HAND-DOWN

                                                                  A short story

                                                                           by

                                                                Vic o'Bradford

 

       "Hello, Sue; I do like your skirt."

       "Oh, thanks, Sheila.  Yes, it's new." 

       She meant it was new to her. The two teenage friends had met to enjoy another evening of

'girl talk' which always comprised boys, clothes, film stars and family jealousies, subjects

sufficient to maintain lively discussion for hours on end.

       "But haven't I seen it before?" Sheila pondered..... "doesn't Trudy have one like it?"

       "Not now she doesn't," answered Sue, sheepishly, "Mum's just given it to me, as usual."

       "Oh, sorry; I didn't think," her friend apologised, realising too late how hurtful Sue would

find those thoughtless questions.                                                                                                   

       Trudy was Sue's elder sister, two years her senior..... two years of wear and tear on every

item of clothing Sue had.  From babyhood she'd never possessed a stitch that was hers from

new.  Everything was handed down. 

       "That's OK, Sheila," she replied, diffidently, "but I must say, I'm fed up with taking second

place.  Mum always says:  'When Trudy grows out of it.....'  and assumes that I'll gratefully look

forward to owning it..... eventually." 

       "Has it always been like that?"

       "All my life; well, since my father left us when I was a baby," she explained, "I never used

to notice. Trudy always chose our next winter coat, or summer dress, whilst I looked on; I do

know it will become mine, you see..... in time.  I just have to wait."                                              

       "Oh, how awful for you," said her friend, feeling the embarrassment of Sue's predicament. 

       But now she was well into her teens, Sue was becoming resentful.  Wounded by

observations such as Sheila had just uttered, she began to harbour a secret dislike both for

Trudy and her divorced mother.

       "I know Mum's short of money," she went on, "so I've never complained.  I just wish I

could sometimes choose something for myself; I'm really tired of Trudy's 'hand-downs'." 

                                                                       *    *    *

       One sunny morning, Mum and her two daughters were sitting around the breakfast table

when Sue suddenly stood up without a word and went upstairs. Within minutes she rushed

down again and made for the door, dressed in a new garment. 

       As she raced out of the house Trudy screeched at their mother:   

       "That's my blouse she's wearing.  Stop her, Mother!"   

        Sue had recognised that her own body had recently gained parity with that of her sister

and that clothes could now be interchangeable.  She'd decided to test her newly conceived

'logic of equality', even at the high risk of reprisals.                                                                       

        "Sue!" 

       Her mother called after her as she ran through the gate. 

       "Come back here..... now!"                                                                                                     

       But Sue feigned deafness and disappeared up the road, the silky new garment glistening

on her shoulders in the sunshine as she made a beeline for her friend's house. 

       "Look at this, Sheila," she said proudly. "this blouse really is new..... brand new and never

yet worn by anybody else."

       "Oh, very nice; but how did you get it?" 

       Sheila had long ago recognised that all Sue's 'fashion clothes' were always from the   

cast-offs rack - the only rack in her cupboard.  

       "Well, truthfully, I stole it."

       "What, from a shop?"                                                                                                             

       "Oh, no, nothing like that," hastened Sue, horrified at the suggestion.

       "Well, where, then?"

       "From Trudy's wardrobe.  Mum bought it for her yesterday."

       There was no hint of remorse in her voice.  She was exhibiting as much pride in her action

as in the elegance of the booty.

       "Won't you be in trouble?"  

       "Probably," said Sue, "but I'm going to change things.  I don't see why we can't take turns

now we're the same size."

       "No.  You're right, Sue; but I just hope your mum sees it that way."

       When she arrived back home they were waiting for her like two angry cats ready to

pounce.  Trudy threw a tantrum and made towards her with one arm raised, poised to strike.   

       But Sue stood her ground, declaring her new intention and stretching up to her full height.

Trudy stopped in her tracks.  For the first time she realised that her little sister was indeed her

own size, in more ways than one, and probably even better endowed with physical strength.

       The inevitable edict came as a question:

       "Want to talk about it, Trudy?"

       Sue had asked quietly, but with fire in her eyes. Trudy capitulated. Their mother had witnessed

the new development and wisely decided immediately to go along with Sue's innovative proposal.

 From now on turns would be taken to receive any new items, albeit under an uneasy truce.               

       It was a change that Trudy could never fully accept and the whole affair created

unprecedented barriers.  Considerable animosity developed between the sisters as equality

was established and maintained by their reluctant mother.

       As time went by the atmosphere of unfriendliness continued, improving only marginally

when the girls eventually found employment.  All three were resigned to the fact that untainted

family love could never be regained.

                                                                       *    *    *

       "Happy Christmas, Mum!" 

