Locket

Mrs Williams’ Locket

Fifty years on and Mrs Williams’ locket  still has pride of place in my jewellery box.

The six week holiday loomed and I was in a strop. We were going to Anglesey. Again. As a lively fourteen year old, I was sick of Anglesey and all its ‘beautiful scenery’. So I sulked, and sulked, until Mum said, “Right, lady. I’m not having our holiday ruined by you with that face, you’re staying with your Auntie Rose.”

Actually it wasn’t a bad week. I loved Auntie Rose and she had a daughter, Julie, a bit of a rebel like me, so we’d always got along well. Also, Mum bought me a gold locket for my holiday pressie. A ‘guilt gift’, I called it.  I wore it constantly and made a habit of fiddling with it when I was talking to anyone, just so they’d notice it. The fact that it made green lines on my neck didn’t trouble me.

By now Julie and me were best friends so when she said, “You know that lad, Dave, I told you about? Well, he’s got a mate and he wants us all to get together on a double-date tomorrow night. What do you think?”

Well it was a no-brainer really, wasn’t it?  Sunday Night at The London Palladium, or a date. “How old is he? What’s his name?” I asked.

“His name’s Brian and he’s seventeen. Come on, Shirl, what have you got to lose?”

And therein lies the tale…

We both wore skinny-rib tops that accentuated our pointy whirlpool bosoms, and miniskirts that barely covered our bum cheeks. This was de rigeur ‘ladding’  gear in the 1964 Meadows. Having raided our illicit stash of Rimmel make-up, we thought we were the bees knees as we shared a Park Drive Tipped while waiting for our dates. I was just spluttering over my first drag when I felt a nudge.”They’re here, Shirl! Look”

I looked. There was no doubt which of them was mine. Dave was as I’d imagined, tall, dark and handsome, but Brian was a puny specimen  with ginger hair and freckles. Still, he had a nice smile if you ignored the protruding teeth, and as Julie and Dave were already walking ahead, arms entwined, Brian and I followed. I smiled when Brian took my hand saying, “My mate’s a quick worker.”

Before long we reached a copse and Dave said, “Come on, let’s sit down  and share a ciggie.”

It felt all romantic and Brief Encounterish, until he winked and added, “Me and Jules need some time-out,  we’ll see you two in a bit. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“We might as well get comfy then” said Brian, gently pushing me into the grass. After a pause,  I felt his hand under my top creeping towards my right pointy breast.

“Get off. What are you doing? I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Aw, go on, just a feel,” Brian pleaded.

“NO spells no,” I said getting up, hands on hips, and I flounced off home. That was my very first brush with sex and I hadn’t enjoyed  it one little bit.

Later,  watching telly, I went to fiddle with my locket when I realised it wasn’t there! I knew I’d worn it for the date.  Heart sink.  It must have come off when I was wrestling with Brian’s insistent arms. Mum would go crazy if she knew I’d lost it while fumbling with some random lad, but I soon thought of  a cunning plan.

The next day I came home from school in tears, crocodile tears, but tears nonetheless. Mum and a neighbour, Mrs Williams, were sitting in the kitchen having a natter over a cuppa.”Mum,” I wept, “There’s a new rule at school. We aren’t allowed to wear jewellery, so I put my locket  in my bag and now it’s gone. Somebody’s nicked it,  I told ‘Miss’ but nobody’s owned up.”

“You can’t trust anyone these days can you, Mrs Williams? I blame that school. No wonder half the kids are tea-leaves. There’s no discipline. Don’t be mardy now, Shirley, it wasn’t expensive. It was just a gilt locket. You’ll survive.” My hiccuppy sobs juddered to a halt. So it was a guilt-gift, I knew it!

A few weeks later I was walking home when I spotted some lads from school trying to break into a Mrs Williams’ house, so I ran to Mum  shouting, “There’s three lads breaking into the Williams’ house,  what shall I do?”

“Run to the phone box and ring 999,” said Mum, wielding her umbrella as she went out the door. “The dirty little tea-leaves won’t get away with this.”

By the time the police arrived, Mum had seen the dirty tea-leaves off,  the Williams’ abode was intact and they were very grateful.

The next day Mrs Williams came round with a huge bunch of carnations and said, “And is Shirley there? I’d like a word with her.”

I stood there, red-faced as Mrs Williams said,”Now. Shirley, I’d like you to have this. You were very quick-thinking when those ruffians tried to break in. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t been so vigilant? Here you are, dear, it’s a solid gold locket, it was my mother’s. I’d like you to have it to the replace the one you had stolen. You were so upset about it. You’re a very good girl and you should be proud of yourself.”

I wasn’t.

Shirley McIntyre

July 2016.