Mrs Brown's Diary

11th March 1952

2011-09-11T08:32:00.000-07:00

Hello diary,

I bet you thought I’d abandoned you didn’t you?

I can understand why, it’s been six months or so hasn’t it. Let me try and order my thoughts so I can fill you in because so much has happened.

I thought about writing in you again yesterday morning while I drank my coffee, but I was in such a rush to leave I clean forgot as soon as I was through the door. But it’s evening now and it’s the weekend tomorrow so I can spend some quality time with you.

Firstly, let me tell you, I am fair bushed! It’s so tiring working at Marshall and Snelgrove. Not that I’m complaining, I love it! Today I impressed Miss Foster when I sold an item to a lady who looked like she was quite ready to leave without purchasing a thing but I sent her on her way with a lovely spring coat. I told her that I’d seen Merle Oberon wearing the same cut in an article in Picture Post and she was thrilled!

Miss Foster says that my knowledge of the latest fashions is very commendable and she thinks it’s very good that I keep up to date with Vogue and the like as our customers appreciate it.

Moving to Sheffield has been difficult. Telling George that I was leaving was harder. His poor face fell to the floor, and it was all I could do to stick to my guns and not say I’d changed my mind and decided to stay. However it was definitely for the best. Once I’d got the courage up to tell him, something fell into place and we began to actually talk.

All those years together and we’d never really talked to each other about what we felt or what we thought, we just sort of rolled along. He admitted to me he’d known about Frank since he’d arrived back in town and had feared the worst happening. Mother had been his eyes and ears and she was the sole confidant to his misery. I feel very bad about that.

I still love George, I really do and when I think of him spoiling me with trinkets and treating me to outings it makes me feel dreadful. I was so blind to his affection.

I spoke to him yesterday on the telephone (There is a shared telephone in this house) and he's going to travel up to visit me next week. I know he still loves me. He is so very good and understanding.

This move has been good for the both of us. George wasn’t happy, not really and it took him a good while to realise that loving me wasn’t enough to make our relationship work. Back in Hanley I was so bored. I wanted excitement but I was scared to make anything of myself because I felt it wasn’t what George wanted and certainly not what Mother anticipated for me. George expected me to be content looking after our nice house with my nice clothes and jewellery, but it wasn’t enough for me. I suppose we both existed on different planes.

We talk more now than we ever did before, and my housemates (Joan and Florence) are quite jealous about how we are together. We write all the time and sometimes I send George cuttings from magazines that I think he might find interesting and he sends me cigarette cards with film stars on that he knows I like. (He must have ditched his pipe! I’ll have to ask him about that. The irony is I’ve given up! I can’t afford my Cravens living here)

Mother was not pleased about my moving at all, she said it was a 'harebrained scheme', and she tried to persuade me to stay. ‘Why Sheffield?’ she kept asking, ‘If you have to get a job why not nearby?’ But I couldn’t explain to her that if I stayed it wouldn’t really feel like a new start, especially with the thought of Frank turning up unexpectedly at any time. I just couldn’t face it.

It took a good few weeks for me to actually move after I’d announced my plans. I had to scan every paper I could get my hands on to find a position first, and then the department store pointed me in the direction of digs. It was scary but once I moved I knew it was the right thing to do.

Mother had got into her head that I was leaving George for good and simply couldn’t understand my decision. She talked to me endlessly about how difficult I would find things and to think over what I already had. I listened to her, I really did, and I tried to explain my side of things. Eventually she saw there was no going back and supported me, but she did worry about what she’d tell the neighbours. However I received a letter last week to say she now makes a point of telling anyone who will listen that her daughter is working in fashion at a department store like the ones you find in London! Imagine that! My Mother, embracing this new era where women are now taking up jobs as well as marriage! She says it's like having two successful careers. I love her for that.

It never once entered my head of ending my marriage, even when I was gaga over Frank. I still don’t understand what I was thinking. How could I have thought it would work juggling two relationships, one of them in secret? And when I think back to how Frank and I were, I shudder at my stupidity and I feel ready to fit when I think of how blithe he was about it all! It should have been George I went for walks with, George dancing with me and listening to my dreams. We were both as bad as each other, existing side by side but not really understanding one another. Frank was my substitute, and I guess Betty was right, he was bad news!

On the week I was due to leave for Sheffield I went to the Regent again to see Betty. I told her everything. She listened and, thank goodness, she never said she told me so. We packed my things together and I gave her some bits that I knew I wouldn’t be taking. I knew she’d admired my Hollywood Jewellery so it’s hers now. I do miss her, but Hanley isn’t that far away and I visit as often as I can.

It was George and my wedding anniversary yesterday; seven years. Goodness, just think, this time last year I was sitting in my dressing room back home scribbling away about who knows what! Last years anniversary gift comes to mind; I do so love my feather stole. I've been saving up to buy George a gift this year and when he arrives next week he'll have a new shirt and tie from the mens department which are up to date with this season. He can wear them to the bank, I just know he'll look ever so smart!

When George and I spoke on the phone I asked him how things are in town and he said much the same, the Theatre Royal has had some good plays on but audiences aren’t as large as hoped. I remember my excitement about attending the grand re-opening last August and think of all the crowds we had to push our way through in the interval! It doesn't seem believable that the theatre isn't doing so well.

But that’s the way things go I suppose, you never know what’s around the corner!

George and I both realise that we are living very unconventionally. We are both aware that things are uncertain, but for now I feel happy and very lucky. We are just going to see how things pan out.

I’m off out with the girls to catch a film tomorrow, Singin' In The Rain, I do hope it’s good, I’ve heard great things. Now I just have to decide what to wear, I think I’ll try to get my hair to curl like Debbie Reynolds has hers, I’ve got the perfect picture of her in a magazine somewhere, if I can find it. I’ll let you know how it goes… until then xx

27th August 1951

2011-09-10T06:26:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I received a message. It was handed to me by Frank’s landlady after I’d gone yet again to see if he’d returned. He’s been gone for over a week now and I was getting worried about him. I needn’t have been. He’s moved on and won’t be coming back.

