Blue Stocking
Be a dear and cover for me tomorrow, wont you, Alice? Its my mother-in-laws birthday, simply must go and bring her some flowers and all that.
But didnt you already celebrate her name day last month? Alice glanced up from a box of catalogue cards, glasses perched on her nose.
Honestly, Alice! Must you split hairs? Name day is quite different from a birthday! Look, I simply have to go, you understand? And its not as if youve children or a husband waiting at home! Youre all on your own. Oh sorry. Didnt mean it that way
I watched as Jane put her hand over her lips too late, and saw Alice briskly turn away, nodding curtly as she walked out of the reading room.
Well, that came out wrong, Jane shrugged, glancing sheepishly at our other colleague.
You couldnt pull a fast one on Susan. Susan was the type who wouldnt take nonsense from anyone, despite being the image of a perfect English librarian. Alice, meek by nature, was easily shocked by Susans matter-of-fact banter, whereas Jane and I often ended up in stifled laughter.
You see, Alice? Not all librarians are bluestockings like you! Just look at Susan, or me! You should seize life a bit! Instead, youre always darting home from work, crocheting scarves for cats. Honestly, a spinster! Forgive my bluntness, but who else will nudge you in the right direction? Youre not even unattractive, you know. Rosy cheeks, clear eyes! But all those tears What do you say, Susan?
Susan would always hush Jane, bringing the conversation to a halt.
Oh for goodness sake, Jane! Youre hardly an example to follow. Youve had more flings than there are Smarties, and for what? Now youre stuck with Tom, who either wallops you for nothing or is disappearing for days. You still think yourself the wise one?
At least Ive got a husband and children! Whats Alice got? More blasted cats? Soon enough shell be sleeping at the library. Why not just have a child on your own, Alice? Your parents left you a bit, didnt they? You could manage on your own, at least then youd have some company.
At this, Susans tongue sharpened and Jane would scurry off, busying herself with urgent matters. Alice would retreat to the far corner of the reading room, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.
Was it fair? Was it Alices fault things hadnt worked out for her? Her parents fell ill, one after the other. For nearly fifteen years she lived with nothing but hospital bedsheets, laundry, and the drudgery of care. No one would take that on. There hadnt even been anyone to, if she was honest. She stared at herself in the mirror sometimesplain, but not unattractive. Mid-brown hair, recently cropped short after her mother died because it was easier that way. Ordinary in every sense: not given to drink, not one for wild ambitions.
Not that she minded. The idea of family life appalled her, to be frank. She only had to look at Jane. Yes, Jane had married, but at what cost? The whole town knew her husband kept a second family across town. The drama between Jane and Tom was the stuff of legend. Theyd split up, then make up, row in the street or at dinner, never mind if neighbours watched. Janes philosophy was, people will gossip regardless, so best give them something real to talk about.
Alice couldnt understand it. Why spend your life in that? Wheres your pride? Wheres your self-respect? But in truth, her ideals, shaped by books, had little bearing on the messy tangles of life. Pride was for people with resources to fall back on, not for women with two children, a librarians wage, and a sick mother to care for. Thats why Alice never judged Jane, not really; she tried her best to understand.
And when it mattered, Jane was always the first to help. She had become an expert at injections and drips while tending to her own mother, so when Alice couldnt find a nurse for her mum, Jane simply turned up in the evening with her bag. Every three months shed appear, unfailing, and do what was needednever accepted a penny for it.
Trying to insult me? Jane would snort, waving away the notes in Alices palm. Put that away! Do you know how lucky you are were neighbours?
Alice was mortified every time, apologising and making up for it with homemade scarves and hats for Janes children and Jane herself. The mittens with little robins, which Alice had knitted over an entire month, were only worn by Janes daughter on special occasions, terrified theyd be lost.
Theyre so lovely! What if I leave them at school?
One evening, Jane spun the new mittens around in her hands and came up with an idea.
You should open an online shop. Folk would snap these up!
Alice hesitated, then shook her head.
I cant make enough for that. Everything is handmade.
Then enlist our pensioners! Theres an army of them outside the flats. Theyll be chuffed to bits to help, bit of pin money for them as well.
