“Well, you think about it and let me know,” Mrs. Melsom said.

Jean felt the prospect of liberty slipping away. If she didn’t settle the matter now, with Mrs. Melsom still here providing additional traction, the battle would be lost.

“You might find you enjoy yourself. And it will be something to tell Dorrie in your next letter.”

Her mother wagged her hand as though waving a white flag. “Oh, all right. If you’re so set on it.”

Mrs. Melsom, to her great credit, refused to take offense at this ungracious response but beamed as though on the receiving end of a huge favor.

I will make it up to you somehow, Jean thought. She had no great confidence in the long-term success of the experiment. It was too much to hope for that her mother might make and keep a friend, and find some source of entertainment or comfort beyond herself and their four walls.

“I suppose you’ll be off gallivanting with your new friends while I’m out,” said her mother astutely as soon as the door was closed on the visitor. “They seem to be making quite a project of you, for some reason.”

“If I am ‘gallivanting,’” said Jean, magnanimous in her victory, “surely it’s better I do it while you are out having fun yourself than when you are on your own here.”

“Fun?” said her mother with a kind of shudder. “A lot of silly women more like.”

“I’m sure they’re not all silly. Mrs. Melsom is perfectly decent.”

“As long as they don’t try to get me on some kind of committee. You know what those churchy women are like when they get their claws into you.”

Jean laughed. “You do exaggerate! It’s the Mothers’ Union, not a pack of wild beasts.”

“I didn’t see you volunteering to get involved.”

“I’m not a mother,” Jean said.

16

Pam’s Piece

THE UNOFFICIAL AUNT

Can there be any category of women more derided than the maiden aunt? Having missed out on marriage and motherhood owing to a post-war shortage of men, she is regarded as both comic and tragic. Prudish and easily shocked, suspicious of anything modern, fond of cats and the local curate, she is to be pitied but also mocked. She dithered in the margins of literature like Jane Austen’s foolish Miss Bates, until Agatha Christie raised up Jane Marple to be her heroine—the maiden aunt’s natural nosiness and apparent harmlessness making her an ideal detective.

But there is a new breed of unmarried women at large now—modern, educated women with money and careers of their own—and hard-pressed parents are reaping the benefits.

These women have the time and energy to be “unofficial aunts” to their friends’ or neighbors’ children. What could be more rewarding and mutually beneficial?

The young person acquires a wise counselor and confidante, unburdened by parental expectations. The childless woman enjoys a fleeting taste of the joys of parenthood and acquires a greater understanding of the younger generation. The parents gain some time for their own pursuits. Everybody wins!