Frank’s note only has a few lines in it. I’ve read them so many times I can repeat them by heart:

Lilly,

Please understand that this is hard for me, but I have decided to move on. Some friends of mine have told me about a good business opportunity and I’ll be moving to another area, perhaps even returning to Italy by next month. I may come back from time to time and if we bump into each other again it would be nice to see you.

I’m glad you have found happiness with your husband. Enjoy your life

Frank

I feel so stupid.

This will be the last time I'll write in this diary. I have nothing left to say, nothing left worth writing. There’s nothing left.

25th August 1951

2011-09-09T05:19:00.000-07:00

What can you write when your heart is broken?

20th August 1951

2011-09-08T08:08:00.000-07:00

Still no word from Frank, and we were supposed to meet today.

George took me out for a meal this evening. I feel so rotten at the moment I didn’t even bother to change my dress or do my hair or anything. I can’t stand the way George looks at me. He has a question in his eyes. He reminds me of a kicked dog asking for reassurance. I hate the way it makes me feel.

We talked about absolute rubbish too, anything but the obvious. I’ve given up my hopes of getting the job in Longton. Just to mention it will be a reminder of the night I told George about wanting to work; the night he admitted he knew about me and Frank. Though to see us now you’d think he knew nothing. He’s the model of a doting husband. But he’s not stupid. Surely he’ll snap at some point. I wish he would! It would be a relief to have it out, hear him shout at me and tell me what a bad wife am.

But no, he’s George isn’t he. Sweet caring George who fell for me the first time he laid eyes on me and would forgive me anything it seems. It doesn’t help that I now suspect all those days he’s spent away from home, he was whiling away the hours at my Mother’s house, pouring out his woes to her as she soothed him with tea. And there’s me thinking he had found a hobby!

I only know about this because Mother paid us an unexpected visit yesterday. I was glad of the distraction at first, the awkward silences between George and I are driving me mad. But it soon became apparent what she was really there for; I overheard her and George muttering in the sitting room as I went to make drinks.

‘Are things any better?’ she asked

‘Not really’ he replied ‘Worse than last time I saw you if I’m honest’

I realised then what had been happening, why Mother knew so much and why George was keeping so calm. Mother has been telling him how to handle the situation. Poor George, doesn’t he realise she’s just trying to make sure we don’t fall out and spoil the marriage?

I suppose she’s right. I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t Mrs George Brown.

I wish Frank would hurry back.

17th August 1951

2011-09-07T05:44:00.000-07:00

I wish I could see Frank! We’re not due to meet again until the end of the week but I can’t wait that long! I have to talk to him now.

I went to his boarding house today, I didn’t even care who saw, but the landlady said he was away on business.

George has been ridiculously kind to me since the night at the Royal. I can tell things have shaken him up too and he feels bad for being so harsh with me. But his sweet nature is killing me. Every time he buys me flowers or complements me, I feel like a knife is being thrust through my heart. I feel horrid.

He even bought me a new bracelet today. It wasn’t like last time he brought me home a present, like with the disc. This time he waited until we’d finished our evening meal and slid a box over the table towards me. I looked up in confusion but he didn’t say anything, just looked expectantly at me.

I wasn’t even excited to open it, and when I saw the bracelet I said ‘Its lovely thank you’ but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it again and closed the box. George looked very disappointed.

If only I could see Frank, I just know he’d make it better. If only I could talk to him and sort this mess out.

16th August 1951

2011-09-06T05:49:00.000-07:00

What a day! I’m still exhausted from Saturday. I’ve not slept properly since. I just lie there in the dark listening to George breathing. I can tell he’s not sleeping either he’s lying there like me, thinking, too afraid to say anything about what’s going through our minds in case something is said that we don’t really want to hear.

Things were not made any easier by seeing Mother today. I try and put off visiting home at the best of times. Since I got married I sometimes feel more like a little girl around her than I did before. She’s forever taking an interest! Betty used to say Mother was the best spy Britain had and if she had joined up we would have won the war years earlier.

I should have known it wouldn’t be easy to face her.

When she opened the door she said she’d been expecting me, but when I asked why that was she just looked at me and said I looked tired.

We stood in the kitchen while we waited for the kettle to boil and my palms began to sweat. I rubbed them down my skirt and caught Mother watching me from the corner of her eye. ‘Just look at you’ she said.

‘What?’ I asked a little too guiltily. She reached up and began to straighten my collar, ‘So young, and pretty and smartly turned out’. I couldn’t look at her.

‘So tell me, what brings you here? Your Dad’s at work, but you know that what him working for George. I bless the day he got that position at the bank’

‘Mother, do you always have to say that?’ I stammered.

When she turned to make the tea I sagged a little.

I began to babble then about who knows what; the dress I’d been altering, the market at Uttoxeter, the price of peas, and the latest film I’d seen. ‘Sounds like you’ve been busy’ she said as she raised her cup to take a sip. I didn’t say anything. I’d run out of things to say, things that didn’t include picnics or dances or racey pink underwear from America and the feel of Frank's sheets over my bare skin.

We sat in silence for a few moments. If she was going to reveal that she knew anything it would be now. But no, she was going to make me work for it, I was going to have to ask her outright. As I gathered up my courage to broach the subject, she suddenly asked ‘How’s George?’

‘Oh he’s fine, you know, still reading his papers and enjoying his radio programmes’

‘Hmm’ she said with a little frown then took another sip of tea. I hadn’t touched mine, my cup and saucer sat in my lap the steam curling into my face. I realised I was clutching them both very tightly.

‘But, well, to be honest,’ I said, ‘he has been a little off of late’

‘Oh?’ Said Mother, ‘Off how?’

‘Erm, well, he, he said…I mean I asked him about an advert I’d seen and…’ I stopped myself. I knew if I mentioned the job at Longton that would be another thing for her to try and interfere with. ‘I mean, the other night he said…he said’. I couldn’t do it; I was only going to point the finger at myself and I already felt awful. I began to cry.

‘Come here’ She said and before I knew it I was that little girl again being rocked back and forth.

‘Did Betty tell you?’ I asked. ‘No’ she said, ‘Betty’s not said a word, though I know she’d like to. That girl only has your best interests at heart’.

‘I don’t think she cares now’ I sniffed, ‘we fell out’.

‘Betty’s a bigger person than you think; you’ll be alright the both of you. But Frank on the other hand…’ I gasped. It felt so odd to hear his name on her lips.

