A Face in the Crowd

First things first. I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I must also add, that I can't leave a story alone. I could well have added some cock-ups after they have seen it and before it gets posted. This story is set many years ago

"You rotten bastard! How could you do this to me? This is all your damn fault!" The string of blasphemies coming from my wife's mouth seemed never ending. I have to look back sometime to think just how I came to be in this uncomfortable position that all too many men have found themselves in over the years.

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There I was, along with thousands of other idiots, trying to force my way into the underground station during the rush hour. I'm told there are worse places in the world but London is as bad as I ever want to encounter.

I moved out of the Greater London Area years ago because the place is just too crowded for me. I like the peace and quiet of the West Country where I now live. Mind you, we can get inundated down there during the summer holidays. In the six weeks of the school summer break, I tend to stay clear of my local town.

That day I had been obliged to visit my employer's head office, something I usually avoid if at all possible. But it had been fated by the powers that be; since taking over as manager of our little plant productivity had reached heights it had never reached before. The fact that, unlike our old manager, I left folks to get on with the jobs they knew how to do instead of demanding progress reports every five minutes had not been realised by the pen pushers in head office. Hey, if those guys knew what we were doing with all those little notes they sent us, I'm sure they would have fired me.

Anyway I was forcing my way to the front of the platform when something made me look to my right. Perhaps I was looking to see if a train was coming. But what I saw was a face in the distance and for a moment my heart stopped beating. There in the distance was Sandy. Well I thought it was she. It had been ten years since I'd seen her. I tried to make my way in her direction but a train chose that moment to enter the station and all chance of closing the distance between us went out the window. I could just about see that Sandy had entered the next carriage to the one I was standing by. With the crush there was no chance I would make it to the carriage Sandy had entered so I forced my way into the nearest door.

The doors closed with not a little difficulty and then the train trundled out of the station. Crammed in against the other travellers I could only wish that one of them were Sandy.

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I'd met Sandra first at my primary school. Even then she was the prettiest girl in the class. I'm not saying everybody thought so but I did. Okay, I suppose it was a school-boy crush. Sandra, as everyone used to call her back then, was the first girl I had ever got to know really. My elder brothers teased the local girls relentlessly and I was painted with same brush. Of course Sandra and I were never together in the playground at break times. Little boys who hung around with girls were soon branded as sissies. But in class we inevitably sat together and helped each other with our school work. A right pair of little goody goodies; Sandra and I were always chosen as class monitors for everything that was going on, from giving out the milk to getting out and putting away the sports equipment.

For five years through primary and junior school we were together most of the school days. Oh and we always walked home together, much to my brothers' chagrin. But in our eleventh year the big change came. During the summer that we moved on to our secondary schools Sandra's parents moved house. Not very far, but into a different catchment area. After that summer we went to different schools and it was to be about six years before I was to see her again.

I can tell you now it was a Wednesday evening. Hey, if I looked it up I could tell you the date. Pinner Fair is a one-day event held every year since some king or the other granted a decree allowing it to take place. There are quite a few towns that have one-day fairs all over England. It is a must go experience. Pinner town centre is closed off and all the paraphernalia of the fair is set up in the High Street. Big wheel, Wall of death, roundabouts, the whole damn lot is put up during the night for just one day in operation. The following morning it is all gone.

I had persuaded a quite beautiful girl to go with me. I only wish now I'd gone with my brothers. But at seventeen the old hormones were doing their thing. Anyway I was standing there, my dream date hanging on my arm, by the Wurlitzer waiting to get hung on to like grim death. You know that's why you take girls on the Wurlitzer, so the girls can pretend they're frightened and you can grab them real tight. The girl and me got in ... damn I can't even remember her name now. Anyway as the bloody thing started moving, that face passed in front of me. I knew instantly who it was and I also knew that I wished I were alone. What the girl I was with thought as I twisted my head around trying to place exactly where I'd seen Sandra, I'll never know.

