The Letter.
16 Canal View,
Ashleigh .
Ashleigh .
To. Mr. Herbert Prendergast,
20 Canal View,
Ashleigh.
1st. April.
My dear Herbert,
I am in receipt of your letter and proposal of marriage received this morning, and I have decided to reply immediately lest any delay on my part should be misconstrued on your part as a sign of encouragement. However I have decided to respond in the same manner in which you chose to submit your proposal to me…. that is by letter.
Now Herbert I realise that neither of us is in what might be termed the ‘first flush of our youth’; you being already five years in the receipt of your old age pension while I am… well we need not dwell indelicately on how close I am to receiving mine. I would not therefore expect a proposal of marriage from you, or anyone else of your age, to be accompanied by ‘moonlight and roses.’ Though, on reflection, I cannot help but feel that, even during this Lenten season, a nice box of chocolates would not have gone amiss! Nor would I expect you to go down onto your knees with such a proposal.
Especially I would not expect such a romantic gesture in your case when I consider your not inconsiderable weight problem, nor the war wound to which you make frequent, nay interminable, references. Indeed considering your aforementioned girth I am not at all sure that, having descended onto your knees in order to effect your offer of matrimony you would then, irrespective of my response, be able to regain an upright posture without considerable outside assistance which I, as a now single woman, would be hard pressed to provide.
But what my dear Herbert am I to make of a proposal of marriage which is submitted to me on British Legion notepaper? Am I assume that were I to accept your offer I would also be marrying an entire regiment of the Lancashire Fusiliers? Or, at the very least, those members of that august company who are still alive all these years after hostilities have ceased?
To say that your proposal, and the manner of it, has left me speechless would be to grossly understate the effect your eloquence has had upon me.
For the life of me Herbert Prendergast I cannot understand how you can ever have imagined that I might entertain feelings for you reciprocal to those you insist you feel for me. I have thought long and hard about our past meetings and I can recall no words or deeds on my part which could have led you to form such a profound delusion.
For one thing, other than a few pleasantries we exchanged during last years old folks day trip to New Brighton, I cannot recall ever having had a proper conversation with you.
Yes, dear Herbert, I do recall the incident you mention in your letter when I grabbed hold of your arm on the deck of the Royal Iris ferry, but I should also remind you that a force nine gale was blowing at the time and, if I hadn’t grabbed hold of something, I would assuredly have ended the day floating face downwards in the River Mersey.
And while I am in the business of correcting your romantic if erroneous recollections, I should also point out that our pairing in the Silver Threads dancing competition last Christmas, which you recall with such emotion in your letter, was hardly the runaway success you describe. I must be the only woman in history to have been eliminated from a slow waltz competition because her partner experienced a shrapnel movement in his right leg seconds before they took the floor!
In truth Herbert I am forced to observe that, other than the fact that we both share the same view through our respective front windows, we thankfully have nothing else in common and, frankly, the idea of awakening one morning to, as you put it in your letter, ‘ find our two sets of dentures sharing the same jam jar on the dressing table’ is a prospect too nauseating for words!
Finally Herbert Prendergast I have to tell you that it will certainly not be in order for you to call upon me either now, or in the foreseeable future to, as you put it, ‘ press your suit.’ Indeed since receiving your letter, and its unwelcome proposal of marriage I have been prompted to accept a long standing invitation from my daughter in Bury St. Edmunds to stay with her, and my grandchildren, for an extended holiday.
I can only hope, and pray, that my absence from Canal View for an indefinite period will, at the very least, serve to cool your inordinate ardour, and bring to a halt those nauseating fantasies which you describe to me in such graphic and nauseating detail!
Your neighbour,
Nora Scatterthwaite. ( widow!!)
The End.
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