By John Silverton
(Winner of the Anderida Writers’ Short Story Competition, 2024)
Shuffling through my husband’s old letters and papers the other day I came across our divorce certificate. I smile at the circumstances every time I take a bath. Strange to think I can’t remember what happened yesterday but can recall events of sixty years ago.
Bored with life, especially my sex life, over ten years of conjugal rights I never felt the proverbial “earth move”. There was no passion between us. Harry was a nice enough guy but I didn’t love him. I married for the wrong reasons: peer and family pressure to conform. Marriage and monogamy were the norm in the sixties unless you wore flowers in your hair, but flowers gave me hay fever.
We lived in a scenic village in the Yorkshire Dales with few sources of leisure activities apart from cricket, the pub and the church, none of which interested me. However, every Saturday night the village hall organised a dance. I longed to go but I knew Harry would refuse; he didn’t like dancing – two left feet. I felt like a butterfly trapped in a chrysalis from which I yearned to escape. Come Saturday I plucked up courage.
‘I thought I might go along and try the dance at the village hall tonight,’ I said. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not dear, as long as you don’t expect me to come with you.’
‘Run a bath for me while I choose what to wear?’
‘I chose an alluring, daringly low-cut red number.
I came home around one o’clock brandishing a box of chocolates. ‘Won in the raffle,’ I said joyfully.
‘The dance finished late,’ Harry complained.
‘Yes; the raffle at the end took time. But the prize was worth the wait.’
‘I don’t like you being out so late, it’s not safe.’
‘I was given a ride home, a kind-hearted young feller called George.’
‘So you enjoyed yourself?
‘Oh yes, I did that. I think I’ll go again next Saturday.
Harry helped himself to a chocolate.
The following Saturday we’d been to Harrogate shopping and were late back. ‘Run a bath for me Harry, I don’t have much time.’
I came home in the early hours. Harry had waited up.
‘Look, I won a box of chocolates and a bottle of red wine in the raffle.’
‘It’s too late for you to be out by yourself,’ Harry reprimanded.
‘It’s okay, I got a lift home.’
I’d had a lift to my life too, an elusive “earthquake” in the back of Peter’s car.
Harry helped himself to a chocolate.
Another Saturday night approached and Harry prowled around in a tetchy mood; he appeared to resent my enthusiasm for the weekly soiree. I ran my bath. Again I arrived home in the early hours.
‘Why are you so late?’ He asked accusingly.
‘Don’t worry Harry; a kind young feller named Frank gave me a lift.’
‘But village dances don’t finish at two in the morning,’ he protested.
‘This one did. The band played on and everyone stayed. They didn’t draw the raffle ’til the end; being lucky the previous two weeks I stayed for the prizes. And look, I won a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers.
Harry helped himself to a chocolate.
The following Saturday Harry suggested he run a bath for me while I tried on a new dress. I went to the bathroom to bathe.
‘Harry! There’s hardly any water in the bath.’
‘I know,’ snapped Harry. ‘I didn’t want you to get your raffle ticket wet.’
Author Bio:
John Silverton is the author of A Pearl Amongst Oysters, a passionate suspenseful interracial romance spanning fifty years and two continents, available in paperback from Amazon Books.
A collection of short stories will be published later this year. John is twice winner of the Anderida Writers short story competition, 2024 and 2026. A second novel, a crime thriller set in the art market, will be published in 2027.
Contact Author:
Email: Johnsilverton@hotmail.co.uk