‘Oh I know all about him and his ‘business ventures’; running around the town like a criminal with those goods under his coat.’ I didn’t understand I just shook my head.

‘And you my girl, getting your head turned again by that boy after all these years. It can’t last’

I felt angry then. What did my Mother know about how Frank and I felt about each other? We’re truly in love. But I didn’t say anything. Partly it was too nice to be comforted and get my troubles out, partly because I knew if I defended Frank, Mother wouldn’t listen.

She began to talk on and on then about how good I’ve got it with George, how she and Dad never had anything as good as I have. How they had to work hard to keep the roof over our heads and how George is such a catch for a girl like me. I’ve heard it all before and I began to zone out and just stood there letting the warmth of the kitchen flood over me while her voice droned on. At least I knew one thing I thought to myself, it was her who’d told George for certain. She had given that much away.

When I went to leave she took my face in her hands and said I hadn’t listened to a word she’d uttered. She stroked my cheek and said ‘Be nice to George dear, he’s worth it’.

15th August 1951 (continued)

2011-09-05T08:28:00.000-07:00

I woke early this morning, even though I’d hardly slept a wink of sleep; I just kept running last night through my head over and over again.

I’d been so looking forward to the grand re-opening of the Theatre Royal and while I admit the event itself was wonderful, George’s harsh words afterwards have hit me like a brick. Every time I remember him saying there’s been ‘talk’ about me a cold shiver runs through my stomach.

I realise now that he suspects something. But how and how much does he know? Goodness, listen to me, I sound like a criminal! I feel wretched.

Does George even know that Frank exists? My mind is raging, I have the worst headache!

The oddest thing is George was so courteous to me over breakfast this morning, you’d have thought nothing had happened. But to be honest his calmness is making me feel worse, it only highlights what a bad person I am and how innocent he is.

If only I knew what he was thinking, I need to find out what he’s heard; these rumours he couldn’t bring himself to say. Who would be low enough to repeat gossip about me to George? Betty? No. Even though I was a heel to not tell her about Frank, I don’t think she’s spiteful enough to do such a thing.

That only leaves one other person; someone who makes it their business to meddle in my personal affairs. But God forbid it’s her!

I'm going to have to pay a visit to Mother

14th August 1951

2011-09-05T08:27:00.000-07:00

See instalment 1

13th August 1951

2011-09-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

Only one day until the grand re-opening at the Theatre Royal! I can’t wait!!! I only wish Frank were able to see me in my new dress, I just know I’ll look like a film star! I’m going to wear my new feather stole that George bought for me for our anniversary too. I hope it doesn’t rain!

5th August 1951

2011-09-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

I have had the most unbelievable two weeks. I daren’t write them down. But they have been so exciting. Frank and I have seen each other almost every day. At first I was very wary about it looking odd that I spent so much time out and about, but no-one has noticed anything! As long as you have your wits about you, things can carry on as normal, and no-one is any the wiser in this town. I have had to be careful walking to and from Frank’s but I always take the back streets. I think I’m getting quite good at covering my tracks.

I know I should feel bad about all this sneaking about, but it’s so exciting! I can’t wait to see Frank again! Every day is an adventure! I love him so much.

PS Still not talked to George about the job at Longton. I was all ready to believe I’d missed my chance but I saw the advert for ‘girls wanted’, in a window of a shop in town, so I know there are still positions available. Thank goodness!

22nd July 1951

2011-09-02T05:22:00.000-07:00

I always wondered what it really meant to be a ‘fallen woman’. Those girls you see in the flicks are seductresses, harlots and bad girls, am I like them?

I don’t’ feel particularly bad. I feel excited and exciting! I feel like the whole world is at my feet and I can do anything if I really wished it. I feel so full of, what’s the word? Joy! I haven’t felt like this for years.

When Frank kissed me I could have died. It felt so right and natural. No embarrassing pauses or awkward fidgeting. It all just happened, flowed perfectly. It’s like we were both dancers who knew exactly what moves came next without ever having practised a step.

Afterwards we just lay in each others arms and I never wanted the moment to end, I wished the afternoon would last forever and ever. We chatted in the most relaxed manner, both of us under the covers of Frank’s single bed, squashed up close and cosy in his rented room. I told him about my decision to work and explained about the job I’d seen. ‘It’s in Longton, so I’d have to commute but I be trained up and working with other girls who were interested in fashion.’

‘I never thought of you as a girl’s girl’ Frank said. ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I giggled.

‘You’re more of a loner. I watched you growing up remember? You never got on with any of the other girls; you were always sniping about them and couldn’t stand not being the centre of attention if a boy came along’.

I was about to refute this but then it struck me he was probably right, Betty was the only friend who’d stuck by me but even she was gone now. I quickly changed the subject because it made me feel very lonely, even lying there next to Frank in our little cocoon.

‘The thing is I need to tell George’

‘What’s the problem? I thought you had him wrapped around your little finger. I even feel a little sorry for the old coot’ he laughed

‘Don’t call George names!’ I cried.

‘Why not? You can’t tell me you don’t use you’re feminine whiles to get what you want out of him’ he grinned.

‘George isn’t like that! And no I don’t!’ I said. ‘He very kind and sweet that’s all’

Well, the afternoon was on its way to being ruined after that. I wished I’d never brought the subject of George up, Frank was being so mean about him and I didn’t feel right thinking about my husband while I lay there in another mans bed. It felt quite horrid.

But we soon made up and Frank said I should go home as it was getting late. I didn’t want to leave but I knew I had to.

At home I made sure I gave George a big hug when he came through the front door. He was surprised to say the least, I suppose I was too. We’ve had a nice evening but I don’t think I’ll tell him about my job just yet. I’ll wait until everything is perfect; I just know it will be.

19th July 1951

2011-08-31T06:29:00.000-07:00

This job is burning me up! If I don’t tell George soon I’m scared there won’t be anymore openings left. I know it’s just a small start but at least it is a start and I am determined to work in fashion now. I want a career! I can’t spend all my time at home, I just can’t! I’m not like Mother's friends. This is a new age now, and girls like me need to get out into the real world!

