The Silver Lining
by
Thelma Sekerka-Bajbus
Everything was grey. The large grey clouds, moving swiftly across the afternoon winter sky, threatened to unload their heavy burden of snow. The sun was hidden by the clouds, and the gusting wind, whirling the scant snowfall that had fallen that morning, produced a grey light that enveloped everything.
Ellen trudged along the sidewalk. She fitted into the landscape. She was tall and thin, dressed in a long grey, unfashionable woollen coat with a long trailing scarf thrown around her neck. A shabby tam, pulled down to cover ears and forehead, hid all but a few wisps of uncurled grey hair. Her old black winter boots stomped along, each step an expression of annoyance, for her mood was as grey as the sky.
"I don't know what I'm doing out here on such a miserable day," she grumbled to herself. "Why do we have to meet every Friday afternoon, rain or shine, summer or winter, always at the same time, at the same place, at the same table? Why not on a Thursday or a Monday or for morning coffee?"
She kept walking at a steady pace despite the strong wind.
"And I'm getting tired of always having coffee and a doughnut. I wish just once I could order that club sandwich Annabelle often has, or that big luscious-looking chocolate cake Mary Louise likes to eat. But then, they can afford it and I can't. Well, at least today I made myself a little treat for lunch."
The snow started to fall, not too heavily at first, just enough to be wetly miserable.
"I suppose we'll have to hear another instalment of the brilliance of Mary Louise's wonder grandson. She just takes for granted that we are all vitally interested in anything that happens in her family. Or we'll have to admire a new pair of earrings, or a scarf, or a new dress. It's no wonder she's always forced to borrow money from her son before the end of the month when her cheque arrives. I was brought up that if you don't have the money you don't spend it."
The snow began to fall in earnest, great fluffy snowflakes laden with water. The cold wind grew stronger and howled around the corner as Ellen turned down the main street.
"We don't hear much about Annabelle's grandchildren, but then she is so wrapped up in her various organizations that that's all she can talk about. You'd think nothing would ever get done in this town if she weren't in charge, always giving little speeches and telling other people what to do and how to do it."
"Good afternoon, Ellen," said a cheery voice. Ellen peered through the heavily falling snow and saw Ted Hanson who lived on the same street. He was always happy and optimistic no matter what the circumstances. "some weather we're having, isn't it?" he commented.
"Miserable," answered Ellen shortly in a gloom tone.
"The clouds certainly are grey," he replied. "Oh well, we'll just have to look for a silver lining." Ellen didn't answer. She just kept going, in no mood to see the brighter side of life. "Silver lining, indeed," she mumbled to herself. "He always talks about a silver lining. Maybe Ted can find one but I certainly can't. Silver lining, indeed!"
The snow fell so heavily that Ellen could not see the clock in the cupola of the town hall, but she could hear it start to strike three o'clock as she finally came to the door of the tea room.
She shook herself as free from snow as possible, then opened the heavy wooden door. A rush of warm air flowed over her in contrast to the wintry air at her back. She took off her coat, scarf and tam and hung them neatly on a hook near the door before turning around to face the main part of the room. The warm yellow walls, the tastefully arranged green plants and the golden glow of the polished wooden tables and chairs did nothing to help her mood. She continued to enjoy her feeling of misery.
"My goodness," she thought, "Mary Louise is here on time. She's always late. I wonder what has happened."
"There you are, Ellen," trilled the light voice of Mary Louise. "You look half frozen. Do take the chair by the radiator and you'll soon be warm." She patted the chair by the window, and on doing so her new earrings, each a silver hoop with a silver bell suspended in it, jingled a little tune. Her faded blond hair was fluffed becomingly around her soft round face, and her smiling lips were accentuated by the magenta lipstick that perfectly matched her sweater.
"You need a hot drink right away," Annabelle declared in a slightly ordering tone. "We took the liberty to order for you as we know you are always on time."
Annabelle, as usual, sat very straight on the high-backed wooden chair and looked very much in command with her extremely well-groomed appearance, a neat navy blue suit with a cream-coloured blouse, and her immaculately waved grey hair.
"Now I can't even order for myself," Ellen thought as she took her place by the window.
Immediately, Joan, who looked after the ladies every Friday, brought a large pot of steaming hot coffee to the table. "I really didn't expect to see you ladies on such a cold miserable day," she said as she poured the coffee.
"We're not hot-house flowers who are afraid of a bit of snow and wind," said Ellen.
"Well, I can certainly see that," laughed Joan. "I'll get the rest of your order right away."
"Ellen, still in her grey mood, sat rigidly on her chair, her hands clasped tightly on her lap.
"I've brought some lovely new pictures of my grandson in the new sailor outfit my sister sent him. He really is a most handsome lad," began Mary Louise as she started to open her purse. At a look from Annabelle she stopped and, a bit flustered, said, "I'll show them later after we've had our coffee."
"Yes, coffee is much more important today than anything you or I have to talk about," Annabelle declared. She seemed a bit nervous herself.
Ellen looked at her two companions in a slight startled way. This certainly was out of character for both of them.
Annabelle cleared her throat, stood up, and clasped her hands in front of her.
"For goodness sake," thought Ellen, "I think she's going to make a speech."
"On behalf of Mary Louise and myself," Annabelle began, "I have something to say to you, Ellen. The three of us have been meeting regularly for nearly two years although we have known each other for a much longer time. We've shared so much of our everyday lives, our families, our activities, our worries, and our pleasures. I feel we have become a family, a family of friends. Mary Louise and I share the same fault; we never stop talking, and you, dear Ellen, are forced into the role of listener. However, I will say that when you do talk we so enjoy your droll sense of humour and your wonderful ability to bring us right down to earth when we become too fanciful. We want to share our lives with you and we hope that the three of us can continue our friendship for many years."
"And now," Annabelle paused dramatically and nodded to Joan who had quietly come up behind Ellen.
Ellen gasped as a large luscious chocolate cake was placed in front of her, complete with seven lighted candles, one for each decade of her life.
"Many happy returns of the day," smiled Annabelle.
"Happy birthday, dear Ellen," added Mary Louise. "Here is a little something from Annabelle and me," and she put a small colourfully wrapped parcel beside the cake.
The snow had almost stopped. The grey clouds had moved farther to the north-west, and a little corner of the sun peeped out from behind a cloud. A ray of sunlight shone through the window beside Ellen and added its golden light to that of the candles.
Ellen sat stunned. "There really is a silver lining," she said, half to herself.
"What did you say?" asked Annabelle.
"Oh, it was nothing," replied Ellen in a quivering voice. Suddenly, a seldom seen smile of great beauty lit up her usually taciturn face. with tears in her eyes, she looked at Annabelle and Mary Louise, and cried, "Thank you, oh, thank you, my dear, dear friends!"