First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘You’re miles away again,’ remarked Flora, bringing her out of her reverie. ‘Thinking about old times, eh?’

  ‘Yes, maybe I was,’ replied Alice, a little brusquely. ‘But we’ve to think about the present and the future, haven’t we? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to my room to read for a little while. I’ll see you at teatime.’ Then, aware that she might have sounded rather dismissive, she turned back. ‘We’ve had a good chat, Flora. Thank you for listening to me. I’m pleased to have met you. I’ll see you later …’

  Three

  Jane was more at ease with herself when she had phoned her mother. She had felt guiltier than she needed to do when she had said goodbye to her at the home. Jane knew that Evergreen was a very satisfactory place. The staff seemed kind and helpful and, from what she had seen of the residents, they were not the bunch of decrepit old fogies that her mother had imagined. Mother was being difficult, determined to show Jane that although she had agreed to give the home a try she was there against her will.

  Jane knew her mother only too well, her unwillingness to admit that she might possibly have been wrong or made a mistake. She could tell now that she was, in fact, settling down there very nicely. She had admitted that the food was good, she appeared to have made some friends, or at least, fellow residents with whom she was compatible, and she was enjoying her favourite programmes on a much larger television set than she was used to. Jane smiled to herself. She felt she could relax now and really start to enjoy her holiday.

  Dave, her travelling companion, was already seated when she rejoined the coach and he stood up to allow her to occupy the window seat again.

  ‘Have you had a good meal?’ she asked him.

  ‘Passable,’ he replied. ‘Fish and chips; you can’t go far wrong with that. The prices though! You’d think you were paying for smoked salmon and caviar. But we’re a captive audience, I suppose. I’ve found the motorway cafes on the continent are far more reasonable. How about you? You enjoyed your packed lunch?’

  ‘Yes, I’m OK for now. It’ll be a while before our first proper meal though, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, at the hotel in Calais. Sometimes they ask you to dine on the ship, but it’s only a short crossing to Calais. We should be there by early evening.’

  Mike came down the coach, counting heads. ‘All present and correct,’ he said again. ‘You’re very good timekeepers. Now, off we go to Dover.’

  ‘I rang my mother at the home,’ said Jane, as they rejoined the motorway. Dave turned to smile at her.

  ‘Oh, that’s good. Is she settling in all right?’

  ‘I do believe she is, but she won’t admit it outright. She can be a stubborn old devil, my mother. She won’t want to admit that she was wrong, or that I might have been right, of course!’ She laughed. ‘She’s always been the same. It’s because of the job she had, career, I should say. She can’t bear to admit that she might have made a mistake.’

  ‘Oh? And what did she do before she retired?’ asked Dave.

  ‘She was a teacher. Both my parents were teachers. But my father was much more easy-going even though he was a headmaster. I thought the world of my dad.’

  Dave cast a surreptitious glance at his companion. She was smiling reminiscently, not sadly, though. Her words implied that she had got along with her father much better than with her mother. That did not surprise him. From what he had gathered so far the woman seemed to be a right old harridan!

  ‘Didn’t they want you to go into the same profession?’ he asked her.

  ‘No, surprisingly enough, they didn’t. Fortunately for me, because teaching was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d seen enough of it at home, and to make matters worse, I attended the school where they both taught, a primary school – juniors and infants.’

  ‘Oh dear! That sounds rather claustrophobic.’

  ‘It was mainly because it was convenient, near to our home, you see. I know some people travel miles to their workplace nowadays, but it was more usual to have a job nearer home forty or so years ago.’

  ‘Didn’t it affect your friendships with the other children, you having both your parents teaching there?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Jane replied. ‘I had some very good friends at school and I still see a few of them. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been because I was never in my mother’s class, thank the Lord! My father had a rule about it, because there were one or two others whose mothers taught there. My mother was a good teacher but I know she put the fear of God into some of those children! They seemed to like her, though, despite her strictness, and they certainly respected her.’

  ‘And your father? I should imagine he was a popular headmaster, from the way you speak about him?’

  ‘Yes, he was very popular, both with the children and their parents. He didn’t believe in corporal punishment, which was unusual in those days. It’s forbidden now, of course, but there used to be a lot of heads who were handy with the cane. Dad believed in other ways of maintaining discipline; taking away privileges for miscreants – like removing them from the football team – and it seemed to work very well.

  ‘Yes, my dad was a remarkable man in all sorts of ways. I missed him very much when he died. I must admit that I still do … that’s not to say that I don’t love my mother,’ she added, almost apologetically. ‘I do, but she’s not all that easy to love. And since Dad died it’s been just the two of us, and I suppose we tend to get on one another’s nerves. My husband, Tom, was great with her. He was a sort of buffer between us, and he didn’t seem to mind her nowtiness.’ She smiled. ‘A good old Lancashire word, that! Tom was able make her laugh, whereas all I seemed to do was to make her irritable.’

  ‘I’m sure these ten days away from each other will do you both a world of good,’ Dave commented. ‘You’re both badly in need of a change, aren’t you? A change of scene and a change of company.’

