oldest friends, lives in London. She was widowed some years ago and although her two children have left home, she still lives in a substantial house in Putney. She and I were at school together and have never lost touch throughout the years. Whenever I go to London, I stay with her in Putney and am always made to feel welcome. She would not in the least bit mind if I asked Leo and Timothy to supper one night. I decided to invite myself to stay for a couple of days before going on down to Somerset for Christmas which I planned to spend, as usual, with Victor and Patricia. I could finish my Christmas shopping in London and perhaps go to the theatre with Joan.
I was thrilled with the idea. It would give me a chance, apart from anything else, to check that Timothy was going to be all right during the holidays.
With my new plan afoot I began to look forward to the holidays, not just for the break but because I was looking forward to my jaunt to London.
When I told Timothy of my plan he seemed delighted, perhaps not so much by the idea of seeing an elderly school mistress during the holidays as by the lure of an older, grownup young man at acting school. He gave me his address – a very smart one, I thought, in South Kensington – and telephone number and I promised to ring him as soon as I got to London.
Despite these plans I felt a foolish constriction of the heart as we said goodbye and a somewhat unsuitable urge to put my arms around him and give him a kiss. He looked so forlorn standing there, so lanky and so distrait .
When I reached London, Joan and I gave a great deal of thought to our menu for the evening. She sadly missed the company of young people since her children had gone away and so was quite happy at the prospect of entertaining Leo and Timothy.
Leo, when I telephoned him, accepted with alacrity. I rather suspect that he was more tempted by the prospect of a square meal than by the idea of spending an evening with his spinster aunt and her middle-aged friend.
But he would have been surprised had he seen his spinster aunt and her middle-aged friend preparing the supper. We had done the shopping the day before and managed to spend almost the entire day in the kitchen, giggling and joking like two schoolgirls. It seemed impossible that so simple a plan as ours for the evening could engender such childlike high spirits and so much excitement.
I have to admit that I was more than curious to see what Timothy would be like away from the environment of school, and not a little nervous lest the flow of conversation should dry up and there be awkward silences. I just hoped that Leo would keep the ball rolling. He is a naturally talkative and ebullient sort of person – not to say something of a show-off.
By the time everything was ready for the boys, Joan and I were fairly exhausted. The table was laid. We had bought a pâté for first course. It looked quite inviting on a large green plate surrounded by olives and gherkins. There was white bread and brown and pitta bread; the enormous chicken, stuffed with ham and onions and celery, was cooking away in the oven. The potatoes were mashed, the carrots and Brussels sprouts ready and keeping warm, and the jam roly-poly steaming gently on the hob. There was cream in a jug and the coffee was made so that it only needed to be heated up. We hoped there was enough to eat. Boys have such dreadfully large appetites. But then there were cheese and biscuits to fill the gaps at the end if they were still hungry.
For my part I had begun to feel nervous and knew that I would hardly want to eat any of it. I needed to go and have a wash and change and to get rid of the smell of cooking which seemed to be clinging to my hair and clothes.
I put on a light green dress which had always been a favourite of mine as I felt it gave me a softer, more feminine look, making me, I hoped, a little less school-mistressy, and a pair of nice black court shoes. I fastened my jade beads around
I was thrilled with the idea. It would give me a chance, apart from anything else, to check that Timothy was going to be all right during the holidays.
With my new plan afoot I began to look forward to the holidays, not just for the break but because I was looking forward to my jaunt to London.
When I told Timothy of my plan he seemed delighted, perhaps not so much by the idea of seeing an elderly school mistress during the holidays as by the lure of an older, grownup young man at acting school. He gave me his address – a very smart one, I thought, in South Kensington – and telephone number and I promised to ring him as soon as I got to London.
Despite these plans I felt a foolish constriction of the heart as we said goodbye and a somewhat unsuitable urge to put my arms around him and give him a kiss. He looked so forlorn standing there, so lanky and so distrait .
When I reached London, Joan and I gave a great deal of thought to our menu for the evening. She sadly missed the company of young people since her children had gone away and so was quite happy at the prospect of entertaining Leo and Timothy.
Leo, when I telephoned him, accepted with alacrity. I rather suspect that he was more tempted by the prospect of a square meal than by the idea of spending an evening with his spinster aunt and her middle-aged friend.
But he would have been surprised had he seen his spinster aunt and her middle-aged friend preparing the supper. We had done the shopping the day before and managed to spend almost the entire day in the kitchen, giggling and joking like two schoolgirls. It seemed impossible that so simple a plan as ours for the evening could engender such childlike high spirits and so much excitement.
I have to admit that I was more than curious to see what Timothy would be like away from the environment of school, and not a little nervous lest the flow of conversation should dry up and there be awkward silences. I just hoped that Leo would keep the ball rolling. He is a naturally talkative and ebullient sort of person – not to say something of a show-off.
By the time everything was ready for the boys, Joan and I were fairly exhausted. The table was laid. We had bought a pâté for first course. It looked quite inviting on a large green plate surrounded by olives and gherkins. There was white bread and brown and pitta bread; the enormous chicken, stuffed with ham and onions and celery, was cooking away in the oven. The potatoes were mashed, the carrots and Brussels sprouts ready and keeping warm, and the jam roly-poly steaming gently on the hob. There was cream in a jug and the coffee was made so that it only needed to be heated up. We hoped there was enough to eat. Boys have such dreadfully large appetites. But then there were cheese and biscuits to fill the gaps at the end if they were still hungry.
For my part I had begun to feel nervous and knew that I would hardly want to eat any of it. I needed to go and have a wash and change and to get rid of the smell of cooking which seemed to be clinging to my hair and clothes.
I put on a light green dress which had always been a favourite of mine as I felt it gave me a softer, more feminine look, making me, I hoped, a little less school-mistressy, and a pair of nice black court shoes. I fastened my jade beads around
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