Their relationship was based on a professional enmity that only a library professional can understand. It went beyond books and periodicals and cataloguing differences.
In the administrative world of libraries it is the very absence of the need for a political arena that makes everything political. Stress should have no place. Vacuums suck in diaphanous cacophonous demons.
Ita resented the flirtation of power between the sexes and so Dorothy made her blood boil when she saw them alone. She felt as Dorothy was younger than Gilbert she was unlikely to bow to his ardour but better women have done worse in seas of loneliness.
She was aware of their out of hours correspondence. She feared it was an intimate cushion against isolation. Everyone has a sexual safety net. Gilbert was canny operator she somehow couldn’t blame. He waited in the long grass for a moment of ovulation and despair.
“No-one want to be an old woman with a harem of cats” he would say with a twinkle in his eye. He would catch her when she fell but his patience had been tested.
On this particular day Dorothy shouted at Ita.
“Don’t fucking talk to me”
Ita was alarmed as this was out of character even for her.
“Don’t you dare ask me how I am!”
I will away now. My toga needs cleaning and my odd socks need airing. I wonder does this age still have lauderettes!? Adieu! Vale!!