Diva Dismayed: Chapter 7 – My place
On my return to the apartment I was aching to tell Rachel all about my morning, but she made me sit down and eat before she would hear a word. Once I’d started eating I realised just how hungry I was and by the time the initial pangs had been satisfied, all the stresses of the last couple of hours had melted away. My friend then gently elicited from me the details of my adventure in her usual way. Sharing all the details of my little adventure with her was exactly what I needed. Even I had to laugh when I realised how absurd some of my anxieties sounded on retelling.

“I think you need a bit of coaching on how to handle the sort of optimists that a good-looking girl is bound to encounter sooner or later” was Rachel’s conclusion after hearing my tale.

To be referred to as good-looking by someone who looked so stunning herself caused a thrill of satisfaction to run through me. My lovely friend’s opinion counted for a great deal with me. Eager to improve my social skills I nodded in anticipation and began to ask, “Yes. How…?”

Rachel held up her hand to stem the torrent of questions I was ready to unleash on her. When I had subsided she continued. “Well, I can think of two effective methods that would be second nature to most girls of your age.”

I gazed at her open-mouthed. This was what I needed to know.

“One way is to play along with your potential admirer, joking and flirting a little so he doesn’t turn aggressive, but trying to establish that you are in control. Once that’s accomplished then you can take leave and make your exit if you need to, always hinting that there may be a next time. That approach keeps everything pleasant, but…” Then, somewhat doubtfully, “a girl does need to have a lot of personality to bring it off successfully.” She stopped and regarded me to gauge the effect of her words. “Perhaps that may be a little difficult for someone so young and… well…”

“Naïve?”

“I was going to say, inexperienced.” Kindness was always a trait Rachel strove for and I hid a smile at her delicacy.

“It sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”
Her eyebrows rose at my remark.

“But I can see it might be a little risky” I hastily added. Memories of an occasion when I had mischievously flaunted myself in the direction of an oversexed librarian back in my home town fleeted through my brain. That had nearly ended in disaster and I coloured up at the recollection. Other occasions too, and less innocent, came to mind where perhaps I’d had more in the way of experience than Rachel was allowing.

“And the other approach?” I asked quickly, to hide what was going through my head.

“Well, you look as disdainful as you can, like you just found something unpleasant on the sole of your shoe. You don’t worry at all about being unfriendly. After all, you can always thaw out later if you change your mind about the guy.”

“Is that why pretty girls appear so scornful all the time?”

“Why should you be surprised? It’s only self-preservation! There’s a jungle out there and women are at the bottom of the food chain when it comes to staying safe. You’ll soon learn!”

“I guess so.”

We were silent for an interval. Then, “On a different subject. Are you ready to make that other phone call?”

She meant the one I needed to make to my now ex-fiancée. My heart sank, but I knew I had to do it. After all, when you leave someone virtually standing at the altar, the least you can do is let them know why.

“Not really. But I guess I’d better.”

I hesitated, then “It’s going to be so awkward. What will I say?”

Half an hour later, the call had been made. It had been about as unpleasant as I’d feared beforehand but I felt a lot better afterwards.

Probably to take my mind off what I’d just been through, Rachel became instantly practical again. “Now. The most crucial matter for our attention is that we have to find you somewhere to live.”

“To be sure.”

That need was pressing enough to clear my thoughts of anything else. Rachel said she felt positive that there were empty apartments both on her floor and on the one below and hazarded the possibility that my renting one might be arranged. In our favour, the time of year was quite propitious. We were in the middle of the summer vacation.

But how? I looked at her helplessly. With no money at my disposal I couldn’t begin to imagine how such things were to be managed.

My friend scolded my lack of resourcefulness. “Don’t be such a… well, such a shiftless Shirley!”

I stared uncomprehendingly. “What’s a shiftless Shirley?”

She laughed gaily. “Good expression, don’t you think? It’s a term I just made up, and it’s what you’re in danger of turning into if you keep letting everything defeat you, without even trying. Tomorrow we’ll go and see the warden. Her office is down on the ground floor. Not today, though. She seems very old-fashioned and I feel sure that trying to arrange anything on a Sunday just wouldn’t do.”

I could only agree to this suggestion, though privately I had little faith in her optimism. For the rest of the day we had the leisure to enjoy each other’s company. There was plenty to talk about and we spent a pleasant afternoon chatting. I was glad of the opportunity to get to know my friend more intimately. I was very curious about my friend’s social life and in particular, about a certain subject. Boyfriends!

“I want to hear all about you, Rachel. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not right now.”

Her manner was coy and led me to press my question further.

“No? I can tell there is someone you like. Let me guess. Does he work at the hospital?” I hazarded.

It was my friend’s turn to colour up. “Why do you want to know? You’re worse than Della.”

A little more wheedling on my part encouraged her to open up to me a little. “Well, it’s nothing really, but I quite like one of the doctors. He’s sweet but very serious.” She shrugged, “I don’t think he’s even noticed me in that way.”

“What’s his name?”

