really talk like that about men?â
I chuckled. He didnât know the half of it. âApparently,â I said.
âJust donât ever throw me to the w-wolves again, thatâs all,â he admonished, still with just a hint of nervous stammer. But he was smiling when he said it.
Those truly were a happy few months. Nothing at all happened to cause Carl or I any anxiety. The van incident became ancient history. I really did get a taste of the normality I craved.
Mariette had alternate Saturdays off from the library and one weekend she persuaded me to go on a shopping expedition to Penzance with her. Actually, I didnât take much persuading, but I wasnât sure what Carl would make of it. I knew he was anxious about my friendship with Mariette, even though he passed little comment, so I didnât tell him about the trip until the night before Mariette and I were due to take the little train from the station just by Porthminster Beach.
He was fine about it though. âDonât ever think I donât want you to enjoy yourself, Suzanne, because I do, in every possible way,â he said. âJust remember that you donât know Mariette that well, wonât you.â
I knew what he was saying. In a funny kind of way it felt as if I knew Mariette very well indeed, but I didnât of course, nor could I. Carl was just reminding me to be cautious and I knew that he was quite right to do so. That was how it was with us.
Of course, then I had to ask him for some money. Apart from my nightmares, which were lessening, money was our sole problem. We managed, but only just, and as I spent more time with Mariette I was increasingly embarrassed by having to rely on Carl for every penny. That had been one of the reasons why I had liked the idea of getting a job.
Carl, though, was as generous as ever. He swiftly produced fifty pounds from somewhere. I had few halfway decent clothes and I badly needed some new ones. Fifty pounds would not go very far, but for us it was a lot of money. I thanked him with enthusiasm.
âDonât spend it all at once,â he responded with a twinkle.
I set off cheerily to meet Mariette at the station the next morning.
She eyed the calf-length skirt, cotton print blouse and cardigan I was wearing â more or less the best clothes I possessed â with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. âWhat you need is a complete make-over, my girl,â she said.
I didnât even know what a make-over was.
She led me through the crowds at Penzance to a shop called, rather appropriately I suppose, New Look. The prices, the lowest on the High Street, Mariette said, were, it seemed, the greatest attraction â that and a manic adherence to all the latest fashion fads. But every garment looked to me about three sizes too small and skimpy for any normal person.
âRubbish,â said Mariette. âYouâre slim enough and at least we might find something here which looks as if it should be worn by someone in their twenties, rather than a ninety-year-old woman.â
I retreated, wounded and beaten, and very soon, Iâm not quite sure exactly how, found myself buying a bright-orange suit with a daringly short skirt. At least I thought it was pretty daring. In fact, even as I handed over a considerable chunk of my fifty pounds, I wasnât sure I should be buying it at all. âDonât you think it looks, well, you know, a bit tarty?â I enquired hesitantly.
âYes,â said Mariette. âGreat, isnât it.â
I was then persuaded to buy a pair of ridiculously high platform shoes, but I balked at Marietteâs next suggestion.
âNo, I am not dyeing my hair,â I told her firmly. âAbsolutely not.â
âI didnât say dye it, I said have a few blond highlights,â she responded in a wheedling tone of voice.
I stood my ground.
âWell, what about a nice trendy haircut then? Iâve got a friend
I chuckled. He didnât know the half of it. âApparently,â I said.
âJust donât ever throw me to the w-wolves again, thatâs all,â he admonished, still with just a hint of nervous stammer. But he was smiling when he said it.
Those truly were a happy few months. Nothing at all happened to cause Carl or I any anxiety. The van incident became ancient history. I really did get a taste of the normality I craved.
Mariette had alternate Saturdays off from the library and one weekend she persuaded me to go on a shopping expedition to Penzance with her. Actually, I didnât take much persuading, but I wasnât sure what Carl would make of it. I knew he was anxious about my friendship with Mariette, even though he passed little comment, so I didnât tell him about the trip until the night before Mariette and I were due to take the little train from the station just by Porthminster Beach.
He was fine about it though. âDonât ever think I donât want you to enjoy yourself, Suzanne, because I do, in every possible way,â he said. âJust remember that you donât know Mariette that well, wonât you.â
I knew what he was saying. In a funny kind of way it felt as if I knew Mariette very well indeed, but I didnât of course, nor could I. Carl was just reminding me to be cautious and I knew that he was quite right to do so. That was how it was with us.
Of course, then I had to ask him for some money. Apart from my nightmares, which were lessening, money was our sole problem. We managed, but only just, and as I spent more time with Mariette I was increasingly embarrassed by having to rely on Carl for every penny. That had been one of the reasons why I had liked the idea of getting a job.
Carl, though, was as generous as ever. He swiftly produced fifty pounds from somewhere. I had few halfway decent clothes and I badly needed some new ones. Fifty pounds would not go very far, but for us it was a lot of money. I thanked him with enthusiasm.
âDonât spend it all at once,â he responded with a twinkle.
I set off cheerily to meet Mariette at the station the next morning.
She eyed the calf-length skirt, cotton print blouse and cardigan I was wearing â more or less the best clothes I possessed â with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. âWhat you need is a complete make-over, my girl,â she said.
I didnât even know what a make-over was.
She led me through the crowds at Penzance to a shop called, rather appropriately I suppose, New Look. The prices, the lowest on the High Street, Mariette said, were, it seemed, the greatest attraction â that and a manic adherence to all the latest fashion fads. But every garment looked to me about three sizes too small and skimpy for any normal person.
âRubbish,â said Mariette. âYouâre slim enough and at least we might find something here which looks as if it should be worn by someone in their twenties, rather than a ninety-year-old woman.â
I retreated, wounded and beaten, and very soon, Iâm not quite sure exactly how, found myself buying a bright-orange suit with a daringly short skirt. At least I thought it was pretty daring. In fact, even as I handed over a considerable chunk of my fifty pounds, I wasnât sure I should be buying it at all. âDonât you think it looks, well, you know, a bit tarty?â I enquired hesitantly.
âYes,â said Mariette. âGreat, isnât it.â
I was then persuaded to buy a pair of ridiculously high platform shoes, but I balked at Marietteâs next suggestion.
âNo, I am not dyeing my hair,â I told her firmly. âAbsolutely not.â
âI didnât say dye it, I said have a few blond highlights,â she responded in a wheedling tone of voice.
I stood my ground.
âWell, what about a nice trendy haircut then? Iâve got a friend
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