Gladys Cooper did not believe the stories about the old TV presenter and his history of sexual abuse. Not even when her friend protested “But my mum’s best friend was attacked by him and was too scared to say something back in the day.”
“I think it’s a load of people jumping on the bandwagon,” another friend said.
She did not believe there was anything peculiar about the geography teacher letting her friend take her skirt and top off, after she’d got soaked on the way to school, and dry off in front of the electric fire in his office.
“Well, she was wet through wasn’t she? You have to get dry again or you get pneumonia.”
She did not believe that one of her classmates was having an affair with their maths teacher. “He’s just giving her extra tuition, isn’t he?”
Even though her classmate’s father had chased the teacher out of his house and down the hill.
She never believed babies were born quickly even though her daughter had arrived within ninety minutes of the first pain. “I slept through the rest, didn’t I? I had a migraine.”
The day before the world was due to end she announced: “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m going shopping tomorrow.”
When she turned up at the mall the next day, she was amazed to find all the shops shut and no lights on. There’d been no traffic on the way either. She mused that the power of disbelief was very strong but not particularly helpful.