To him, she would always be Sunshine, Tennis, and Knowledge. In fact, decades after they met, he still saw her standing in the sharp sunlight of the tennis court, smiling, the sun bouncing off her brown curls, whenever someone mentioned her name in her absence.
She arrived when he was 16, ready to finish school and start his apprenticeship. As the daughter of the new Headmaster, Allan had no reason to cross paths with her, but cricket practice took him past the tennis courts in the afternoons, and she played tennis.
The first time he saw her was there, on the court. Her grin flashed as she laughed at something in the game, and she was still smiling as her glance slid across him, and came back to look at him closely. He was smitten from that moment. He nodded shyly as he kept walking, and, had he looked back, he would have seen her watching him walk away.
One day he met her leaving the court as he walked home from practice, and surprised himself by finding the words to introduce himself. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Dorothy Evans, and yes, I know who you are", she had smiled, "Frida told me all about you." He had cringed inwardly, imagining what the self-appointed judge of Immoral Behaviour would have said about his Working Class upbringing. Whatever had been said, though, did not seem to bother this out-going, confident young lady, who was soon waiting for him after practice so she could walk some of the way home with him, parting ways at the railway crossing; she turning left to head to her family's house next to the school, he continuing on to the railway worker's cottages that waited beside the line.
She was older than him, by a year and a bit, something which would have normally made him uncomfortable, but her bright nature and broad smile made her seem younger, and his initial uneasiness passed. She would tease him to make him smile, and gently draw him out, until he was telling stories about himself and his life that he had never spoken of before. One evening, he took her hand in his as they walked. She was silent and looked down, biting her lip, but she squeezed his hand tight and didn't let go until she had to...
Small towns have few secrets, and word soon spread that Allan Stewart and Dorothy Evans were "spending time" together. Dorothy thought it was funny, and would actually wave happily to the slightly parted curtains, and chuckle when they slipped shut. "Don't worry", she would say to him when he felt angry at being spied on, "We aren't doing anything wrong!", but he still felt he was being judged somehow.
By the end of Summer they were more than just friends, and had begun discussing the future, and what it would bring. Allan had his Apprenticeship with the local mechanical workshop, so he knew what the next year would bring. Dorothy, on the other hand, was leaving. She had always planned to attend Teacher's College, and had accompanied her family to this new town purely out of curiosity and to fill the Summer holidays. Now she felt torn.
Life had been so clear to her a few months ago, her plans were made, and everything was in place. Now this stocky, dark-haired young man with the serious face and tender smile had up-ended her world and made her wish that her commitments could disappear...but they couldn't. She had made promises, been accepted to College, and her family had made a substantial financial sacrifice to send her away for her education. Headmasters may earn more than teachers, but not a lot more, especially in small towns. More than once, Dorothy wept silently in the dark.
For his part, Allan felt a certainty he had never known before. If she left, she would come back. It would be hard, he knew, but he had his work, his family, and his sport. He knew it was much harder for her than for him, but she would come back. If she didn't leave, then he knew he would be able to deal with the recriminations from her family, and the Town itself. He felt sure and strong in his belief. He loved her and he would protect her from anything. Everything would be alright, no matter what happened.
The thought of her leaving and not returning was so crippling that he refused to let it cross his mind...
The Sports Club held a picnic day at the end of the Summer season, with trophies and speeches, food and games. Dorothy delayed her departure until the Monday after the picnic, so she could spend one last day with Allan.
Unbelievably, in what was almost an act of conspiracy, everyone attending the picnic that day seemed to pretend they were not there. After the trophies, and the speeches, which they were obliged to attend, they were not asked to participate in the games, food preparation, or even the general discussion. Even the younger children who often made a sport out of teasing young couples, were curiously absent. Allan and Dorothy found themselves alone, seated apart from the crowd, although still within sight,(propriety can only be pushed so far)under a huge Gum Tree, by the Lagoon.
She sat with her back to the tree, running her fingers through his hair as he lay on his back next to her, gazing into the distance.
"Why do you call me Allan?" he suddenly asked, "Why not say "Al", like all my mates?"
She didn't pause stroking his hair, "Because Allan is your name. It is all of you, it represents everything about you. If I shortened your name, it wouldn't feel like I was acknowledging all of who you are. And I love all of who you are."
He was silent for a long moment. She had told him before that she loved him, but never like that. He thought hard. "Well, I can't call you Dorothy any more. It isn't right."
"So what will you call me then?" she whispered.
"Dot."
"DOT! WHY?" She was stunned, torn between anger and incredulity.
"Because," he said, turning on his side and squinting up at her through the dappled sunlight, "You are like a period at the end of a sentence. To me there is no more. You complete my life. After the Dot, there is no need for anything else. That's why I love you, Dot."
She laughed and suddenly burst into tears.
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