This week we're delighted to host an extract from the new novel by Betty Valentine. Betty is a writer and also the '15 minute poet' (check out her Wordpress site!) living in the Channel Islands.
'1958' is the diary ('Dave') of George Potter, written 1958-2012. He is a stuttering henpecked little man, who finds escape from his dull life and his bossy wife in the shed on his allotment. Life changes for George when the Mullers, Henry and Clara, move in next door. They are German refugees, and Henry runs a bookshop. George and Henry become the best of friends and later on they become lovers; they stay that way for the next 50 years.
This snippet comes from 1961, just after their first weekend together. Eileen is George's wife and Eric is Eileen's terminally dim pug.
Hello again Dave
Things have settled a little. Eileen is no longer narked with me because I brought her roses from the allotment. It always cheers her up when I do that.
Henry is back home because he has a new tenant. Creepy Derek the assistant has moved in upstairs at the bookshop, he has fallen out with his mother who is a war widow, over her new boyfriend. He had nowhere else to go to that he could afford, so Henry said he could use the flat, but just until he found somewhere else. So we have to content ourselves with furtive kisses in the shed and the odd passionate moment when Eileen’s back is turned.
It is not ideal. I realised in the flat with Henry that lovemaking is an entirely different thing when both partners truly want each other. That probably sounds naieve but my only previous experience has been with a woman who would rather not bother, so I assumed that that was the way it was meant to be.
Now I know different, I want so much more and I am not getting it! It’s a funny thing for a middle aged man to find himself falling in love for the first time. Finding yourself really wanting someone else when you are over 40 is a strange new feeling. It is a physical need, I burn to be with him and he burns to be with me, that need is not being satisfied which is making us both irritable with the people around us.
I have been a little short with Eileen, she keeps asking me if I need something to sort out my bowels because I am being bad tempered, branflakes keep appearing on the breakfast table. I loathe branflakes which is not helping at all.
Dear Dave
I am a much happier boy
Henry surprised me today and sent creepy Derek out for an early lunch break as the shop was quiet. He told him to call in at the stationers and to go to the bank to get some change on the way back. As soon as he was gone Henry locked the door and pretty much dragged me into the office to have his evil way with me, as he put it.
Not that I was complaining because I was more than keen. Something inside me has woken up after all the years of being starved of affection both physical and mental. Sometimes the madness of this little affair of ours seems utterly reckless and abandoned, but neither of us seems to be able to do a thing about it.
After a glorious time together we emerged smirking and very much happier, only to find a furious Derek standing on the doorstep in the rain because the bank was shut for early closing. Thank goodness he had forgotten his keys!
When I got back to the office one of my colleagues asked if I was ok because I seemed a little flushed. I went scarlet and mentioned that I had a slight headache. I shut the office door and bent over my papers.
When I was working in the garden before dinner, we stopped and chatted politely across the fence for a few minutes, like neighbours do. Just about how the roses have done this year, pretty tame stuff considering the two of us had spent lunchtime in each others arms, and I don’t mean doing the fox-trot!
Comrade Dave
Yes it is catch a ‘Commie’ week down here at the allotments, seriously it really is. Reg Braithewaite our fearless leader [he thinks] has joined the Civil Defence Corps and is now obsessed with hunting down the red menace, he sees communists everywhere!
Most people think he is a bit loopy and ignore him, or tell him to go cool his head under the tap, or worse, but he is relentless in rooting out what he thinks are ‘Red’s’ under the vegetable beds.
What he expects to find the Lord only knows, but extreme vigilance is called for in case we are infiltrated.
There have been several humorous suggestions that he may be looking for Commie Carrots or Pinko Parsnips, Henry suggested Bolshie Beets.
It is ruddy hilarious.
He wants us to mount nightly patrols to stop the Communists from running riot during the darkened hours.
Nobody has signed up of course, but I might just do it. Not because I want to help him in his lunatic scheme you understand, it’s just that he will have to be nice to me all night, which will really annoy him!
Regards Tovarisch Dave
Comrade George
