Into Exile

by Joan Lingard

  He shrugged. ‘I can get a pie in the pub.’

  ‘You’re annoyed, aren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘I like seeing you when I get in.’

  ‘But you only come in to go out again.’

  ‘Now, Sadie, you know –’

  ‘Oh yes, I know it all. But I’m not for sitting here night after night on my tod. You can’t expect me to.’

  He laid down his knife and fork. ‘Where’ll you go with the girls?’

  She got up, lifted the plates, put her back to him. ‘I don’t know.’ She ran water into the sink, squirted in a jet of washing-up liquid and splashed the plates noisily. He came up and stood behind her.

  ‘You won’t be going dancing or to a party or anything like that, will you?’

  ‘What’s it to you if I am?’ She tilted her shoulder at him.

  ‘You’re my wife, that’s what it is.’

  ‘But you don’t own me.’ She turned to confront him.

  ‘I wouldn’t stand for you looking at another man,’ he said. And he turned and went out.

  She was excited. It was a long time since she had got herself ready to go out for an evening with a crowd of girls. There were six of them in the cloakroom giggling and laughing, doing their hair, making up their faces. She slipped her dress over her head. It was black. She had not had a black dress before but Rita had said it would go nicely with her hair. She had bought it in the store on credit.

  ‘Will I do you up, love?’ asked Rita.

  ‘Thanks.’ Sadie turned her back to let Rita pull up the zip.

  ‘Hey,’ said Rita, ‘you look real cool. You’ll knock them all cold.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Sadie, and for the first time felt a little uneasy about the outing. She didn’t want to knock anybody cold, except Kevin.

  She put on eyeshadow and mascara lent by Rita. She did not often bother for she was usually in a hurry and Kevin liked her better without. It made her look older, more sophisticated. She twisted her head one way and then the other, looking at her face in the mirror. Then she laughed. If she didn’t watch it, she’d end up a right eejit!

  ‘What’s the joke?’ asked Rita. She was puffing clouds of lacquer on to her hair. Sadie ducked out of the stream.

  ‘I was just thinking about me, an old married woman, going out for a night on the town.’

  ‘Well, why not?’ said Rita. ‘That man of yours leaves you alone often enough. You’re too young yet for the grave.’ She tucked her arm through Sadie’s and said, ‘Come on then, duck!’

  They went to a Chinese restaurant for a meal. Rita advised Sadie on what to eat and Sadie discovered that she rather liked the food. The girls talked at the top of their voices, told jokes that were not very funny and laughed a great deal. They were all friendly to Sadie now: she had been accepted.

  From there they went to a discotheque. As she gave up her coat and followed Rita into the dim, hot, noisy room, Sadie thought of Kevin sitting at a desk listening to the teacher. She tripped over a step.

  ‘Watch it!’ said Rita. ‘You’re not drunk yet.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of getting drunk,’ said Sadie. ‘That’s a mug’s game.’

  But Rita wasn’t listening. No one could in this noise. Drums banged, guitars zinged, someone was singing. Lights began to revolve around the room.

  Rita was tugging at her arm. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ she shouted in her ear. ‘Come on and meet the crowd.’

  The crowd was a bunch of young men. Someone bought her a drink which she couldn’t identify in the twilight but it tasted strong and almost choked her going over her throat. She poured it into an empty glass when no one was looking.

  She sat down, for her feet were tired after a day of standing behind the counter but she was not allowed to sit. She was hauled up by a young man in black with long fair hair. That was all she could make out about him. He pulled her on to the floor to dance. They were all dancing, writhing and twisting, close together. Against her inclination the music caught her, and she began to move, forgetting the others and the boy in black who circled round her like a large shadow.

  In a lull in the music he said, ‘I’m Joe. Who are you?’

  ‘Sadie,’ she said, and then the music swelled up again.

  She danced all evening. Her body felt alive, full of energy, possessed by the music. Rita was right: she was too young to sit in a room and knit and wait for a man to come home and talk about radio engineering.

  ‘We’re all going back to my place,’ said Rita.

  ‘OK,’ said Sadie, ready now to be one of them.

  Rita shared a tiny flat with two other girls. Her room was crammed with furniture and every piece of furniture was covered with clothes, magazines, packets of cigarettes, unwashed dishes. They packed into the room like sardines, pushing aside the clothes and dirty cups. The boys passed round beer and everyone drank from the can.

  Sadie found herself sitting on the floor beside Joe. Now that there was more light she saw that he was about twenty or so, with a fringe of reddish beard round his chin, and dark blue eyes. If she had not been married she would have thought him attractive. He put his hand over hers where it lay on the floor. She slid hers out.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m married,’ she said solemnly.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ he said and took her hand again.

