Afterwards we walked around a bit, watching the lights and talking. Right then I didn’t give a damn what Mum or anybody else might say if they saw me; anyway at night, walking around up West nobody looks at you, so there was nothing to worry about and we had a lot of fun. I wished I could take her arm the way some other couples were. Later we had coffee at a coffee bar in the Strand, then caught the District Line train at Charing Cross. In the brightly-lit compartment with everybody staring at us I could feel all the fun going out of me, the way they looked as if they were stripping us naked. Looking at us with their mouths tight, eyes swinging away when you looked at them, but only after you’d seen the shine of their disgust because we were together. Who the hell cared whether they approved or not, anyway? Michelle took one of her books from me, said ‘excuse me’ and began to read. Better than just sitting there feeling uncomfortable. I opened one, a big textbook, and began reading the chapter on Zonation of Marine Life. Like trying to read Chinese. That stuff about planktonic plants such as diatoms, photosynthetic dinoflagellates and other floating algae are known as phytoplankton—I could never get my tongue around any of those words. And to think that Michelle understood all that. Crikey!
I looked up at some people sitting opposite, their faces tight as if the muscles were long accustomed to unpleasant things, and wondered how many of them could read the book and understand a word of it. She was better looking and brighter than any of them. You could follow the women’s eyes and see them taking in her dress and shoes, summing her up, then looking at me. Perhaps the silly buggers thought she was my girl and I’d bought her all that stuff. I laughed out loud, the idea was so funny.
They all looked up suddenly at me. Even Michelle. But she smiled, as if she could read my mind, while the others looked startled, as if they figured I’d gone daft or something.
Just to rub it in I asked her, loudly, ‘What are dinoflagellates?’
‘Marine animals with large, whip-like processes. Why do you ask?’ Cool as a ruddy ice-maiden, her voice clear but not loud.
‘That’s what I thought,’ I answered, laughing in the faces of those watching us and probably wondering what kind of funny joke we were pulling. And into my head came that thing Dave wrote in his book about the Teds:
Clad tight, in the resilient armour of their youth
And bright contempt which threatened as it mocked
The wavering eyes of all who censured them … .
Right now I’d like to mock and threaten all their ruddy wavering eyes. Who the hell did they think they were? I wondered what they’d say if they could see where she lived?
We changed at Barking for her train to Leigh. She didn’t want me to wait, because I could have gone through to Upminster on the same District train, but I said I wanted to. We didn’t say much while we were waiting, and when her train came she didn’t even give me time to try for a kiss but said good night and she’d enjoyed the evening. I said I’d phone soon and she smiled without saying yes. Watching the train take her away I had the feeling that something had gone sour, you know, everything was going fine then something spoiled it, though I didn’t know what. Perhaps it was the way people had been looking at us, making us self-conscious and uncomfortable. Well, that’s how I felt and, in spite of the way she’d sat so cool and aloof, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d felt the same way.
Chapter
Sixteen
AT BREAKFAST NEXT MORNING Mum told me Ruth had telephoned. She said it not only to give me the information, but also to accuse me. You could hear it in her voice.
‘I thought you were meeting her in town,’ Mum said, then when I didn’t comment, she added, ‘At least that’s the impression I got.’
I’d learned to keep my mouth shut if I didn’t wish to get into an argument, and hurried through my breakfast.
‘Some people like to go out and search for trouble,’ she said, ‘not only for themselves, but for others as well.’ She was circling around, not wanting to come right out and ask me who it was I met in town, but hinting and hoping I’d bite, but I said nothing and bolted the rest of my breakfast to be on my way. During the lunch break I telephoned Ruth at her office. She hadn’t called about anything important, merely to say hello. Then she said she’d heard from Mum I’d a date up town and didn’t even wait for my dinner, and who was the lucky girl? I said it wasn’t really a date, just some fellows I’d arranged to meet. I said I’d call her soon.
Most of the afternoon on the job my mind kept swinging back to what I’d told Ruth, asking myself why didn’t I come right out and say yes I had a date. What was I afraid of? Was it because Michelle was coloured? Why was I getting myself into all this fuss and bother anyway? With Mum and having to lie to Ruth, and the Lord knows what else? Where was it getting me? So far I hadn’t got as far as one kiss, not one ruddy solo kiss. Anybody’d think that after meeting and having dinner together, the least that would happen is that you’d get a kiss. At least one. But she’d behaved as if we were ruddy strangers. Why didn’t I just call the whole thing off? So I didn’t make it with her. Well, never mind, you can’t win them all. If I didn’t phone that would be the end of it, because I felt sure she wouldn’t call me. All afternoon I argued it out with myself and finally promised myself I wouldn’t telephone her again. Hell, I didn’t have to crawl to anybody just to have a piece. After all, Ruth was okay and she was as nice as anyone else. Furthermore, no matter how she looked and dressed and talked, she was still a Spade. So, we’d had a date, and it had been fun. Well that was that. The rest of that week I didn’t telephone anybody.