I nearly brought it up this morning, as George was in a good mood, but he had to dash off for work before I got the courage to say anything. I’ll try to say something tonight. I’m seeing Frank this afternoon, I sure he’ll give me the strength I need. I always feel feel able to do anything when I'm with him.

17th July 1951

2011-08-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

I’ve made my mind up about something today. I’m going to get a job. And not just any job, a job in fashion! Oh, I’m so excited just to write it down!

I simply can’t stand moping around this house any longer. George is always at work and he’s spending more time away from home than usual. He won’t tell me where he’s been and if I ask he gets irate with me and says maybe if I was at home more often he wouldn’t feel the need to go out as much. Well bully for him, I’m glad he’s finally got an interest outside of home; it’s about time he did something other than his dull banking and pipe smoking!

Anyway, this job of mine! Well, I saw it in a pamphlet I’d found on the bus! I took the bus because I’d decided to have a day out to Uttoxeter to visit the market, and on the journey back I saw this bit of paper sticking out of from under my seat. Someone must have dropped it, so I picked it up to hand to the driver. I had a little flick through first just to see what it was, and then I saw the heading “Fashion provides a career for girls”!

It was a wonderful advert asking for any girls interested in fashion who’d like an opportunity to make high class clothes. Well, isn’t that what I already do?! I mean anything I can’t find I make for myself. I have several dresses, jackets and even a pant suit which I’ve made up, and I’m even adding my own touches to my new frock for the re-opening next month. This job was practically made for me! And if anyone knows fashion it’s me, I’m devoted to it, simply love it. So why not make a job from it! I've hidden the pamphlet in amongst my magazines for the moment.

Now I just need to tell George. I’m sure he’ll be pleased; he’s always said I have a flair for sewing and he admires the stuff I make very much. But he is acting funny at the moment and what with his strange moods of late I best choose my time carefully. I want him to be just as happy about it as me. Oh George, why do you have to be so difficult?

11th July 1951

2011-08-25T08:12:00.000-07:00

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?

30th June 1951

2011-08-23T06:42:00.000-07:00

I have fallen out with Betty. I can’t quite believe it but we are no longer friends!

It all began last week when she spotted Frank and me as we returned from one of our walks. Betty knows Frank of course from the old days, and she knew he was back in town, but I hadn’t told her about how close we’ve become since his return.

I probably should have said something, Betty being my best friend and all, but I just didn’t want to share it. It’s hard to explain; I wanted to keep our new friendship just to myself. If I didn’t tell anyone, it’s as if my normal life couldn’t interfere, and our meetings would be set apart from the real world. Besides I knew Betty would get the wrong idea. She knew how crazy I was about him, but this is different, it’s quite innocent!

I suppose matters weren’t helped by the fact I was holding Frank’s hand at the time, but I’d worn the wrong shoes again and my feet hurt, so Frank was helping me to walk back.

Betty’s face was a picture, I could see all the different thoughts crossing her mind; shock, suspicion and hurt, this last one directed just at me for not cluing her in. We must have looked pretty surprised too, but I thought fast and I said, ‘Oh hello Betty, you’ve just caught Frank and I on our way back into town, and I’ve hurt my foot’. She gawped at me and then at my feet and then at my hand still clasped in his, which I quickly dropped.

‘How are you Betty?’ say’s Frank, ‘I’ve not had a chance to speak to you since I’ve got back, still working at the Regent?’ Betty just ignored him and stared at me. I’ve never seen her like that; she was full of disbelief and righteousness at the same time. (Being shorter than me it can’t have been easy for her to look up and still seem to be looking down on me.)

Then she simply turned around and walked off faster than I’ve ever seen her move in my life. Frank and I looked at each other and then he began to laugh. ‘What’s so funny?’ I asked. He just said he thought it was humorous, and then I began to laugh too. But later on at home I started to feel awful. I felt so bad about not telling Betty but worse still, what if she told someone else! They’d never understand, and it’d be gossiped everywhere. I couldn’t stand it.

So I took myself off to the Regent that evening and waited for the queues to disappear and the film to start so I could talk to Betty alone. I’ve always liked the Regent, it’s so plush and the foyer is big and grand. I looked around me while I waited and remembered how it was when I used to work there, back before I married George.

Betty was busy sorting out some change behind the counter when she looked up and saw me. ‘I don’t want to hear it’ she said before I could even speak. ‘Hear what?’ I said, ‘there’s nothing to hear’. I then went on explain about how Frank was just a good friend and of course we were keeping our meetings quiet because we knew people would react just as she had.

‘If he’s just a good friend, then I’m Doris Day! Are you really stupid enough to think that this little “friendship” isn’t about something much bigger? If it hasn’t already happened it will soon. And you’re a married woman for goodness sake!’

I was so shocked I just stood there with my mouth open. Betty’s never been so outspoken. It’s usually me with something to say. Where had this side of her come from? I told her she didn’t understand and she never would because she hasn’t ever had a mature relationship. I pointed out there was more to being friends with someone of the opposite sex than resorting to our base attractions. Well she looked fit to slap me then and said I didn’t realise how lucky I was and I was jeopardising my happiness.

I haven’t seen her since then, until today. I spotted her walking down the street towards me. It looked like she might walk right past me but I stopped her and basically pleaded with her to listen to me.

But she wouldn’t, she became very stern and said ‘Look, you’re being such a fool! I’ve watched you for these past years lording it up with your new clothes, and your fancy jewellery and never once have you ever uttered a word of thanks to George for giving you this life. It makes me so mad to see you playing with fire, and all for what? You’re no better than me you know! We both grew up in the same place while our parents scraped a living have you forgotten that? And what would your mam say?

I still love you, but Frank is bad news, he always was and always will be and until you realise that I can’t talk to you.’

So that’s that. She walked off and I was left standing there in the middle of the pavement. My best friend’s gone. My only friend if I’m honest.

27th June 1951

2011-08-20T05:50:00.000-07:00

Well you’ll never believe it but Frank was as good as his word! I am now in possession of this months Vogue! How he got his hands on it I have no idea. Goodness it’s just wonderful to be up to date with all the important things!

There’s articles on the new beauty routine (heavy powder over foundation is now ‘in’), lovely spreads on this seasons jackets and best of all there’s a pattern inside I am sure to be making up very soon!

