Vie, Fred, Ruth and me

Not too sure about Vie, six years older than myself, efficient, sharp, her life completely taken up with keeping Fred on the ball, not easy. maybe there are still one or two women about like her. Fortified herself incessantly with Gordon's and cigarettes, as the time for Fred to make his entrance into the World each afternoon approached, she would work herself into a tight, hushed intensity. His eggs had to be exactly right, otherwise, a rage. The path from the bed to the typewriter  to be made smooth at all costs….  getting him up, fed and watered,  only part of the struggle ... getting him to write something, quite another thing.

She who pacified Fred's agent, he had the habit of always ringing at precisely the wrong time ...  Fred  confronting  blank white paper, heavy cigarette smoke, heavy frowns on his short, flushed forehead, endeavoring to think of something remotely funny to write.

At this point I would retire down to the kitchen, Vie would follow me, looking reasonably shattered. We would drink tea, half listening for the tap of the typewriter, hushed voices about the progress Fred wasn't making. On more than one of these occasions detecting a note of regret…she, running up to the West End with Fred's first manuscript, thrusting it into the hands of some impresario,  leaving the theatre.   Life being as it is, the man committed it to a stage production within a few weeks, much to everyone's amazement, not least that of Fred.

But I was beginning to have problems, something  managing to stay clear of since my demise from Australia. Ruth dissatisfied with me as I was. Amongst other changes she demanded.. high  on the list…  money. Hardly knew what to do about that. She decided on my becoming a driving instructor with B.S.M.

All having tea one evening, Fred, Vie, Ruth and myself. Getting dark,  slight drizzle outside, beyond the heavy drapes,  heard a car hoot, Vie went to the window.

"Well" she said, "It looks as if it is time for you to start work."

Someone from the B.S.M. had been decent enough to come round for me, by way of making a start.  I only made it to the street door, Ruth not wanting to be left alone  through the evening,  holding my arm firmly.  I smiled, others appeared embarrassed.

After that Ruth dropped the idea of my getting a heavy living. 'We would manage'. Her job paid well, I could fiddle about part time, picking her up, running her about wherever the whim . Not really upset at being back to my easy option… found someone who went along with it. What more could I possibly want? 

The skeleton of my being married had come out quite inadvertently. She had not said a great deal about it, after tripping me up. But, by carefully probing over a long period,  managing to get most of the details, so she thought ... the subject  something  she was unable to let go of, her face fracturing when under pressure once again.  told her straight … five children. She had nerved herself for one, possibly two ... but five, that was strong. She fell back into the 'don't touch me' , and  'I never want to see you again'  position