A True Gentleman
Anthea tapped briskly on the typewriter, her fingers flying over the keys. Shed gone to secretarial courses precisely to master this quick, accurate typing. Mrs. Barbara Cunningham, her instructor, always praised her, saying Anthea was a treasure for her future employer. Anthea was rather proud of thatimagine, so many words per minute, and not a single mistake! Her English grades had always been above average tooperhaps not perfect, as her school certificate lying nearby would attest, but Anthea was considered remarkably clever for a girl.
Thats what her Grandpa Walter always told hera bushy grey beard, unruly hair and eyes as clear as the lakes of Cumbria. Grandpa Walter visited her in the city every so often, never failing to bring a whole sack of sweet, massive appleseach the size of his big, weathered fistand sometimes courgettes, though Anthea didnt like those much. Shed nudge them to the side of her plate and, when no one was looking, sneak them to her beloved dog, Daisy. Daisy ate anything. Once a scruffy stray shed found shivering in the rain, Anthea had dragged Daisy home, all matted fur and pleading eyes, and begged her parents to let her keep the lovely puppy in our warm home. Theyd relented, of coursewho could deny a childs wish?
Antheas childhood was a parade of interesting adults. There was her speech therapist, Miss Ruth Middleton, who, aside from her professional duties, loved to tell wondrous tales of mennot crass or vulgar, heavens no, but of chivalry and valour. Of proper gentlemen who would always offer a lady their hand, pay her compliments, and shield her from harm.
As far as Miss Ruth was concerned, dangers werent everyday puddles splashed by passing cars, the sprawling electricity bill or heavy bags from Sainsburys; no, she meant world-saving adventures. A true knight wasnt simply a household help, but a gallant hero, swooning and dashing like in the novels. It was all so romanticperhaps hed carouse with his mates now and then, but the lady would wait gracefully at home, candles flickering on the table, the scent of a home-cooked meal in the air, and conversations strictly about the grand and the poetic.
My husband, Anthea, is just such a man. A model employee, a wonderful man, with a fine taste in clothes, can swim like a fish, plays a mean game of volleyball, and to top it off, hes as handsome as a Greek god. Every woman envies me. And I do what I canlook after the little things. Taking out bins, keeping the cottage tidy, even chopping the firewood at our place in Surrey. I drive as well, so my husband doesnt have to bother. The Queen drives, after all, so Im a proper lady myself, and I absolutely adore my husband.
Clutching Daisy, Anthea would listen, spellbound, to Ruths romantic stories of knighthood and grand gestures. Even Daisy paid attention, occasionally barking as if to express her approval or, perhaps, skepticism.
The stories always ended when Ruth remembered shed come to the Smiths for a reasonActual speech lessons, not just daydreams of grand romance.
But was Antheas own father such a gentleman? She truly believed so: he took Mum to the theatre, sang show tunes in the shower, always cheerful, a touch carefree.
What she didnt see were the evenings Dad sat in the car, gripping his temples as if his head might explode, hiding his struggles from the girls. No need to trouble them with his worries.
After a moment outside, glancing at the warm glow of home, hed muster a smile, walk in, and pretend all was well. MumCarolinecould see right through him, but let him share when the lights were off, their bedroom a sanctuary for whispered midnight confessions. Anthea, meanwhile, slept soundly, never knowing her father swallowed countless calming pills after a hard day
So Anthea grew up surrounded by beautiful people, pretty dresses, porcelain tea sets with gilt rims, and learned just what sort of man she ought to dream of marryingsomeone elegant, talented, perhaps an actor or singer. Real gentlemen, articulate and well dressed!
She tried for drama school, certain shed be accepted; after all, Grandpa applauded every home play, Mum often exclaimed Anthea was a born actress. Only Dad stayed silent. The truththat it was Dads quiet insistence that kept her out, fearing acting was a calling for those whod weathered hardships, and their Anthea was just too pamperedwould remain unknown to her.
No matterMum and Anthea agreed shed go to teacher training college instead. She adored children, played rounders in the park with the little ones, built snowmen in winter, and everyone loved coming back to hers for homemade Victoria sponge as a reward from Miss Anthea.
By the time her paperwork went through and shed sat entrance exams, only part-time evening classes remained open. So, she took a job as secretary for her fathers acquaintance, Mr. Leonard Graham.
Uncle Lenny was often around; he knew Caroline, had bounced Anthea on his knee as a child, and treated her warmlyalmost daughterly.
She did not let him down. Whenever Mr. Graham dictated a report, Anthea typed accurately, swiftly, rarely had to ask for clarification and was never late.