I especially love looking at all the adverts, and I feel such pleasure to recognise a particular brand of lipstick, perfume or lotion I already have; Coty, Tangee and Number Seven, I’m a Vogue girl to be sure!

There’s one advert in particular I must look into; Kamera Clear base Technicolor Makeup. Moira Shearer uses it for her personal appearances. It’s a foundation with a ‘charming and flattering natural look’ so good it’s used in all the technicolour films, imagine that! I have no clue where I could buy it though; I doubt the chemist down town will stock it. I wonder if Frank could help?

20th June 1951

2011-08-17T14:20:00.000-07:00

I really do love George! I know I moan about him sometimes but he’s such a sweetheart really. Today he surprised me with the most wonderful gift! A new disc for my record player called Echoes of Paris by George Feyer!

I’ve been dying to get my hands on something new to play for ages, and tonight he came home with a silly smile on his face and his hands hidden behind his back.
‘What on earth are you doing George?’ I asked as he made me sit down and close my eyes before holding out my hands. When I opened my eyes I was so surprised that I just leapt up and kissed him right there and then.

Well, it’s just a lovely disc, so sophisticated! There’s no words, just music, that’s how you know it’s classical.
I do love Paris! I’ve never been of course but I’d love to see it. The fashions, Dior! Chanel! George knows I have a yearning for all things French and he’s bought me countless perfumes and powders; An Evening in Paris is my favourite. But I love this disc most of all. I put it on this evening and I just drifted off imagining I was there wearing the latest designs and sipping cool champagne by the Seine.

14th June 1951

2011-08-15T05:28:00.000-07:00

Frank and I went for a walk out of town today and it was nice to get away into the countryside. I’m afraid I wore completely the wrong shoes for the trip. But as Mother says, ‘A lady never complains about her feet’, so I just focused on the fact that at least I looked nice and that helped to make up for it. My heels are all blistered now though and I’ve been trying not to hobble around the house.

While we walked Frank began telling me about his work, it sounds very exciting. He supplies all kinds of things to people who need them but can’t get them either because nowhere sells them or they are too expensive, a kind of helpful go-between if you like. Since the war it has been hard to get hold of nice things like stockings and cosmetics but Frank is a dab hand at finding them.

He seems to have made so many friends and connections since his time in the Navy and they help him to get his hands on all kinds of products which he then sells on. I asked if he had a shop and he laughed at me. ‘Not a shop exactly’ he smiled, ‘it’s more about spotting a good opportunity and being in the right place at the right time’.

Well I had no idea what he was talking about, so I just nodded along. But when he asked if I liked to read Vogue he began to speak my language, and told him I do read it whenever I can. Mother sometimes passes them on to me from her employers when they’ve finished with them. I managed to get a copy of April’s issue but haven’t been so lucky since.

‘Leave it with me’ he said. I was very impressed Frank even knew what Vogue was never mind understanding how a girl craves that kind of knowledge! I’ll wait and see what he comes up with, but I’m not holding my breath.

He began to joke then, ‘So is that what you get up to while I’m not around? Read magazines and dream of frocks?’ He was smiling when he said it but it made me feel rather put out. ‘Actually, I do have dreams you know, I’d love to work in fashion’ I told him, and then I went on to explain all about the shop girls I’d read about in Picture Post. To his credit Frank didn’t scoff at me like I thought he might. It was nice to talk about my little fantasy like that, and Frank nodded in all the right places, he actually seemed interested.

After that we found a nice spot to sit down and ate the sandwiches I’d brought and it was so pleasant to just sit side by side while we chatted about all kinds of things, films, and movie gossip. Frank’s pretty on the ball and he even told me a few things even I didn’t know; like how Vivien Leigh is soon to make a big film comeback and how Barbara Payton is two timing her husband Franchot Tone. Well, I’ve only ever seen one of her films but I’ll definitely keep a look out for her now!

When we got back to Hanley we made sure to keep to the back streets just in case any of the local gossips saw us. I just know they’d get completely the wrong idea. It was such a pleasant day though; it felt almost like it had before Frank had gone away all those years ago. I felt very carefree and happy.

I don’t know why, but now I feel a little sad and tired.

And my feet hurt to buggery.

9th June 1951

2011-08-09T07:12:00.000-07:00

I read the most exciting article today in Picture Post. It was all about two friends called Pam and Tilly who live in London and work in the suit department of one of the department stores in the West End.

They’re very modern girls and share their own ‘bachelor’ flat which has an electric kitchen! Imagine that!

Their lives sound so exciting, they get to work in fashion and meet new people. They even have a chance to move up and be promoted to ‘buyers’ who earn as much as £14 a week on a commission! How I wish I could work with fashion, I wish I could do something even half as exciting as them. These girls are only 22 and they are living their dream. For them no two days are alike, ‘You never get stale or a feeling of being stuck’. How wonderful to feel like that!

I swear I get so bored sometimes I could cry. Thank goodness for the do at the Royal, though what I shall do once it’s over I don’t know…

5th June 1951

2011-08-09T07:07:00.000-07:00

I really don’t understand what’s got into George lately. He was looking at me in the oddest way when he got home from work this evening. I asked him what was wrong and he just shook his head, and asked what I’d been up to today. When I began to tell him about my dress and the pink satin I’d been working on he looked almost disappointed and excused himself to wash and change before tea.

Well, I wasn’t that put out by him at that point, I just shrugged it off and carried on preparing the meal. But when we sat down to tuck in and I placed his plate in front of him George groaned ‘Carrots and peas again?’

I was shocked because usually he seems so happy that I cook his meals for him so I asked ‘What’s wrong with carrots and peas? I thought you liked them’. But George just shook his head and began to spear carrots onto his fork in a rather heavy handed way. We didn’t say much after that but later on in the evening when we were sitting down together out of the blue he piped up, ‘It’s just that every bloody meal you cook its carrots and peas, if I eat another bloody carrot I think I’ll turn orange!’

‘George!’ I gasped ‘What’s got into you?’ I couldn’t believe my ears, George was spouting ‘bloodies’ like there was no tomorrow and he normally makes such a point of not swearing.

