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County Council, all she had said so far really meant nothing, this was how she was. She seemed incapable of ever saying anything nice, yet she took good care of all of them. Andy always had a clean shirt ready, the beds were made, the meals were good, her Sunday lunches unbeatable, her Yorkshire pudding was the best in the world.
    She studied the letter for a minute searching for an answer. Then it came.
    â€œThis is all very well, but it will be your father and I who have to pay the extras for I don’t know how many years.”
    Andy smiled to himself as she handed the letter back. Thought it wasn’t up to her usual standard, perhaps the play had gone well that night. He went down the stairs as his mother drank her tea, then wandered into the town hoping to bump into someone he knew. Life was a bit difficult in this respect. He had deserted the grammar school to go to Metson College where he had only been for two years and one term; arriving too late, and staying too short a time to make lasting friendships. He was neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring.
    Two years and a bit is a long time in a boy’s life. The people he had been with at the grammar school had got on with their lives and he was never a public schoolboy, just a grammar school one who had happened to be attending a public school for a couple of years.
    He went to Wilson’s Café for a coffee. When he had been at the grammar school it was the place where everybody who was anybody went on a Saturday morning. Boys from the grammar school and the girls from the high school throwing eye messages to each other across the room. But now the place was nearly empty. In one corner a boy of his own age, whose face looked vaguely familiar, was entertaining two girls and judging from their giggling and almost hysterical laughter, was being highly successful.
    Andy thought he had nodded to him as he sat down, and was reading through the local paper, when the boy came over and sat with him. This looks promising Andy thought. Perhaps he is going to ask me to make a foursome.
    The youth said, “Long time no see Andy,” then Andy remembered who it was. He couldn’t remember his name but he was one of a group of about six who had a masturbation competition whenever the school had to go to the air raid shelters. This youth was invariably the winner.
    â€œStill winning,” said Andy.
    The youth flushed with pleasure that his prowess had been remembered.
    â€œYou bet,” he replied, “that’s why I have come over, could you let me have a couple of Frenchies? I’m on to a dead cert over there.”
    Andy wasn’t sure that he was too pleased that his place in the scheme of things had been remembered. He knew that he had three in his wallet, but still feeling perverse he said, “Sorry, only one,” fishing it out from his wallet under the cover of the café menu.
    The youth’s face fell. “Never mind, it will wash if I’m careful. Thanks Andy,” he said as he got up to go.
    â€œWhoa just a minute,” said Andy, “have you seen Joneson lately?”
    â€œGone on the stage,” said the youth edging restlessly towards his girls.
    â€œWard?” said Andy.
    â€œDon’t know him,” said the youth.
    â€œDinga Powell?” said Andy.
    â€œArmy,” said the youth.
    â€œPaul Mason, John Ranshall?” the youth now almost out of earshot just shook his head.
    Andy picked up the local paper again, the lead articles on the front page said nothing. Turning idly to an inner page, he was struck by a large print headline, ‘The sheer professionalism of Elsie Howard ensured that Ladies in Retirement was an outstanding success at the Bendon Army Camp last night.’ Then the article went on to explain how brilliant was his mother, and that she had been a trained professional actress, which in a way, of course, she was.
    Andy felt proud and excited. He got up to go,