But let's just say I think our date took a downward turn. When the ride slowed down I finally located her. As my date and I got out, I saw Sandra get in another car with her girlfriends. To my companion's disgust we waited until the Wurlitzer stopped again and Sandra got off. There followed a strained conversation, where Sandra and I said "Hi," pretending that the attraction we felt for one another wasn't there. We tried to act like platonic old friends but I fear we didn't make a good job of it.

After Sandra had gone off with her little crowd, my date asked how long I'd been in love with Sandy, as she had became known.

"Sandy, oh she's just an old friend from my primary school days," I told her.

"Yeah, and I'm Brenda bloody Lee. Look if you want to take me to the bus stop I don't mind making my own way home. I'm not daft. I know love when I see it, even if you don't!"

Well, that girl and I searched the fair ground for the rest of the evening but we couldn't locate Sandy and her friends again in the crowd. Needless to say that was my last date with that girl, but I was forever grateful for her foresight and patience. For it was she who told me I was in love with Sandy.

Sandy and my paths weren't to cross again for another couple of years and like before Sandy had just faded to a slightly painful memory. So I had tried not to think of her too much, after my first desperate but unsuccessful attempts to track her down. Back then I wasn't the resourceful guy I am now and finding someone in a city of over six million people isn't easy. Through the phone book I'd tracked down her father. Although he wasn't the easiest guy to talk to, I learned that his wife had walked out on him for another man, year's before and had taken Sandy with her.

Over time I had managed to get the name of Sandy's step-dad out of her father. But by the time I'd tracked him down Sandy's mother had moved on again. And then by the time I'd track her mother down ...she'd reverted to using her maiden name ... Sandy had obviously gotten fed-up with her mother's behaviour and had left home. I thought it could be that Sandy's mother had a drinking problem, as she was as pissed as a newt when I called at her house. She claimed she didn't know where Sandy was but, in the state she was in, I should think she had problems remembering where the bloody door was.

When I returned to the house a few weeks later hoping her mother would be sober enough to tell me where I might find Sandy, the house was empty of furniture and had a for rent sign outside. The owners told me they evicted Sandy's mother for non-payment of rent. All further attempts at tracking her down failed.

Then one night I was at a pub some miles from my home, when once again I saw Sandy's face in the crowd, this time on the dance floor. She was in the arms of some guy and they looked in love with each other. He was all over her and I got bloody jealous. I tried a couple of times to position myself where she would see me but if she did she never showed it. Mind you, I had changed a lot by then. I was what was euphemistically called a hippie. Those of you who are old enough will remember. Long hair, the most ridiculous coloured clothing and beads. Lots of beads, god, I cringe when I think back.

Sometime later I noticed Sandy going outside with a different guy. So I slipped away from my friends and followed her. When I got into the open air there was no sign of Sandy or the guy. I was just turning to go back inside when I noticed movement in a car in the car park. I'm not a voyeur but I had to know. So I walked apparently aimlessly around the car park until I got close to the vehicle. In the dim light I could just about make out the guy, giving Sandy a good seeing to in the back seat.

Now you would think I would have been pretty upset about that but it was back in the sixties. You know, free love and all that. There was no connection between Sandy and me other than a friendship at school. So I think all I had the right to be was jealous, although I found the incident emotionally upsetting. I left the gig immediately and went home. A stupid thing to do actually. With hindsight I would have been better served to have stood by the doorway and waited so that Sandy would see me when she had finished what she was doing and was on her way back inside. Ah, hindsight, if only.

Another year or so passed before our next encounter. It was at a wedding and I was playing best man to a friend of mine. It was quite late in the evening and I was feeling no pain, you get the idea. I really didn't know Sandy was there, as I hadn't laid eyes on her all day. I hadn't seen many people actually; I'd spent most of the day concentrating on the two most gorgeous bridesmaids I'd ever met. It was going on midnight and the party had transferred back to the bride's father's house.

My day's efforts had finally paid off big time and I had somehow got both the little beauties in bed. My first threesome ever! Mind I doubted the girls would remember a thing about it the following day. If it wasn't for Sandy coming in the room to collect her coat, I don't know I would have remembered much myself.