  ‘That’s true. It’s not so bad for me, of course. I go out to work each day, and I have a lot of friends, mostly married, though, and I get rather tired of their attempts at matchmaking.’ Jane smiled and Dave smiled back at her. She was an attractive woman, but she obviously still missed her husband very much.

  ‘It’s different for Mother. She isn’t able to get about as much now, but she seems as though she doesn’t want to make the effort any longer. There’s been such a change in her since Dad died. They had a good retirement together; they didn’t seem to want anyone else’s company, and since he died she’s been so reclusive. She was such a determined, go-ahead sort of woman – well, she’s still just as determined, of course! – but she’s lost interest in so many things. I suppose teaching was her whole life, until she met my father. I know it was what she’d always wanted to do, and she was jolly good at it, too. She made it her hobby as well as her career. She didn’t mind how much extra work she did at home, planning projects, writing Nativity plays, – she was always doing something. So now there’s a big gap in her life, made worse since Dad died … and then Tom.’

  ‘But you’ve always been there for her, Jane,’ said Dave. ‘She’ll miss you this week, believe me. ‘It will make her appreciate you all the more.’

  Jane nodded thoughtfully. She was quiet for a few moments, and Dave reflected on what she had said. It seemed to him that the old lady needed a short sharp shock to bring her to her senses. Good for Jane that she had found the courage to make a break, be it only for a short time.

  She was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, deep in thought after all she had said about her mother. He was finding her a restful sort of person, although he hardly knew her yet. She was easy to talk to, although he guessed that she didn’t open up so readily to everyone she met. Maybe she found him compatible? He hoped so because they would be spending most of the next nine days together.

  The thought did not displease him. He found her attractive, in a quiet way. Demure … he thought that was the word for her. She was neatly dressed in navy blue trousers and a shirt st
yle top of pale blue and white stripes. Her short dark hair waved gently over her forehead and ears, in which she wore a pair of tiny diamond studs. Her eyes were her most outstanding feature, dark brown, glowing with warmth and what he guessed was a genuine wish to be friendly, though perhaps not with everyone she met? Her mouth was rather small and her chin was not exactly weak, but indeterminate. It prevented her from being beautiful or even pretty, but she had a quiet charm and dignity that, maybe, was not always apparent. Her remark about matchmaking suggested that she was possibly a little shy with men. Her father, then her husband, had clearly been all in all to her.

  He could have done much worse with regard to a travelling companion. He considered, moreover, that he had done very well when he compared Jane with some of the folk who had sat next to him on previous holidays. There had been a garrulous middle-aged woman, then, by contrast, a very silent introspective young man who had scarcely wanted to talk at all. This was always the problem when you were travelling alone. Away from the coach you could do as you pleased, but the longish periods on the coach could become difficult if you were not at ease with your neighbour.

  Dave decided that he had been lucky this time. He was not wanting anything other than a holiday friendship; neither, he guessed, was Jane. It was sufficient that they had formed a bond, in that they were both on their own, and that both their mothers were staying in retirement homes. Their circumstances, however, were very different. Dave’s mother was the gentlest person you could wish to meet, so accommodating and never wanting to cause any bother. Not like Jane’s mother who sounded a real old battleaxe! Dave’s marital situation had been very different, too, from that of Jane. But he had loved his wife once, and had tried to think about the times when they had been happy together. It was not something he talked about to those who had not known her. The one good thing to come out of his marriage was his son, Peter, who would be managing the farm very competently in his absence.

  Dave had been more than content with his work – exhausting at times but always rewarding – and the happiness he enjoyed with his son and his many friends. He had not wished for anything else, but perhaps it was now time for him to broaden his horizons, to look to the future? After all he was still young, not yet fifty.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve talked you to death, haven’t I?’ said Jane after a few moments had passed. ‘I’m not surprised you’ve gone quiet. I didn’t mean to offload my problems on to you.’

  ‘You didn’t, not at all,’ he answered. ‘It’s good to talk, as they say. I wasn’t quiet because I didn’t want to talk any more. To be honest I was thinking about the folk I’ve been forced to sit next to on other Galaxy tours. A talkative woman who hardly stopped to take breath, then there was a silent young man who hardly spoke two words. But this time, I’ve struck lucky, haven’t I?’ He smiled at Jane, and she blushed a little as she smiled back at him.

  ‘Thank you. Yes, I hope so,’ she replied. ‘I’ll read my magazine for a while, then you can have a bit of peace. You could read your book.’ There was a paperback book in the rack in front of his seat; one of the Sharpe novels by Bernard Cornwell. ‘My husband used to read those,’ she commented.

  ‘He is a good storyteller. I’ve read them all before, but I like a bit of escapism.’ He took out the book and put on a pair of dark-framed glasses which gave him a studious air. ‘I’m not tired of talking. Don’t think that, Jane. But we’ve all week to chat and get to know one another, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes; I’m pleased about that … and I think I’ve been lucky too,’ she added shyly.

