Rosie James - The Long Road Ahead

‘Well, anyway, I think I’ve answered all your questions, Valerie,’ Alice said quickly – ‘except the one about whether Sam is rich. And I honestly don’t think he can be. It’s true he comes from a well-established family in Bristol – his father is a professor of medicine – a surgeon – and the Clifton house is very nice. But that doesn’t belong to Sam who’s training to be a surgeon himself,’ she added. ‘He’s got a long way to go to reach the same status as his father.’

This was becoming all too much for Valerie. ‘Oh Alice,’ she murmured, ‘you are going to marry a very tall, very handsome, very clever man who you’ve always loved and who loves you… I’m going to start crying in a minute…’

Alice stood up. ‘Don’t do that, Valerie,’ she said, ‘because we’ve got our first customer. He’s looking in the window and he’s coming in now…’

Thanks to the fact that they had one or two genuine enquiries about house purchases and flat lettings, the day was passing quite quickly. Though it was difficult to concentrate because every time they had a quiet spell, all Valerie wanted to do was talk about the engagement.

‘Have you fixed a date yet?’ the girl wanted to know as she tucked into one of the fresh currant buns with the sugary tops which she’d bought for them to celebrate. ‘I don’t expect it’ll be until next year, will it,’ she added, licking her fingers, ‘because weddings take ages and ages to arrange, don’t they…there’s always so much to decide! I remember when my brother was getting married – the first time, I mean – it nearly gave Joan a nervous breakdown!’

Alice nearly choked on her bun. She didn’t need anyone saying things like that! ‘Oh, we don’t really know the date yet,’ she said, crossing her fingers against the little white lie. But she’d made up her mind that it was better to say nothing about when she might be leaving…for all sorts of reasons. And one of the lesser reasons was that she knew Valerie would be really upset. The girl had said, so often, that she had never been happier than working here with Alice…because the days never seemed long since they were usually so busy, and that they always got on well together and sometimes had fits of the giggles about some of the clients…and that for the first time in her life she always looked forward to coming to work. Her enthusiasm had been quite touching, Alice had often thought. She shrugged inwardly. Disruptions usually cause someone some upset, but there was no need to upset Valerie just yet. ‘I’m sure we’ll discuss dates…things like that,’ she said airily, ‘when Sam comes down. There’s no rush.’

When Alice got back home that evening – quite late thanks to the couple who kept on and on about what they were looking for, and who insisted on telling her their life story while they were about it – there were two letters on the mat which had arrived in the afternoon post.

Alice picked them up, shrugged off her coat, and as usual went straight into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Then she switched on the light and sat down on the stool to examine the writing on the envelopes. And smiled. The first one had Eve’s neat, precise handwriting on it, and the other one was from Fay. Her bold scrawl, taking up nearly all the space on the envelope, was unmistakable. How funny that they should both be writing to her on the same day, Alice thought briefly. They hadn’t been in touch for a while. (And neither had she, to be fair.)

She opened Eve’s first.

Dearest Alice

Look, spring is almost here and we still haven’t arranged to meet! My offer of afternoon tea at the Royal still stands – I’m dying to tell you everything that’s been going on, and I’m wondering if Sunday week is any good for you? The thirteenth? I rang Fay at Miss Downs’s place, and that day is OK for her…so will you please ring me at home, and let me know? You have our number. I would love to contact you at your office, but I know that personal calls in business are always frowned upon – even though you are the boss! And I’m sure that whatever time of day I chose to ring would be the most inconvenient and that I would probably ruin the best deal you’d had for ages! I do hope you can make it. It’s over three months since we’ve been together, and I promise I shall be much more jolly this time!

With my love, Alice – Evie.

Alice put the letter aside, smiling. Evie was such a patent little thing, and her happiness was bubbling right over, you could feel it. And straightaway Alice knew that Sunday week would be all right for her, too, because just before leaving work, she’d phoned the Clifton house and spoken to Sam about his visit to Dorchester.

This coming Saturday, he was going to slip a ring on her finger! They were going to choose it together…and Alice knew that it was going to be beautiful…sparkling…glamorous…special…

But it wouldn’t have mattered to her if it was an old curtain ring he picked up from the gutter. All that mattered was the promise it held.

By now, the kettle had boiled for her cup of tea, and Alice decided to wait a few more minutes before opening the letter from Fay. To hold off the moment. To look forward to it for just a bit longer. Why had her letters always meant so much to her, she asked herself? Well, she knew the answer to that. It was because they’d been thought about, touched, handled and written by people – loved people – who had taken the trouble to sit down and think about her…who had taken the time to say what had been on their minds and hearts. Surely the time would never come when letter-writing became a thing of the past? When you had no reason to look forward to seeing the postman come up the path? Surely not?

It was a relief to Alice that, after a spell of unexplained loss of appetite, it had started to return…that she actually felt hungry at the appropriate times. And today was no exception. She’d seen a lovely pork chop for tenpence in the window of the small butcher’s on the corner, and she was going to grill it with some mushrooms, and have it with potato chips. There was enough lard in the cupboard to do that. Alice loved chips, especially straight out of newspaper and eaten with your fingers. With plenty of salt and a good splash of vinegar. She smiled to herself as she remembered her birthday last year when, as a complete surprise, Fay and Evie and Rex had all come down from Bristol for the occasion. And Valerie and her brother Ronnie were there, too, and they’d all walked along a very chilly Weymouth sea front, enjoying the traditional seaside treat together.

Presently, with her meal cooked and ready on the plate, Alice poured herself a glass of Corona, then took everything into the dining room and sat down at the table. The letter from Fay was there on the side, but she wouldn’t read it until she’d finished her meal. It could wait just a few more minutes.

Watcher, my old lover! (Alice’s smile broadened.)

What’s been going on with you, then? I hope you haven’t disappeared altogether, because to me, you looked proper skinny just before Christmas. (To the point, as usual.)

Now, there’s things to sort out. First, Evie wants to buy us tea at the Royal on the 13 th– I’ve told her that’s no problem for me, and I hope it’s not for you, either, Alice. Make sure it isn’t, because Evie is so excited about the turn of events at home, that if she doesn’t tell us, soon, in person, I’m afraid she might explode. I’ve spoken to her on the phone, of course, but what I want to do is give her a great big hug. Or several great big hugs. I think she deserves her happiness, don’t you, and we should be there to tell her, as soon as possible.

The other thing is – Roger rang me up a few days ago to ask a favour. It’s his mother’s 65 thbirthday on Saturday the 26 thof the month – and he said it would be her very best present if the three of us went to the farm to be there on the day. It would be a complete surprise if we all just turned up, say late afternoon after milking, and then he was going to book the Wheatsheaf for supper for us all. Mind you, knowing Mabel, I don’t think she’d appreciate that bit very much, because I’m sure she’d rather be the one providing the food – but that wasn’t for me to say, was it. Anyway I really think we should be there if we can – don’t you? I feel a bit bad, sometimes, that we haven’t made the effort to see the Foulkeses, but for one reason or another it just hasn’t happened, has it. And anyway, how did we know they’d really want us to? The war’s over, a thing of the past. Their life is back to where it was before we three turned up.