Surprisingly, things took off. Jane must have had quite the mind for business. The website was soon up, orders started to trickle in, and Alice found herself eased, financially, and the grannies were content too. Evenings on our bench outside became less about moaning over ailments and more about needles and patterns. Susan, Jane and Alice became something like a sewing circle, debating the latest fashions.
Look at this! Straight off the catwalk! Auntie Maureen showed me a very similar doily just last week. Change the pattern a smidge and itll be lovely! Id wear a skirt like that myself.
A couple weeks later Jane would be walking about in Alices latest creation.
The takings were modest, but for the first time, Alice felt a sense of purposemaybe she wasnt so useless after all.
Susan sometimes contributed, but mainly offered good advice. She had been taught the art of needle lace by her gran and her work was the most expensive on Alices shop. Not that Jane complained when Susan sat by the library window working away, leaving the rest of us to mind the desk.
Susans husband had vanished straight after their twins were born. Always the tormented artist, he was forever finding himselfbut just not near his wife. Their eldest child, a girl, barely saw her father and sometimes called him the man.
Mum, that mans here again.
He hated that.
Youre embarrassing me! She has to know what I do for her!
Susan was quiet about him at first, convinced by her own mother that a child couldnt do better than their own father, but after the twins, she stopped biting her tongue.
And what exactly have you done for her?
Shortly after the twins birth, he was gone for goodSusan barely mourned the loss. She had work, supportive parents out in Kent with their garden, chickens and all, helping as much as they could with food and childcare. Her weekends were always spent at the family cottage, never on holiday, but that was just life.
Susans children were lovely. Alice would look at them and think, if she could be sure hers would turn out as well, shed have taken Janes advice at once, no questions asked.
And still, Alice was afraid. Afraid of being truly alone in this world. Her friends had their own troubles; what if something happened to her? Who would care for her child? An orphanage? Foster care? Was it right to bring someone into the world just out of loneliness? Noshe preferred her cats and knitting. Responsibility couldnt be brushed aside.
Alice didnt realise that Jane and the entire granny committee had long ago started searching for a suitable husband for her. In a small town with precious few unattached men, every candidate had been discussed and dismissed. So the matchmakers kept mum, only Jane occasionally slipping, then berating herself for her loose tongue.
Finally, a candidate surfacedquite by accident, as fate would have it.
One evening, after Jane had pressed Alice into covering her shift with more apologetic hugs, Alice resolved to get ahead of her work and spend the following day updating the website with new pieces. One, an intricate white lace dress Susan had made, was to be the shops new showpiece.
Its a beauty, Susan! You have golden hands!
Tell that to my boys! Left the room for a minute yesterday and theyd snipped at it with scissors! Had to fix it half the night.
Alice pondered how best to describe the dress in her online post as she made her way home. Shed only just reached the stairs when she froze, alarmed by a faint voice above the usual din of the block.
Help
She listened. It came again, barely a whisper.
Help
There was no mistaking itsomeone needed help.
Most of us in the building were elderly. Many had family, but some, not a soul. Alice knew them all by namesome were grannies in her knitting group, others were friendly faces who wished her well and hoped shed find a husband soon.
Zina Turner was one of the latter.
Shed once been a maths teacher and a friend to Alices late mother. To any question about her health, shed always reply, Oh, dont fuss, Alice! Ive not been well for years, but Im still here, thanks be. More importantly, how are you? It was only to her that Alice ever confided anythinggetting practical, unassuming advice in return.
Alice, live as you want. Dont listen to others. Theyve their own lives and youve yours. Who says you must fit someone elses pattern? Would you wear someone elses clothes if they didnt fit? Then why let others cram you into their standards? Marry for the sake of it? Have a child because its expected? Will that make you happy? If Ive learnt anything in my fifty years of marriage, its that happiness isnt found that way. Ive taught plenty of children whose parents were only together because they thought they had to be. It never ends well. Its the children who suffer most.
Those talks soothed Alicemaybe she wasnt quite so odd after all.
Zina had been married almost fifty years to her university sweetheart. Theyd travelled the country, then settled in Alices town. Shed had no children of her own, but was beloved by former pupils. Her husband had passed only two years before and Alice, worried for Zina, took her a stray kitten.
Hes all alone too. What do you say, Mrs Turner?
Zina took the kitten, whom she named Boris, and Alice was sure Boris kept her living, giving her a reason to get out of bed and to the market every morning for fresh fish.