“He’s called Stephen, but it’s no big deal. I’m really not ready for a relationship.”

I was aware how her last real relationship hadn’t ended well. It was also evident that she wasn’t over it yet. I didn’t know how to help but I promised myself I would try. At the minimum doing so would give me focus on concerns other than my own. She got up to prepare some food for our supper, leaving me to reflect how vulnerable she seemed just then. Absent-mindedly I took her uniform from the closet and started to press it ready for her evening shift. This had been one of my regular duties for Mom at home, so I started on it mechanically without thinking what I was at. When I looked up I was surprised to see my friend’s eyes were tearful.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” she smiled through the tears.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to housework and it’s nice to do something for you after all you’re doing for me.”

Next thing I was enfolded in her arms. “You don’t know what it means to me just having you here. I’ve felt a bit lonely at times in these past months. I know I’ve been home a couple of times, and Mom and Chris came over to see me, but it’s too long a journey to be doing very often. I’m so glad you’re going to stay.” Then with a visible effort to appear brighter, “It’s going to be real fun!”

After Rachel had left for work that evening I kept the necessary low profile and retired to bed early. I slept much more soundly that night and when she returned from her shift next morning I was already awake. Though she protested that there was no need, I got up and dressed myself, so she could sleep the morning away undisturbed.

About noon my friend joined me in the living room. I’d toasted rolls and made coffee and after this brunch she stirred us both into action.

“Come on! We’ve a dragon to slay!” I knew to whom she was referring, the dreaded personage of the warden. My confidence plummeted again. Though I quailed inwardly, I was encouraged by my friend’s bravado. I followed her out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“No need to be scared, Jennifer” she chided as she rapped on the door. “This one doesn’t breathe fire! Or so we hope!”

A stout middle-aged woman answered the knock straightaway. I caught Rachel’s eye in consternation and had to stifle my laughter. Hopefully her joke hadn’t been overheard! Mrs King had her jacket on and had apparently been about to leave the building herself.

“Yes. What can I do for you?” she frowned at us.

Oh dear. Perhaps this wasn’t a good time.

Rachel was unfazed by this chilly reception and got straight to the point. “Oh Mrs King. I’m sorry to bring this matter up if it’s not convenient right now, but we’re hoping you can help. This is my friend Jennifer. She’s a new student at the faculty and is looking for accommodation. I was wondering about one of the vacant apartments on the third floor or on mine. Would she perhaps be able to rent one of those?”

“Well, I suppose I can look. What is she studying?”

“She’s just about to enrol on a course on skin therapy.”

Shocked by this evidence of my rescuer’s ingenuity I tried not to gape at her. Was there even such a discipline as skin therapy?

The warden examined me more closely. Bravely I tried to look relaxed under her intense scrutiny. Then a glimmer of recognition lit up her face and she started to thaw out. “Say now! Didn’t I see you in church yesterday morning?”

“I guess. Yes, probably.” I nodded, thanking providence for what was a lucky coincidence.

The woman positively beamed at me. “I thought so. It’s good to meet a young person with the right priorities. Come in. Come in and sit down.”

We entered a small room off her hallway which looked as if it served as an office and sat as invited while she went to retrieve a much-used ledger.
“Hmm. Let me see. The rooms on your floor are all spoken for, Rachel, but apartment 33 on the one below... Yes, that’s still free. I can’t think of a reason why your friend shouldn’t have that one. The terms would be the same as your own. She’ll need to pay a week’s rent in advance, of course.”

“Oh. Er… That could be a little tricky.” My friend turned her head and winked covertly at me. “Your allowance doesn’t come through till the end of the month, does it, Jennifer?”

I shook my head, wide-eyed. I was out of my depth. How any of this could be made to work was beyond me. All I could do was to put my trust in my friend who seemed to have come up with a plan. I was prepared to go along with whatever she said.

“Hmm. Well...” Mrs King temporised. “Well, I can make an exception, I suppose, as you’re so regular with the rent yourself and she’s a friend of yours; a God-fearing girl too.” She beamed at me again.

I joined Rachel in expressing our sincere gratitude. Ten minutes later we were taking stock of what was to be my new apartment. It was sparsely furnished but clean, which was something I could appreciate. For as long as I could remember, my efforts had been the principal means of keeping my parental home spotless, not to mention the variety of jobs as a maid which Mom had found for me over the years.

“How did you come up with the skin therapy course?” I wondered.

“Oh, I’d seen it advertised on a notice board. At the time it struck me as something rather novel and the recollection of it just came to me in a flash”.

“It was an absolutely brilliant idea!”

She smiled modestly. “Well, it will be the ideal thing for you to study, having all that past experience in the beauty salon. We’ll get you enrolled on it as soon as ever we can.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes, definitely. For one thing, you couldn’t keep up the pretence otherwise. A ‘God-fearing’ girl like you mustn’t have been telling Mrs King a lie!”

The extent to which Rachel seemed to have a natural gift for harmless deceptions of this nature was a revelation to me. I’d always thought of her as an artless soul. I would clearly have to alter my estimation of her talents in that direction!