If I’m honest I suppose I do cook a lot of the same things. I’m just not that keen on cooking, not like Mother, who could plan and prepare a twelve course meal for the King if she had to. As for carrots and peas, I just like the colours and the way they look so bright and cheery together. I suppose I never noticed we have been eating a lot of them lately. But this is the first time George has ever complained about my cooking. I feel rather hurt actually, and I’ll make a point of buying him something ghastly like cauliflower just to shut him up next time.

1st June 1951

2011-07-18T07:03:00.000-07:00

Saw Frank again tonight. Since that first odd meeting in town with Mrs Finley we’d bumped into each other a few times and it got quite silly, we started to laugh after it happened for the fourth time and decided we might as well arrange a proper time and place to catch up. We went to a little café on the edge of town and sat and talked and talked.

I didn’t ask him all the things I was dying to know, not at first, I didn’t want to seem too eager. But I made sure I looked very smart that day, and I wore my new jewellery and put my hair up in a new style I’d been trying out.

The first thing Frank said was how sophisticated I looked and how pretty I still was. He looked very nice too, he wore a nice suit and tie and the same mackintosh I’d seen him in that first time. He still wears his hair slicked back and it suits him very well.

Frank’s been living in Italy for the past five years! Imagine that! His company was drafted there and he decided to stay on when the war ended. He won’t tell me about what he did while he was in the Navy. In fact it seems he’ll talk about anything but that couple of years. He goes quite quiet and clams up which is very annoying! I told him I still have the sweetheart brooch he gave me all those years before and we both laughed about the way we were back then.

I told him all about George and how well we are both doing. How next year George may be promoted when Mr Shafer retires. I told him about my new frock and how nice our home is.

Then he did the queerest thing, he took my hand and said very sweetly that he was glad I’d done so well for myself and that I was so happy.

It made my heart turn over.

We’ve met a few times since then and tonight we went to the cinema. I’m afraid I had to tell George a little lie. I said I was meeting Betty but in truth it was Frank I met and we went to see the new Abbot and Costello film. I didn’t like lying to George, but he wouldn’t understand if I said I was just going for a friendly evening out with an old boyfriend. Besides, it’s nice to get to know Frank again and hear all about the things he’s seen and done in Italy. He keeps making me laugh by speaking Italian. I can’t understand a word of it but it’s very funny and pretty to listen to.

17th May 1951

2011-07-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve found the perfect pattern to customise my new frock! I didn’t think it could be improved but then I found this Balmain design (designed in Paris!) and it’s similar to my dress but has the option of adding contrasting sashes to the skirt and straps to the bodice. I’ve bought some darling pink satin stuff which I know will startle some people, but that’s the point isn’t it? I want to stand out at the re-opening. Will start to sew it tonight. I can’t wait to see the look on George’s face, just wait till the night!

14th May 1951

2011-06-29T08:12:00.000-07:00

George and I had a day out to Sheffield today. He wanted to see the town hall which we did and it was dull, just like I knew it would be. Then we went to Marshall & Snelgrove which was much more exciting. They have ‘ready to wear’ lines there, and it was odd to see rows of the same dresses and coats hanging up. But the fashions were lovely and similar to the things I’ve been seeing in the magazines. I took some mental notes and will definitely be trying out the fuller skirts in my own designs.

The best thing about today was that I have now got my posh frock for the grand re-opening of the Theatre Royal in August! It was in the sale so George was happy! It’s the most glamorous dress I’ve ever worn. It fits beautifully; fitted over the bust and in at the waist and then full and long to the floor, its silvery with sprigs of flowers, very classy, not overdone at all.

George smiled when he saw me in it, and his eyes lit up the way they do when he likes something. It made me feel even more determined about buying it. I have to find things to wear with it now, maybe my brocade shoes will go. This is going to be an exciting project!

10th May 1951

2011-06-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

Even though I couldn’t actually see him I could tell George was watching me with disgust as I had a cigarette after tea this evening. So I made a big play of wafting my hands around to leave smoke trails and exhaled as slowly as I could to fill as much air with smoke as possible. I smiled to myself when he started to cough from his chair behind me.

He’s not actually said anything to me about it, not yet, but I know he hates the fact I smoke. The other day he said how when he was a lad hardly any women he knew smoked, and a good thing too as ‘it’s so un ladylike’. I can’t see the problem with it, everyone I grew up with does it, and even George has a pipe for goodness sake!

I secretly wonder if he thinks it ruins me somehow. I feel like recently he's been comparing me to how I was when he first met me, just little things he's said and the way he's said them. I was so eager to please and so naïve back then. Well, I’m not a little girl anymore, so he’ll just have to go on coughing in that aggravating manner of his. Which reminds me, I'm down to my last two Cravens, I must buy another pack when I go into town tomorow.

1st November 1944

2011-06-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary, I can hardly hold the pen to write, my whole world is ending, has ended. Why has this happened to me? Frank told me this evening he has signed up for the Navy and he’s leaving tomorrow! Tomorrow!

I thought he was joking at first, but he wasn’t. He enlisted a few weeks ago without telling me because he said he didn’t want to upset me. ‘Well you’ve upset me now!’ I cried.

I asked where he was going and he said Portsmouth for training then off to Scotland for who knows what, I couldn’t listen. All I could think about was he was leaving and I didn’t know when I’d see him again. Oh Diary, what will I do?

I can’t stop crying. I asked if I could see him off tomorrow but he said they were leaving early in the morning and it wouldn’t be fair on me. I don’t care! I’d see him off at one in the morning if only he’d let me.

He did look upset though, and he has given me a little brooch, it’s from his uniform lapel and it has a little anchor on it. I’m wearing it now; I’ll never take it off, well, not until Frank comes home again.

I can’t write anymore, everything’s blurry from tears. I don’t think I’ll ever write again.

30th April 1951

2011-05-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

Frank’s back! I can hardly believe I’m writing this, my heart is pounding and my hand is shaking! Oh Lord, he’s really here back in Hanley! It’s been nearly seven years since I last saw him.

Why didn’t he tell me he was back! I’m so angry! After the way he just left and fairly broke my heart. The least he could do was send word.

I had to do a double take when I saw him. I was coming out of the green grocers and had bumped into Mrs Finley, one of Mother’s friends. We were chatting about who knows what, I can’t remember now, when I happened to glance across the road. There was a man in a mackintosh there getting ready to cross. I don’t know what made him catch my eye, but just as I turned to carry on chatting with Mrs Finley it struck me that he looked familiar. A hundred thoughts and memories suddenly crashed through my brain all at once and I realised it was him!

