Doris's Day

Dear Beryl

Hope all is well this month! How is your arthritis? Still playing
up?

I have been quite well. I have only had a mild cold this winter. Doctor
Chong, you know that lovely Chinese man who does home visits on a
Sunday, recommended I get the flu shots, and well they were free, so I
thought, why not? I felt a little fluey for the first week, but it was
nothing too major.

How is the Noosa weather? Has it been too cold to bathe? It has been
fairly dismal here the last few days. The smog has joined forces with
my smoker's cough to send me barking mad. I'm beginning to sound like
the painful, poncy purebred from next door. You must remember
'Geoffrey'. He still terrorises my darling little Greta. I'm a little
naughty though. Every now and then when Sarina and Andrew are at work I
give Geoffrey a little hose through the fence. That should whet his
lusty appetite.

I do have some sad news. Jean and Joyce finally left Rowe Street, and
have moved into a nursing home up in Bendigo. Their niece lives there,
so at least someone will be able to visit regularly. Jean is now
completely deaf and Joyce equally blind. It was getting a little more
than dangerous for them to live by themselves. One day, they let in
some man posing as a real estate agent giving out free evaluations, and
while Jean went to make a cuppa, he stole their handbags and some
Wedgwood right from under Joyce's nose. Hard to believe they were once
our most popular girls. I'll miss them dreadfully.

A lot of people in the street have been burgled over the last few
months. Not like in our day. We used to leave our door unlocked
remember? Mind you, it wouldn't have been good for business had we not
appeared welcoming, would it? I mean most of our friends wouldn't have
appreciated drawing attention to themselves by using the loud knocker,
and poor old Reverend Fred next door might have twigged to what was
going on.

As you can tell, I've been thinking about the old days a lot. Though
I'm loath to admit it, I am starting to feel my age. Still, I don't
think I'm too bad for eighty-one. Watching all the young people move
into the street with their little ones reminds me how we used to play
at each other's house when we were at school. Your old place has just
been completely renovated and mine is probably the smallest in the
street now.

It is very quite here now. Most of the newer neighbours work long hours
and keep to themselves through the week, though I've had the occasional
chat with the young lass from two doors down. I'm sure she sees me as a
lonely old spinster. She asked me if I'd any children and I told her
about my two disappointments, losing Tom to the war, then how John went
back to that cow of his wife Freda as he was about to sign the divorce
papers. She actually apologised. I was really annoyed, and nearly
blurted out our whole story. Discovering she was living next door to
one of Melbourne's most notorious madams would have wiped the pity from
her lovely wrinkle free face.

We were pretty amazing Beryl. Can you believe we managed to grow the
business from a select clientele visiting this very house, to one of
the largest, and the most exclusive, establishments in Melbourne? The
nuns would have worn out their knees begging for our mercy had they
known what was going on around them when we set up on Queens Parade.
Most of the locals thought we ran a highly respectable, and extremely
selective French language school. Back then, we were lucky to be able
to correctly pronounce 'faux pa'.

Have you bumped into Trudi again? So wonderful that she and Sergeant
Cleaver remained together. Do you remember when he was a fresh-faced
Constable sent by his uncle, my old friend Inspector George, to deal
with his innocence? Trudi stole his virginity, then his heart. So
romantic. He devoted most of his wage to paying for her attention, and
she even obtained employment in the frock shop down the road so that
she could support herself and have only him as a friend. And you dear
Beryl, always so kind, discounted our commission so that they could
save for their wedding. Such a lovely day that was too.

On the subject of weddings, are you coming down for your great niece's?
You are of course staying here. You can help me spruce up the old
place. It hasn't been the same since the Mayor passed away last year. I
needn't tell you that to have him leave his wife to come and live me
after all those years of our mutually agreeable arrangement took a bit
of getting used to. But now that he is gone, I feel that the magnified
ceiling mirror is now a little redundant. After all, I'm sick of just
being on top and my eyesight is near perfect. My next lover's should be
as well, as I plan for him to be much, much younger. My preference for
more mature gentlemen is becoming impossible to satisfy.

I must sign off to get the hose. Geoffrey is trying to mount Greta
through the fence.

Until next time Beryl.

Yours, Doris