New Shoes by Mary Smith
The New Shoes by Mary Smith
School was over for another day! I enjoyed the walk from there to the train station. It was a relief to be free of study for a while, although my heavy satchel reminded me that I had plenty of homework to face in the evening. But it was good to be able to wander in a carefree way with a friend or two. We would try out various routes to the town centre and then onto Station Road. Often, we would go into Woolworths through its back entrance and take our time looking at the various counters before coming out of the main front door. If we were reasonably quick, we had time to look in a few shop windows without missing our train.
On one particular afternoon we were gazing in the shoe shop window, and I found myself falling in love! There on display was my idea of the most perfect pair of shoes that I had ever seen! How I would love to own a pair like that! They had little kitten heels and fabric bows on top, and there was a choice of black, beige or white – I longed for a pair in white; how I longed - - - !
That evening at teatime I told my parents all about these lovely shoes in the shoe shop window. Later that evening, as I sat doing my homework, my Dad asked me how much those shoes cost, and then, to my great surprise, he gave me the money! I can't remember how much shoes like that would have cost in 1961, but to this 15 year old girl it seemed quite a lot of money. It felt such a privilege to be trusted to buy them by myself without my Mum's supervision.
After school the next day I hurried away walking down the hill and taking the quickest route to the town centre. The lady in the shoe shop measured my feet; I took my socks off and she gave me some old stockings to put on my feet. Then she said, “We haven't got the white shoes in size 6, only beige or black.” My heart sank - I so badly wanted the white ones. She let me try them on in size 5½, and I squeezed my feet into those shoes which looked so lovely and which I wanted so much. I made up my mind! “I'll have them!” I said.
On the way home, instead of the elated feeling I would expect to have, I found myself getting increasingly uneasy and worried. “Perhaps they'll stretch a bit after I've worn them a few times,” I thought, trying to re-assure myself.
I went to my bedroom and tried them on as soon as I got home. It was a struggle to pull them on. I tried walking around and they really hurt my feet. I felt such a failure. “You've been given the responsibility of spending all this money and look what you've done!” I told myself I would have to face my parents' disapproval and disappointment; I could see that I'd never be able to wear them, and I burst into tears.
It was a day or two later that I confessed to Dad, and later to Mum, that the new shoes didn't fit. I had braced myself; prepared to be told that I couldn't be trusted and that I wasn't old enough to buy such things for myself.
To my amazement I was treated with sympathy and understanding. I wasn't told in an angry voice how stupid I had been. I felt so relieved and grateful as they suggested I could take them back and try to exchange them for another pair.
And so it was that I acquired my beige shoes in size 6 which were really comfortable and which I really liked.
I've never forgotten this incident 60 years ago, and I learnt two lessons from it:
Firstly, that when someone, especially a young person, makes a mistake, it can mean so much to them to react with kindness and understanding, rather that calling them an idiot and saying, “I told you so!”
My second lesson for life was that when buying shoes, comfort is the most important thing!