Oisin
gone but not forgotten
Can't you tell I'm bored again? :roll:
UNDERTONES: A tale of the Kardomah...
Since the weekend relationship, which had shown so much promise, had fallen through I decided to occupy myself with other things. That was easier said than done. Despite having attended the party reluctantly, meeting Lyn had, I thought, would be a turning point. All had gone perfectly until that unfortunate meeting with big-mouthed Alan the following day. If only… but that was in the past. I now needed to get on with my life.
Brentford Engineering Co. Ltd manufactured specialist machinery for suppliers to the automotive industry. To encourage forward thinking amongst its employees, Brentford ran a suggestion scheme, offering generous cash rewards for innovative ideas. In the past I had been quite successful with my submissions. The previous evening I had had to abandon an on-going project for want of a fine drawing pen. I could have managed without it, but I had learned though experience that properly presented submissions were more likely to succeed.
Straight after work, I made my way to the city centre and the New Street branch of Hanson’s, the stationers. I was standing near the entrance; pondering which counter I should try first, when I heard my name being called. I turned to be greeted by Janet Walsh, Lyn’s small friend from the party. ‘Hello. What brings you here?’
I returned her smile. ‘I’m looking for a drawing pen. But I’m not quite sure of where to go.’
‘Try down there on the left.’ She waved down an aisle.
‘How did you know that?’
‘I work here. If you’d have come earlier I might have got you a staff discount. But it’s my early finish today, so I’m off home now.’
‘Oh, yeah, now you mention it, I remember Lyn saying you were all going to the pictures tonight.’
‘That was the plan,’ she shrugged, ‘but I had to cry off. I’ve got too much to do at home.’
‘Tell you what, if you give me time to get sorted, I’ll give you a walk to your bus stop.’
Janet didn’t have long to wait, but by the time we had walked to Colmore Row her bus was pulling out of the stop.
‘Damn it!’ she cursed, coming to a sudden halt and stamping her foot on the pavement, ‘that’s all I need.’
‘Will you have to wait ages for the next one?’ I asked guiltily.
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ she snapped with a heavy haunch of her shoulders. A moment or two passed before she spoke again – this time in a kinder tone.
‘I’m sorry. It just seems that everything’s against me lately.’
‘Sounds to me that a cuppa might help. What do you say?’ I nodded at the Kardomah coffee house. ‘Have you got time?’
‘I’ll make time.’ She smiled a more relaxed smile.
I carried the coffees over to the window seat where Janet had taken up position. She pushed a packet of Consulate across the table, as I slid into the seat facing her. ‘Would you like one?’
I declined the offer with a shake of my head. ‘No thanks. I’ll stick to these,’ I produced my packet of Park Drive.
She leaned over the table to accept a light from me. ‘I’m sorry to hear you and Lyn didn’t hit it off,’ she commiserated, blowing smoke into the air. ‘You seemed to be getting on so well at the party.’
‘That’s okay.’ I winced with embarrassment. ‘A case of ships that pass in the night, I suppose.’
There was a lapse in dialogue, while she sipped at her coffee and I tried to remember whom she resembled. It was somebody in the public eye… It wasn’t her, but it was somebody like Jean Shrimpton.
‘So, what do you think about the wedding?’ Janet rekindled our conversation.
‘That’s it!’ I slapped his hand on the table.
Janet nearly dropped her cup. ‘That’s what?’
‘That’s who you remind me of – Patti Boyd!’
‘Well, that’s very flattering,’ she laughed, ‘but what’s it got to do with Carol and Norman getting married?’
‘She married George Harrison recently. I remember seeing the photos in the papers. I think you look very similar to her.’
‘Woo, well, maybe I should find myself a Beatle,’ she chuckled, pushing her hair up the back of her neck and pouting like a model.
‘You should do that more often,’ I grinned, ‘You look much prettier when you smile.’ I watched her cheeks redden a shade – that suited her too. And, now I looked at her more closely, I reconsidered the comparison with Mrs Harrison.
Janet was more of a natural blonde. She was smaller than the model and, although she was slim, her build was more athletic. The well-defined muscles in her arms and legs suggested she took regular exercise. Because she was in her working clothes, it would have been unfair to judge her dress sense on the baggy white blouse and lengthy black skirt she was wearing. But, I recalled, even at the party, although her choice of outfit had been fashionable, there had been nothing exceptional about it. It was her facial features that had prompted my comparison between the two women. I had never seen a colour picture of Patti Boyd. I just assumed her eyes were the same blue as Janet’s. But it was the shape of the face, with the proportions of the nose and mouth that bore the greatest similarities.
