It was a Monday afternoon, February 3rd, 1964, and it was raining, which was not unusual in the small town on the South Coast of England for that time of year. Paul Mason, coming up 19 and a half, stepped off the train, carrying two suitcases.
Fresh from Grammar School, with enough A levels to go to University, but not quite enough funds, Paul had joined a large Construction Company to follow a management training course, which, if he was successful on the practical, work experience parts, would put him through university at the company's expense. His first two months had been spent in the Leeds Office, near his home, learning site payroll, and then three months on a site he could bus to from home. But now, for the first time, he was out away from home in the big wide world, on his own. He was going to be assigned to a large speculative housing site for 6 months learning store-keeping.
Lodging had been arranged for him with a local widow, and the instructions said it was a short walk from the station. Fortunately, that was true as there wasn't a taxi to be seen. In less than 10 minutes, he got from station to lodging. He also got soaked through. The lady, Mrs. Robinson, was pleased to see him, and showed him up to his room. She had had other boys from the Company before, and had always had glowing reports on her cooking and her friendliness , which were the main reasons the company kept using her.
After drying out, and unpacking the essentials, Paul went down for evening dinner. Liver, bacon and onions, with mashed potatoes and covered with thick savory brown gravy - one of his favorites - made him form an instant bond with Mrs. Robinson. He was scheduled to be here for 6 months, and this meal got him off to a good start!
Paul did not have much experience of the world outside of his small Yorkshire home town, and school. He had never had a girl-friend, and had only ever had one really close male friend. He was gregarious enough to know lots of people, just was happy to be a loner who knew lots of people. He watched sports, but was not into playing them. He had grown up singing in the church choir, and had even done a couple of school plays, so it was not a confidence thing so much as being reserved. His Mum being on her own also encouraged him to hang around his own house most of the time.
He had grown up effectively with a single mother as his Dad died when he was 5. Fortunately for his Mum, because it was an industrial accident and because his Dad also believed in life insurance, his mother was well provided for. Careful financial management of the insurance, a pay-out from the company and a union pension had provided a nice semi-detached house and enough money to keep them fed and warm. His Mum wasn't interested in marrying again.
But now, Paul was away from home, no longer a school boy. He was a man, earning a living, learning a living, in a place where nobody knew him. He knew it was possible to make a fresh start as whoever he wanted to be. From 'sweet sixteen and never been kissed', maybe it would all be so different when he reached 20.
Mrs. Robinson's house was also a small three-bed semi, rather like his mother's, but with one definite difference, learned even at the first meal - that she was a much better cook! She had been widowed for about 20 years, her husband dying of cancer.
As he looked around the room while thanking Mrs. Robinson for an excellent meal, he saw a photograph - in color - of a young woman that looked to be about his age.
"Who's the young lady?" he asked.
"Oh, that's my daughter, but it was taken about 10 years ago, she almost 32 now."
Paul couldn't help himself. "Pity," he said, "She's very attractive."
Mrs. Robinson laughed. "Yes, she is - and she still looks pretty well as good as in that picture. And she's still single. I don't know what's wrong with the men around here!" Paul let that one float past him.
"So, given I haven't got a car, what is there to do around here without leaving town?"
"Well, you're over 18, so there's a couple of decent pubs, with music some nights, and darts and things other nights. There's dances almost every week at St. Mary's Church Hall that are real dances - ballroom dancing, I mean."
"My Mum made me learn that when I was younger - said it would allow me to meet girls but I only ever met older ladies!" He smiled, ruefully.
"Well, the ones here are for all ages, so you might have better luck. My daughter goes to some of them, she's a good dancer. There's also the modern jiggle your bum dances at the Town Hall occasionally. And there's lots to do in Brighton, so maybe you'll make friends with people with cars. And there's the Drama Club."
"What's that when it's at home?"
"Well, they want to get a theatre going in town, so a teacher has started a drama club to teach the basics of acting, with the view to creating a local theatre company which will put on plays and eventually build the funds to build a theatre. My daughter is in it, and she says it's fun. Each week he has them improvising scenes, or doing an excerpt from a play, so they will get to understand about portraying different emotions and things. Carol really enjoys it."
"I take it Carol is your daughter's name?"
"Yes, Carol Elizabeth Anne, to be fully correct. But she only uses the Carol bit. Actually, she's coming for dinner tomorrow, with her son, so you'll get to meet her."
"Her son?"
"Yes. She met this chap who promised all sorts while she was at University. Talked her into bed and got her in the family way, then buggered off, if you'll pardon my French. Still, she sorted herself out and manages a Mortgage Brokers now. They are providing the mortgages for the sale of the houses you're building where you're working at. Mike is 9. My older son and his wife have him visit them often at weekends, over in Brighton, so that he can grow up with his cousin and not be quite the only child. So my daughter has a good job, a good son, and no hubby."