Well then, Anthea Yes Yes Mr Graham would mutter as he read her latest typed sheet. Lend me a penno, a pencil. Right Hed scribble amendments, frowning in places (which frightened Antheawas it her fault?) before his face would eventually relax into a smile.
Yeslets keep it like that. All my notes, fix them, and itll be perfect. Now, how about a nice cup of tea, Anthea?
Hed heave himself out of his chair and fetch his own tea, not caring for the fuss of being waited on.
At first, Anthea would leap up to play hostess, rattling decorated teacups, clinking teaspoons, but once Mr Graham scolded her sternly for treating him like the lord of the manor. She learned quicklynever fuss again.
Anthea mightve stayed quietly in her job forever: typing away, shoes kicked off beneath her desk, waiting to be summoned by the boss; going to lectures in the evenings, strolling with friends down Oxford Street, holidaying with her mother in Brighton where they always rented the same snug room from cheerful Mrs. Hawkins, who grew grapes and plied Anthea with ripe apricots.
But then, fate intervened. At Mr Grahams birthday bash, Anthea met his nephew: Julian.
Julian was tall, somewhat lean but strong, with a presence that made scrawny impossible to think. On that night, he was every inch the gallant man Ruth had described in her tales.
Anthea kept tucking a curl behind her ear, stealing glances at Julian as he flitted about the table, charming every woman, pouring champagne, cracking jokes, launching sparkling toasts. The ladies swooned at his gravelly voice; Mr Graham shook his head as if to disapprove, but Anthea could seethe uncle beamed with pride. Who wouldnt boast such a nephewso clever, so cultured!
Amid all these grown-ups, Anthea felt out of place. Serious talk and big laughsall above her head.
May I have this dance? came Julians voice behind her. Suddenly he was there, smiling.
Well… I Yes, of course, she replied shyly, grateful for Mr Grahams nod.
Julian, it turned out, couldnt really dance. He trod on her toes, apologised, and generally went the wrong way.
These arent really my dances, to be honest. Give me something more modern. Sohave you ever been to Paris, Anthea?
He twirled her, and even the hall seemed to spin. She grinned back, her shyness melting. No, she hadnt been to Paris, just Brighton and Blackpool.
Julian laughed, ran off to fetch her some fruit punch.
As she watched him entertaining others, it struck Anthea: this must be a true gentleman, and shed fallen head over heels. Not the ordinary kinda bus driver or a man from the Tube, smelling faintly of tobaccobut a proper hero.
Just as Ruth had described: handsome, dapper, attentive, seeming to know what a woman wanted before she said a word.
They sipped punch and nibbled grapes. Julian regaled her with tales of his travelsfunny ducks in Paris, London fog over the Thamesand Anthea only smiled, feeling giddy as if they were still spinning on the dance floor.
Nearing nine, Julian hailed them a cab.
First in silence, then with casual chat, he asked Anthea about college.
Im studying to be a teacher, she squeaked, unsure if this pleased him.
And you? What do you do? she asked.
Me? Civil engineering at university. Boring, honestly. Teaching sounds far more exciting. I did love school once upon a time, did you?
Anthea hesitated. I… I suppose I did. Didnt really think about it muchit just…was.
They chattered about their favourite booksJulian liking poetry, especially Shelley, while Anthea preferred heavy Victorian novels, even if she barely understood them. They discovered a shared love for ice skating, that both had childhood dogs, and gigantic apples from grandfathers gardens.
Both young, both full of opinions about how theyd never repeat their parents mistakes, both certain their generation would do life better.
The taxi driver listened to them, smiling. How wonderful, when you believe happiness lies just ahead…
When they arrived, Julian walked her to the door andlike a true gentlemankissed her hand.
Thank you… Anthea blushed foolishly.
Oh, come on! We had a lovely evening. Goodnight, Anthea! he grinned. Sleep well.
Eyes squeezed tight, she half-expected a kiss on the lips, just like in Ruths tales. When she dared to look, Julian was gone, but on the step lay a single roseno doubt snatched from the banquet table.
So what if he took it! Anthea told herself, as she picked up the flower. He took it for me For me!
Mum greeted her in the hallway, yawning, asking if she was hungry. But Anthea barely answered, whisking her slightly wilted rose straight to her bedroom, shutting the door like a princess.
With her friends, Anthea shared only snippets about Julian.
So whats he like, Anthea? Tell us! the girls pressed, catching on that she was smitten.
Hes a gentleman, girls! Truly. Just as Ive always imagined my future husband. She sighed, believing shed make a brilliant tragic heroine after all.