  It didn’t seem long before they were on the approach road to Dover. Very soon the sea came into view between the roofs of the dock buildings, and in the distance a large ship at anchor. Jane began to feel excited. Was that the ship they would travel on? She knew it was a Stena Line vessel, built to carry cars and coaches and hundreds of passengers. She found it amazing, almost terrifying, that a ship could stay afloat with such a weight inside it. But there were scarcely any accidents. There had been one several years ago due to carelessness, but she was determined to put all her fears behind her and enjoy the new experience.

  When they arrived at the dock area they joined a queue of scores of other vehicles waiting to go through passport control. Then they drove up a ramp right into the bowels of the huge ship. There were several decks for the vehicles, and Mike warned them to remember that their coach was on the red deck.

  ‘Get that fixed in your minds, ladies and gents,’ he told them. ‘We don’t want anyone getting lost. And please remember the position of the coach on the deck. Fortunately we’re near the steps, so you shouldn’t have any problems. If you’ve travelled on one of these ships before you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t, then please take care. It can all be very confusing.’

  Jane cast an anxious glance at Dave.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll stay together then I can make sure you don’t go astray.’ He grinned. ‘Not that I’m suggesting you need looking after, but it can get rather fraught with people pushing and scrambling around trying to find their coach.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied. She hoped that he really did want to be with her and was not suggesting it because he thought she was a silly helpless woman.

  ‘Ready now?’ he asked. ‘You won’t need your travel bag, just your handbag. And take your jacket. It’ll be warm on the ship, but it might feel cold if we go out on to the deck.’

  They alighted from the coach on to the iron floor of the deck, then made their way through part of a tightly packed crowd of people, up the iron steps. There were three steep flights to negotiate before they reached the top, finding themselves in a comfortable lounge area, luxuriously carpeted, with armchairs grouped around little tables and a bar, not yet open, at one end. There were signs showing the way to the restaurants, toilets, shops and the enquiries and the foreign exchange desks. Jane already had a supply of euros tucked away safely in her shoulder bag which she was wearing slung around her body for safety.

  ‘Be careful with your money,’ her mother had warned her. ‘Keep it close to you, and watch out when you’re in a crowd. Especially when you get to Germany. I wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them!’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ she had replied dutifully. She felt, though, that she would sooner trust the Germans rather than the French these days. She had heard that the Germans were a very meticulous, law-abiding race of people, and that the younger generation knew very little about the last war. ‘Don’t mention the war!’ had become a catchphrase, thanks to Fawlty Towers. But some of the older folk had long memories.

  ‘Shall we go out on to the deck and say goodbye to England?’ said Dave. ‘The white cliffs are an impressive sight. Then we could come back and have a drink. What do you say to that?’

  ‘Yes … thank you,’ replied Jane. ‘But I’d better pay a visit to the … er … to the ladies’ room first,’ she said, a trifle embarrassedly.

  ‘Good idea. So will I,’ agreed Dave. ‘To the gents, I mean, of course. See you in a few minutes then.’

  The ladies was busy already, as such places always seemed to be. Jane washed her hands, straightened her hair, and applied a dusting of powder and a smear of pink lipstick. She could scarcely stop herself from smiling at her reflection in the mirror. Butterflies were fluttering inside her, partly due to excitement at the start of a holiday, and partly at the thought of being in the company of a man, one that she hardly knew but already felt she liked and trusted. It was the first time since Tom died that she had looked forward to such an occasion with pleasure. She had been asked out a time or two with men who had been introduced to her by well-meaning friends, but had gone only from a sense of duty.

  They made their way past the shops then another similar lounge and bar area on to the deck at the stern of the ship. There were a few people there leaning against the railings. They stood there, too, in a companionable silence, and after several moments the ship slipped away
from its moorings. It was not the first time that Jane had seen the white cliffs of Dover, it was, as she remembered, a truly impressive sight. She felt a lump in her throat as she thought about the significance of this place, of the centuries that had gone by whilst the cliffs had stood there, the first sight of England to both friends and foes, to English folk and to foreigners.

  On top of the cliff stood Dover castle, a bastion against the enemies who had tried in vain to conquer our tiny island. This was the shortest route across the channel, from Dover to the port of Calais; such a short distance away that the sounds of warfare in successive conflicts – the Napoleonic wars and the two more recent world wars – had been heard in the villages and farmlands of Kent. Jane reflected that the country was now at peace, or comparatively so, but it seemed that there was always news of strife and discord in various parts of the world.

  She was deep in thought as the ship gathered speed and the foam-topped waves beat against the side of the vessel. She became aware of Dave looking at her.

  ‘Are you OK, Jane?’ he asked. ‘You’re very quiet. It’s a thrilling sight, isn’t it, watching the shores of England slip away from us? I never tire of it.’

  ‘Yes, I’m OK,’ she replied. ‘Just … thoughtful, you know? The white cliffs of Dover evoke so many stories. I was thinking that I’m proud to be British, or English, to be more specific.’

  ‘So am I,’ Dave agreed. ‘I like to go abroad but it’s always good to return to our own shores. Anyway, we don’t need to think about that for quite a while. We can concentrate on enjoying ourselves.’

  A sudden gust of wind tugged at the light scarf around Jane’s neck. She gave an involuntary shiver.

  ‘Let’s go and have a drink, shall we?’ said Dave. ‘It’s turning chilly now.’