A Present For Gina

She’d do what her mum had prepared her for – look after herself.

- Kath Kilburn

Gina stood outside the cinema, thinking she’d give Dave another five minutes and then leave. She wasn’t his type anyway; she’d seen him ogling those other girls in their Afghan coats and beads, and suspected he wished she was more flower child and less Thelma from The Likely Lads. Well, there was nothing wrong with a smart miniskirt and a Peter Pan collar.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be free-spirited but, as her mum had always warned her, she needed to be prepared to support herself. Gina’s dad had died young and her mum knew the bitter reality of coping alone. So Gina had taken a secretarial course and got a good job as a shorthand typist. Oh, she’d clickety-clacked her kitten heels up to the student quarter one Saturday and gazed in the window of a shop called Sky – all emerald-green crushed velvet skirts and crimson gypsy tops – but she hadn’t gone in.

Anyway, if that was what Dave wanted – someone who’d wear a gypsy top without even being on holiday – it was only fair to give him that chance. And she’d do what her mum had prepared her for, look after herself. In the meantime, she hoped he’d be here soon, or this drizzle would ruin her bubble cut.

Dave picked up the gift-wrapped package and stowed it under his arm. He was late. He didn’t want Gina thinking he was cooling on her. She was so feisty, so independent, nothing like the other girls he knew. A bit conservative on the surface, but once you got to know her, kind, diligent… He knew he was lucky. He was nervous about this present. He finally caught a bus and there she was, neat as always, still waiting.