a sailing accident while on holiday in the Mediterranean. She had to be resuscitated, but not before her heart had stopped for sufficient time to cause irreparable brain damage.
Sally had sat in silence throughout much of the drive, and listened intently as her friend recalled how the family chose to look after their mother themselves. She was totally incapable of doing anything for herself, but at home she could at least be surrounded by people she loved. Most of the responsibility of tending to Margaret had fallen on Janice, the eldest daughter. It was Janice who sacrificed a promising career at Cambridge to nurse her mother. Although, the family were well off, they rarely called in outsiders to help cater for the needs of a once-proud and dignified woman. Only the long-serving housekeeper, Mrs. Gardener was permitted to assist where necessary.
The situation only changed when one day, Janice decided to get married. The constant physical and emotional strain of caring for such a demanding patient had begun to tell on her. No-one seemed to know how long her mother’s suffering would last, and it had been generally assumed that Lizzie would automatically take over the responsibility. Robert, her little brother was too young, and anyway, he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. However, it certainly came as a shock to the family, when they discovered Lizzie had ideas of her own. Understandably, much resentment came from Janice, who had since tried to make Lizzie feel guilty at every given opportunity.
Lizzie’s father, Edward - not an easy man to get along with, was actually quite impressed with his youngest daughter’s streak of ambitious determination. It wasn’t that Lizzie didn’t love her mother any less, it was because she had seen Janice losing her best years, and becoming resentful and worn out in the process. Janice’s marriage to Graham was seen by some as a farce, but who could really blame her after she had given so much.
As for Lizzie, she had an insatiable zest for life, and was naturally far more out-going than her often-gloomy sibling. For Lizzie, the thought of spending her youth, and allowing her spirit to die in such a lonely and depressing manner was simply unthinkable.
Now, to learn from Janice, that her mother may be committed to an asylum, had been more than enough to evoke feelings of guilt. It was this guilt, that Lizzie had always refused to accept, but now it was flooding her conscience.
As they neared her home, Lizzie began to feel very conscious of the way she was dressed, and how her hair looked. She grimaced, while picturing her sister glaring at her disapprovingly, uttering ruthless and callous remarks. Even within the dark exterior of the car, she noticed the glare from the pink, glossy varnish, so lovingly applied to her long, manicured nails.
When they finally reached Lizzie's home, something made her park the car a short distance away, even though it was still raining quite hard. She began to feel distinctly uncomfortable, and noticed that most of the lights were on, which in itself was very odd, considering her father’s frugal nature.
Perhaps, she should have tried a few more times to get through on the telephone, or maybe just driven straight to Janice’s house, which was quite nearby. But she was here now, and
there was no backing out.
Tentatively, Lizzie made her way up to the front door, while reaching into her handbag for the house keys. She then heard a dog bark from inside, but it was a pathetic little yap, and certainly not the sound, Sandy, the family’s golden retriever would have made. Sally immediately sensed Lizzie's apprehension and remained a few paces behind.
Lizzie slowly pushed open the heavy oak front door and took a step inside. She was then confronted by a tiny, snarling Yorkshire Terrier, resplendent in a bright yellow ribbon, tied tightly to the top of its head. It bared its sharp, little fangs and barked ferociously, before beating a hasty retreat, as the gaudily-dressed, peroxide blonde advanced upon its territory. Lizzie, totally oblivious to the creature's efforts to instil terror into her, suddenly felt her mouth water as she caught the subtle, and delicious aroma of something exotic coming from the kitchen. Her finely tuned nostrils also detected something else - perfume. She wondered who might be visiting at this hour. Her sick mother obviously wouldn't be wearing expensive scent like that, and it was hard to imagine Janice in anything more than lavender water.
Lizzie, didn't have to wait long to meet the wearer. From the direction of the dining room, she heard the sound of dainty, feminine footsteps heading towards her.
"Poppy! Poppy! You stop that awful racket now. Do you hear me, Poppy?"
A tall, slim, and very elegant-looking woman, aged about forty appeared, then stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Lizzie, standing open-mouthed in the hallway. It was hard to make out who was the most puzzled.
"Hello, Pamela, I've come to see my father, is he here?" Asked Lizzie, now back to her usual, confident self.
The woman bent down and scooped up Poppy, before replying in a surprised voice, "Oh, hello, Lizzie. What a surprise! Yes, he's here, please come through to the lounge, we've just finished dinner."