‘I was asking you about the wedding,’ Janet reminded me, ‘Will you be going?’
‘I suppose ,’ I shrugged, ‘but I haven’t been asked yet.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you will be. You’ve known Norman for years, haven’t you?’
‘Since school. We were all pretty close then – Norm, Walt, Al and me. Of course, since Norman got serious with Carol, we don’t see that much of him. But we still knock about together from time to time. Seems strange,’ I betrayed a twinge of nostalgia, ‘it doesn’t seem five minutes since we were running round the streets – a real foursome of ragged arsed kids. Now, he’s about to become a respectable married man. God,’ I smiled with the recollection, ‘when I think of some of the tricks we used to get up to.’
‘Like what?’ she pressed.
Janet’s initial interest in hearing about my formative years lead us to trade backgrounds and amusing anecdotes from the past. We chatted through another cup of coffee and another missed bus. It was only when I threw a casual glance at my watch that I noticed how much time had passed.
‘Bloody hell, Jan, I’m sorry,’ I apologised, ‘I didn’t realise I’d kept you so long. Bit of a waste of time you knocking off early, wasn’t it?
‘Not at all,’ she assured me with a broad smile, ‘It’s me that should be thanking you. I’ve enjoyed our little chat a lot more than I’m going to enjoy doing the pile of washing that’s waiting for me when I get home. It’s been nice talking.’ She reached across the table and patted the back of my hand. ‘You’ve really cheered me up – thanks.’
‘Don’t be daft, ‘ I laughed, ‘It’s been no hardship for me. Tell you what,’ I said, opening the wrapping on my new pen, ‘I’ll give you my phone number and if you feel like doing this again, give me a bell. Have you got something to write on?’
She slid me the Consulate packet. I opened the flip-top and jotted down the number inside.
The bus pulled in just as we reached the stop. To the hiss of the pneumatic doors opening, Janet stretched up and brushed her lips against the side of my face ‘Thanks again,’ she whispered in my ear.
I blushed and before he could reply the doors were hissing closed behind her. As the bus pulled away I got one last look at her through a grimy window, doing her impression of a model by pushing up her hair and pursing her lips.
I was left to contemplate whether any of my future relationships would evolve into anything more than a succession of friendly kisses on the cheek.
THE END
UNDERTONES: A tale of the Kardomah...
Since the weekend relationship, which had shown so much promise, had fallen through I decided to occupy myself with other things. That was easier said than done. Despite having attended the party reluctantly, meeting Lyn had, I thought, would be a turning point. All had gone perfectly until that unfortunate meeting with big-mouthed Alan the following day. If only… but that was in the past. I now needed to get on with my life.
Brentford Engineering Co. Ltd manufactured specialist machinery for suppliers to the automotive industry. To encourage forward thinking amongst its employees, Brentford ran a suggestion scheme, offering generous cash rewards for innovative ideas. In the past I had been quite successful with my submissions. The previous evening I had had to abandon an on-going project for want of a fine drawing pen. I could have managed without it, but I had learned though experience that properly presented submissions were more likely to succeed.
Straight after work, I made my way to the city centre and the New Street branch of Hanson’s, the stationers. I was standing near the entrance; pondering which counter I should try first, when I heard my name being called. I turned to be greeted by Janet Walsh, Lyn’s small friend from the party. ‘Hello. What brings you here?’
I returned her smile. ‘I’m looking for a drawing pen. But I’m not quite sure of where to go.’
‘Try down there on the left.’ She waved down an aisle.
‘How did you know that?’
‘I work here. If you’d have come earlier I might have got you a staff discount. But it’s my early finish today, so I’m off home now.’
‘Oh, yeah, now you mention it, I remember Lyn saying you were all going to the pictures tonight.’
‘That was the plan,’ she shrugged, ‘but I had to cry off. I’ve got too much to do at home.’
‘Tell you what, if you give me time to get sorted, I’ll give you a walk to your bus stop.’
Janet didn’t have long to wait, but by the time we had walked to Colmore Row her bus was pulling out of the stop.
‘Damn it!’ she cursed, coming to a sudden halt and stamping her foot on the pavement, ‘that’s all I need.’
‘Will you have to wait ages for the next one?’ I asked guiltily.
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ she snapped with a heavy haunch of her shoulders. A moment or two passed before she spoke again – this time in a kinder tone.
‘I’m sorry. It just seems that everything’s against me lately.’
‘Sounds to me that a cuppa might help. What do you say?’ I nodded at the Kardomah coffee house. ‘Have you got time?’
