BARBARA SMITH

 nnie poked at her hat, turning her head from side to side, until she was satisfied with the image reflected in the plate glass of the window. She was quite pleased with the green velvet cloche, one of the many hats that she possessed. As a child her mother had told her that a good hat was the mark of a lady. The words left a lasting impression on her and Annie was never seen in public without headgear. She gave a few more prods at the green velvet, then smiled with satisfaction. Turning from the window, she made her way to the luggage area in search of her bag.

"I'll get that for you." She smiled at the fresh-faced young man who had come up beside her. That was one of the perks of her regular trips, she had met so many interesting people.

Peter had been sitting next to her on the flight from Amsterdam. She had like his open face and in no time they had been chatting away like old friends. He was a buyer for a big store in Manchester and this was his first solo trip to Holland. He was flushed with success at how well it had gone. Annie had told him about her monthly trips to see her daughter Myra and her grandchildren.

" Tom, Myra's husband," she had confided. "Is something big in computers. He was offered this important job ten years ago and it meant the whole family moving to Holland. Of course, I was devastated at the time, I had just recently lost my husband you see, but it was too good a chance for him to turn down. Anyway, after a couple of months Myra suggested that I fly out for a visit. I was a bit scared the first time, but it was so lovely to see them all again that we decided to make it a regular thing and now I go once a month."

The journey had literally flown by. Peter had told her about his fiancée and the wedding planned for the autumn. Annie had shown him snaps of her latest great-grandchild. When he had said that she didn't look old enough to be a great-grandma and she had whispered that she was seventy-eight, he had been very gallant.

"You don't look a day over sixty," he had flattered

"That's because I am bionic," she teased. Her grandson Paul had dubbed her that after her hip and knee replacement six years before. At the time, Myra had expressed amazement that the operation had been performed so quickly.

" I thought that the NHS had a waiting list as long as your arm," she said. Annie had shrugged, declining to say that she had had the operation done privately, such an admission might cause problems. It had been the same in the beginning, when her regular trips had first started. Myra had been worried about the cost of the flights.

"Don't worry," Annie had reassured her. "Your father left me a small pension." Which wasn't a lie exactly. He had left her a pension, albeit a meagre one. But life had a way of working things out and sometimes it was best not to cause problems by going into too much detail.

She spotted her small black case and pointed it out to Peter, who lifted it effortlessly atop his own.

Reg was on duty at customs. Annie had become a familiar figure amongst the airport staff. They had become used to her trips and asked regularly after her grandchildren.

"So Annie, what are you smuggling in today?"

"Just a small bottle of whisky for medicinal purposes," she replied primly. Reg guffawed.

"Ah!, they all say that," he said with mock severity.

Peter insisted on seeing her safely to the taxi that was waiting, saying how glad he was to have met her and leaving her with a peck on the cheek.

"Picked up another toy boy on your travels I see," said Terry with a grin, as she settled herself into the back seat. She tutted and wagged her finger at him. Terry was another friend she had made. One of the drivers who worked for the taxi firm that she used to and from the airport. He was a bluff, middle aged man with an open face and a friendly smile. His wife suffered quite badly from arthritis and Annie always made a point of asking how she was, in turn Terry was always interested in how her family was doing.

Back at the house, she took off her hat and laid it carefully on the hall table. She stroked the velvet gently, it really was a handsome thing, Charles had impeccable taste.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat down to sort through the post that had accumulated. Apart from the usual bills, there was a postcard from Bill and Jean Mason, a couple she had met three years ago and who never failed to send birthday and Christmas cards. They were currently on holiday in Spain and having a wonderful time by the sound of it.

It was nice that so many of the people that she met kept in touch with her. Leaning back in her chair she thought about them all. Apart from the Mason's there was Penny, the Australian nurse, who sent her long chatty letters, the Browns, Jack Preston, Dorothy. The list was endless and of course there was Charles.

She had found herself sitting next to him on her second trip. His deep, cultured voice and the impeccable style of his clothes had impressed her. They had been deep in conversation by the time they landed. They had arranged to meet in Amsterdam, an arrangement that had continued over the years.

Annie had never told Myra about these meetings, not wanting the questions that would inevitably follow. Her special relationship with Charles was a private thing. She enjoyed the excitement of the trysts. Charles was a perfect gentleman, who would often present her with small gifts. The green hat was the latest one. Of course, she told Myra that she had bought it herself. Myra had been despairing.

" Mother, you have more hats than enough!" she had wailed.

" You can never have too many," Annie had insisted. "A new hat is always useful."

The sun streamed in at the window, making her feel drowsy. With a quick glance at the clock, she decided that she would have a little nap and then go to the park to feed the ducks, they always missed her when she was away. She smiled to herself as she drifted into a doze, Charles had certainly brought a little excitement into her life.

*****

The park was budding into life on this balmy spring day. Carrying the bag of bread Annie made her way to her favourite bench. She had worn a straw boater for her trip, it seemed in keeping with the day. Bossy noticed her at once, waddling towards her, squawking his approach as he came. Annie had christened him Bossy because he was such exhibitionist. He always had to be first, barging his way through and out squawking all the others. She was still laughing at his antics, when someone sat down beside her.

The girl was very pretty, with smooth creamy skin and beautiful amber eyes. She smiled at Annie and tossed her shiny auburn hair back over her shoulder. As she delved into the bag of bread crusts she carried, Bossy immediately turned his attention towards her. Annie laughed.

"How fickle can you get and here I was thinking he had missed me while I was away."

"Have you been somewhere nice?" inquired the girl.

" I have been to see my daughter in Holland," began Annie. Half an hour later they were still chatting when the girl glanced at her watch.

" I had better be off," she said, brushing the crumbs from her skirt as she rose. She ignored the bag she had left sitting on the bench and with a deft movement, picked up Annie's bag, before walking away. Annie smiled after her. The bag that the girl carried contained the small packages that Annie had earlier removed from the green hat.

When Charles had first made his tentative proposal she had been quite shocked, but the idea had lodged itself into her brain For the whole of their lives she and her husband had been model citizens. They had worked hard, brought up a daughter who was a credit to them and never claimed a penny from the state. And for what? So that the autumn years could be eked out on a pension that was so meagre it barely covered existence. She had thought about the crippling cost of the airfares to see her beloved family. About never again having to worry about the cost of keeping warm in the winter months. About the tiny luxuries that could bring a little comfort into her final years.

She stood and picked up the bag that the girl had left behind, holding it to her chest. Through the thin material, her fingers could feel the security it contained.

The day was growing colder as Annie left the park, but she hardly noticed. Inside her head, she was already happily planning her next trip and which of her beloved hats would accompany her.