So they lived, granny and catsupporting one another and content. Zina rarely asked for help, preferring to sort things herself.
But now, the faint voice was coming from her flat.
Without a seconds thought, Alice pelted down the stairs, banging on Mrs Martins (our building secretary) front door. Mrs Martin! Somethings wrong!
Mrs Martin was sensible enough to ignore the rules on emergencies. She had spare keys for almost everyone, just in case…
They found the door unlocked and, along with a crowd of concerned neighbours, rushed in.
Zina had slipped in the bath, knocked her head, and was unable to move. Shed spent hours conscious but unable, at last forcing an almost soundless call for help. Of all the neighbours, only Alice heard and took action.
Alice did everything she coulddoctor, ambulance, visits at hospital, and eventually brought Zina to live with her when mobility became difficult. Jane turned up with her medical bag and came round to put in drips and injections.
Well get you back on your feet, Mrs Turner, youll see. No time for being out of action.
Zina at first didnt want to be a burden, but could see Alices help was from pure kindness.
Theres no one like you, Alice. Where are the angels? If anyone deserves their guard, its you. Perhaps youre one yourself.
Slowly, Zina recovered and Alice realised how much happier life was with companytrading stories, untangling cats, and laughing at Boris, who assumed the role of chief over the two fluffy rescue queens Alice had also brought home.
Alices quiet, orderly routine suddenly felt lively and a little hectic. Without warning, all her future plans were swept aside for new ones.
It all began with an unexpected knock at the door one evening.
Probably Jane, Alice thought, pausing the film she and Zina were watching.
But on the step stood a bearded, somewhat surly man in a worn leather waistcoat and faded jeansrather different from the men Alice was used to seeing around.
Who are you here for? she asked.
Evening. Is Mrs Turner in these days?
May I ask who wants her?
A friend. Just wanted to pay a visit.
She hesitated until Boris, the cat, shot out from inside and immediately wrapped himself around the visitors boots. The transformation was extraordinaryhis gruffness melted into a genuine smile as he picked Boris up and scratched his chin.
Boris! Good to see you, mate!
At that, Alice invited him in.
Zinas face lit up. Stephen! My dear! What brings you?
Heading to see friends by the Thames. Thought Id pop in. Havent heard from you in ages.
Sorry, dear boy, life got in the way. Meet Alicemy guardian angel and the best woman on this earth! Not one bit of exaggeration.
Stephen blushed, mumbling greetings. Zina, knowing her former pupil well, did her utmost to orchestrate circumstances for the two to chat beyond the usual polite half-hour.
Stephen stayed two days. He was back a fortnight later, and before she knew it, Alice found herself, at her time of life, with a suitor.
Stephen, we hardly know each other Is it proper? she asked, genuinely bewildered.
Does it matter, Alice? Must we really explain ourselves to anyone else at our age?
Jane and Susan, when told, simply gasped and, for once, said nothing.
Alice, I wont ask if you love him. Were hardly starry-eyed girls. Butis he a good man?
And why shouldnt I be starry-eyed? Alice laughed, and the other two watched her with a kind of awe. Yesterday she was a mouse; today, a queen. Such is loves magic.
Ive put my foot in it again, havent I? Sorry, Alice. Be happy, wont you? Susan, do you think we ought to take that dress off the shop?
I already have, Susan winked.
No one in town had ever seen a wedding quite like ita convoy of motorbikes led the way, and heads turned to watch. Who on earth is getting married?
Alice, the librarian!
Dont say! Hope it works out for her. Lovely woman. How is the chap?
Seems solid enough.
Three years later, Stephen would be holding out a hand for Zina as she climbed out of the car, but shed push him away.
I can manage! Go greet your son, Stephen!
Alice straightened her new dress, stitched by Susan, fixed her hair, and commanded the photographer, Everyone in! I want everyone on our first family photograph.
The porch of the maternity hospital was crowded with Jane, Susan, the whole granny committee, and even Mrs Martin.
And why not? The more good people around you, the better.
Today, looking back on those years, I know this: life can twist and turn and throw you off the path. But you never really face it alone if you open your door just a little wider. Even for a bluestocking like me, happiness sometimes comes disguised as neighbours, stray cats, and a knock at the door.