‘I’ll make time.’ She smiled a more relaxed smile.
I carried the coffees over to the window seat where Janet had taken up position. She pushed a packet of Consulate across the table, as I slid into the seat facing her. ‘Would you like one?’
I declined the offer with a shake of my head. ‘No thanks. I’ll stick to these,’ I produced my packet of Park Drive.
She leaned over the table to accept a light from me. ‘I’m sorry to hear you and Lyn didn’t hit it off,’ she commiserated, blowing smoke into the air. ‘You seemed to be getting on so well at the party.’
‘That’s okay.’ I winced with embarrassment. ‘A case of ships that pass in the night, I suppose.’
There was a lapse in dialogue, while she sipped at her coffee and I tried to remember whom she resembled. It was somebody in the public eye… It wasn’t her, but it was somebody like Jean Shrimpton.
‘So, what do you think about the wedding?’ Janet rekindled our conversation.
‘That’s it!’ I slapped his hand on the table.
Janet nearly dropped her cup. ‘That’s what?’
‘That’s who you remind me of – Patti Boyd!’
‘Well, that’s very flattering,’ she laughed, ‘but what’s it got to do with Carol and Norman getting married?’
‘She married George Harrison recently. I remember seeing the photos in the papers. I think you look very similar to her.’
‘Woo, well, maybe I should find myself a Beatle,’ she chuckled, pushing her hair up the back of her neck and pouting like a model.
‘You should do that more often,’ I grinned, ‘You look much prettier when you smile.’ I watched her cheeks redden a shade – that suited her too. And, now I looked at her more closely, I reconsidered the comparison with Mrs Harrison.
Janet was more of a natural blonde. She was smaller than the model and, although she was slim, her build was more athletic. The well-defined muscles in her arms and legs suggested she took regular exercise. Because she was in her working clothes, it would have been unfair to judge her dress sense on the baggy white blouse and lengthy black skirt she was wearing. But, I recalled, even at the party, although her choice of outfit had been fashionable, there had been nothing exceptional about it. It was her facial features that had prompted my comparison between the two women. I had never seen a colour picture of Patti Boyd. I just assumed her eyes were the same blue as Janet’s. But it was the shape of the face, with the proportions of the nose and mouth that bore the greatest similarities.
‘I was asking you about the wedding,’ Janet reminded me, ‘Will you be going?’
‘I suppose ,’ I shrugged, ‘but I haven’t been asked yet.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you will be. You’ve known Norman for years, haven’t you?’
‘Since school. We were all pretty close then – Norm, Walt, Al and me. Of course, since Norman got serious with Carol, we don’t see that much of him. But we still knock about together from time to time. Seems strange,’ I betrayed a twinge of nostalgia, ‘it doesn’t seem five minutes since we were running round the streets – a real foursome of ragged arsed kids. Now, he’s about to become a respectable married man. God,’ I smiled with the recollection, ‘when I think of some of the tricks we used to get up to.’
‘Like what?’ she pressed.
Janet’s initial interest in hearing about my formative years lead us to trade backgrounds and amusing anecdotes from the past. We chatted through another cup of coffee and another missed bus. It was only when I threw a casual glance at my watch that I noticed how much time had passed.
‘Bloody hell, Jan, I’m sorry,’ I apologised, ‘I didn’t realise I’d kept you so long. Bit of a waste of time you knocking off early, wasn’t it?
‘Not at all,’ she assured me with a broad smile, ‘It’s me that should be thanking you. I’ve enjoyed our little chat a lot more than I’m going to enjoy doing the pile of washing that’s waiting for me when I get home. It’s been nice talking.’ She reached across the table and patted the back of my hand. ‘You’ve really cheered me up – thanks.’
‘Don’t be daft, ‘ I laughed, ‘It’s been no hardship for me. Tell you what,’ I said, opening the wrapping on my new pen, ‘I’ll give you my phone number and if you feel like doing this again, give me a bell. Have you got something to write on?’
She slid me the Consulate packet. I opened the flip-top and jotted down the number inside.
The bus pulled in just as we reached the stop. To the hiss of the pneumatic doors opening, Janet stretched up and brushed her lips against the side of my face ‘Thanks again,’ she whispered in my ear.
I blushed and before he could reply the doors were hissing closed behind her. As the bus pulled away I got one last look at her through a grimy window, doing her impression of a model by pushing up her hair and pursing her lips.
I was left to contemplate whether any of my future relationships would evolve into anything more than a succession of friendly kisses on the cheek.
THE END
