Sunday, February 28, 2010

59. A life of its own


Breaking the mould was not natural. When they first started, it was more to ease the drab tedium. “Come on. You look wonderful, already.” Estella was always eager to be out of the apartment with its drawn drapes, and would tolerate Ronit’s titivations - just. Hands on hat, they flew, arms and legs akimbo, to catch the tram.

They could sense the excitement rising as they sat on the hard benches of the synagogue paying their respects to the departed and to those who made everything possible. However, once on the street, they would snicker behind gloved hands, and throw knowing looks in each other’s direction. The sheer naughtiness of it was delectable.

“Shall we try it again this week? Dare we?” Neither of them was brave without the other. But together, just as they had for nearly sixty years, they turned up Castlereagh and headed towards the Masonic Club.

2 comments:

diane said...

And what woyuld they do there. I want more.....

Joan Elizabeth said...

Says something ... that red hair ... you've told its story.