The New Year’s Resolution

The New Year’s Resolution

By Bob French

Hilary stared back at the face that looked at her with searching eyes from the mirror and for a moment contemplated her worst nightmare; that she was getting old and would soon be left on the proverbial shelf. As though justifying her age, she answered the mirror.

          “Twenty one isn’t old.  Lots of time yet.”  But she recognised the concern in her voice.

          The sound of ‘Love, love me do’ by the Beatles, a new group on the ‘Pop scene’ interrupted her thoughts, as it crackled into her dishevelled bed-sit in Chelmsford, via her tiny Japanese trany. It had been their song, but now it made her feel lonely, betrayed and unloved.  She felt the sudden surge of anger rise as she stared at the shattered photo frame of Mark, still lying in the corner.  He had broken off their engagement after two years, shattering her dreams into too many pieces for her to find, let alone repair.

          Christmas passed quietly for Hilary, choosing not to go home and face her mother’s inquisition, but decided to spend it alone in her flat.  After the January Sales, the mild excitement of returning to work and social contact brought a welcome relief to her loneliness, and when the muffled sound of her alarm clock struggled from beneath her blankets, warning her that it was time to get up and get ready for work, she felt a surge, a newness of life, rush through her.

          The weather forecast was cold, windy and overcast and she decided to chance it with just her Aaron cardigan; after all it was only three hundred yards to the bus stop.  Within minutes, it had started to rain; lightly at first, but by the time she had reached the busy Roxwell Road, she was soaked through and resigned herself to arriving at work looking like a drowned rat. 

          “What more could go wrong?” she sighed to herself as she came upon the queue of familiar sombre faces destined for the workplace.

          Hilary nodded at Jill and Sandra who both worked in Woolworths and ignored the middle aged suit who always ogled at her legs and mini-skirt with a perverted grin, as she silently took her place in the queue.  ‘Same old faces’ she thought. 

          As she stood, mindlessly watched the chaos of the morning rush hour unfold, she felt her legs ache from the arctic wind and prayed that, just for once, the bus was on time.  It was the mutterings of Jill and Sandra that broke her thoughts and drew her attention to a young man trying to cross the busy road. She watched as he struggled with his umbrella, then, made a life or death dash and joined the queue.  He nodded to Jill and Sandra but ignored her, which pricked her already shattered self esteem.

          She felt her anger rise and with a shrug, turned her back to him; ‘Men, I hate them,’ she thought to herself, as she fought back her self-pity.  Then he suddenly spoke.

          “Excuse me Miss, but you look terribly wet.  Would you like to share my umbrella?”  Instantly she felt threatened and ignored him. After Mark, she had promised herself that she would never trust another man. Though she rarely made New Year’s resolutions, she recalled shouting such a promise to a half empty bottle of wine one evening.  The situation was saved by the arrival of the crowded bus, and as expected, her boss gave her a hard time about her appearance.  She didn’t see the young man again until the end of January when she was struggling home through Admirals Park with her weekly shopping after work. He had been out jogging and virtually collided with her as he came around the corner of the bowling green.

          “Oh, I am terribly sorry.  My apologies,” then he turned and looked into her startled face. “Hello Miss.  Do you want a hand with those?”  He nodded at her shopping bags.  She went to say ‘get lost,’ but he smiled, leant forward and eased the two heavy bags from her white knuckled fists.  The relief on her body was instant and she looked up at him and thanked him through her smile.

          “That’s very kind of you.  It’s not very far.” 

          They covered the short distance in an uncomfortable silence during which time she contemplated asking him in for a cup of tea, but as she reached her front door, decided against it.  Hilary took the bags and went to thank him, but he had simply smiled at her, turned, and jogged off down the road. She felt a sudden rush of pleasure as her eyes lingered on his physique, then scolded herself as she slammed the door behind her.

          Monday morning brought more rain and as she approached the bus stop she was surprised to see him already waiting there. She went through her usual routine of nodding to Jill and Sandra and ignoring the pervert and joined the queue next to him. 

          Hilary was about to thank him for helping her with her shopping when something caught her eye.  A large removal van was thundering down the road toward the bus stop. She glanced at the huge puddle in the gutter and then back at the lorry and resigned herself to the outcome.   As predicted, the lorry hit the puddle, sending a wave of dirty rain water in her direction.  Jill swore at the driver and Hilary screamed and crouched down just as the young man brought his umbrella around to protect her from the deluge.