As he made his way to our side of the street he looked up and saw me and I knew right then he hadn’t expected to see me. It was all in his eyes, shock, guilt and I swear, he almost considered pretending he hadn’t seen me. But I was too late and at last he smiled and came to meet us.

He looks older but better somehow. I couldn’t help but stare at him with my mouth open; I must have looked a right channock. ‘Good afternoon ladies’ he said all cool like he always bumped into us like that. ‘Frank!’ was all I could say, but then I remembered Mrs Finley and saw she was staring at him with open dislike. I didn’t want to talk with him in front of her so I began to blather; ‘How good to see you again, I hope you’re well, are you glad to be back…’ I went on and on, not even listening to his answers. All I really wanted to shout was, ‘Where have you been?’ ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were back?’ ‘Why are you acting so normal like this means nothing to you?’

After a while we parted company, Mrs Finley and I going one way and Frank the other. I didn’t hear a word she said to me as we strolled, I was replaying seeing Frank cross the road, catching his eye and thinking for just the briefest moment he looked put out to see me. That can’t be true can it? One thing I can bet is Mother will be hearing all about this and not from me. Finley will pass it all on to her in detail, and then I’ll be for it! Well let her interrogate me, all that’s in the past and I was only shocked to see Frank again after all this time. I’ve moved on and clearly so has he.

I’m going to cook my husband’s tea now.

4th April 1951

2011-05-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

George has outright refused to shave his moustache! He says he likes it because he’s had it since he was a lad starting out in banking and it helped to make him who he is today. I said he would still be assistant bank manager without it but he won’t budge on the subject!

My new jewellery from H Samuel arrived today, the Hollywood fashion stuff. I wore it when I went town with Betty. She was green with envy I could tell. I caught her glancing at my brooch a few times. She says I’m so lucky to have such nice things.

2nd April 1951

2011-05-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

I’ve told George he needs to shave off his moustache. It makes him look so out of touch. No one wears them like that anymore, not in the films anyway. I asked him, when was the last time you saw Frank Sinatra with a big hairy top lip? He says he’ll think about it

20th March 1951

2011-05-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

I don’t know why I even bother keeping a diary sometimes, nothing exciting ever happens to me!

Saw an ad in Picture Post for Hollywood fashion jewellery today; apparently you can’t distinguish it from the real thing! I’ll show George this evening to send off for some.

10th March 1951

2011-04-11T07:31:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe that it’s six years today since I got married! To think I was just a silly 18 year old back then and I thought George was an old man at 39! My goodness what does that make him now!

Actually, thinking about it makes me feel rather odd. I always imagined I’d be living and working in London by the time I was 21, those were the dreams of a silly girl I suppose.

But then, if it wasn’t for Mother convincing me that marrying George was the best thing I could do, I don’t suppose I’d be here now. Is that a bad thing to admit? I’ve never even put it into words before but I can’t help it, it’s true!

Mother said I needed to stop moping over Frank and that I wouldn’t get a better offer than an assistant bank manager. Not a girl from my station of life. Honestly you’d think I was a beggar or something the way she went on.

But she’s always been the same, pushing at me to do one thing or another. Dad says we’re like peas in a pod, both dreamers always wishing for the stars.

But when she first suggested it I was horrified, yes, I admit it, horrified! Me marry George? I only knew him because he worked with Dad. I suppose George was just being polite the first day he popped round our house for a cuppa after work.

Dad was busy fussing around him making sure he had the best chair and offering him his best tobacco, it was quite embarrassing. I could tell Mother was secretly seething at Dad as she’d had no time to prepare anything, not knowing we were to receive guests. But the thing I remember most of that first visit was the way George’s eyes lit up when he saw me.

I noticed it right away; I can always tell when a man likes me, I used to get enough attention at work. So I admit I played on it. Well, you would wouldn’t you? I made sure I handed George his tea and I looked right into his eyes as I did it. His ears went the nicest shade of pink.

And it was fun flirting with an older man. I didn’t think anything of it, and it was just nice to feel attractive again, especially since Frank left.

But the next thing I know George was ‘popping’ around our house for a cuppa nearly every week. Dad was made up that our family was getting on so well with his boss, whilst Mother began plotting. I could tell she was up to something the way she always made sure I was in when George was expected and she took extra interest in my appearance. (She needn’t have, I always make sure I look nice; you’d never see me without my hair done and a neat frock even in those days). But when George began to bring little gifts for me and offered to take me to the theatre I think something clicked and I realised he wasn’t just coming round for the tea and cake.

Then things just seemed to happen without me having a say in anything. I remember Mother sat me down and had a serious talk with me about my options in life; I could carry on working in the cinema, dating local boys who would never be good enough for me. Or I could marry George and one day become the wife of a bank manager. Looking back I see now she just wanted the best for me, she’s always had high expectations for me. I pointed out that George was nearly forty and I didn’t think I could love someone who was close to my dad’s age, it made me feel all wrong somehow.

But over time she started listing all the things I could have; the clothes I could buy, the evenings out to posh restaurants, how I’d never need to worry about money, and how we would have our own home, and I began to feel a bit better about the idea. Besides I didn’t want to sit around and wait for a husband, I was bored of stepping out with the local boys and none of them interested me anyway. But if I’m truly honest with myself I think I panicked, I didn’t want to be alone pining for someone I couldn’t have. So I let George court me and after what seemed an age he finally proposed.

Today he gave me a feather stole as an anniversary gift, it’s lovely. I like to run my fingers through it, it’s so soft and it’s the colour of champagne. I feel ever so luxurious when I wear it. I saw Elizabeth Taylor wearing one just like at one of her premiers. I can’t believe she’s only 19 and she’s already made all those films! I think I’ll try to do my hair like hers next time we go out.

15th August 1951

2011-03-18T13:27:00.000-07:00

1

It’s 2am and I can’t sleep. It’s been such an eventful day I should be tired out, but my mind is buzzing.

We got back around midnight and George went straight up to bed without a word. I took my time getting undressed and decided I didn’t want to sleep yet, well I just knew I couldn’t.

