Bobby’s Girl
Sylvia
Hollamby looked up from her mail order catalogue and cast a sideways glance at
her husband, Bobby, lying asleep in the armchair, mouth wide open. She was
trying to find a dress to wear for the party they were having for their wedding
anniversary. Thirty years next week, she thought to herself, where has it all
gone and what have I got to show for it? A husband who falls asleep as soon as
he has eaten his tea and a job where I’m the butt of everyone’s jokes. Bodybag,
indeed!
She
knew they made fun of her at HMP Larkhall, both inmates and officers alike but
was it her fault she was one of the old school and liked to do things by the
book? It was alright do-gooders coming in like your Helen ‘don’t call me ma’am’
Stewart’s and your Karen Betts’ but prisons were made to punish not as holiday
camps.
Jim
Fenner was her only real friend at the prison. She knew Jim was one for the
ladies, she’d heard the talk about him and Dockley, but he was always a perfect
gentleman with her. Never too busy for a chat, always there with a word of
sympathy when she was feeling a bit under the weather. And with her…female
problems that happened all too frequently these days.
Anyway,
Jim wasn’t the only one who liked a bit of rough. She’d seen the meaningful
glances passing between Miss Stewart, when she was Wing Governor, and the con,
Nikki Wade, when they thought no one was looking. She couldn’t bear to think about
what they did together but it seemed to make Nikki Wade happy. She was quite
pleasant some days. It was against the regulations, but what did it matter? As
long as they were happy and - as her mother used to say - they didn’t frighten
the horses! She sighed audibly. Meaningful glances! The only meaningful glance
she had ever had was when she’d asked the butcher for a piece of rump for her
Bobby’s tea and he’d made a saucy remark. Cheeky monkey!
She
knew how thrilled Bobby had been when she got the job at Larkhall. He hadn’t
said anything, but she knew he was as thrilled as she was. Bobby had given her
some sound advice. “Don’t let them see you’ve got feelings. If they see you’ve
got feelings people start taking advantage.” And nobody took advantage of
Bobby. He didn’t like her working shifts but she made sure there was always a
dinner plated up in the refrigerator for him just to pop in the microwave when
he got in from work. Usually though he waited until she finished her shift, no
matter how late it was, so they could sit down and eat together and he always
insisted she made herself a snack whilst his meal was re-heating.
She
looked down at her engagement ring. It was digging tight into her flesh now but
what with having to take the HRT she’d clamped on so much weight. She
remembered when Bobby had slipped it on her finger. They’d been courting just
over a year when he asked her to marry him. He’d taken her out for a meal,
nothing romantic, Bobby wasn’t soft like that, just a curry at the local Indian.
Come to think of it he’d never actually said the words, just ‘how about it,
Sylv?’ and she’d slipped the ring onto her own finger. Of course she was
thrilled. Bobby wasn’t the stuff dreams were made of but he was reliable and he
had a good job.
Bobby
had been going out with her younger sister, Irene, until she’d done a runner
with the postman and eloped to Gretna Green. He’d been heartbroken and turned
to her for comfort. To make matters worse, his mother died a few months later.
Bobby had been devastated and he’d needed her even more. She washed and ironed
his clothes, cooked his meals, cleaned his house. It had been hard work because
she had a full time job as well but Bobby needed her. They hadn’t lived
together her dad wouldn’t allow it. No, there was no hanky-panky before they
got married and not much more after, she thought dismally.
She would have loved a
family but it had never happened. Deep down she often wondered if Bobby had
problems in the plumbing department but she never brought the subject up. He
would have hit the roof! So it was generally acknowledged that she was the one
with the problem.
They
went ballroom dancing once a week. She could have been a champion when she was
younger but she had been too busy looking after Bobby to keep up the lessons.
Bobby was a wonderful mover and all the ladies queued up to dance with him. She
usually finished up nursing a slimline tonic with old Mrs Dixon. Still it was
the only night they went out so she couldn’t begrudge him his bit of fun.
She
closed the catalogue with a sigh. There wasn’t anything suitable in there and
she wanted Bobby to be proud of her. Maybe she could alter one of her old
ballroom dancing frocks. There was a nice pale blue one that still fitted her.
It only needed the sequins taking off it.
Time
for bed she thought, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten o’ clock
already. They’d had to have twin beds because Bobby said her snoring kept him
awake. Well, they were twin beds but his was in the front bedroom and hers was
in the back. It was cold in the back bedroom but Bobby worked hard and he
needed a good night’s sleep.
She
reached out and touched Bobby’s knee. “Come on, Bobby love. Time for bed. I’ll
just make your cocoa so you can take it up with you.”
Yes,
she had a lot to be thankful for. A good job and a loving husband but just
occasionally – not often mind – she wished Irene hadn’t run off with the
postman!
THE END