Mavis the Mistress

Lyn McLean

My friend Helen and I had hitched down from Stirling to Cornwall via London. We each had 20 pounds. I had saved mine up from working in the library on Saturdays. Her Dad had made me feel angry by asking how much I was taking, and pulling out his wallet and matching it.

We had risky adventures in London then met up with friends at a camp site in Cornwall and had more risky adventures including running out of cash and scavenging for lemonade bottles in bins to take to shops for the refund.

We started to hitch back to Scotland and quickly got a lift from a lorry driver who took us to a transport caff near Bodmin Moor and bought us steak and chips and strawberries. We drove on and he asked if we'd seen Stonehenge and thought we would be amazed. We were. In those days you could just walk over to it and stand and gaze- no official signs or entrance fee.

The next lift was from a touring comedian who did the clubs and holiday camps. He explained he was married but was not on this occasion going home to his wife, but rather his mistress, as he called her. Her name was Mavis and we whispered 'Mavis the Mistress' to each other and giggled quietly.

We reached Potters Bar that evening. Mavis was not very warm or welcoming. The comedian asked her if we could stay the night, not in a way that sounded as if she could say no. Mavis had coiffed white hair and was plump, wearing a twin set and pearls. We were a pair of grubby hippies in jeans and cotton smocks.

She showed us to a room with twin beds and offered us baths. We probably smelled. After a nice meal the comedian took us to the local pub. Mavis did not come. We sat up at the bar on stools and he bought us vodkas and lime. He regaled his mates with the tale of meeting us and what great accents we had and how well educated we seemed. He asked us to do a 'turn'. I recited 'Wee Macgregor meets the Lion' which went down a storm and I declined an encore. The comedian promised us a lift to the motorway the next morning so we could hitch home.

Very weirdly, as we thought at the time, Mavis joined us in the room with the single beds so we had to share one. She gazed balefully at us from the other bed till we fell asleep. I suppose now she literally wanted to keep an eye on us. Or perhaps she was so angry with the comedian; she was withdrawing her mistressy favours.