REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS....CHAPTER FOUR

Some of the Color Radio 4IP Crew....Randall on right at the console

                                    

                                          

The saddest thing about leaving Gympie had been leaving my cat, “Cat” behind. He was a large ginger fellow. I could never think of a name to suit him, so I’d christened him “Cat”.    I christened him “Cat” a long time before I first viewed the movie, “Breakfast at Tiffany's”, wherein “Holly Golightly’s beloved ginger cat was also named, “Cat”.

I loved my pet very much. Every afternoon when I arrived home from work, he would be out on the footpath to greet and meet me. “Cat” managed to tear my heart apart the day I left Gympie. He walked right out to the roadside with me when my “lift” arrived to whisk me away to my new world. Forlornly sitting on the curb, “Cat” knew he was about to lose his mistress. Mum and Nana wouldn’t let me take him to Brisbane with me, which probably was the wisest thing to do, but that didn’t ease the pain of my parting with him. Throughout my life up until then, I had always had a cat. Now, I had to leave my mate behind. It was a bittersweet parting. I was happy being on the brink of a new life, but so very sad to be leaving my dear friend of many years.

Once settled into Brisbane, and my new abode, all that had been familiar to me was now in my past. I had a new home, a new “housemate” and a new job with new friends yet to be met. I had my independence.

My fiancée, Randall, was busy with his job as disc jockey with Colour Radio 4IP, in Ipswich, so I saw little of him during the week.  Often weekend promotional radio work also interfered with our time together but, at least, we saw more of each other than if I had remained in Gympie.

My exit from Morris, Fletcher and Cross came with little or no fanfare. I would not be missed after such a short tenure with them; and I wouldn’t miss the working environment therein. Although, I did run into my ex-boss, Tony Atkinson a few years later and, strangely enough, he remembered me.

My entrance into Kolotex Hosiery’s Queensland office caused little or no fanfare, too. With only John Trimmer and me in the office, there was no need for streamers, bells and whistles. They came later!

An interesting fact or two…Kolotex manufactured the first pantihose in Australia. In fact, Australia produced them before the US did, as well. We were on top of the ladder (pun intended) in the hosiery stakes. I loved my new job from Day One. John Trimmer, a gentleman in all senses of the word, was out of the office a great deal of the time visiting the company’s retail customers. I enjoyed working alone. Not having others around me was of no concern. Within a few months the status quo was to change.

A couple of weeks after I commenced my new job, a tall, very attractive young woman, a few years older than me, walked into the reception area. She introduced herself as my boss’s wife.  At the time of our first meeting, she was towards the end of her first pregnancy.

Politely, I said, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Trimmer.”

She laughed, ordering me to call her “Shirley”, which I did from that day forth. As the years unfolded, She and I forged a strong friendship.  However, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge in the intervening years.

Not yet 21 years old, I was “treading on unfamiliar territory”. My old enemy, “shyness” had a bad habit of reappearing when in the company of strangers. Shirley was still a stranger to me, plus she was my boss’s wife. I had only met her on that one, brief occasion in the office, and at the time, she had been towards the end of her pregnancy.  Shortly thereafter, she gave birth to a beautiful, bouncing baby boy. His birth was about six weeks after the first brief meeting between the new mother and me. The proud father suggested it would be a nice gesture for me to visit his wife at the hospital during my lunch break to spend a little time with her, and to view their newborn son.

 At that point in time, Shirley was fairly new to Brisbane, too, as she and her husband had relocated from Sydney to Brisbane less than twelve months earlier.  She was without many friends in her new city. Feeling I couldn't decline an edict from my boss, off I went, alone, to St. Andrew's Hospital in Brisbane. New to the city, I had no idea the location of the hospital, but fortunately the taxi driver did!

Upon arriving at the hospital, I wished I was somewhere else, or the chore ahead of me was over. I'm like most people, I guess. I hate hospitals. I lose my identity every time I set foot in one, which, by my choosing, isn't often, fortunately. In trepidation, I walked quietly down the corridor, praying I wouldn’t slip on the highly-polished floor, diligently following instructions of the sign that said "Maternity Ward".  Neither looking right nor left for fear of disturbing patients or appearing rude, I eventually found the allotted room.

