Faith In Love Read online

  "I thought you'd be impressed, Don. I won't ask why you couldn't find the wherewithal to put on a can of soup for yourself if you were so hungry. I'll just get the tea ready, shall I?"

  "Get that old chip pan going my girl, that's the idea. I did think to get a few bits of frying steak out of the freezer."

  "So you did. What would you like with that Don? Eggs or peas?"

  "Whatever you feel like doing, Faith. I'm easy."

  "Well I never knew that, Don, but I think we'll have both as a special treat."

  "Special treat? What's the occasion, Faith? It's not your birthday is it?"

  "Don't be silly Don, that's next month! Don't worry, I'll remind you nearer the time. You haven't remembered my birthday or our anniversary unaided since I don't know how long."

  "How can I remember unaided if you always remind me?"

  "I wouldn't like to take the chance."

  "Well there you are then. But, I do know what the special occasion is. I just didn't know it was on the agenda for celebrating, it never was before."

  "A change is as good as a rest Don. I'm breathing new life into our relationship. Blowing on the embers of our love."

  "Is that a good idea, Faith? It could set the house alight."

  "Very amusing. Here you are, pass me your plate. Careful, it's hot! All I mean, Don, is that I remembered Valentine's Day and decided to buy you a card and some other things to mark the day. I don't expect you to have remembered, so don't get in a panic!"

  "What a surprising woman you are, Faith, even after all these years."

  "That's the intention, Don. But the real surprises are yet to come."

  "How intriguing. When?"

  "Later. After you've helped me do the dishes."

  "Sit down on the bed a minute, Don, and close your eyes."

  "You haven't got a grudge against me, have you Faith?"

  "Should I have?"

  "I hope you're not going to do me an injury as soon as my eyes are shut. I saw something like that on TV."

  "I'm trying to give you your Valentine treat but you're not cooperating. Shut your eyes for a minute! I'm just going to the bathroom. I'll be back before you know it."

  "You could climb out the bathroom window, having set fire to some waste paper in the corner of the room and leave me to perish in the grisly inferno."

  "We don't have waste paper in the bathroom, Don."

  "Not usually."

  "Have you been watching 'Murder, She Wrote' again? Now listen, Don, don't be silly. Relax for a minute, trust me, close your eyes and I'll be right back! Don't open them till I tell you!"

  "I like a dominating woman."

  "Now you tell me! Open your eyes, what do you think?"

  "What an extraordinary outfit, Faith."

  "Scanties for a special occasion Don. May I take that as a compliment?"

  "You certainly may. Get yourself over here my girl!"

  "Oh! A masterful man! At last!"

  ~ ~ ~

  You don't have to do that, girl. I love you anyway."

  "What a relief."

  Monday, February 14

  It is eight o'clock in the morning. It is Saint Valentine's Day. Less than a mile from Faith's and Don's terraced house, in a warm, shabby living room, a tall dark woman stands in front of a mirror. She is combing her hair, slowly. She is dressed for the cold weather in a long slate-blue overcoat with a turned-up black fake-fur collar; black trousers and a pair of long, shiny, black boots.

  A stockier, fairer, older woman wearing denim jeans and a heavy brown jumper enters the room from the hall. She is carrying an envelope. She waves it excitedly.

  "Eva! Look! I've got a card from a mystery admirer!"

  "Is that what it says? Maybe it's from me!"

  "Huh. You forgot. We've been through that."

  "I had a lot on my mind. I told you, my mum and all."

  "Could have got me one on the motorway!"

  "Joan! Have you seen the kind of stuff they have in those shops? So corny! I'll get you something later. I'll bring something back."

  "Okay. Doesn't matter. I'm not fussed. But look at this!"

  "Now that is corny!"

  "Nice. I think it's nice. Roses and hearts and red ribbons. I think it's romantic. Who d'you think sent it? Someone from the club, maybe?"

  "Delivered it, you mean. Look at this envelope, no name even. Someone's spying on you. Some weirdo. Anyway, could be for me, not you. How about that?"

  "Oh yes, Ms. Ego? How do you work that out? You're not blonde are you? Look at the envelope properly!"

  "To a beautiful blonde dot dot dot. Oh I see, you're supposed to read on from there to the inside of the card, dot dot dot from a mystery admirer. It really does say that! A mystery admirer! I thought you were joking. You're not blonde though. I wouldn't call you blonde. Mouse, more like."

  "I suppose I'm not beautiful either? Thanks for the compliment! Well, you're certainly not blonde are you? Mouse is more blonde than you are. You're dark as night by comparison. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

  "So they say. And skin deep."

  "Sometimes. Anyway, I'm going to give this lovely card pride of place on the telly to remind me that somebody loves me, even if you don't."

