A Missed Opportunity

On our way back from Dartmoor on Saturday we stopped in to the supermarket in Totnes and at the next checkout was someone who looked familiar.

Right, I thought, now where do I know her from? She had a certain way of standing, of looking at you with her head slightly to one side but with a steady gaze, and I couldn’t think where I knew her from.

A few minutes later, as I waited in the queue for the loos, I suddenly realised who she was.

My boss’s secretary when we worked at BSB News, 18 years ago. Susan she was called – or was it Sue? And she was living with a Polish fellow – or was he Italian? It wasn’t going too well.

But she was a great secretary. Handled my boss brilliantly. Calm, serene sense of humour, and clear blue/grey eyes that took in every situation and acted, or reacted, accordingly.

I wondered whether I should say hello. Whether she would recognise me. I wondered what she was doing in Totnes when we’d met and worked in London. She was buying quite a lot of food so it didn’t look as if she was staying with friends for the weekend. Single type of stuff she was buying. You know, single yogurts and a packet of ham.

I dithered, for some reason, suddenly back to being the agonisingly shy 6 year old that I was. When I told Av and she said, ‘yes, of course. Go and say hello.’

So I hurried back to the checkout with my heart thumping. My mouth went dry and I wanted to run. What should I say? Was she called Sue or something else?

I rushed round to the checkout – and she was gone.

I felt a rush of relief, fast overtaken by crushing disappointment. If only I’d been braver, she wouldn’t have gone. Now I’ll never know.