Still, you can’t say life’s a complete cock-up, he told himself complacently as he slouched down the country road, listening to the echo of his own steps. I had the savvy to marry Ruby.
Shows I know what’s what. First time I set eyes on her. That day she came into the works I was in a bad temper – can’t remember what about now. She brought those samples over from Dickinson’s. I hardly glanced at her and made some crappy remark about the colours. And she answered me so nicely, not at all put out.
So then I looked up. There she was. Neat and bright and slender. So slender, and with a playful air I still catch in her sometimes. You couldn’t really say it was love at first sight, but certainly I took a shine to her there and then. Escorted her to the door, in fact. She was wearing sandals. Watched her going down Bridge Street, thought – oh, what a real darling of a girl she was. I remember it so well, standing at that door. It had been raining; the pavements shone.
Those first impressions have never left me, never have. I was going with Peggy Barnes at the time – let’s see, of course that was the year I traded in my old Triumph for my first car – but I slung her up. In a rather rotten way, sad to tell. Unfeeling sod, I was. It was Ruby awoke tender feelings in me. Maybe the blokes at the Bluebell never had anything like that.
By ringing Ruby’s firm, I got her name. Ruby Silcock. She was engaged to a chap in the tax office, what was his name?, but she agreed to have a milk shake with me in the lunch hour.
Time I’d got to the bottom of that glass, I knew I was mad about her – I didn’t tell her so, of course. Not then. Didn’t want to scare her.
He peered back into the past, recalling how he’d been late back to work that afternoon, so that his uncle had grumbled.
Then we were meeting again. Then she let me take her to the Saturday hop. Oh, to feel that body against mine, to look into her eyes, to move with her!
There was always something restrained about Ruby. Withdrawn, do I mean? Not sexually, mentally. Still is. Not a chatterbox, a blabberer, not like Peggy Barnes, thank God. A girl who can keep a confidence.
Nearly home. You did well then, matey. Not such a ditherer in that instance.
I walked on a sea of thistledown when I found she had a little warmth for me. Happy in a hundred ways. My mind and heart were full of her like being crammed with flowers. Oh, yes, Ruby, darling … how you haunted me, possessed me!
She rang me one day – we’d known each other about three weeks – to say she’d broken off her engagement. Alex was his name. She never told me then how she did it or what happened. It was just off.
Oh, the passion of those days! Me, whose idea of foreplay was to drag my pants down – I was a fast learner. You could never feel that way twice in a lifetime, could you? I sometimes think it’s all gone, then back it comes. We lived in a dream, didn’t know ourselves.
Amazing how it’s lasted. Oh, when I saw her naked … I could have eaten scrambled egg out of her darling armpits.
Well. Ruby, love, pissed though I am, I have to say you make my life worth while. You’re my religion. The Bible.
It wasn’t all lovey-dovey. Christ, was I a fool! When I first met her younger sister, Joyce, I kidded myself I fancied her more. Some kind of madness, just because she was the snappy dresser. Silly bugger. Ruby caught me kissing her. What a row we had! She gave me such a clout! Naturally I was all bull and rubbish, all the time thinking I’d shat on my chips as far as she was concerned. Women know how to stage-manage these things.
That’s long enough ago. We soon made it up. Then when Jenny was coming along, we decided we’d better get married. Just as well. Without a contract, she’d have left me, the way Cracknell Summerfield’s wife left him …
What’m I saying? ’S balls. She’d never do anything like that. Too loyal – it’s part of not being a blabbermouth. She’s a good ’un, is Ruby, a real good ’un. Better missus than any of that lot have got. I don’t think I could face life without her.
I wonder how long it is since we went to a dance? ‘Softly, Softly, Come to Me’ – that was our tune.
He attempted to sing the song aloud, but had forgotten the words, could only remember ‘… and open up my heart.’
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