  "I do. I just forgot that's all. I will get you something later. It'll still be Valentine's Day when I get back from work and I could make dinner too, something nice."

  "Okay. Give us a kiss then. You're not jealous though, I notice."

  "I am, but I can cope. I think I saw her, by the way. A little dark thing."

  "When?"

  "Just as I came home yesterday evening. I was parking. Reversing a bit up the road."

  "It was dark."

  "Not that dark. I could still see a bit. Anyway that streetlight was on –"

  "For a change."

  "They've fixed it. Anyway, it looked like someone coming out of our gate."

  "Could have been from upstairs."

  "Well, I thought that, of course. Or that you have a lover."

  "I do."

  "What?"

  "You, silly."

  "Okay, okay. Well anyway, it must have been her. Though I didn't notice an envelope on the floor when I came in."

  "You were probably worried."

  "About what?"

  "Your mum getting worse!"

  "Oh yes, of course. You're right, I was. "

  "What did she look like?"

  "Who?"

  "The woman."

  "Like I said, small and dark. A bit rat-like."

  "No. You're teasing me."

  "No, really. Small and scuttling, like a wee rodent. Or rather, a big rodent or a small, wee woman."

  "You're giving me the creeps."

  "Me too."

  "You didn't know her then?"

  "Why should I? Why d'you ask? I don't know many wee rats."

  "I'm just interested to know who she is – my secret admirer."

  "Maybe you'll find out one day. All will be revealed."

  "How exciting!"

  "Do you think so? Some things ought to stay secret though, don't you think? Like the identity of secret admirers, worshipping from afar."

  "Mystery admirer – perhaps she'll come nearer."

  "She'd better not!"

  "Wow! Jealousy, at last! Seriously though, have you seen her, on your travels?"

  "Like I said, it was dark. Anyway, I have to go now, mustn't be late in today, got a meeting first thing."

  "Right. I'll see you later."

  Eva hesitates, at the open door, "Are you doing anything today?"

  "Later. I told you last night, don't you remember? One of my regulars over in Hackney. Not yet, this afternoon."

  "Oh, well. I forgot, sorry. Look, I've got to go. Will you be in?"

  "When you get back? Yes. I'll only be gone a couple of hours. Quick or I'll have to shut this door. It's freezing!"

  "See you then. Look, I'm sorry about last night."

  "It'
s all right. No problem."

  "You know what I mean, after you bought champagne, cake and everything, it was unforgivable."

  "I said, no problem."

  "I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

  "I'll hold you to that. Now, you better get off or you'll miss your meeting."

  "They can't start without me!"

  "I know that, madam boss-lady. Off you go just the same."

  "Happy Valentine's Day."

  "Later."

  ~ ~ ~

  Faith has just come home from work. There is an envelope on the doormat.

  Second post and something for Carol. Typed name and address. Don't even have to open the envelope to see what it is, it's such thin paper you can see right through it. Now who would send her a Valentine card? Don't suppose it would say on it, even if I did open it and have a quick look. (Not that I would, that would be invasion of privacy. Unthinkable!)

  There you are, it doesn't say, didn't think it would. Not written in at all. (I know I shouldn't have sneaked a peek but you get so curious about your kids, especially if you've only got the one.) I'm being protective really, looking out for her. Poor little thing, she hasn't got a big sister or anyone to light the way ahead for her; has to do it all herself. I know just how that feels, being an only child myself. It's so difficult, especially when you're at that sort of age, when your hormones start stirring. That's when you're most in need of someone on your side, who can see your point of view without sitting in judgment. I know I was.

  Right. Now. That's nicely sealed up again. Looks almost untouched by human hand. I'll just put it back where I found it. She'll be none the wiser.

  I don't suppose I'll ever discover who that pretty little missive is from. A west London postmark, but that doesn't tell me anything. An unsolved puzzle like this could become quite an irritant if dwelt upon for long. I must try very hard to forget about it.

  What's the time? Oh, it's past six. Carol could come back at any time. I'd better make sure to look busy when she arrives – busy and innocent.

  ~ ~ ~

  Whoops, Don's back first, that means a thumping great pair of size twelves on her lovely envelope. Hope it's not still raining.

  "Hallo, love. Not wet, are you?"

  "Why, worried about the carpet?"

  "No, you of course. I'm a concerned and considerate wife."

  "Oh, yes, still Valentine's Day, I get it. You're lucky, I did remember, just like I said I would and I've got us a little bottle of wine for a change, 'cause I know you can't stand lager –"

  "I'm not really a drinker, Don, you know that, unless it's champagne of course."

