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Working
as a cocktail waitress in the sort of establishment that her parents would have
disapproved of, she sought solace in cheap gin and the company of countless strangers.
Each morning found her waking in some strange apartment, an unknown lover at her side.
She'd dress quickly and leave in shame, vowing that it wouldn't happen again but knowing
within her heart that it would. It was then that she'd met Solomon and she'd sensed from the
start that there was something different about him. In the seven short days that she'd
known him, he'd been the perfect gentleman. He sent her flowers, wined and dined her and
paid her compliments in the way that she thought only existed in old movies.
He wasn’t at all like the other men that she knew. He didn’t undress her with
his eyes or paw at her body. No, he seemed to be content just to be with her, as if he
somehow drew his energy from her.
They had only known each other for three days when he’d taken her hand in his and
asked her to marry him. She’d noticed then how cold his hands were but as she was so
surprised at his question, she passed it off as poor circulation. She noted his pallid
complexion too but put that down to that he wasn’t getting a healthy diet or enough
sunlight.
She hadn’t said “yes” or even “give me time to think about it”
but Solomon seemed to take her silence as agreement to his proposal. He became like a man
possessed and within 24 hours he’d organized the wedding papers so that they could
marry at the weekend.
As they approached the church that he selected (to discuss the service with the priest),
she’d asked if his family would be there. She’d found herself shivering
involuntarily when he replied “oh yes, my dear, they are always there” and
turned to look at the tombstones.
Before she had time to think, the days had passed by and she found herself in her wedding
gown, standing beside him at the altar. The church was empty except for the two witnesses
from the bar and the priest himself. When she’d asked him where all of his family
was, he’d replied “patience, my dear, you’ll get to meet them soon
enough”.
As the priest led them through the marriage vows, she instinctively felt that something
was dreadfully wrong. All of her senses seemed to be screaming at her to turn and run from
the church but she was only able to whisper a strained “I do”.
Afterwards in the vestry, as the priest handed her the pen to sign the marriage register,
she’d hesitated for a moment but she knew that it was already too late. “Come,
my dear” said her new husband. “Surely you haven’t forgotten how to spell
Grundy already?” As the words of the old nursery rhyme suddenly flooded into her
head, she remembered how as a child she’d run the lines backwards and forwards…
Solomon Grundy was “buried on Sunday”, died on Saturday, “worse on
Friday”, “took ill on Thursday”, “married on Wednesday”.
She stopped at that point and turned to look more closely at her Mr. Solomon Grundy. It
was then she knew the awful truth. She’d married a dead man! |
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