       Trudy had come home for a short holiday, having taken a live-in job many miles away in

the next county, whereas Sue still lived at home.    

        "I've brought someone to meet you," she went on, beckoning towards the doorway, "this is

Clive."

       A handsome young man stepped into the living room, shyly offering his hand to her

mother. 

        "And Clive, this is my sister, Sue."

       "Hello," he said, self-consciously, "I'm pleased to meet you both..... Happy Christmas!"

       "Is it OK if Clive has the spare room for a couple of nights, Mum?"                                     

       "Yes, of course.  He's very welcome."

       Mother was pleased to have another body in the house, if only to act as referee.  She

knew how easily her daughters could forget the Christmas spirit and turn the calendar back to

Guy Fawkes' night, rockets and all.

       "Thanks, Mum,' acknowledged Trudy, 'I knew it would be all right." 

       Sue had noticed that Clive's hand stayed rather longer in hers than any brief handshake

required.  Also, their eyes had met and lingered rather longer than a first meeting demanded.

There had been an irresistible mutual attraction that each recognised immediately, but that

Mum and her sister had missed.                                                                                                     

        "Clive and I thought we'd go out for a drink tonight,' announced Trudy, 'would you like to

come, Mother?" 

       "Oh, no Dear, thank you; I have to get the room ready.  You go and enjoy yourselves."

       "Well, we'll take your sister instead," said Clive, enthusiastically, "you'll come won't you,

Sue?"                                                                                                                                              

       Trudy showed a hint of disapproval at his suggestion, but decided not to make a fuss and

risk spoiling the festive season. 

       "Yes, I'd love to, thanks," answered Sue, unable to conceal her delight.                               

       The three motored down to the village pub in his car.  A Christmas party was in full swing.

Fairy lights twinkled on the tree, sparkling decorations hung all round and everyone was

dancing on a cleared area of floor to the music of a small live band.                                            

       "What would you girls like?" 

       Clive was particularly jovial as they took a table, his eyes dwelling on the younger sister.

Then he went off to the bar with the order, pushing his way through the jostling crowd. 

       "So, how long have you been going out?"

       Sue had used the opportunity to ask whilst he was out of earshot.

       "Oh, about six months, I suppose;" said Trudy, almost unconcernedly, "I think we might

even love each other a bit."                                                                                                              

       Clive arrived back with a tray and sat between them.  As they sipped their drinks, his head

was turned towards Sue for minutes, and towards Trudy for only seconds at a time. The elder

sister became irritated and dragged him on to the floor to dance. 

       "She's my sister, not your girl friend, Clive," she complained in his ear.

       "I know.  Sorry Trudy; but I do find her attractive.  I thought you'd be pleased."                   

       The evening wore on.  Clive danced only once more with Trudy but four times with Sue. 

During the fourth dance not a cigarette paper could have passed between them.  Then their lips

met briefly and they knew it was the point of no return.                           

                                                                       *    *    *

       "Breakfast!"  

       Mum had called up the stairs. Three bedroom doors opened and three tousled heads

appeared in a queue for the bathroom.  Trudy went in first, leaving Clive and Sue on the landing.

        He encircled her with his arms and planted an unforgettable kiss on her lips.  She replied

with a firm hug around his waist, clasping him tightly to her.  For minutes they remained

motionless in a close embrace until the sound of the emptying wash basin persuaded them to

part, just in time to avoid discovery.  

       Clive whispered to her:

       "What are we going to do?  We'll have to tell her, Sue."

       "I know..... and Mum as well," she murmured, "perhaps over breakfast, do you think?"

       "Well, I'm the culprit," he admitted, "I think I should do it."

       They sat round the table and all four tucked into bacon and eggs.  Mum noticed an odd

look in Sue's eyes.

       "Is there something the matter, Sue?" 

       "Well, sort of....." replied her daughter, "but I think Clive should tell you."

       Trudy had already detected the magnetic field between her boyfriend and her sister.  She

shuffled uneasily on her chair as Clive put down his knife and fork.

       "I do regret what I have to tell you both," he began, looking at Trudy and then at Mother.   

       They turned towards him.                             

       "I'm afraid that Sue and I have fallen in love.  We didn't mean to..... it just happened, and

so quickly.  I am very sorry, Trudy."

       The senior girl jumped off her chair and stormed round the room, knocking a vase off the

mantelpiece and yelling at the top of her voice:                                                                               

        "You Devil, Sue!  You've stolen my man!  You bitch!" 

       Their mother flinched, aghast at the suddenness of the new revelation. 

       Incensed by her sister's unsisterly outburst, Sue decided to drive in the ultimate nail:       

     

       "Yes," she said, quietly, "thank you, Trudy, he's the best 'hand-down' I've ever had."

 

                                                                         END