  ‘But I do.’ She removed her hand.

  ‘What did you want to get married for?’

  ‘Why do people usually get married?’

  ‘Search me.’ He raised his beer can to his lips.

  She decided that she did not like him after all, which was fortunate. Kevin was worth ten of him. Kevin … She looked at her watch and jumped up.

  ‘I must go, Rita. I’ll miss my train.’

  ‘One of the boys’ll run you home. Harry’s got a van and –’ Rita grinned ‘– Joe there has a motor bike. I’m sure he’d like to take you home.’

  ‘I’ll just get the train,’ said Sadie hurriedly.

  She pulled on her coat. Joe leant back against the wall and watched her idly, rather like a spider watching a fly. But she was not in his web.

  ‘It’s been great, Rita. See you tomorrow.’

  She ran all the way to the station and caught the last train home.

  Kevin was in bed, the light turned off, pretending to sleep.

  ‘Sorry I’m so late,’ she said. ‘But we went back to Rita’s place afterwards and I missed a train … Oh all right, you can kid on you’re sleeping if you want. See if I care!’

  In the morning they were cool and polite to one another. He passed the margarine as if he had never seen her before. And he went out without kissing her goodbye. It was the first time he had ever done it.

  ‘Joe’s gone overboard for you,’ said Rita, when Sadie arrived in the cloakroom. ‘He was asking all about you when you’d gone.’

  ‘I hope you told him I wasn’t the type to play around.’

  ‘It’s up to you to tell him what you like,’ said Rita.

  ‘I won’t be seeing him,’ said Sadie.

  ‘Like to bet?’

  Joe came into the store just after Miss Marshall had gone to lunch. Rita must have told him, Sadie thought, as she looked up and saw him crossing the floor.

  ‘I’ll have a card of elastic,’ he said, leaning on the counter.

  She took out a card and laid it beside him. ‘That’ll be five pence,’ she said.

  He looked at the elastic. ‘I’d rather have pink.’

  She raked in the box, replaced it with pink. ‘Five pence,’ she said.

  He fished five pence from his pocket. ‘You can keep the change.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’ She rang it up in the till.

  Miss Cullen passed. She frowned when she saw Joe leaning against the counter. She looked back over her shoulder and he looked back at her.

  ‘That your boss?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When are you coming out wit
h me?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I told you –’

  ‘OK, so you’re married. I told you I didn’t mind.’

  ‘And I told you I did.’

  ‘That’s your problem then, isn’t it?’

  She went up to the other end of the counter, he followed her. Miss Cullen came back through the store again. She stopped.

  ‘Everything all right, Sadie?’ She looked at Joe.

  ‘Fine,’ said Sadie.

  ‘I’m buying elastic,’ said Joe, waving the card in the air.

  ‘Sadie, you might at least have wrapped it for the gentleman,’ said Miss Cullen reprovingly.

  ‘I’d like it wrapped up,’ said Joe.

  Sadie wrapped the card, Miss Cullen moved on.

  ‘Slipping, aren’t you?’ said Joe.

  ‘Why don’t you take yourself off?’

  ‘Your husband’s probably out with some bird at night when he says he’s at the evening class.’

  ‘He’s not like that,’ said Sadie.

  ‘No?’ Joe laughed.

  ‘Not all men are like you.’

  He leant on the counter until Miss Marshall returned from lunch.

  ‘You off duty now then?’ he said, as Sadie lifted her bag and came round to the front of the counter. ‘I’ll buy you lunch.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’d rather starve.’

  She walked up the stairs to the cloakroom where she ate her sandwiches and remained for the rest of her break.

  At half-past five when she came out of the shop, he was there, leaning against the wall. He tagged along beside her and Rita.

  ‘Told you he was keen, didn’t I?’ said Rita.

  ‘And persistent,’ he added.

  ‘You can persist all you like,’ said Sadie. ‘It won’t do you any good.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said.

  He followed her to the station, got on the same train, changed stations with her and got on the train that would take her to her home station.

  ‘You’re a real nut,’ she said as they stood side by side, hanging on to the overhead straps.

  ‘I like being a nut. It amuses me.’

  They left the train, travelled by escalator up to the street.

  ‘I live along there,’ she said, ‘and my husband will be waiting for me.’

  ‘That’s all right by me.’

  ‘He’s six foot one in his stocking soles and he’s Irish. He has a terrible temper when he’s roused.’ She thought she saw Joe’s feet move less eagerly. She added, ