An Invitation to Blakeney – Carl Davies

   Sally Brown was busy in her flat, preparing herself for another day at the office where she worked as a glorified typist for a large engineering works in the town she grown up and had lived all her life. At twenty nine years old she felt a failure. In the background a radio was playing and she half listened to news bulletins and traffic conditions that the DJ punctuated his morning show at the local radio station with. The DJ’s voice came over the airwaves announcing the next record. It had to be “Heaven knows I’m miserable now” by the Smiths, she thought as she listened to the lyrics that seemed to sum up her life. She roused herself, finished her coffee and made what she considered a futile stab at ‘putting on her face’ as her mother used to call it. Even her name ‘Brown’ taunted her whenever she saw it written down as it did on the envelopes of her unopened mail on the kitchen table in front of her. She glanced at them again. Amongst the window envelopes, which usually contained bills or the like, she spotted a letter with a hand written address on it. The writing was in her friend’s hand. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents - a hand-drawn map with instructions, and a brief note from Janet, her friend. She hadn’t heard from her since Christmas, four months ago. The note said:

Dear Sal,

   Sorry I’ve not been in touch recently but what with the children and one thing and another the time has flown by. Geoff and I have rented a cottage in Blakeney, North Norfolk, for a week. Geoff says it will do us good to get away from Birmingham for a few days, let the kids run free, that sort of thing, but I know it’s so he can indulge himself with his ornithology. Migrating birds coming and going, he’ll be in his element. So this invite is really a plea from me as I’ll be preparing meals and looking after the kids, but it’s not just that I’ve heaps to tell you and we’ll get a day out in Norwich, just the two of us I promise. Geoff can hold the fort for one day at least. Blakeney is only about forty miles from you so even if you can only spare a couple of days it would still be worth coming over. Please let me know one way or the other, but do say you’ll come. The details and the dates are on the map.

Hope to see you soon.

Love Jan

“Hmm” thought Sally as she studied the map, the dates showed that the cottage was booked for the week starting Saturday 21^st of April. She probably could get time off even if it was only a couple of days tacked onto the first week-end, but did she want to go.

“Gosh, look at the time”, she thought as she glanced at the clock. Snatching up her handbag she hurriedly stuffed her make-up in, grabbed her car keys and coat and rushed out of the front door.

Sally remembered the first time she’d met Janet; September, thirteen years ago at the local ‘Tech’. She’d left school the previous July and received her GCSE grades in August. Not too bad, a B in English and four C’s - in Maths, Art, Domestic Science and Geography. The local sixth form had accepted her to study A levels, but she didn’t really know what subjects she would study, so she declined the offer, much to her parent’s annoyance.

“You’ve got to do something my girl,” said one or other of her parents every day throughout the summer holiday. “That Saturday job won’t keep you, and you’re not loafing around here all day.”

So to keep the peace she enrolled on a secretarial course at the “Tech” - just drifted into it. From then on she felt she’d ‘just drifted into everything, too scared to take a plunge. Dull even; Brown by name and brown by nature.’

She’d stood in the queue behind Janet as they slowly shuffled forward toward the enrolment officer. They started chatting, and after enrolment went to the refectory for coffee. Sally had glanced at the notice boards near the refectory. They were festooned with invites for new students to join a wide array of clubs, societies and teams for everything from basketball to brass rubbing. It seemed exiting; not a bit like school, and everyone seemed older and more self assured than she.  “Would her life take off now?” she’d wondered.

Two years, and two failed relationships later, Sally had passed her exams and landed a job in the typing pool of Barnet and Sons Engineering. Janet went to work for a local new car dealer and a few months later moved to their main dealership in Birmingham. Corby to Birmingham may not have been very far but Janet had thrived. Small town to large city and all that accompanied it. She’d married the dealership owner’s son three years later and had holidays abroad, lived in a five-bedroomed detached house, and her three children went to boarding schools.

But Janet and Sally were always friends. Sally couldn’t feel jealous for although Janet was sophisticated she was still warm and caring. She’d tried several times to pair Sally with unattached men friends of Geoff.

One dinner party Sally had been captivated by a chap called Ralph. They’d actually met up several times in either Corby or Birmingham. But fate was cruel - agonisingly cruel, as five months after their first meeting Ralph had been killed by a hit and run motorist. Sally had felt numb for over a year and still yearned on lonely nights and week-ends for the caress that could never return. She still wasn’t fully over the tragedy.

Sally pondered all day about the invite and decided to accept. At work, holiday leave was easily arranged with barely a “Well, if you must, but you know that we’re shorted staffed” type of comment from her line manager that usually accompanied such a request. In fact he asked where she was going and hearing her destination looked up and smiled.

“If you get the chance go on a seal watching boat trip to Blakeney Point, go for the trip that lets you land actually on the Point. Not much there, just a lighthouse and I believe a small café but its austere beauty makes it a magical place. If the boats aren’t running, walk the shingle beach to it from Cley. It’s the longest of its kind after Chesil Beach in Dorset. You’re lucky; I’ll have to get up there again shortly if I can”.

So Sally, really looking forward to the holiday, rang Janet that evening and accepted.

“You mean it, you really mean it? You’ll come for the whole week!” Janet shrieked with delight down the phone, “Wow this’ll knock spots of the Med or Goa,” and her voice reflected the happiness. After a couple of minutes of chitchat Sally said “See you on the 21st then.” and with reluctance hung up. She had a good feeling about this unexpected vacation and remembered Richard, her line manager, and his enthusing words, “It’s a magical place”.