"Oh!" was the muttered comment by Merv as he surveyed the array of boxes that littered his shed/workroom. "I know I have said it many times", he muttered to himself. "I must examine what is in them, but as usual it was 'I'll do it tomorrow' of course tomorrow never comes. However, if I want to get that new machine in, I need the room; so today is the day I start sorting what is in the boxes and that will be interesting as a number of them come from my grandmother's old house and have travelled with me ever since and that was over forty years ago.".
It was after a cup of tea that he pulled down the first of the boxes, it was covered in dust. There was no date on it but a couple of stickers on adverts had 'pounds and shillings' mentioned in the price of the item they were selling. 'Well that put this box in the over forty year bracket", he muttered as he pulled open the lid, which crumbled. What was revealed made him shake his head for here was his old meccano set, plus the wind up train that he had played with while living with his grandmother, being an only child, abandoned by his parents, he had to make his own fun. It was just curiosity to know if it still worked that he put a few drops of oil in the winding mechanism, wound the key and 'bingo' the train again ran along the lines. "I don't suppose modern kids would be interested in such a toy now, but as it still works and of course the meccano set can certainly be used, maybe some kid would like the lot. I put that aside for one of the charities".
Other boxes had old books; some very early reference books that he had kept and an array of old school books, a steel tipped pen that was used in the old days, a few pencils. He opened the exercise books and was appalled at the handwriting that he had used and it showed the level of his education at that time. "It is a wonder I even got out of primary school, if my standard of education was equal to my writing skills it was a disaster", he groaned as that lot was put in the garbage bin, they bought back memories that were best forgotten.
There was an old tea chest, the sort that carried the tea in bulk in the early 1950's. It was made of ply wood and on the inside was a silver foil type of covering, something very similar to the foil that was still used. Inside was an array of old clothing, short pants, old school shirt with the school colours, a blazer from the youth club days, a tie, a pair of shoes and an array of other pieces of clothing, nothing of value. "This lot is for the rag bag", he muttered as he put them all into one of the coloured bags that advertised 'rags for collection'.
The final box was only a shoe box but out of them all it was to prove the most interesting and would bring back memories that had long been forgotten. The only item in the box was a bundle of envelopes tied together with a very faded ribbon. A quick glance at the first envelope gave a date of 1958, the year he had started living on his own after the sale of his grandmother's house after her departure into the next world. The envelope was address to him. "Time for lunch, I'll then have a read, goodness know what history will be revealed in these", he said as he picked them up and headed up from his work shed.
Each letter had been written by an aunt that had long ago died. They were letters of encouragement, inviting him to Sydney. One letter was telling him of her holiday in America, others were general chit-chat, a bit of history of the early family and its arrival from Ireland in 1853 and where they had all ended up. However, one envelope was blank and sealed. He opened it up and three black and white photos fell out and as he picked them up he gave a gasp for they were photos that he had taken over forty years before, what would be considered 'porno'. They consisted of a fully nude woman, front on. The same woman giving oral to a man and another of her being fucked at the same time sucking a cock. On the back were a name "Marion, the Ugly Duckling" and the date July 1960. As he held those photos his mind travelled back over the decades to the day that he had met her, for those photos revealed the events that led to them being taken as though it was yesterday.
It had been a typical day but the decision to go to the 'pictures' as they were call then only came about when he read the local paper and the section advertising what picture was on at the local theatre that evening. "El Cid", he muttered. "That is about the time when the Moors were being kicked out of Spain. I don't suppose it will be a true account but it should be a picture with plenty of action. I'm not doing anything this evening, I'll go".
Living alone there was just a few dishes to wash, this done he put on a jumper, closed up and got into his vehicle, an very old second hand 1946 Hillman. Chatting up a girl hadn't really been on his agenda, in fact he had no girlfriend although he with another mate did frequent the many dances that were advertised around the district; however, they rarely scored. The girl was sitting by herself, the café was very busy. He had purchased a milk shake, a chocolate bar and a packet of chips. "Pretty crowded here tonight", he said. The girl glance up and he had to check his emotion, she was ugly, it was as though she had been in an accident but apart from her facial appearance she was fully developed and was definitely on her own.
However, for the girl to have a boy actually speak to her was something that took seconds to register. She new what her appearance was like and generally the boys would gasp. "Fuck your ugly" and depart, this boy didn't and continued to chat that was music to her. "How are you enjoying the movie?" he asked. For seconds she struggled with a reply and then said that she didn't think she would go back, not because it was too violent but she felt awkward. He didn't question that statement but considered it was because of her appearance, it could embarrass other patrons. "We have a few minutes before they ring the bell indicating interval was over; could I get you a drink or something?" he asked. "The milkshake is quite nice, not as good as the one that is made at that milk bar across from the fire station". So surprised it was seconds before she grasped the offer. "I would like a milkshake", she whispered.
The bell sounded and he asked if she would like to join him, again the offer was seized and for the first time in, maybe since her uncle had thrown the boiling water into her face; a boy was actually holding her arm and not showing any sign of revulsion. The picture finished just a little before eleven-thirty, it was a long film, longer than the general picture. "There is a new coffee lounge opened in Wilson Street", he said. "Would you like a coffee? I have been there just once, for it has only been open a month, but the coffee is very nice". It then occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself, "I'm sorry I should have introduced myself, my name is Merv".
"M ... Marion", she replied.
"That was a nice cup of coffee", she said. "I haven't been with a boy or invited out like tonight for a long time, not since..." She then shut up. He knew what she was going to say; naturally thinking that her facial injuries must have been through an accident and because of the damage, no boy would consider taking her out. "Just because you had an accident Marion", he said. "Doesn't take away your character and I have found you a nice companion and I thank you for allowing me to be with you". She nearly fell off the chair. She really had no reply but he then said. "It is getting late, could I take you home or do you have a vehicle", he asked.
She lived in an old caravan in one of the town caravan parks. "Would you like to come in", she said. The invitation was readily accepted for like he had observed she was fully developed and for a second a thought came into his mind, something said by one of his friends in regards ugly women. 'Well you can put a bag over their heads while you fuck them'. He dismissed the thought immediately. The caravan was old but very clean. It had a small kitchen and a small shower, something that had been added, not by her but by a previous owner and it was obvious she was proud of it. A double bed was partition off. He sat at the small table while she produced a cake and put on the kettle.
She was silent for awhile and then said. "You mentioned an accident, I gather you meant what happened to my face", he nodded. "It wasn't an accident Merv., my uncle threw a pot of boiling water into my face"
"He ... he did what?" was his startled reply. "W ... why?"
.... There is more of this story ...