Turn Us Again by Charlotte Mendel Read Free Book Online Page A

superiority complex which made them look down their noses at the others. As a result Anne disliked them and tried to ingratiate herself with them at the same time. Not that she had made much effort — she was popular, they were just Jews.
    But she had never even seen a black person, let alone known one well enough to form an opinion. Yet apparently, opinions had been formed. How else could she explain her original astonishment with Louise’s English accent and behaviour, as though they clashed with her African features? In fact, Louise had been brought up in England and was as conventionally middle-class as any girl Anne knew. Because of this, Anne could never forgive herself for what had happened at their first meeting. There had been four nurses moving into the hospital dorms on the same day. Anne had been chatting with all of them, assuming they would all want to room with her. She thought she would choose the Irish girl, who seemed cheery and might be game for all-night dancing. But when the decision-making moment came, the Irish girl said,
    â€œRight, I’ll room with you Connie, and Louise and Anne can room together.”
    Anne froze in surprise. For a fraction of a second, she couldn’t speak. Then she came to herself and focused on Louise, who was looking at her without expression.
    â€œOf course,” she said. But she knew that Louise had registered her hesitation.
    Now, months later, they were firm friends, yet neither had forgotten their first meeting, that slightest glitch in British politeness.
    â€œWell, nighty night,” Anne said.
    â€œThere’s no point going to sleep now, you don’t have time.”
    â€œI read that twenty minutes is enough to revitalize your mind. I’ll be as good as new.”
    â€œIf you want twenty you’ll have to fall asleep within the next minute.”
    â€œShh.”
    Anne was glad Louise wasn’t in the room when she began to prepare for the evening. It was boring to be judged for enjoying oneself. Where was the joy in a life of work and sleep? Live in the moment, milk pleasure from every opportunity!
    It was all fairly innocent. Anne’s naiveté was held intact by the traditional, close-knit family she had left so recently, who still ate high tea with the grandparents every Sunday. Bread and butter, little cakes, maybe a rice pudding or a treacle tart. The grandmothers were formidable in their starched gowns and severe hairstyles, the little heads of their fox stoles bumping against their bosoms. Edwardians emerging from the Victorian era, they still ruled with Victorian principles, one step removed from covering indecently exposed chair legs. Instilling an absolute idea of modesty into their female descendants, they asserted that sex was to be endured in order to procreate and because it was part of the marriage contract, in exchange for life-long food and lodging. Sex before marriage was condemned. Foolish women might imagine food and lodging would be obtained by such an act, but they were mistaken and ended up badly, just as they ought. Pregnancy before marriage destroyed the family. There were no words to express such a calamity. Sex for pleasure was unimaginable.
    Anne rebelled against this upbringing by flirting with a variety of admirers, but she had no intention or desire to sleep with any of them. Some adventures culminated in a kiss, but nothing in that experience tempted her to go further. Ultimately she dreamed of marriage, like most women of her age, but she didn’t really think about what marriage meant. She felt only that fun and pleasure must be grasped with both hands now.
    Anne sorted through her meagre wardrobe in disgust. There were two good blouses, a couple of nice skirts, and her best woolen dress. By mixing and matching, she could achieve a different look for several days, but as weeks marched into months Anne grew desperate. Louise’s situation wasn’t much better, but she had just