NEW BEGINNINGS

By Peter Woodgate

 I have a new beginning which I want to tell you about, but before I do, let me tell you, briefly, about the old one.

There I was, 21 years of age, down the local dance hall, dolled up in my mohair suit with a packet of Du-Maurier cigarettes tucked neatly in my inside pocket. It’s not that I liked Du-Maurier for their flavour, in fact, I didn’t smoke but they came in a flat packet and didn’t create a bulge in the figure-hugging cut of the jacket. They looked cool too should you be asked to “flash the ash” by your mates or when offering to a young lady you just happened to be chatting up.

    Anyway, there I was, with my brother, playing the “see who could pull the prettiest girl” game, when, we both clapped our eyes on this young blond girl who was dancing with her mate. She kept looking over to us, smiling, and we noticed that she had a “lazy eye”. I don’t know the clinical term for it but anyway we decided that we couldn’t tell who she was smiling at so we moved from our usual spot making our way to the other side of the stage.

    After a fair bit of pushing and shoving, we arrived at the spot we were aiming for just as I bumped into this beautiful creature. She literally took my breath away, “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, as I recovered from an elbow in the chest. 

“That’s ok,” she replied giving me the most gorgeous smile I have ever witnessed.

    Well, one thing led to another, and, after making sure I had the last dance (traditionally the Drifters number) I asked if I could walk her home. Imagine my disappointment when she looked at me, seriously, and said “no,”

    It wasn’t until she explained that it was too far to walk and that she had come by bus, that I cheered up. I remember well that bus ride to hers on the top deck and despite costing me extra bus fares, and two Du-Mauriers it was worth it.

    Enough of that though, as 3 children, 6 dogs and an empty wallet later, I got divorced. My new beginnings, well, do you remember that blond girl I told you about? You know the one with the wonky eye, it turned out that she had moved to the same block of flats where I had gone to live with my mum and dad. I saw her regularly, smiling at her whenever our paths crossed but without thinking anything of it. On reading the local paper one day, I noticed an advert announcing a reunion for pupils of Kilburn Park High leaving in the years 57 and 58. I gave it little thought however, until my brother rang telling me that we should go and meet up with some of our old football team.

    I’d quite looked forward to going but ten minutes after arriving I felt extremely embarrassed as the only person I recognized was my brother, (20 years can do strange things to your memory) I thought.

    I think I was on my 15th “sorry but who are you,” routine when I, at last, recognized a familiar face. Well, it wasn’t actually the face, as such, as the cast in her eye and, after greeting me with her infectious smile, we got talking.

    Susan, as I now found out her name to be, was in the class of 58, I was in the class of 57. She had been married, briefly, but after her husband had run off with her best friend, she had remained single. She confessed too that it was she who had sent me valentine cards in the past and that she had always liked me, goodness knows why. She told me that after her divorce she had thrown herself into her work as a bereavement counsellor, she had all the time in the world, it seemed, for others, without expecting anything in return.

    We have met several times since, and on each occasion, I found myself learning   new things, things that make me want to spend more and more time with her.

    I popped the question the other week and Susan said yes!! As we walk down the aisle on that day some people will notice her eye.

I shall see only a beautiful woman.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate