Free When I Was Otherwise by Stephen Benatar Page A

only once been to see Daisy—there had been so very much else to attend to—and although she had indeed tried to telephone her (twice or even three times) Daisy had consistently been out.
    â€œThe merry widow,” Erica had christened her.
    â€œOh, Erica,” said Marsha with a chirrup. “I don’t think that’s very kind!”
    â€œKinder than before!” remarked Dan—but with a slightly strained sort of grin; he, of all of them, had always been closest to Henry.
    â€œOh, what can you mean? Kinder than before?” Marsha stared at them both prettily, prepared to be appalled.
    â€œThe merry black widow!” said Erica. The two of them giggled naughtily. It seemed immensely funny.
    â€œNo, please don’t,” Marsha gasped at last. “You mustn’t! You know I simply can’t bear spiders. Creepy-crawlies! Ugh! I even dream about them. If I were ever to start associating Daisy with anything like that…”
    Dan said: “Oh, come off it, Marsha! There was never any woman less like a creepy-crawly than Daisy.”
    It was a smiling yet nonetheless stern rebuke; and it had the desired effect on both his wife and sister. Marsha soon began to hum melodies from The Merry Widow , not with any satirical intent but only because these were the first which came to mind and she thought, in a slightly chastened mood, that her singing might please Dan. It did. He loved to listen to his sister’s voice (Erica, unfortunately, was completely tone-deaf) and when they’d been younger he had often requested her, despite the discrepancy in their ages, to sing to him the popular songs of the moment.
    â€œDo you remember that time on holiday when it rained all afternoon,” she said, “and the two of us had a competition to see who could recognize the greatest number of tunes the other hummed?”
    â€œAnd you won hands down!” laughed Dan. “It cost me a whole shilling.”
    â€œYes. Happy days. Ah, happy days!”
    No, she didn’t mean that, of course. Well, she didn’t mean precisely that. It was sometimes difficult to know, even inside her own head, exactly what she did mean. Oh, how she sometimes wished she could have been born with a brain!
    She finished singing ‘Velia’ and then said, “Well—talking of The Merry Widow — The Gay Divorcée was just as delightful. Oh, I’ll never understand how you two could refuseto see it!”
    â€œBut I thought it was called The Gay Divorce ,” smiled Erica, emphasizing the last word. “Or were you meaning to provide a better balance…?”
    â€œNo, no!” Marsha’s giggles threatened to return. “No! Film Review says… In America…”
    Erica tried to help out. “Will the film be as good as the show?”
    â€œYes, it will…at least, if you’re madlyin love with Fred Astaire…like I am!”
    But then she made a really determined effort and finally managed to control herself.
    â€œI’m afraid,” said Erica, “we may have to pass on to Andrew what you’ve just told us.” Though it hadn’t been for the first time, not by any means.
    â€œOh, he already knows, that grumpy old puss!” Marsha pouted. “He doesn’t share my passion.”
    â€œIf he’s a grumpy old puss six days before the wedding, one shudders to think what he’ll be like six years after it?” They all laughed again, for some reason. “And, anyway, if he is grumpy I’m sure it’s only nerves.”
    â€œYes, yes, you’re right. Oh, my, is that the time? Well, I must fly. I only meant to stay a minute. And perhaps I oughtn’t to be speaking so much about merry widows or gay divorcées—perhaps it’s tempting providence. But if ever I am a gay divorcée I do pray Fred will be there waiting for me!” She arranged her veil before the mirror.
    â€œI never,”