Stepping inside, I came upon four or five people gathered around the bed…more strangers! They turned and greeted me warmly. I smiled bravely, returning the greetings of the new mother and her welcoming visitors. I started to open my mouth to utter the expected utterances, when out of the corner of my eye I spied a face I recognised peering around a screen dividing the two beds in the room.

Too overwhelmed by the myriad happy faces greeting me I hadn’t noticed the screen when I first entered the room, I looked at the beaming face poking out from behind the screen to the new mother in front of me with whom I'd started to exchange pleasantries. A person who, by then, probably thought I was a friendly, well-meaning visiting Salvation Army “Sister Josephine” or, whomever. Shirley, who I was supposed to be visiting, was in the other bed, peeping out from behind the screen.

I withered. I wanted to disappear out of sight, and the world, forever!  Embarrassment didn’t begin to describe how I felt. I begged Shirley not to mention to “Mr. Trimmer” my unforgettable, unfortunate, embarrassing entrance. I couldn't stand the thought of them laughing behind my back at my blunder. I felt so silly. The only thing missing from the scenario, I thought, was the piece of straw from my mouth. What a “hayseed” I was, I berated myself! Shirley vainly tried to appease my feelings of desperation. I feigned her kind words had put me at ease.

After Shirley and I exchanged small talk, their newborn son and I had our first introduction. He was beautiful. He looked like a three-month old baby, perfect in every way. Peacefully, he watched in wonder at the world around him, a fine coating of blonde baby hair atop of his perfectly-formed head, chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. I was immediately smitten.

As soon as I arrived back at the office, I went to see my boss. I told him the complete woeful tale of my embarrassing blunder.  He was very understanding and gentle towards my fractured self, while laughing uncontrollably inside, no doubt, I thought. He wasn’t, I discovered later. He empathized, knowing what I was going through. In the years that followed, the story was repeated often, and became a “family joke”. There still remains a laugh or three in it to this day, and I still smile at the memory.

So my life settled into a smooth routine for a while.  Randall and I saw each other a couple of times a week when possible, and on weekends when he wasn’t doing “outside broadcasts”, or other radio promotional work. Sometimes I accompanied him to such events, other times I didn’t. Late one Friday afternoon, I caught a train to Ipswich to meet up with him. As a representative of Color Radio 4IP and one of the “Colo
r Radio Good Guys”, he was to “crown” the “Miss Rosewood” at the Rosewood Ball.  

Rosewood is a tiny country town a few miles out of Ipswich. The invitation to the ball had been extended to me as well, being Randall’s fiancée. I’d managed to coerce a dozen or so pairs of stockings and pantihose as an additional prize for the winner, by explaining to Mr. Trimmer it would be an excellent advertising opportunity for our product. He agreed.

Upon our arrival at the ball and to our surprise, Randall and I were treated like celebrities. The “red carpet” was out and “nothing” was “too much”. The ball organizers hovered around us, ensuring we had anything, and everything we wanted. It was a fun, unique experience feeling so “important”, if only for a few hours! We were quite taken aback by their genuine generosity of spirit.

Dawn, my flatmate, and I got on well together, not that we spent much time in each other's company. Most of the time, we were busy within our own lives. One evening, a few weeks after we'd moved into the flat, I met Jack (as he preferred to be called), her fiancee, when he called by our flat to pick her up for an evening out. As he hovered around the front door, waiting for Dawn to ready herself, I tried valiantly to make conversation with him but it was an almost impossible feat. He had "John Wayne/Clint Eastwood Syndrome"...he spoke in monosyllables! After three or four attempts to invite him into the lounge room while he waited, I finally gave up on him, letting him remain where he seemed most at ease, standing on the unlit balcony.

Always one who becomes suspicious if life runs too smoothly and happily, I thought things were almost too good to be true, but pushed the thought from my mind, not wanting to rock the boat. My life had settled into calm waters with blue skies above; as if on cue that was to change all too soon. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon. The thunder had not yet made its presence known, and I’d not noticed the clouds.