The Uninvited Bed Guest!

We are all familiar with the children’s nursery rhyme ‘Little Miss Muffet’, first published in 1805. I can relate to Miss Muffet, although I would have screamed while running away. In case it’s not obvious, I’m spider phobic, no matter how big or small the eight legged beasties, fear takes over and common sense walks out the door in disgust.

In most cases, I consider myself a rational woman, with a three digit IQ and a logical mind to boot. Firstly, a spider is much smaller than I am, secondly, they capture insects in their webs and lastly they have ecological value, all-in-all useful little buggers. There is really no explaining it, but they scare the living daylight’s out of me.

In my humble opinion, my spider encounter was far more traumatic than Miss Muffet’s. I remember that it was a cold, sunny day. My alarm woke me at 7 O’clock and like every weekday, I begrudgingly headed for the bathroom and my wake up shower. After a good half-hour under the hot jets of water, I padded back to my bedroom, wrapped in my newly acquired soft bath-towel. That was as far as the comfort and luxury went in this house. For the first time since my student days, I was living in shared accommodation in north London. The tatty floral wallpaper and worn clashing carpeting screamed of the 50’s along with most of the furniture in the house.

As I entered my bedroom, I spotted what looked like a blotch of blood on my recently acquired pillow and pillowcase. Now as a child, I had suffered from nosebleeds but had eventually grown out of them. I drew closer to see exactly what it was and quickly retreated to the safety of the door. Unfortunately, it was not a nosebleed, but a big hairy spider that must have curled up beside me on my pillow. Then I can only assume that I must have rolled over in my sleep and squished my uninvited bed guest with my head. Even though the spider was as flat as a pancake and very dead, I screamed and then ran all the way back to the bathroom where I spent the next several hours washing my hair and scrubbing my scalp raw. Every time a strand of my hair brushed against my face, I’d scream.

I turned up to work a good four hours late, resembling a less than happy dried prune. It must have been a scary sight, as no one in the office approached my workspace to ask me why I was so late; then again, I gave no explanation. Usually a chatty person, I spent the rest of my workday in silence. Every now and again, I would jump in my chair, as my hair would tickle my face.

As I was getting ready to leave work, a brave colleague approached me and asked what had happened. Apart from the occasional twitch, I had started to see the funny side to the whole situation – except perhaps for the spider. So, I recounted my traumatic spider morning and my colleague found nothing better to do then joke that I’d probably squished the papa spider and now a jealous, vengeful mama spider was waiting for me at home. I laughed half-heartedly, but all the way home, I couldn’t quite shake the image of mama spider waiting for me.

I have a vivid imagination and by the time I arrived home, mama spider was the size of a large boulder with glowing red eyes and sharp fangs, just waiting to strike. As previously stated when fear takes over, common sense walks out the door. Speaking of which I was now standing in front of my bedroom door, heart pounding so loudly it resonated in my ears. I took a deep breath that came out as a nervous laugh, before opening the door.

I turned on the overhead light and let out the scream of all screams, while simultaneously removing my left shoe and repeatedly hitting the wall next to the light switch I’d just turned on. Where, believe it or not, mama spider was in fact waiting for me. I’m not a violent person by nature, I do have a temper, but it is always verbal, however verbally abusing a spider is not that effective, especially while screaming full throttle. Over the years, I’ve discovered that a good shoe is the best weapon against the eight-legged beasties. By the time I’d stopped hitting the wall, there wasn’t much left of mama. That was when the thought hit me… Mama spider and papa spider equals baby spiders, lots and lots of eight legged beasties.

I spent the next three hours lugging and pushing all the furniture that could pass through the doorframe into the hall. Then I hoovered every inch of my room and once I’d finished I hoovered it all over again, before pushing and lugging all the furniture back into my room.

Even though I was physically and mentally exhausted, I barely slept that night or the nights after. Every time I turned over the sheet would brush against me, sending me into a frenzy of action. First, I’d turn on my bedside lamp, second, I’d check under my duvet and sheet for vengeful orphaned baby spiders. Before, turning off the light and attempting to get some sleep. I must have repeated the process ten times, or more during the night, not to mention the following nights for the next couple of weeks!

Right Number, Wrong Miss Baker

Rae had been restless all day. Whatever she did, her thoughts kept returning to Douglas and their two-year-old engagement. Most of her friends dreamt of getting married, but not Rae. She felt sure she had a lot of living to do before making such a commitment. She had met Douglas at a dance, and though he was a good dancer and a nice person there were no sparks. Still all their friends thought they were a perfect match.

Normally this would not have swayed Rae, but her mother learned that Douglas worked for the Post Office; her snide remark (‘So, he’s a stamp licker.’) made Rae view her suitor in a more favourable light. Who do you think you are, she thought, but stopped short of saying anything. Over the last couple of years she had let a lot slide.

When the phone rang, Rae considered not answering it for a second in case it was Douglas.

‘Hello?’ Hearing a resonant male voice respond, she relaxed immediately.

 ‘Good afternoon, Ted Wood here, may I speak to Win Baker please.’

Feeling slight flustered Rae had to sit down, ‘I’m sorry but Win isn’t at home right now.’

‘Are you Laurie’s daughter by any chance?’

‘No, Laurie is my uncle. I’m Rae, Win’s daughter.’

‘But Win doesn’t have a daughter, her brother Laurie does though.’

Then it clicked, Ted Wood probably wanted to talk to the previous tenant, who by a strange coincidence was also named Win Baker. She felt inexplicably disappointed; however, he did not seem at all bothered that they did not know each other. ‘So tell me a little bit about yourself Rae.’