After dinner each evening I’d go for a stroll, sometimes up the lane to the Southend road, and sit on the grass verge watching the traffic rush past and thinking things out. Watching those cars and imagining who the people were driving them, and what they did, how they lived, making up things in my mind about them. Sometimes a big Rolls swished past, with some little old lady in the back seat and the chauffeur in the front with his peaked cap and his neck stiff looking straight ahead. Like a human machine. She was really doing the driving, the old lady, but by remote control; he was just a piece of equipment for pressing the starter button or brake lever and things like that. And he only had one name, like James, or Williams, or Burton. Stop here, Williams. Take me to Finch’s and call back for me in an hour. And he had to touch his cap all the time and never look her straight in the face or argue with her the way he probably gave his old woman hell. And what was the difference between her and his old woman? Money, perhaps, and where you went to school, and the kind of house you lived in. Like that Michelle, talking about Italy as if it was around the corner, and those clothes and ruddy waiters breaking their necks to pull out a chair for her, and going around with her nose in the air as if she didn’t give one hire-purchase damn who didn’t like her.
Indoors, most of the time I stayed up in my room listening to records and reading Dave’s stuff or sometimes trying to write some of my own but it never came out the same way as Dave’s, easy and making sense. Sometimes I’d want to stay downstairs and have a natter with Mum and our Dad, but if the television was on Mum didn’t want anybody to interrupt with talk, so what’s the use?
On the Friday night Ruth turned up just before dinner time. She’d come directly from her office, just felt like getting out of the city for a change, she said. Mum was pleased to see her and we all had dinner together. Heck, I couldn’t help noticing how different she was from Michelle, the way she ate and how she was dressed and everything. But she was always laughing and kidding around and lots of fun. You know what I mean. You didn’t have to think about what you were going to say or if you were using the correct fork or anything.
After dinner we helped with the washing-up and I said let’s go for a walk. There was old Spotty Frock sizing us up as we passed her gate and I suddenly gave Ruth the nudge and whispered ‘look at this’, then I turned as if I was going up old Spot
ty Frock’s garden path, and you should have seen the way she disappeared from that window. Probably rushed to her front door, thinking we were coming in to pay her a visit or something.
I laughed till I cried and Ruth, half laughing, said I shouldn’t have done it, it wasn’t funny. Old Mrs Collins was in her front garden as usual, so we stopped to chat with her and I introduced her to Ruth. Then we walked around, through those little lanes and out towards the allotments, talking and joking. And on the way back we took a different route, not hurrying.
Back indoors we sat with Mum and our Dad talking a while, and you could see Mum was fidgeting to switch on the television, so I said to Ruth let’s go upstairs and listen to some records. We sat on the bed, and now and then I gave her a kiss, but we didn’t try anything, not with Mum and our Dad in the house.
‘Last Monday night, was your date with your coloured friend?’ Ruth asked me.
‘What are you on about? I told you it was with some fellows.’
‘Oh, come off it, Jack, I’m not that green. Look, you don’t have to lie to me about it. What do you think I’ll do, make a scene?’
Looking at me like that, she made me feel ashamed about lying.
‘Well, was it?’ she persisted.
‘Yes.’
‘I guessed it was. How did it go?’
‘What do you mean, how did it go? We had a meal and walked around a bit. That’s all.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Of course. What did you expect?’
‘Don’t bite my head off. I just don’t understand why you have to hide and lie about it. Are you ashamed because she’s coloured?’
‘No, it’s not that. But, well, Mum’s not too keen on my seeing her, so I didn’t want her to start fussing me.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Then, after a few minutes of silence, ‘What’s she like?’
‘She’s okay.’
‘Have you made love to her?’
‘Crikey, what are you talking about? It’s the first time I’ve ever been out with her. And anyway, she’s not like that.’
‘Isn’t she?’
‘No.’
‘Then what does that make me?’
How the hell could I answer that one? She suddenly laughed and said, ‘Every woman is like that, with the right man in the right place at the right time. Didn’t you know? I’m wondering if I ought to be jealous.’
I said nothing.
‘I think I’d like to meet her,’ Ruth said.
‘What for?’
‘Just curious. Why don’t you ask her to come up tomorrow night. At the flat. Ron’s celebrating the part he’s got in a new TV play. Go on, bring her.’
‘Look, I can’t just bring her. She’s studying for this exam and won’t go anywhere. She had a late lecture on Monday. That’s the only reason I managed to meet her in town.’
‘Well, ask her, anyway. What difference would it make? She can either say yes or no.’
‘She’ll say no, that’s for sure, so there’s no point in asking.’
‘You quite sure you’re not making up excuses because you’re ashamed to bring her? What was it you called her? A Spade?’
I’d have liked to belt her one for saying that. The way she was looking at me as if she half expected me to do something like that, but wasn’t scared.
‘Okay, okay. I’ll ask her.’
‘Well, go ahead, ring her.’
‘You crazy? The phone’s in the sitting-room and Mum’s in there watching television.’
‘Oh, yes. Well, let’s walk down to the phone booth.’
‘I’ll give her a ring when I take you to the station.’
‘No, that’s too late. Let’s go now.’
