The Blue Stocking

The Blue Stocking

Alice, could you cover my shift tomorrow, please! It’s my mother-in-laws birthday. Got to go and wish her well.

But didnt you just visit her last month? I looked up from the stack of catalogue cards before me.

Oh, come off it, Alice! That was her name day, this is her actual birthday! I really need this, you know? Not like its hard for you. No children, no family to worry about! Completely on your own! Oh Sorry, I didnt mean

Helen clapped a hand to her mouth, but it was too late. I simply turned away with a nod and stepped out of the reading room.

That was a bit off, Helen muttered, glancing at Lucy.

You could never get one over on Lucy. She wouldnt stand for this kind of cheek, librarian or not. She always said even cultured folk could stick up for themselves. I was mortified by her ways, and Helen would laugh until she cried.

Just look at us, Alice! Not all librarians are blue stockings like you! You should take some notes from Lucy and me. We know how to live! But you, always darting between the library and your flat. Scarves, cats… a spinster! Sorry for being blunt, but who else will set you straight? Youre a pretty enough woman, but its hopeless. Isnt she, Lucy?

Generally, Lucy would shush Helen and cut these talks short.

Enough. Stop holding yourself up as a paragon! Youve had more affairs than a dog has fleas. And for what? Now youre stuck with your Brian, who goes out drinking, cheats, and sometimes hits you. And youre still trying to teach others how to live!

At least Ive got a husband and kids! And what about Alice? Just another cat? Soon shell have to move into the library with them all. Why not have a child, for your own sake? Forget marriage. Youve enough left from your parents. Raise a child on your own, at least you wont be alone.

After such conversations, Lucy never held her tongue and Helen would escape, mumbling about urgent business, while Id hide in the furthest corner of the reading room to wipe my eyes.

Why did I have all this? Was it my fault I ended up this way? First my father and then my mother fell ill. Fifteen years of endless care, washing, and feeding No space for a life of my own. Whod sign on for that anyway? I looked at myself in the mirror not ugly, not a beauty either. Average, really. Grey eyes, a neat face, thick plait, though I cut it after Mum passed, now a much simpler bob. Practical.

Otherwise, I was just Alice. No bad habits, no prospects, but I never really strove for more. What I saw in my friends families frightened me. Take Helen. Marriage cost her dearly. The whole town knew her husband kept another family. Their dramatic arguments were legendary. Breaking up and making up never behind closed doors. Helen thought there was no point hiding the truth from people, let them see, rather than whisper behind the curtains. She had nothing to be ashamed of shes the legal wife.

That never made sense to me. Why waste time on such relationships? Where’s the dignity? Wheres the self-respect? But, of course, the stories in books, my only comfort, werent much like real life. You can be proud if youve two villas and a wealthy uncle. Not much pride to spare on a librarians pay, two kids and a sick mother.

So, I never judged Helen like the others did, I tried to understand. Mostly, it didnt help, but slowly her jabs stung less. If she wanted to instruct others, let her; when the chips were down, Helen always helped. When I couldnt find a nurse for Mum, Helen, who had mastered doing injections, simply came, said nothing, and did everything needed on schedule and for nothing in return.

You want to insult me? shed say, eyeing me as I tried to offer money. Put that away! Whats a neighbour for? If it werent for us living next door youd be in a right pickle. Anyone would do the same.

I was properly ashamed, apologised through tears, and tried to make it up. Helens children, and Helen herself, wore my knitted scarves and hats. Her daughter only wore my mittens with the little robins on special occasions, afraid to take them to school.

Theyre beautiful! Id be gutted to lose them.

Helen, turning over the mittens in her hands, gave me an idea: open an online shop.

These would be snapped up!

At first, I hesitated. Then I waved the idea off.

I cant make that many. Everythings one-of-a-kind.

Rope our local grannies in. Theres a whole gang of them outside the blocklet them keep busy. Itll stretch their pensions and help you.

Surprisingly, it worked. Helen had a knack for business shed never exploited, too busy with her home drama. The site went live, and orders came in. Not in droves, but it helped me, and the pensioners were pleased too. The gang soon sat every evening on the benches, knitting and chatting, and Helen and I planned new masterpieces.

Look at this from last fashion week! Helen would say. Aunt Maud just showed me this very design. Just tweak it a bit and it’d make a fabulous skirt!

So Id set to work. In no time, Helen strutted around in my latest skirt, and up it went on the site for sale.

We never got rich, but something trickled in, and I felt curiously capable. Maybe I wasnt so useless after all.

Lucy teased us but sometimes helped out. She could make the finest needle lace, though rarely found the time.

My gran taught me. Said I’d need it one day. She was right.