  "I'm not made of money, Faith. But still, special occasion, as we said. Bottle of wine and, look here, box of chocolates! Now, you can't turn your nose up at that."

  "You're right I can't. And you can eat this sugary little cake I brought back from the shop."

  "Suits me. Then we can have an early night."

  "Don! It's quarter to seven."

  "Well, a bit later then. We can cook up a bit more of that steak and some chips and take it all into the bedroom and have a feast by the fire."

  "It's not lit!"

  "It will be. And you can wear that red outfit you wore last night."

  "Well, Don, that sounds great. You can be pretty surprising yourself, after all these years."

  "Cheers! It's a Special Occasion!"

  Tuesday, February 15

  "You feeling better today, Faith?"

  "Yes, Mr. Owen. I was all right yesterday too. I was in all day."

  "In body perhaps. But not in spirit."

  "Yes, Mr. Owen."

  Wednesday, February 16

  (Faith stands in the shop looking out the window. It is midmorning. Pearl is on her break, so Faith is alone. Faith is looking for Lesbians.)

  They're everywhere! Once you've seen one, they pop up all over the place! It's amazing. I never knew it. I must have seen dozens now, every one of them different, and not one looks like they do in the videos.

  There may be some that do though, somewhere else. Maybe there are hundreds of others around the country, different sorts in different places. There may be posh ones in Knightsbridge, black ones in Brixton, ones with red hair in Inverness. Maybe some live in villages and wear tweeds and smoke pipes. (No, not pipes; I don't think they do. I think that's probably a myth. I couldn't smoke a pipe, not if you paid me!)

  They're all ages, though. That one walking past right now must be about nineteen – the same age as I was when I got married. She looks very sure of herself, though, I certainly wasn't at that age. The one that goes in the newsagent first thing in the morning, she's not much older. Twenty-one? Twenty-two? And that other one, the one I saw in the first place, the one I took the card to last Sunday, she's at least my age. I don't know about her girlfriend of course, the one she bought the cake and champagne for, because I haven't seen her yet, I would guess she'd be the same age, or there might be a bit of a difference like there is between me and Don. But then again, she did give that other one such a look and she was much younger. Might only like younger girls after all. Or it might vary, as the mood takes her.

  Perhaps I can find out one of these days.

  Faith quickly moves away from the window and takes up her usual position behind the glass-fronted counter.

  A customer enters the shop.

  "Hallo, Mrs. Robinson," says Faith, breaking into a smile. "What can I get for you today, dear? A nice sliced white? Or soda bread to make a change?"

  Thursday, February 17

  I don't know what to do with myself today. I'm sure I've got a lot to catch up on, but, I don't know, I can't be doing with any of it somehow. It's not even time for a new magazine. Have to wait another week for that. I hate the middle of the month. No new magazine, no pay cheque, nothing special going on. My day off and all I can think to do is go to the launderette. What a life!

  Sometimes I wish I could have Saturday's off like other people, then I wouldn't have to be on my own like this every week. Pearl's better off in that way, though of course she works Saturday's too now sometimes. She's doing it out of choice though, not like me, unsocial hours for no extra pay. Thanks so much, Mr. Owen, you old skinflint!

  I know, I'll go up the launderette and when I get back I can watch one of those black and white films on BBC Two, they're usually a lot more interesting than the ones they make now. I could buy myself a bar of chocolate and put my feet up. After all, there's no law that says my day off has to be productive, is there? I could just relax for once, have a break.

  How did people bear it before TV? It's hard to imagine. They must have had some focus to their leisure hours. Perhaps in Victorian times they all stood around the upright while someone banged out a medley of favourites, and perhaps in earlier times it was the harpsichord. Probably in the future it will be multimedia computers with built-in televisions and stereos, and, in the furthest future we'll all have microchips in our heads and we'll see and hear anything but what's really happening right in front of us. And probably be all the happier for that!

  Anyway, off I go to do the boring laundry and buy myself a nice little chocky bar for my afternoon's viewing pleasure.

  = CHAPTER 3 =

  Saturday, February 19

  Sometimes, Pearl, I feel like if something absolutely totally amazingly different doesn't happen soon, I'm going to go out of my mind! Do you ever feel like that?"

  "You are just tired, Faith. I expect you need a tonic. Then you'll be fine. You wouldn't really change anything, would you?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes..."

  Sunday, February 20

  It is Sunday brunch time. Don pushes his empty plate away and rests his hairy forearms on the table. He is deeply engrossed in a newspaper, almost as if hypnotised. Faith is spreading marmalade onto toast. Carol is nowhere to be seen.

  Suddenly, still staring deep into the newspaper, Don makes a surprising remark. "You wouldn't believe Phil's wife was
one of those, would you."