Did you kiss? piped up Jane, the youngest, never kissed anyone herself.
Yes… Well, no, Anthea shook her head. He brought me some punch, we danced, he walked me home and… kissed my hand.
Jane sighed wistfully, already wishing for her turn.
The other girls fell quiet, smiling, except for brisk, athletic Lauraalways the sleuth who, arms crossed, declared:
Oh, come off it! These posh boys are all the samehanding out compliments and flowers left and right, only thinking of themselves. They play at being gentlemen, but as soon as trouble appears, theyre nowhere to be found. Wake up, Anthea! Throw out those fairy tales. Join our netball club, thatll knock the romantic nonsense out of you.
To prove her point, Laura knocked her fist on the window ledge. Anthea flinchedit stung just as much as if Laura had struck her.
Jane pouted, not pleased. Let her dream, Laura. Its good to feel things sometimes! And maybe Antheas story will be wonderful.
Pay her no mind, Jane whispered to Anthea. Lauras just jealousno one does all that for her!
Im not a daffodil or a pansy to be courted! Laura retorted, grinning. But thats your choicelectures about to start, girls!
All through class, Anthea could think only of Julian, her heart thumping, face as red as a tomato.
Miss Smith, are you unwell? asked the professor, peering over. Step out for a breath if you need.
But Anthea shook her head, burying herself in her notes instead.
Julian didnt turn up at Mr. Grahams office for ages, so Anthea calmed down a bit, though passing through town shed imagine bumping into him, or sharing an ice cream cone, just waiting for fate to throw them together… But it never seemed to happen.
Then, one Thursday, as Anthea was retyping Mr. Grahams report for the umpteenth time, Mrs. Henderson, another clerk, whispered into the phone:
Julian? No way! Hes thinking of marrying? Thats so hard to believe. He danced with Smiths girl the other day… Oh, never mind. Cant stop laughing. Marrying! Cheeky!
Anthea craned her neck. Something wrong?
Oh, nothingjust Julian telling his mum he wants to settle down. Now get on, reports needed in an hour, Mrs. Henderson said with a wink.
Anthea ducked behind her typewriter, fighting tears. The words on the page blurred, wet splotches soaking into the paper as she tried not to sob.
Mr. Graham was adjusting his collar for the meeting, sweating and miserable, but at least tonight hed be home for a proper supper and an early drive to the cottage tomorrow. All he had to do was get through this report…
Standing at the podium, he poured water, savouring how everyone watchedletting the anticipation build, as if he might suddenly announce the company was folding up.
At last, glasses on, adjusting the neat, well-spaced script Anthea had prepared, he began: At the meeting As resolved Therefore, the plan for March was… then, suddenly, and I love you, Julian! As Ruth Middleton always said, youre a true gentleman. But youre marrying someone else, and I cant bear it… And…
He trailed off, scanning ahead, only to see Ruths romantic words staring back at him. His face turning beetroot, he spluttered, Nonsense! and stormed out, mortified.
Back at the office, Anthea sat, quietly falling apart. With everyone gone, the place felt airless and stuffy, the wasp at the window the only real movement. She didnt notice. She wept into her handkerchief, then wiped her eyes on her sleeve, just like a little girl.
Mr. Graham burst in, tripped over the rug hed nagged them to fix for a year, and glared at her:
Whats the meaning of this? All this nonsense about gentlemen and chivalrywhat did you type? The whole rooms in stitches, Ill be a laughingstock!
They stared at each other, Anthea stricken. She bolted, rushing into the drizzle and deep city puddles, not caring about traffic or passersby.
On the Tube, she calmed herself, face turned to the window to hide her blotchy cheeks.
How could this have happened? Oh, the shameher confession read aloud in front of everyone! No use nowtomorrow, all London would be laughing. Shed surely have to resign…
At home, Anthea sometimes talked aloud when no one else was around, especially if she was poorlyher mum and Daisy would listen, wondering if perhaps shed been a born performer. Grandpa Walter used to say so, back in the day. But now, Anthea hadnt managed to become either an actress or a competent secretaryshed ruined everything herself.
And it was all Ruths faulther tales of knights and fated romance, planted in a silly girls head. Nothing but fairy storiesAnthea had believed them, made a fool of herself, and Julian was marrying someone else who didnt even care!
Next day she feigned illness, ate chocolates, and sulked. Mum replenished the sweet bowl, fussed, tiptoed about.
Pop out for some bread, will you? Caroline urged gently. Do you want to talk about it, darling?
But Anthea turned away sullenly, drank cold tea, and eventually left for the bakery.