Lucy’s work was the most expensive on the site, and Helen never minded when Lucy sat by the reading room window with her lace, offloading tasks on her friendsthey knew how much Lucy needed the money.

Lucy’s husband left almost as soon as their twins were born. Artistic, he said he was, always finding himself, never working, painting incomprehensible canvases and vanishing for weeks, returning with stories about his fans. Lucy had only her oldest daughter then, who sometimes called her own father just a man.

Mum, that man Pauls outside.

Paul was outraged by thatYoure embarrassing me in front of my own daughter! She should know what I do for her! At first, Lucy kept silent, heeding her mothers warnings that no ones better than your own father, then she stopped.

And what have you done, exactly?

Perhaps Lucys pregnancy changed her, or maybe shed just had enough. Paul legged it the moment he heard twins were on the way. Both boys were strong and loud, a miracle right on time.

Lucy didnt dwell on being left. She had work, and her parents, living in a village, often sent bounty from their land. They kept a large garden, and Lucy spent her weekends and holidays there, not that she mindedshe needed to feed the children.

Lucys three were wonderful. Id look at them, and sometimes wonder: Were I sure my children would turn out just as well, maybe I would have taken Helens advice and had one of my own.

But I was terrified of raising a child alone. No family left, and friends all busy with their own problems. What if something happened to me? My child would end up in a childrens home. I couldnt inflict thatall because I’d decided to have a baby out of loneliness? No, far better to stick to my cats and scarves! Responsibility matters.

Of course, I didnt know Helen and the gang were busy matchmaking, searching the town for a suitable husband. Given there were more women than men, all the possibilities had been exhausted. So they kept their search quiet, to spare me; only Helen would occasionally blurt out a remark, regretting it straightaway.

A candidate did show up, quite out of the blue. Not even Helen or the grannies, roped in as marriage brokers, nor I myself, could have guessed what fate had in store for me.

After Id wiped away my tears and agreed to cover Helens shift, I decided to get most of the work done that evening, so I could add new photos to the shop the next day. One of the items, a wedding dressdreamed up and lovingly sewn by Lucywould be the highlight.

Lucy, it’s beautiful! A real showstopper.

Tell that to my boys! Nearly ruined it yesterday. I left the room for a moment and saw them cutting up the hem with the most precise little snips. Took me all night to fix.

Can you tell?

No. I swapped out the whole motifnobodys the wiser.

I spent the evening drafting a perfect ad for the dress. Walking home, still turning over phrases, I heard something odd on the stairwell.

Help…

A barely audible call, just on the edge of all the usual evening noisea row here, celebrations there, the neighbours kids tearing past. But when I listened closer, there it was again.

Help…

No doubt about it this time. Someone needed help.

Our building was old, and most residents were pensioners, some with children and grandchildren, some entirely alone. I knew every one of the solitary onestheyd helped mind my parents, and after they passed on, I kept an eye out for them. Some joined our gang, knitting with us; some simply smiled and wished me a good husband and plenty of children.

One such soul was Miss Zina Turner.

Shed once been my mothers friend, a maths teacher, and the only one bold enough to answer any question with a simple, unwavering, Be honest, Alice! No, Ive been past it for years. Tell me, how are you getting on?

Id never shared my private thoughts with anyone but somehow with Miss Zina, I became almost candidand she always gave me sensible, gentle advice.

Alice, do what feels right for you. Everyone else has their own life to live. Who decided were only supposed to follow someone elses path? Nonsense! If you try on someone elses clothes, do they fit? No? There you go! Its the same with their opinions. Let them live their waydoesnt mean you must. Marry because you should? Child, because others say you ought? Will that make you happy? I can tell you from experience: No. I saw so many such children at schoolparents together not for love, but because thats the proper way. And who suffers? The kids, of course.

These talks reassured me I wasnt entirely hopelessthat not everyone thought I was wrong for living as I did.

Miss Zina herself had been married nearly fifty years, wandering the country with her university sweetheart, finally settling in our town. She had no childrenher pupils became her family, never forgetting Aunt Zina, visiting and sending cards.

My children! Zina would say proudly, delighted with every memory.

Shed buried her husband only a few years ago, and when her mind seemed lost in grief, Id brought her a kitten Id found shivering outside.

Hes all alone, too. What do you say, Miss Zina?

She took the kitten, and Im convinced that furry little friend played a vital part in her holding on a bit longer. For Boris, as she named him, required a fresh bit of fish every morningno slacking allowedso she had to get up, get ready, and walk to the market.

Thus, they livedcat and old womankeeping each other company. It was rare that she asked for help, much preferring to do for herself.

But it was her flat the faint help was coming from.

