Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Forty-Three

Forty-Three

I was so happy that Bobby had forgiven me and that our outing together would take my mind off the fact that I was feeling rather remorseful about Father murdering Mr Vitner and going behind John’s back that day.

Susanna dressed me in a modest, pale pink frock with white lacing and entwined a rose in my hair. At first, Mother had pressed her lips together when I had told her where I was going, and who with. Then she softened, told me I looked lovely, to be careful and have Susanna accompany me to the Duke of York picture house, where I was meeting Bobby. I couldn't believe she was letting me go out to meet another man when I was married!

"Are you nervous?” Susanna asked me.

“Why would I be?” I laughed, grabbing hold of her hand. We ran and skipped, giggling, along the lane bordered by sweet smelling flowers. We flung our arms out, whirling in circles until we were giddy, cheeks flushed, staggering into each other.

I could feel excitement tingling at the tips of my fingers. The sun was shining prominently. Passers by frowned out our frivolity, but for once I didn’t care; I wanted one day to myself, to escape from the horrors of war around me, just one perfect day.

*****

Bobby was standing tall outside the picture house. The buckles on his breeches shone, his boots were polished and for once, his clothes were not covered in flour. He smiled, seeing me approaching. Shyness suddenly overtook me, as I walked demurely towards Bobby- what were we going to do for a whole day? I gave Susanna a wave and then I was standing in front of him, looking up to his round face.

“Shall we go in?” I nodded.

As we walked through the door into the viewing screen, into the sudden blackness, Bobby’s fingers grasped mine. We shuffled along the rows of seats to find ours. I felt rather privileged to be there, in one of the very first of these ‘cinemas’ in the world.

The red velvet curtains swished smoothly across to reveal a large screen that displayed the picture, which was quite marvellous, despite being in only the colours black and white. Then all the images moved one after the other, in quick succession, so smoothly, rolling and blurring into each other; it was as good as real life, but without sound.

*****

“It’s the most fascinating contraption I’ve seen in my whole seventeen years,” I told Bobby afterwards, bubbling with animation.

“Really, you’re only seventeen?” My cheeks reddened.

“Do I look much younger, then?” I said coyly, and a little anxiously. Bobby put his arms around my waist, lifted me up, and spun me around, right there in the middle of the street. I screamed playfully. Bobby’s eyes danced.

“No, you look like my special girl.”

We walked down the hill, listening to the trains rumbling by, past St Peter’s Church in York Place and down to the Clock Tower in the main street. It was 91 feet tall, if you counted the time ball on the dome-shaped top. It was a glorious golden colour, reflecting light, which gave it a shining aura. I heard another onlooker say it was commissioned in 1887 in recognition of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee.

We heard the clock chime half one and Bobby and I strolled along Kings Road, which was crowded with street sellers, pedestrians, seagulls, carriages, carts and automobiles. The salty smell of the sea grew closer as we crossed the street.

Bobby and I linked arms under a forget-me-not blue sky, strolling onto the Palace Pier, a gentle breeze ruffling our hair and the loose garments on the many stalls around us. My heart leapt with nervous thrill as the shore fell away from underneath the weather-beaten brown boards and was replaced with the sea. I was walking above the sea! Oh, how everything seemed fresh and new and exciting!

My eyes glittered and I never stopped grinning; nothing could ruin this day. Nothing.