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People said it was a shame about Jane Segundus, that a woman as nice as she should find herself thirty five years old and without a husband.
It was shame, said the people of the village of their school's headmistress, because she would have made some man a nice wife, with her sweetness and her gentleness. She was too old for children of her own, but widowers were not exactly uncommon and their children would have benefited from a mother like Jane Segundus.
She was, they said as well, rather pretty actually, especially on a Sunday dressed for church with her hair down. At school she wore plain clothes and had that bun, but done up right Jane could old her own against the other women and likely made a few of them a bit jealous of the natural way in which she was pretty.
Perhaps she was not pretty like a movie star, but her nice features, her smile and large eyes and soft skin, were very nice indeed. She had a delicate prettiness, a way of looking up at things with those large eyes that certain men would never be able to resist. And from time to time, a widowed father or brave older bachelor would ask after her, or a mother of one her students would suggest a single brother or brother in law or cousin that may want a evening out with a nice woman like Jane. But it was said that Jane turned them all down in the kindest way possible.
"I bet she lost a man in the war," someone once suggested. "And she's too heartbroken to move on. Poor love."
"Ahhh yes," said everyone when they heard that, and the speculation became a rumor about Jane Segundus, which somehow became, over time, an accepted secret fact about her despite it being entirely untrue.
It was a shame about Jane Segundus, they said.
It was a shame a sweet woman was so shy, it was tutted over tea, or whispered behind hands as they watched Miss Segundus on the playground with their children. To be thirty five and all alone like she was. Well, alone but for Jane Childermass, who shared her house and was largely not counted by the village in the inventory of Jane's life.
A crude person now and then, sometimes over a pint in the local pub, would wonder if she'd ever known a man at all and someone else would hush them quickly. Such a question was disrespectful and even if it were true that Jane were as old as she was and untouched, it would be because she was too good for bad behavior and for men who would use a woman in that way, which was to her credit.
If she were to dye her grey, some ventured from time to time, she would look ten years younger and could very easily get married very quickly.
One of the older sisters of a student, a girl who had once been of Miss Segundus' first students, offered to let her come into her salon and give her a chic new haircut and do away with the bit of grey winding through her bun, but Jane refused it like it she did the offers of evenings out with nice men, with many thanks.
"I wouldn't have the time or money to come in and have it done regularly," she said. "And I could not let you do it for free."
No one particularity thought that Jane Childermass was a shame despite her being even older than her friend and just as single.
She was tall and her long legs made her skirts look too short, despite them being actually a very acceptable length.
Jane Childermass smoked cigarettes with a cigarette holder; sometimes outside their headmistress' house or sometimes sitting at a table with her if the two went to dinner in the pub together. Miss Childermass smoked cigarettes with a cigarette holder driving around in her beat up car.
Jane Childermass also did not visit a salon to have her hair looked after, but while this was given to be a credit to her friend Miss Segundus if a bit of a shame, it was suspicious in Jane Childernass, who let long black hair flow behind her.
The people in the village were of two opinions of her and of one: the two were that she may like the company of women over much or the company of men to a similar degree. The one was that she was bad news for Miss Segundus.
They pulled their husbands back toward them when she came into a store. Alone, they whispered of the rumors that she took scandalous magazines in the post, ones with pictures of half clothed women.
"Do you think I ought to have gone to the salon with Betsy Williams?" Miss Segundus asked her friend, looking in the mirror in their room at streak of grey starting at her temple and going down through her dark hair. She sat at the small vanity in their room, inspecting her reflection.
"Whatever for?" asked Miss Childermass. She was on their bed with the cigarette holder people so disliked. She flipped through a well worn book of magic, muttering smoky spells to herself. The window, despite the warmth of the night, was closed against prying eyes.
"Well..."
"You aren't twenty any more, Jane. It's fine to have a bit of grey."
"No, I suppose I'm not twenty, am I?"
"Thirty six in July, and just how I prefer you."
"Would you have liked me at twenty, Jane, do you think?"
"I can't imagine how I wouldn't have."
Jane Childermass took a drag of her cigarette and then extinguished it.
"Aren't you tired, Jane? You've been up since before sunrise."
"I am," said Jane Segundus.
She stood from her place at the vanity and turned to the bed.
"My favorite program is on. Can we listen to that while I fall asleep?"
Jane Childermass smiled and reached for the dial on the radio next to her side of the bed.
"Whatever you want, Jane."