I didnt hesitatelegs flying down the stairs two at a time. Hammering at the wardens door, I shouted:

Mrs White! Theres trouble!

Mrs White knew the rules: you couldnt just enter someone elses flat. But when the emergency services failed to comeand the police didnt answershe gave up on formalities.

Let them lock me up if they like! The countrys not short of old women in prison!

Shed kept spare keys for nearly all the older tenants, just in case.

We opened Zinas door and were horrified by what we found.

Shed slipped in the bath, hit her head and, when she came to, found she couldnt moveher leg in agony, her arms nothing but dead weight. She had no idea how long she lay like that. When sense returned, she realised only a voice might save her. She cried out, in hopes the thin walls and a nosy neighbour might do the trick.

I was the only one to hear.

I did all I could to save her, then vowed to myselfthis mustnt happen again. No one should be left to face their troubles alone, especially not when overwhelmed.

Miss Zina spent the next six months, on and off, in hospital. Her fractures healed poorly. I visited her, brought her home, nursed herand finally moved her into my own flat. I was used to caring for the sick, and Helen soon took over, bringing drips and injections.

Well get you on your feet again, Miss Zina. No slacking now!

At first, she protested against burdening me, but she soon realised it wasnt obligationit was just my heart.

Theres no one like you, Alice. Where are the angels when you need them? They should be watching over you. Or maybe youre one yourself. I wouldnt be surprised.

Bit by bit, Zina mended. I was just grateful I no longer returned to an empty home. Life was far livelierevery night after work Id hear her tales, break up the territorial disputes of Boris and my two rescued tabby cats, or laugh at Boriss attempts at leadership which led, inevitably, to a catty tussle and a sulky Boris.

Dont fret, Boris, old chap. Thats progress for youharems are a thing of the past!

Hed pout, then settle beside me, quite assured of his place.

And so, life, which had fallen into a staid routine, suddenly took a jig, and all my firm plans fell away, swept aside by new ones.

It all started one evening with a ring at the door.

Is that you, Helen? I paused the film Zina and I were watching and went to open up.

On the doorstep stood a mana proper sight. Bearded, dour, jeans and a worn-out leather waistcoatnothing like the men I usually met around here.

Er, may I help you?

Evening. Does Miss Turner live here?

Why do you ask?

Id like to see her.

Paused in indecision, I was about to call Zina when Boris, the black missile, sprinted from the sitting room and curled around the mans boots.

Oh, Boris! Hello, old friend!

The man’s stern face split into a smile as he scooped Boris up, transforming into someone quite different. All suspicion dissolved. I opened the door wide.

Come in!

Miss Zina, catching sight of the visitor, lit up.

Sammy! My dear boy! What brings you here?

Im off to the Peaks, meeting a group of bikers this year. Thought Id pay you a visit since its been an age.

Bless your heart! Meet Alicemy guardian angel and the best woman on earth. Im not exaggerating!

Amazingly, Sam blushed and looked down.

Pleased to meet you

Zina, knowing her former pupil well, played matchmaker, inventing reasons for him to stay. He left only after two daysand returned barely a fortnight later. All a thunderbolt; I found myself meeting a proposal.

But Sam, we hardly know each other Is it proper? I goggled at the man who now stood to be my husband.

Who cares whats proper? Were adults. Its our life.

Helen and Lucy, when I confided in them, gasped as one but kept their peace.

Are you sure, Alice? No, never mind, none of my business if you love him. Youre a grown woman. Is he a good man?

And why wouldnt I be in love? Is there an expiry date on that, Helena? I smiled, and for once Helen was speechless, eyeing me in astonishment.

Wasnt I just a mousy nobody yesterday? Now she sees a queen! Thats what love will do to a person.

Sorry for everything Ive said, Alice. And, Lucy, better take down that wedding dress from the site!

Already done! Lucy grinned and winked at me, relief in her eyes.

The wedding was the talk of the town. A motorbike procession through the streets left everyone wide-eyed.

Whos it for?

Alicethe librarian! Shes getting wed.

Really? Well, I wish her the very best! Shes a fine woman! Whats her groom like, then?

Looks decent. Serious sort

Three years later, Sam caught Miss Zina as she stubbornly climbed out of the car, pushing him away.

Ill walk just fine! Go on, go meet your son, Sam!

I straightened my new dress from Lucy, fixed my hair, and called to the photographer.

Get everyone in! No one left out!

He had to work hard, lining everyone on the steps outside the maternity hospitalHelen and Brian, Lucy and her three, the gang of grannies led by Mrs White, all those dear to me.

And why not? There should always be a crowd of good people around.

This, Ive learned: life has its own wisdom, no matter how hard we try to plan. Theres warmth even for a blue stocking like meif only you let it in.