I’ll write until I start to get tired. I hope I’ll begin to nod off sooner or later.

It all began around lunchtime. I’d spent the morning shopping and came back in time to make our lunches. That’s when George is usually at his most happy, and I thought, the perfect time to subtly drop my plans into our conversation.

Saturday’s have become something of a routine now, shopping in the morning for me, a walk to the corner to collect the papers for him. He usually potters about until I get back but today, or yesterday I should say, he lay in bed till well past eleven which is most unusual for him.

Lunch was the usual cold meat and salad and we ate mostly in silence, George hardly spoke at all, and when I tried to make conversation all I got were one word answers. I was quite put out but judging by his moods lately not entirely surprised, so I put my plans on hold until he seemed more cheerful.

We normally spend the afternoon sitting together in the front room. I like to flick through the new issue of Home Notes or Picture Post or Vogue when I can get it, whilst George reads his papers. However yesterday was different what with the re-opening of the Theatre Royal in the evening. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. So I decided to take a bath and spend the rest of the day getting ready.

I was so excited about my outfit, and I spent a good deal of time arranging my hair like one of the photos I’d seen of Sally Gray and I have to admit the end result was lovely! What with my new frock, jewellery and glittery shoes I felt fantastic and I have to admit I looked it too!

Later when I met George downstairs I could tell he was impressed, he smiled to himself as he looked me over but his eyes quickly clouded and he brusquely put my stole over my shoulders and we left.

There were such crowds at the Royal when we got there, I swear I’ve never seen so many people in one place, and everyone was so dressed up, I couldn’t stop staring. We were quickly met by George’s boss the ever boring Mr Shafer and his wife. They both exclaimed over my appearance (Mrs Shafer couldn’t stop asking about my dress and was impressed when I told her I’d added the pink satin myself) George looked pleased about that.

The Theatre Royal is beautiful inside. It was always nice before the fire, but I suppose I was too young to notice it then. It fairly glitters now! It’s been decorated in deep red and gold and has a very modern ceiling which Mr Shafer told me was designed to hide the lighting. I like the stage best; it has a lovely patterned surround and looks very grand.

Once we’d taken our seats in the circle, the lights dimmed, there was a fanfare and the audience hushed. It felt very exciting to be there at that point, I craned my neck to look down into the stalls and I caught George smiling at me from the corner of my eye. But when I looked at him he was already looking at the man who had appeared in a spotlight in the middle of the stage.

It was the Mayor all got up in his chain of office, he introduced the Lieutenant of Stafford, a funny looking little man in glasses with a bald head who began by thanking us all for coming and then proceeded to blather on and on about the theatre and its importance to the people of Stoke. I started to glaze over until he read out some messages of goodwill from some famous theatre types; Gracie Fields and Gerite Gitana (who I remembered because Mother likes her.)

We all clapped and then the show started. It was Annie Get you Gun, and it was very good. I liked watching the dancing girls and boys and the songs were catchy. The costumes were very good but you wouldn’t catch me dead in a fringed dress.

During the interval we went to the new mezzanine bar and George insisted on buying Mr and Mrs Shafer a drink. It was so noisy I could hardly hear what we chatted about and I kept getting bumped into which annoyed me a lot as I didn’t want to get wine down my dress.

George seemed to be thawing a bit so I gave him a friendly pat on the arm and he put his hand over mine as he talked to Mr Shafer. On the way back to our seats he asked if I was enjoying myself and I said yes.

The rest of the show was wonderful and I still have the tune to The Girl That I Marry going through my head even now. I saw the cast being photographed after the show with the mayor and then we made our way out to the street which was no easy task I can tell you!

Outside we said our good byes to the Shafer’s and then decided to stroll home as it was a mild night and after the crowds it was nice to get some air. We walked arm in arm and George was humming to himself. I thought he seemed recovered from his earlier grumpiness so I took a deep breath and decided to tell him my news.

‘George?’ I said, he seemed miles away and answered with an ‘hmmm?’

‘George, you know how I like to sew?’ He smiled absently at me then pointed to my dress saying ‘Of course, you’re very talented’

That gave me even more courage so I carried on, ‘well you also know how I love fashion?’ to which he nodded again.

‘Well, I’ve seen that they’re advertising for girls to make frocks and things at Longton. It’s very high class stuff’ I added quickly.

George didn’t say anything so I just hurried on, ‘So I was thinking that it would be a good opportunity for me, a kind of start into the fashion world. It’s very well paid and you get trained by skilled tutors’, I said remembering the advert I’d seen.

He didn’t say anything for a while and I was holding my breath. Usually I could ask George for anything and he’s so easy going normally that it’s never a problem. But over the past few weeks he’s become so bad tempered and picky that I felt almost afraid to bring my decision up with him. It wasn’t that I was asking for his permission, this was something I’d wanted to do for a long time and I wanted him to approve of it as much as I was excited about it.

Finally he let out a long sigh and said,’ No, I can’t let you do that.’

I was so shocked I almost tripped over. ‘What? But why? It wouldn’t affect you, and I’d be making money for myself, and you know that all I’ve ever dreamed of was a career in fashion!’

‘No. I can’t say I have always known that.’ He said and then went on, ‘Look, I know you’re still young and have this obsessive fixation with the cinema’. Here he held up his hand to quiet me before I could protest. ‘But we’ve been married for a long time now and quite frankly I think it’s time you started to settle down.’

I was stunned into silence. He continued ‘There’s also been some talk about you, I don’t want to go into it, because I don’t want to cheapen the evening, but I’ve decided you need to calm down, take more interest in the house, and who knows’, he paused, ‘maybe we should start a family’.

I gasped, ripped my arm from his and walked on faster. I was about to cross the road to take a different route, anything to get away from him at that moment when he caught up with me, took my arm again and basically frogmarched me the rest of the way home! I was shocked at being manhandled in this way and by George of all people.

We didn’t say anything after that, I was too angry and appalled and George always goes quiet when he’s upset about something. I’m so upset I can’t even cry. What does he mean, I need to settle down? And what does he mean about there being talk about me? I can only think of one thing but I daren’t put it into words. Oh if only I could go to sleep, I’m sure this would all seem less awful in the morning. But I’m so angry, how could George talk to me like that?