EVENING WITH JULIE

by Chelsea Brown

David Phillips got off the bus and stepped straight into a puddle of water.

Wearily, he shook his leg to get the worst off and began to trudge up the

hill.

As he walked, he tried to put all thoughts of school behind him and

concentrate, instead, on thoughts of an evening with Julie. They had

planned to go out that night for a meal and then on to a theater. He was

glad he could spend his weekends with Julie, even if it meant he didn't get

his papers marked until Monday morning.

He turned off the sidewalk, and climbed the several steps to his front

door. He stood inside, on the mat, and took his damp shoes off. He placed

them by the radiator to dry out, hung up his coat, and dropped his

briefcase on the dining-room table.

He climbed the stairs and stopped outside the bathroom, listening. Vague

splashing noises came from within.

"Julie, I'm home!" he yelled, to be heard through the old oak door.

A voice answered back. "Hi, hon. I'll be a few minutes yet. Why don't

you have a drink while you're waiting?"

"Don't steal all the hot water" he replied, and set off back down the

stairs again.

He took his scotch into the dining-room, deciding to do a spot of marking

while he waited. He had done no more than open his brief-case and extract

a handful of papers when the door bell rang. He peered out of the dining

room window. His visitor was male, about 50, with a red face and a white,

nicotine-stained moustache. He wore an green plaid sportsjacket and a

mustard cardigan, both elderly and threadbare. On his head was a felt hat

and on his feet a pair of brogues.

David let his visitor in, and showed him into the living room. "And what

can I do for you, Mr ....?" he asked, half-expecting to be roped into some

committee or the other.

"Bankroft, Colonel Bankroft" the other barked.

David hoped he didn't look as nervous as he suddenly felt. He searched for

something to say, something natural. "I used to teach your son Brian" he

said. "Is this about Brian? You know he's left school?"

"Of course I know, I'm his father, dammit!" There was a pause, then the

parade-ground manner gave way to a softer, gentler tone. It was as if the

Colonel had been deflated. "I used to know everything about my son," he

said. "Where he was, what he was doing, who his friends were. But

recently......."

David felt sorry for the old man. "Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"Scotch and soda all right?" Bankroft looked up, gratefully. "Easy on the

soda."

David mixed the drink and passed it across to his visitor. "You were

saying that recently....?"

The Colonel took a sip of his drink and continued. "About two years ago,

he began mixing with a different crowd. He started staying out later and

later. And he wouldn't tell us where he was going. I tried to apply a

curfew, but he just ignored me and slipped off when no-one was looking."

David sat down on the sofa, opposite the Colonel. "Did you talk to him

about it?" he asked.

"I tried, but he just refused to speak to me. Dumb Insolence, d'you see?

I don't think I've said more than a word or two to him ever since ... "

"Ever since ... " David prompted.

"Well, when he told us that he was going to leave school early, there was

the dickens of a row. Since then, we've hardly spoken."

"I understand he's got himself a job." David was unsure how much to give

away.

"A job? Bloody hairdresser?" The parade-ground manner had come back.

"Hanging around with a load of poofters, being arty-farty with somebody's

hair? Unisex salons and perms? I ask you - what is the world coming to?

Tell me that? A military cut was good enough for my father and it's good

enough for me!"

"Times change, sir." David wondered what point the old man was trying to

make. "Does he help with the housekeeping money?"

"We never asked him to help! We love him, don't you see? All we wanted

was for him to get through school and then on to university. I wanted to

send him to a military acadamy, but Doris was adamant - she'd had enough of

packing up and moving on every three years, and didn't wish that sort of

life on Brian. All she wanted was for him to do well at school, get a good

job, get married and settle down with some nice, well-bred gal. Instead,

he's prancing around in a hair-dressing salon, and mixing with God knows

what kind of crowd."

David asked "Well, I'm sorry that there is this communication problem

between the two of you, but I'm not sure where I come in."

"You were his poetry teacher, weren't you?"

"Yes. So...?"

"Well, look, I don't know how to put this. I mean, you saw a lot of it in

the Army. Arabs, they used to do it a lot. Not my thing, who am I to

judge, eh? See what I mean?"

David saw, only too clearly. He was trying to formulate a reply when the

door opened.

The Colonel looked up. He saw, framed in the doorway, a young lady. Tall

and greyhound-slim, like a model; she was wrapped in a black evening dress

with a plunging vee-neckline and a hem that stopped short of her knees.

Her legs were encased in the sheerest nylon hose, and her feet were hidden

by a pair of black patent court shoes. She grasped an evening-bag in a

delicately long hand. Light-brown hair tumbled round her shoulders, and a

wistful smile played upon her lips. Her makeup was too heavy to be decent,

but the Colonel had to admit to himself that she was, as he put it, a bit

of a looker. Ever the gentleman, he rose to his feet and watched as the

newcomer walked to the back of the settee and leant over to give David a

kiss on his lips, thus offering him a glimpse of two mounds of flesh that

disappeared beneath the raven material. When she spoke, her voice was low

and husky.

"Don't forget we have reservations for 8 p.m."

"No, I won't." David was glad of the interuption. He noticed the Colonel

brushing his moustache with his knuckle and announced, with some amusement,

"Colonel, may I present my girlfriend, Julie Smith. Darling, this is

Colonel Bankroft, the father of an ex-pupil of mine."

The Colonel took Julie's proffered hand and bowed stiffly over it.

"Charmed, I'm sure," he muttered.

Julie turned to David and said "I'll be in the bedroom." then turning to

the other man, added "It was nice to have met you, Colonel." She left as

gracefully as she had entered.

David turned to the Colonel. "I'm afraid she's right, sir. We do have

dinner and theater reservations, and I have to take a shower and change

yet. Perhaps we could continue this another day?"

Bankroft seemed embarrassed. "Hmph..." he coughed. "I appear to have made

a mistake, what? I mean, your young lady, do you see? Not what I thought

at all. Frightful bloomer. Do hope you'll forgive me."

David smiled, as he ushered his guest out to the front door. "Nothing to

forgive, Colonel. A natural mistake, from your point of view. But

remember, not all poetry teachers are raving fairies."

The Colonel coughed again. "Yes, See your point. Well, sorry to have

disturbed... Good night." "Good night, Colonel." David waited until his

visitor had rounded the corner out of sight, then ran upstairs and into the

bedroom, where Julie was sitting in front of the dresser, making some

microscopic cosmetic repair.

"Darling, I'm SO glad you turned up when you did! Otherwise I don't know

WHAT I'd have said to the silly old fool."

Julie stood up, placed a pair of long smooth arms around David's neck,

pulling him close and with a smile said "Oh, I KNEW Daddy wouldn't

recognize me, dressed like this!"