It always made her feel irrelevant somehow, being compared like that. As though, every other Rita, was more important than her. Once, her teacher at school, had asked everyone in the class to find out where his or her name came from.
‘I bet you’re named after the actress Rita Hayworth,’ said her classmate.
The thought of being named after an actress delighted Rita and she'd looked up Rita Hayworth at the library and was thrilled to see she was a famous starlet. This had excited Rita tremendously. She’d hurried home to discover from her mother that she had, in fact, been named after a British actress named Rita Tushingham. Her mother had been a big fan. Rita had looked up Rita Tushingham at the library. She wasn’t a glamourous Hollywood starlet like Rita Hayworth and Rita wondered if anyone would know her. So, instead, she told the teacher that she was named after Rita Hayworth, just like everyone had thought. It was only a small lie, after all. The next Sunday at church, she asked for God’s forgiveness and promised she would never mention Rita Hayworth again.
She’d repeated the names Henry and Rita in her head, thinking how well they went together.
Henry and Rita.There was a definite ring when you said it.Rita and Henry. She’d visualised her friends saying their names.
‘Henry and Rita are here.’ ‘Henry and Rita make such a great couple don’t you think?’ Except, Henry had a wife and he’d actually mentioned her. Rita could have fooled herself that when he’d said there were just two of them at home, he could have meant him and a dog. Now, he had confirmed it. Still, she’d told herself, there was no harm in them being friends.
Henry had continued to come into the store and sample Rita’s offerings. Rita had looked forward to his trips and always made sure she looked her best when it got to six. Sometimes they would chat. Other times, Henry would have to rush home for one reason or another. Rita never asked why but she imagined that his wife was very demanding.
Rita pulled herself out of her reverie and hurried out onto the shop floor with Jenny. If only Henry would come in earlier. Rita always looked her best earlier in the day. By six she was usually quite weary, and her legs would be aching. It would be nice for once if Henry saw her when she looked her best. She placed a small amount of leek and potato pie onto her tongue and closed her eyes as she savoured the delectable flavour. She hoped there would be some left over for her dinner this evening. She’d have a tin of baked beans to go with it. When she opened her eyes again Henry was standing right in front of her as though Rita had magically conjured him up.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said, stepping back in surprise.
Henry never came in during the day. His eyes widened and his mouth opened as though he were about to speak but then closed again. Rita wondered for one awful moment if Henry were ill. He looked quite pale, she noticed. His coat was wet, and Rita saw that a little puddle of water had formed by his feet.
‘Is it the dyspepsia?’ she asked anxiously.
‘You can see me?’ stated Henry, looking surprised.
‘See you?’ she repeated.
Rita looked at him curiously. What an odd question, she thought.
‘Yes, of course I can see you.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ said Henry.
Chapter Six
Rita was thrilled that Henry had come in earlier that day. Finally, he’d seen her with all her make-up on and her hair nicely waved. No doubt by six the waves would have fallen out altogether. Rita had that fine kind of hair that didn’t hold waves for five minutes. However, it was a bit disconcerting that he didn’t seem himself. In fact, he seemed so distracted that she wondered if he had even noticed the waves.
‘Can you see all of me?’ he asked.
Rita tried to smile but it was difficult with Henry asking her these odd questions. She studied his face and tried to guess his age. He couldn’t be more than forty-five, she thought, but then again, she wasn’t very good at guessing ages. Far too young though, she decided, to have dementia.
‘Yes, I can see all of you,’ she said.
He laid a hand on her arm. It was like an electric shock. Henry, feeling Rita’s warm skin beneath his fingers found himself shaking. He wanted to touch her again to be sure, but knew he dare not.
‘Can we go for a coffee?’ Henry asked eagerly.
Rita’s heart surged and then she remembered she was at work.
‘I can at lunchtime.’
Henry frowned and Rita felt her heart sink. He looked at his watch and sighed.
‘My watch has stopped.’
‘It’s just gone ten. I finish at one.’
‘Three hours,’ said Henry thoughtfully.
‘Will you come back?’ asked Rita hopefully.
