Goodmans of Glassford Street by Margaret Thomson Davis Page A

a policeman, of course. But did she want to go out with a policeman? She didn’t think so. Their jobs would be too similar. It might work, but at the moment at least, she felt she’d had enough to do with crime and criminals. Something or somebody different to take her mind off the job might be a better idea and more successful.
    Another problem could be her lack of a degree. She had done well at school and had passed all her Higher exams. Then she’d gone to a special college in England where she’d trained as a detective. Common sense was important, but how to stop thieves, how to do statements, go to court, and so on – you had to learn all that. And you must know the law. She’d started in another, bigger store at first, assisting the detective there. Eventually she’d got a better job and a bigger salary at Goodmans.
    None of that would be of much use, she felt, in attracting a man. Maybe not being a graduate wouldn’t matter so much. It was the detective business. Perhaps she could just say she worked in a department store and it would be taken for granted she was a sales assistant. Or, at the advert stage at least, she needn’t mention anything about a job. So what could she say? How could she describe herself?
    She wasn’t a woman who liked to boast. She didn’t believe she was anything special – unless at her job. She was special at that. Otherwise she was pretty ordinary. Hobbies? Karate was the only one. That might not make her sound very appealing to a man either. So what on earth could she say? ‘Very ordinary woman seeks nice, respectable man for company.’ Oh dear.
    Unless she made something up. She couldn’t do that either. She was, and always had been, an absolutely honest person. That was essential for her work. Everything always came back to her work. Always her work. It was as if there was nothing else in her life – nothing else to her – but her job.
    That was what depressed her. She liked her work and wouldn’t want to change it for any other. Nevertheless, there surely had to be another side to her life. All work and no play …, as the saying went.
    Eventually she wrote, ‘Hard-working but lonely lady in her mid forties seeks respectable gentleman in his fifties or sixties for companionship.’ Or should she put friendship? Could companionship be misunderstood? Before she got so fed up and abandoned the whole idea, she lifted the phone, dialled the newspaper’s number and gave them the advert.
    Then she had to go and search out the tranquillisers her late mother used to take. There were some left in the sideboard drawer. After her mother died, she had meant to throw out all the medication that was left but had forgotten. Now she needed one of those tranquillisers. Otherwise she’d never settle, even to watch her favourite TV programme, far less calm herself to sleep at bedtime. It was so unlike her to get so uptight and anxious about anything.
    Of course, there might be no replies to the advert. Most men, she imagined, would be looking for a much younger woman. Somebody young and vivacious and glamorous. She was none of those things. Still, she tried to tell herself, there might be a few lonely mature men who would prefer an older, more sensible woman.
    She could hardly wait next day to buy an evening paper. And there it was, her advert. Thank God it was just under a box number and she could not be identified. Then another thought struck her. What if she got a reply and it was from an elderly employee at Goodmans? How embarrassing that would be! Of course, she would remain anonymous because she wouldn’t – couldn’t – reply to him. She found herself looking at all the older men in the shop. There were a few who looked ready for retirement – two in the menswear department and one in Soft Furnishings and another in Electrical. But they were probably happily married. They all looked happy enough.
    She struggled to put the whole thing out of her mind and concentrate on the