Just what she made of it, when she got an eyeful of one girl riding me like a cowgirl at the same time as the other girl was sitting on my face, I don't know. But surprisingly Sandy recognised me. "Hi, Dave, don't let me disturb you." she said as she picked up her coat. It was a few minutes before it registered to whom the voice belonged. Once it registered, the girl sitting on my face went airmail and landed on the floor. I'm not quite sure what happened to the other girl, as I struggled to get my strides back on so that I could chase after Sandy.

I was too late and I wasn't everyone's favourite best man, because I hadn't stopped long enough to even put a shirt or my shoes back on. Unfortunately the one of the bridesmaid's parents was also at the party; things got just a little strained after that. So once again I went home alone.

There was just one more fleeting encounter with Sandy and that was at my own wedding. As we stood outside the church whilst the photographer took the obligatory pictures, there she was standing in the crowd of onlookers. What the hell could I do? I couldn't very well leave my brand new bride of five minutes to walk over to talk to some girl in the crowd. I somehow don't think it would have been appreciated.

Although looking back it could have been the best move I made that day. You see as I said earlier, it was back in the days of free love but I don't think my new bride quite got the idea that being married was different from being single. To put it bluntly I was soon to find out that she had trouble standing upright and keeping her legs together once she had found someone to pay the bills. Needless to say I didn't pay the bills for long. Within the year the guy who had been my best man was in hospital and I was single again. But, with a conviction for GBH on my record. If you're wondering, they could well have done it at the reception. But, I know for sure that they got together on her bloody hen-night.

I wish the person who told me had spoken up sooner. She was a friend of my ex-wife's and she told me whilst we were in bed together one night. Well, I had to make a point; I tried to work my way through as many of my ex-wife's friends as possible and damn near made it a full house. I know it got right up her nose as she was pregnant at the time. I did smile when the paternity test came back saying there was no way I could be the father. Wrong blood group apparently; there were no DNA tests back then.

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OK, I was in that bloody underground train and Sandy was in the next carriage. At every station I stuck my head out and watched for her to get off but she didn't as far as I could make out. Ounce the crowd started thinning out a bit I went up to the carriage I thought Sandy had got into but she wasn't there. Totally discouraged I changed trains and went back to my hotel for the night. That evening I didn't go and visit my parents as I had planned. I sat in my room and got rat-arsed; getting drunk doesn't solve anything. But it takes the pain out of the heartache. Oh, yeah, if you believe that, you'll believe anything. It just numbs the senses for a while.

Mind you, whilst I was lying in bed nursing my hangover the following morning, I came up with an idea. In big cities people normally only travel during the rush hour if they have to. The main reason they do is to get to and from work and they tend to do that at the same time each day. So four o'clock that afternoon saw me standing at the bottom of the escalator that led down the platform where I'd seen Sandy the previous day. I had my eyes glued to a pair of binoculars that I was using to study every face that travelled down it.

In the end I got lucky. There she was standing on the right-hand side of the escalator so that those people who were in a hurry could pass down to her left. Her right hand was on the moving handrail to steady her. I quickly changed position so that I might see what I needed to see. I had a little difficulty locating her again, but when I did, I was pleased to note that there was no glint of gold on her left hand in which she held her handbag. Sandy was much nearer to me by then. As I lowered the binoculars I saw a look of confusion that rapidly turned into a smile come on her face as she recognised me.

Nothing was said, Sandy just walked off the escalator into my arms.

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So here I am! Holding Sandy's hand whilst she shouts blasphemies at me. This is the third time we've been through this bloody procedure. Sandy always says it's my fault, but she was in on it as well. I don't mind her shouting at me; I'm told the pain is terrible. I'm just glad that it's her and not me; I've tried suggesting she had a Caesarean this time. But she insisted that it would leave a scar and she would feel self-conscious in her bikini. God, she still is the most beautiful girl I've ever known.

Life goes on