Evelyn enjoyed being a good wife in that 1950s idealised 'good wife' sort of way. She read magazines to keep up with the latest etiquette. Her clothes were decent, modest, well repaired, and yet fashionable. Her husband's shirts were her pride and joy, each one lovingly cleaned and starched to a fault. Evelyn's favourite job was polishing her husband's shoes and she could never understand why some of these suffragette types would not take relish in such things.
'Could I have 4 ounces of cheddar please? My Bertie loves a bit of cheddar on Fridays.'
'Well it is only Monday, Mrs. Stanton,' said the man at the dairy counter.
'Oh yes I know that,' laughed Evelyn, 'but I like to be prepared for my Bert.'
On the way home Evelyn spotted a rather attractive vase in a shop.
'How much is that glass vase in the window?' she asked the bored looking youth at the till.
'The pastel pink and green one? It's a bargain for you Mrs., only two pounds.'
Evelyn was thrilled. Today had been a successful shopping day after all. Now though, it was time to get home in time to prepare for her darling Bert.
Bert and Evelyn had been childhood sweethearts. They had met at a disco in the scout's hall. Marriage was Evelyn's finest achievement to date.
It was twenty to six, Bert would be home soon. She took the rollers out of her hair and preened her tussled locks before covering them in hairspray. She put on her green fitted dress, Bert's favourite, with it's wasp waist and full skirt. Then she squeezed her feet into the lace court shoes Bert had bought especially for her when they went to the opera.
With only ten minutes to spare, Evelyn set the table for two. Knives to the right of the plate, with the cutting edge turned in, butter knives on the bread plate. Spoons to the right of the knife with the bowls turned up. All the handles in line one inch from the edge of the table.
The new vase was placed in the centre with some pretty flowers from the garden. The cream of celery soup, macaroni cheese, and pineapple upside down cake, filled the dining room with luscious smells. A Frank Sinatra vinyl played on the gramophone. A fresh martini was ready on the silver tray. Everything was just perfect.
'Hey mum, we're home!'
James, their eldest son, opened the living room door and entered the room with a frail old man.
Evelyn took the briefcase from her husband's shaking hand.
'You were really happy weren't you dad?' shouted James. We sat on the bench, fed some ducks, didn't we dad?
He was really good,' Freddie whispered to his mother.
'Where am I?
Is that you Evelyn? Something smells wonderful.
'Yes darling, it's me, and I have made you your favourite meal especially as you had such a busy week.'
Bert's face lit up. 'Is it cheddar Friday? You're wearing my favourite dress. Dearest Evelyn it really is you. Oh how I missed you. Where have you been? Was I at work?'
'Mum,' whispered James, 'I'll be on my way, see you next week.'
James blew his mum a kiss and left quietly.
Evelyn rested the empty briefcase against the sideboard and gently guided her frail husband to a dining chair.
'Was that our little James?' asked Bert.'
'Yes darling that's right.'
'What a beautiful table you always set my darling. And Oh, what a lovely vase, is it new dear?'
'Yes darling, I found it in an antique shop.'
Frank Sinatra was singing 'I Did it My Way' in the background as Evelyn welled up inside. It was so rare to see her Bertie this way.
'Evelyn, my dearest Evelyn, may I have the pleasure of this dance?'
© 2025 Sarnia de la Maré FRSA
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