At the counter, she stared blankly at the shelves, forgetting what bread her family preferred. She never paid attention to the little details at home; Mum did everything, keeping Anthea sheltered.
Finally, she picked out a white bloomer before changing her mind, though it scarcely matteredwhat use was bread when you were heartbroken?
And just outside, she bumped squarely into someone tall and broad.
She looked up.
Julian, its you she stammered, blushing deep scarlet.
When embarrassed, Antheas ears turned as red as holly berriesamusing to Dad, and adorable to Mum, but for Anthea, it only made her blush more fiercely.
Im sorry, have to go she tried to escape, but Julian held her gently by the shoulders.
Anthea, I read it. Uncles legendary speechpowerful stuff! You should write books.
Read it? Hed read it and was laughing? How cruel! She should run away…
Only then did she notice Julians clothes: grubby with paint stains and brick dust. Why was he dressed like a builder? Ruth had never mentioned such attire!
Why are you dressed like this? Anthea asked.
Ah! Weve been doing practicals on a building site. Not exactly knightly attire, eh? Julian winked. But if a knights just returned from battle, hes allowed a few scrapes. Want to hand me a perfumed handkerchief, mlady?
He slouched onto a bench, declaring his aching legs, but Anthea, blushing still, tugged him along.
Sorry about what happened with Mr. Graham. Ill probably have to leaveeveryones laughing at me!
I liked it. It was beautiful, actually. Youve got talent, Anthea. Now, come back to mineits just Gran in, parents are off at the cottage. Well get you lunch and plan your next move. Grans names Violet, but we call her Daisy.
No one knew why she was Daisy, when her name was Violetbut she didnt seem to mind.
Gran Daisy, were back! Julian exclaimed. Gran bustled in, beaming at the sight of Anthea and already plotting their wedding menu in her mind.
I cant cook to save my lifenot even soup or pancakes, Anthea admitted.
Oh, love, no ones born a chef! You learn, Gran Daisy laughed, ruffling Antheas hair. And you, Julian? Not much of a bricklayer yourself!
They all laughed together. Anthea realised shed rather be with this quirky family than in the stories from Ruths lessons.
She wasnt a real ladydidnt know which fork to pick at fancy restaurants, or how to set her hair just so or iron a shirt perfectly. Her first attempts at soup were watery, potatoes burnt to a crisp. Yet Julian, patient and loving, endured in silence, knowing shed learnand kept that fabled speech tucked away, a secret reminder.
He had never intended to marry, just told his parents so for peaceand then fate intervened, and everything changed.
They both finished university, married at last, and made their own homesometimes in disaster, like when Anthea spilled glue all over him during renovations, or when their first homemade jelly was a peppery mess, but no one complained. Life was lived, not acted.
They splashed barefoot in puddles at the cottage, collapsed in the snow, whooped as they slid down the hill on old cardboard. They shared troubles and soothed sorrows with strong tea and jam on toast. Anthea discovered a world that was messy and realand wonderful.
Mum, she once asked Caroline, why didnt we ever live like this? We always pretended, played roles
Caroline shrugged. Your father and I grew up in tough timestroubles were always discussed, so we wanted your childhood to be light, carefree. We just loved you, thats all.
Anthea at last left childhood behind when her father fell ill. The hospital, antiseptic smell, his pale faceit shook her, and she stopped believing in fairy tales. What mattered now was simple survival and love.
Her father recovered and, though slower and more cautious, eagerly awaited grandchildren. Grandpa Walter, too, was old but lively; he stopped bringing apples, so they visited instead, making jams and pies for winter.
A few years later, Anthea bumped into Ruth Middleton on the high street. Ruth asked, Well, did you ever find your knight in shining armour?
I did, Aunt Ruth. There were letters, proposals on one knee, the lot, Anthea laughed. Only, hes a builder, not a poet.
A builder? Ruth spluttered. I always pictured a gentleman of high status!
He is, in his own way. Just doesnt wear armour, Anthea replied, smiling.
Oh, the worlds gone upside down Ruth sighed. Maybe thats for the best. My gentleman just sits on the sofa all day, expects me to run after him. Once a dashing diplomat, now nothing left but the stories I told myself
Goodbye, Anthea. All the best! Ruth said, before vanishing down the street.
And Anthea thought: How lucky I am that Julian isnt a fairy-tale knight, but a real, ordinary man. With him, she could be herself, without pretending or performing. Life wasnt an act, but a partnershipmessy, imperfect, but true. Far better than the stories of ideal men and perfect women, because perfection can be the hardest burden of all.
And Anthea went on with her simple, ordinary lifereal, and all the more precious for it.
