The Dragonfly by Raymond Hopkins - HTML preview

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CHAPTER 19

 

At the other end of the country, Natalie’s life had settled into an almost unvarying routine.  Changes there were, at long intervals.  She found that the work kept her occupied without making any great demands, enabling her to get through the first few difficult weeks and months.  Seaside town or not, it was a pleasant place she lived in and sufficiently unlike the seaside town she had first visited with Rob to be able to put that experience out of her conscious mind.  Slowly, gradually, she made a new life for herself, finding her own natural pattern.  It may have seemed dull to an outside but it suited her bruised feelings well enough.  At first, she was invited to spend some of her spare time with one or another of her colleagues but after receiving several refusals they left her alone, as she preferred to be, considering that if she wanted to be an old woman before her time that was her business.

Dull it most certainly was, yet it was a dullness that satisfied Natalie.  She woke up every morning at seven, breakfasted on half a grapefruit, one poached egg on toast and two cups of tea, showered, dressed and went to work for nine, walking the side streets for thirteen minutes to the town centre.  Lunch was at twelve, although she preferred to think of it as dinner, retaining part of her northern roots.  A fifteen minute walk after closing time brought her home again, where it was casserole twice a week and salads and yoghurt for the other five days.  The homeward journey took longer as a result of the semi steep hill that led from the sea front to the railway station and beyond.  Twice a week she diverted from her usual routine by shopping for food.  Otherwise, there was little change.  Occasionally she walked along the stony beach and even more rarely took a bus ride to one of the many nearby towns.   

Winter closed in, that first winter of lashing rain and bitter winds straight from the sea, chilling her to the bone, making her glad to stay indoors.  She became a regular visitor to the library at this time, going through several books each week with restless energy until she learned to calm down and read more thoughtfully.  Her life steadily became more restful, more peaceful.

Five years later she was able to move to another house, one offering rather more breathing space.  It was in a nearby village, not far from the town, and being almost part of it, but far enough away to offer a seclusion not readily available in a popular holiday resort.  The move gave her a new interest in life, an interest that was in danger of disappearing.  Realising the fact, she celebrated with a day trip to London, the furthest she had ventured since she had first moved south.

The years passed, almost without notice.  She became the senior saleswoman in the department, with responsibility for staff training.  She often thought that it may look good on paper but the theory hardly matched the reality.  Still, she was paid more and that was always welcome.  Not that she ever spent very much, her savings growing in inverse proportion to her social activities. 

Successive springs arrived, visitors streamed in, in ever increasing numbers as the sun shone ever warmer, streaming out again at the end of the season.  The mass of humanity that overfilled the town and stretched its resources to breaking point hardly impinged on Natalie’s consciousness at all, except that it took her twenty minutes to walk home against the crowds.  After moving house, she bought a bicycle and rode in to work.  That too, took her fifteen minutes in the off season, and twenty in the height of summer. 

She was lonely but hardly recognised the fact.  Subconsciously she craved company but put the thought resolutely out of her mind.  She had been cheated once.  She would not, could not, risk being cheated again.  It was, she considered, not difficult to be solitary, not at her age, not when practically the only people she met, other than customers, were her colleagues.  At almost twenty years younger, they had nothing in common.  She didn’t regret it, but recognised the fact readily, and in recognising it, accepted it just as readily.