          “Are you alright Miss.”  He gently helped her up and after she inspected herself found that she was unscathed.

          Hilary felt a wave of gratitude rush over her, turned and looked up into his young masculine face.

          “Thank you so much.”  Then without thinking she heard herself say.  “My name is Hilary, and thank you for helping me the other night.”  As she spoke she felt her prejudice against men slowly start to disappear, but quickly took control of her feelings.  The young man smiled at her and was about to speak when the bus arrived, interrupting him and destroying the moment.

          Each morning she would greet him with a smile and he would move his umbrella over her, protecting her from the wind and the rain, but she always maintained her self-imposed barrier.  After a few days she thought about striking up a conversation, but deep down inside, her fears prevented her from going beyond the usual pleasantries, even after Jill and Sandra’s taunting.

          The wet weather slowly moved into February and it was whilst she was chatting with the girls at the bus stop, under the protection of his umbrella, that the subject of St Valentine’s Day came up; a day she now loathed.  Hilary recalled the childish games played by colleagues in the office to see who had not received cards.  The expression on her face and her feeble attempt at changing the subject was quickly picked up by the young man.        

          To everyone’s surprise, the morning of the 14^th of February was sunny, ruined only by a cold wind that howled down Roxwell Road, and instead of the protection of the umbrella, the young man had gallantly stood closely behind her, protecting her from the bitter wind.  Hilary had smiled up at him, acknowledging her thanks, before ignoring the glance between Jill and Sandra.  Again she felt her defences start to slip, but shook herself inwardly and reminded herself of her New year’s resolution.

          Hilary silently tolerated the office jokes and pranks until lunch time when she could escape to the privacy of the Cathedral grounds.  It was as she bent down to pick up her bag that she noticed the envelope. Fearing another practical joke, she quickly stuffed it into her pocket and left. Ten minutes later on her favourite bench her curiosity got the better of her and she tore open the envelop and quickly read it.

          The note simply read ‘Please take this note to the Empire Café on Moulsham Street at 8 o’clock this evening and present it to Fred, the manager.’  Hilary stared at the neatly printed note; her mind racing as she went through potentials. ‘It could be Graham, or Jim or even Brian. No, he’s married,’ she thought. 

          On return to the office, her suspicions were confused even more so, as she realised, after some discrete questioning, that none of her colleagues had sent her the note. At first she had decided not to go, but as the afternoon wore on, her inquisitiveness changed her mind.         

          The smell of burnt bacon, cigarette smoke and the thumping sound of the Rolling Stones from the juke box met her as she pushed open the steamed up café door. Young faces turned and through a veil of smoke, looked up at her, then ignored her, as she made her way to the counter where a red faced, rotund man in a stained string vest and a permanent smile on his face turned and greeted her.

          “Ello luv, what you having?”

          “Hello.  I am looking for Fred.  I am to give him this note.”  Fred grinned and took the note,” then glanced at her.

          “Please follow me luv.”  As she followed him toward the back of the café, the light grew dimmer and the sound of the thumping music faded.  Then Fred stopped and stood back and gave a short bow.

          “Ere we are miss, if you’d like to take a seat, your ‘ost will be here soon.”

          Hilary smiled nervously as her eyes took in the secluded table for two, lit with candle light.  In the dim flickering light she allowed her mind to race again.  ‘Who could this mystery person be?’  As she made herself comfortable, she noticed the small envelope on her plate addressed to her and slowly opened it.  She became aware that as she came to the end of the simple poem of secret love and admiration her eyes had filled with tears.

          Whilst reading the poem again, she sensed that someone was standing beside her and as she looked up, she felt her heart jump.  Their eyes met, instantly bringing a smile to their faces, then the young man from the bus stop nervously held out a bunch of red roses and in a voice no more than a whisper, wished her a happy Valentine’s Day.

          As he sat down, he leant across the table and gently took her hand. Hilary’s instinct was to pull away, but her heart told her to stay. She stared into his eyes and for the first time in months, she felt her hatred and fears disappear.

          “My name is William.  I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t help noticing that the world had done you an injustice.”  Hilary frowned at him over the roses.

          “That such an attractive person as your self should be alone on a special night such as tonight.” He felt her hand gently squeeze his and saw the tear trickle down her cheek.

          “Please forgive me if I have upset you, but I have been trying to pluck up enough courage to…..” Hilary slowly leant across the table a put her finger on his lips.

          “Please don’t spoil the moment, we can talk about such things when we are old and grey and our children have grown up.

Copyright Bob French