Memories of Africa: Billy
 

Miss Peeg carefully slid the lid back on the wooden box it wasn’t any bigger than a bread box, “Oh,” her hand went to her mouth. Twelve months of her life were in this box. But it had been so much bigger, her life during that year. She lifted the box to her face and inhaled the scents long sealed away. Memories came flooding over her and she reached into her sleeve for her hankie.

“Thanks for the tea,” he’d said after leaving her boss’s office he set the cup and saucer on her desk.

“You’re most welcome.” She’d looked up at him. He’d tipped his hat and left but later she saw him as she was gathering her things to leave for the day, custom was the girls would gather downstairs in the hallway until a gentleman was going their way to escort them home for the day. He’d appeared at her door.

“Whichever way you’re walking home is the direction I’m headed.” He’d said with that smile on his face. His eyes were light blue and he was blond with a slight reddish cast to his hair in the sun, she’d noticed that when they left the building together. Another girl had accompanied them part way until she’d reached her flat.”

“I’ve not seen you around here before,” she’d said to him

“I don’t usually come here, but today was special, special because I met you.” He’d stopped an lit a cigarette and offered her one, she took it and he couldn’t get the match to light so she’d cupped her hand around it and somehow ended up with the matchbook in her hand.

She picked up that matchbook with an elaborate design on the front flap and the gold script lettering from some French bistro. She remembered feeling terrible because she’d kept it, he probably patted down his pockets looking for it after he’d walked her home but at the time she scarcely knew she had it in her hand.