11th July 1951


I’m all alone in the house. George has gone out; I don’t know where he is. Right now I don’t really care and I hope he doesn’t come home for some time. It’s eleven in the morning and I’ve just had the most wonderful bath. I’ve set my hair into curls, applied lotion to my body and now I’m sitting in front of my dressing table mirror about to put rouge on my cheeks and lips.

I’ve got Nat King Cole’s new song stuck in my head which I can’t stop humming. It really is lovely, it goes like this:

They try to tell us we're too young
Too young to really be in love
They say that love's a word
A word we've only heard
But can't begin to know the meaning of

And yet we're not too young to know
This love will last though years may go
And then some day they may recall
We were not too young at all

I wish I had it on disc to play. It was playing last night at the dance hall Frank and I visited. We said it was our song as soon as we heard it. I’ve known Frank since I was sixteen and he was eighteen; Everyone said we weren’t meant to be but here we are eight years later still together.

Of course we weren’t out dancing in Hanley. A friend of his has a car and he gave us a lift out of town. I had the most amazing night of my life. Truly, if I never go out again, at least I’ll have last night to treasure forever.

We’d arranged it only yesterday afternoon; Frank had found out about the dance and asked if I’d like to go. I told George I was seeing Betty. He looked at little queerly at me and said I was seeing a lot of her these days but he didn’t take it any further and I didn’t dress too smartly in case I drew too much attention to myself.

Frank picked me up from Gitana Street, near the back of the new Royal, where hardly anyone goes at night. His friend was driving the car and, you’ll never guess, he was American! I just loved his accent. They’d met in the navy and stayed in contact ever since. It was so exciting driving fast through the countryside at night in a strange car with an American behind the wheel and Frank in the back seat behind me.

Tom, the American, was very nice, he said to Frank, ‘I see what you mean, she is pretty’. I turned around to look at Frank and he just grinned at me.
When we got to the hall it was already packed out with couples dancing and a live band set up on a stage. Tom immediately met up with a girl who’d been waiting for him and set off across the room waving to us as he went.

I suddenly felt strange being left alone with Frank. There I was in the middle of who knows where, in a strange dance hall with no-one to spend the evening with but my old boyfriend. I felt overwhelmed and out of my depth. I had no way to get home without him and all of a sudden I wished very much I was at home, safely tucked away in the front room reading the papers with George.

Frank must have sensed what I was feeling because he took my hand and lifting it to his mouth kissed it. ‘Shall we?’ he asked.

The whole evening changed from then on. After taking to the floor we danced to practically every song. I had quite a few drinks I have to admit, and I couldn’t stop giggling because Frank kept talking to me in Italian ‘eel MEE-oh ah-MOH-ray!’

Then the band played ‘Too Young’ and I wasn’t giggling anymore, and Frank was holding me very close and looking into my eyes. That’s when I realised we were meant to be together.
Before we left the hall that night we found a quiet spot and Frank held my hand as we sat side by side. We didn’t say much but we didn’t need to. He told me he had a present for me though and reached into his jacket pocket. He bought out a little parcel wrapped in brown paper. ‘Don’t open it here, wait until you get home, make sure you’re alone’ and then he brushed my face with his hand and Tom was there waiting to take us back.

All the way home Frank and I sat holding hands and when I got out of the car he kissed me very gently on the cheek.
Getting in the house I was very quiet in case I woke George, but it wasn’t too late and he was still up and asked, ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, the film was very good’ I said then complained I felt very tired and was going upstairs to get ready for bed, I just couldn’t wait to be alone. Once in my dressing room I took out Frank’s gift and unwrapped it.
Lying there in the brown paper was the sweetest prettiest pink slip I’ve ever seen. I gasped. Even George doesn’t buy me such things; undergarments are, well, they’re too private.

But this was so gorgeous; all lace and softness. It has a deep frill about the hem and as I was holding it up I noticed the label ‘Movie Star’. What a wonderful thought. Frank knows how I love the movies and here I was holding a genuine piece of American clothing, fit for a film star. How ever did he get it? How ever will I wear it? I thought. I hid it in my dressing table drawer where I know George never goes.

This morning after my bath I took it out and held it up to myself in front of the mirror, it looked so beautiful I had put it on. I’m wearing it now as I write this. It’s so glamorous and soft against my skin.
Is it terribly wicked to wonder what Frank would think if he saw me in it?