Over the next hour, they chatted easily about everything from current events to what they did for a living with Ted smoothly rounding off the conversation by asking Rae out to dinner. This made her blush with pleasure, but she declined gracefully, cursing her engagement to Douglas once more.

Douglas. She had intended to call off the engagement from the moment she’d accepted, but had never found the courage. As luck would have it, Douglas turned up on her doorstep a couple of days later with an ultimatum that propelled her into action.

‘Our engagement has gone on long enough. I’m giving you two months, Rae. Set a date for the wedding or I’ll call it off.’ He stood there awkwardly waiting to see what her reaction would be.

Rae was shocked, but more so to hear herself saying, ‘I really don’t feel confident enough to take such a step Doug. I think it would be best for everyone concerned if we call it off now.’

There, it was out. She had finally told Douglas how she really felt and it was a relief. With those words, a weight lifted from her shoulders and her life was filled with possibilities again.

As the months passed, Rae sometimes thought back to the conversation she’d had with Ted. After what seemed to her like an eternity, he was back in Wellington on business and rang up to invite her to dinner. Even though she’d been enjoying her freedom, a little voice told her to go for it. She agreed to meet him the following evening at his hotel, the Royal Oak, one of the most prestigious hotels in the city.

Rae felt apprehensive as she drove her blue Humber 6 to Manners Street, realising for the first time that she had never seen the man she was about to meet. The manager was manning the reception desk when Rae entered the hotel foyer, and inquired if he could help her. Subduing the urge to bolt from the lobby as fast as her stilettos would allow, Rae smiled nervously and announced that she had come to meet Mr Ted Wood. Picking up the desk phone, the manager directed her to wait in the lounge. Sitting there opposite the door, the apprehension came back and the desire to bolt returned. Thankfully, before she could act on her impulse a tall well-dressed man walked over to her, hand outstretched.

‘Hello, Rae, sorry I’m late. I’ve just come back from calibrating a ship. Would you care to join me in my room while I freshen up?’

Paying no heed to her mother’s teachings, she accepted. Ted exuded confidence, he was relaxed and charming, which put Rae instantly at ease. As he shaved, he chatted amiably to her reflection in the mirror. The click, clack of his rocker razor was unique, just like the man standing in front of her.

Back in 1951, the pubs in New Zealand closed at 6pm, not that Rae had ever been in a pub. However, hotel bars stayed open for their guests until 11pm and it seemed like the most natural thing to go for a drink before dinner. Earlier, as she had climbed into her car, her mother had warned, ‘Don't go up to his room and stick to ginger ale.’ Now feeling slightly rebellious, Rae let Ted order her a gin and tonic. As she sat on her bar stool sipping her drink, she felt that she had finally arrived.

Dinner at the hotel restaurant was a relaxed and leisurely affair. It was generally assumed by the staff that men ate more than women, and accordingly, they were always served bigger portions along with seconds if they wanted them. Their buxom waitress, Nancy, was all over Ted, keeping his plate full while giving Rae the cold shoulder. Although Rae was very petite, she was more than capable of eating huge quantities when the food was good. But if she was slighted by the waitress, she hardly noticed, because Ted only had eyes for her.

After dinner, they took a long walk around Oriental Bay. Wellington had never looked as beautiful to Rae as it did that evening. Back at the hotel, Ted invited her up to his room for a pot of Earl Grey tea. She was rapidly falling for this stranger whose voice sent shivers down her spine. They drank their tea and continued chatting until Ted dozed off on his single bed. Feeling tired, Rae curled up next to him and fell asleep, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

At midnight, the ringing of the phone woke them abruptly. Ted instinctively went to answer it but stopped short when Rae screamed. ‘Don’t answer that, it’s my mother!’

She ran around in a panic, gathering her purse and shoes. Ted accompanied her to the car, then leaned in the car window and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Good night and sweet dreams, Rae.’

When Rae got home, her mother was waiting in the kitchen, a pot of tea brewing, and an expectant look on her face. Obviously, her mother was full of questions but she remained smugly uncommitted throughout the inquisition.

Three weeks later, Ted was back on business and he rang again. Her mother answered the phone, while Rae signalled to her that she was not in. Accordingly, Win informed Ted that Rae was off on a weekend trip to the Marlborough Sounds, and then promptly agreed to have dinner that evening.

That is how it came to be that Rae was home alone on a Saturday night, while her mother was out having dinner with her date. By the time Win got home, at 4am, Rae was livid but she suppressed all interest in what her mother had to say about the evening. Even so, she was wounded by another snide remark, this time that Ted, fifteen years Rae’s senior, was too old for her. Somehow, Rae bit back that if Ted was too old for her, then he was equally too young for Win, being fifteen years her junior.

Still, Rae learnt something about herself that morning; she was willing to fight for her man. Next time Ted called, Rae almost tripped over the carpet in her rush to answer the phone. On their second date, they had dinner again and went dancing afterwards. Only this time as they were saying goodnight, Ted leant his head in the car window and kissed her gently on the lips.

Rae Baker and Ted Wood, my parents, were married at the Wesley church on 19^th February 1954. In 1955, my father invented the first automated starting stalls for racehorses. Together, my parents travelled the world, visiting one exotic location after another, while he installed his invention. My mother has often said that her life truly began the moment she met my father. By anyone’s standards, my parents had an incredible life together right up until my father’s death on 26^th February 2001. Had he lived, my parents would have celebrated their 59^th wedding anniversary this year.