I didn’t really like the way she was trying to boss me about, but I could see she wouldn’t be satisfied until I made the call, so we went down the road. She even squeezed into the phone booth with me. Michelle answered, and her voice sounded pleased when she recognized mine. I told her that some friends were having a little party in Kensington and they’d invited me and said I could bring a friend, and would she go with me? Then I held my breath, waiting for the refusal I was certain would follow.
‘When is it?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow night,’ I said.
‘Will you come for me?’ Just like that. I was sweating, but that was perhaps because it was warm in the phone booth, with two of us in it.
‘Sure,’ I told her. ‘Around seven, seven-thirty.’ Ruth began to giggle and I quickly put my hand over the mouthpiece.
‘Fine, I’ll be ready. Bye, Jack.’ And she hung up. Jack, she’d said. JACK. I looked at Ruth and dumbly nodded my head affirmatively. We pushed out of the booth, but suddenly she wasn’t laughing anymore.
‘Boy, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?’ she said. I’d had enough argument for one day so I kept my mouth shut. We went in and made a cup of tea, and soon after she said she’d better be going and I took her to get the District Line.
As she was getting on the train she said, ‘You know something? I’m sorry I made you telephone her.’
Chapter
Seventeen
MICHELLE AND HER MOTHER were sitting on the concrete forecourt of their house when I arrived. As I approached them down the stairs I thought how right they looked, in harmony with all the colours around them, and though I couldn’t hear their voices from that distance, by the action of their heads and hands it was evident that they were having a laugh at something or other. They both seemed pleased to see me and Michelle fetched a stool from inside for me to sit with them. Mrs Spencer carried on with the story, about the pottery class which she attended in Southend every Monday night, and funny goings on among some of her classmates. The way she took off their voices it was a real scream. Like this woman she told us about, calling the teacher to see some stuff she’d made.
‘I think I’m getting it right, don’t you, Mr Schuyler, I mean now that I’ve got the feel of the wheel, the shape’s coming through, don’t you think? I was telling my husband about it, and you wouldn’t credit it, but he just can’t believe that I’m really making a vase, after only two lessons. The thing is, it doesn’t matter if you don’t make anything, really, it’s enough just to feel the thing growing in your hands, soft and silky, and just by squeezing a little you can make anything, any shape you like. Sort of creative, if you see what I mean,’ and with her hands and face and voice taking this woman off to a ‘T’. I couldn’t help thinking, It’s funny how she sounded just like somebody you know, like some of those women who come up to the house to see Mum sometimes and they get to nattering about things, what Mum calls ‘dishing up the dirt’. Only Mrs Spencer was kidding, like some of those comics on the radio, only better.
When Michelle and I were on the way to the station you should have seen the way people were looking at her. The funny thing was I didn’t give a damn. I mean I wasn’t uncomfortable or anything. But you should have seen her. Wearing this dark blue silk dress under a coat of the same material and plain black shoes, and the single strand of pearls. I don’t know much about those things, but I’d make a rough guess they were real. And the dress so plain and simple but terrific, and you didn’t need to guess about all that shape inside.
On the way up to town we chatted about this and that, and I told her what little I knew about some of the people she’d meet at the party. Ron and Hilary, Naomi, Ruth and some of the others. Though I didn’t let on about Ruth and me. Just said we were friends, and just to make conversation I said what a nice outfit she was wearing, and she said when she and her mother had been in Rome they’d just gone mad and bought more things than they should. Making it sound as if spending all that money was just fun. All the way the train was mostly crowded, and everyone opposite watching us, some in that sly way, but many of them staring and inside I’m laughing, sorry for all those poor buggers dr
ooling both ends, the women jealous as hell about the way she’s dressed and those long, lovely legs crossed like a film star and the men wishing they were me. Well, all except those others, the coloured ones who’d never look at us although you could feel that they saw us, saw everything about us without looking, not that they were mad at us or anything like that. They just kept their faces looking somewhere else. Made me think of what old Jelks, that teacher we used to have at Junior School, used to say about bats not needing to see where they were going because they had this radar thing in their ears which told them where things were so they could fly at high speed without banging into anything, even telephone wires.
We could hear the music from outside and when Naomi opened the door it was like the last time, only more people. Naomi took her off somewhere to leave her coat while I looked around for Ruth. She saw me and pushed through to give me a big kiss and ask where she was, meaning Michelle, probably hoping Michelle was near enough to see it. Don’t know why but I didn’t like her kissing me like that as if she owned me or something. We squeezed against the wall talking, and soon they came out and I introduced Ruth to Michelle.
The music stopped and some people came and said hello, and Ruth took over to introduce everybody, mostly first names only, and Ron came up to be introduced and started kidding, saying where had she been all his life and fancy England being such a small place and still they’d not met before, if it was Texas he could understand. And she laughing that gurgling laugh. And he asked her to dance. Then afterwards people sat around talking and before you know it there’s this argument going on about South Africa and how there’d be a bloody revolution there if the government didn’t change its ideas about apartheid. And everybody chipping in the way a few glasses of beer or punch makes everybody an intellectual, till the conversation got around to Britain and somebody said that probably if there were more coloureds in Britain, like millions of them, the same thing would happen here.
Choice of Straws Page 13