We returned to her room and while I would have been happy to rest on our laurels, my friend was ready for more. “Now we are ahead, let’s find you a job.”

To my mind that undertaking seemed next to impossible in this strange town. Where would I even start to look? Rachel was untroubled by the seeming magnitude of the task however.

“Let’s see. You’ve already worked in a library, also in Madeleine’s salon and you’ve had various jobs as a maid. Which of those did you like best?”

I thought for a minute. “Definitely not as a maid.” My friend giggled merrily at the face I pulled in making this declaration.
“The library was okay, I guess, but the salon was better. The girls were such fun. We had so many laughs. They were a riot!”

“I was hoping you would say that.” She fetched the newspaper and turned up the job ads section and for the next five minutes was lost in study. When she resurfaced, “There are two beauty parlours here wanting staff and which look promising. I’ve circled them. Shall I call them for you?”

I nodded vigorously, “Yes, please.”

Ten minutes later we were in her car and headed downtown. I couldn’t believe it but I had an interview later that same afternoon and was already getting butterflies at the prospect.

The salon was situated on the corner of Fifth and Main. Externally its décor was ultra-modern (for the late fifties) and upbeat. I liked the look of the place immediately. There was a ‘Closed’ sign on the front door as it was quite late in the day by then, but we’d been asked to come to the side entrance and ring the bell. We were admitted by an elegant woman who I guessed might be in her early forties. It was probably just my imagination but at first sight she bore a passing resemblance to my ex-fiancé. The likeness stopped me in my tracks. Fortunately Rachel had taken charge of the introductions so by the time I came to greet the woman in my turn, the impression had faded and I was able to respond coherently. It helped that she had a pleasant down to earth manner and a friendly smile.

Her name was Mrs Millward and when we’d been seated in her office, she explained that she was the proprietor of the business. She asked me to explain why I was looking for work and to state the extent of my former experience. My mind immediately went blank, but my friend gave me an encouraging look and after a little more hesitation I launched into my story. It was brief!

“I’ve just turned sixteen and I’m about to start studying at the faculty here, so I need some work to finance my studies. For over a year I’ve worked part-time in a salon back home so I’m confident I won’t let you down if you decide to give me a job.”

It all came out with a rush and I had to stop to take a breath. I could see the woman was hiding a smile, but her demeanour seemed kindly. She questioned me in some detail about the work I had done. Then she wanted to know where I was staying. Finally she asked about the course I would be studying. This was the bit I was dreading, “Er… ”

Fortunately Rachel stepped in and took the question in her stride. “It’s a new course they are offering at the faculty here. The subject is skin therapy. I imagine in a few years’ time it will be a pre-requisite for every girl who aspires to become a beautician. Jennifer will need two afternoons each week free to attend lectures when they start. The rest of the studying will be in her own time. The course begins in September.”

“That sounds perfect.” Mrs Millward seemed very satisfied, thankfully. “The one thing remaining is your references. Can I contact your last employer?”

I must have looked aghast at the prospect.

“You had rather I didn’t. Why is that?” Her manner had become noticeably frosty.

There was only one thing for it. I would have to come clean. I gave the name of Madeleine’s parlour and haltingly tried to explain. “The owner and I didn’t part on good terms. The reason I left was nothing to do with my work. It was more of a personal matter…” My explanation sounded very lame to me. That would be the end of this attempt, then. It was such a shame. I’d really high hopes of this place up until that point.

Mrs Millward thought for some minutes, then “Well. Ordinarily I wouldn’t take you on without references. However I have heard of the place where you were working and I once met the owner some time ago, so I can perhaps understand how things might not have been easy there. Here is what I’m prepared to do. I’ll give you a trial for two weeks. You can start the day after tomorrow. Report here to Rosa, the manageress, and we’ll see how it goes. She’ll be expecting you at 9am.”

I was so overjoyed at her decision that I hardly took in the instructions she had given me. I had to stop myself running over and hugging her. Instead I exchange a delighted glance with Rachel. This all seemed much too good to be true.

After a diversion to the drugstore to pick up a few essentials, we arrived back at the residence and I spent a happy evening settling in to my room; with Rachel’s assistance, of course. I had only a few borrowed items of clothing to put in my drawers and closet so we needn’t have taken as long as we did, but all the same it was fun to arrange everything just so. I was mistress of my own home for the very first time. That sounded odd to my mind but it would have seemed even odder to think of myself as being master of anything!

When I went to bed that night, I ought to have slept like a log but it took me a long time to fall asleep. The sounds and smells were all strange to me and I took ages to settle. It was consequently quite late when I awoke. I drowsed awhile thinking how nice it would have been to have Rachel’s body huddled up next to me. After more mature consideration however, I reckoned that it was probably better that she wasn’t there. Every time she hugged me I was subject to a ‘stiff’ reminder that there were limits to my self-control. I just needed to focus on thinking of her as my sister. How hard could that be?!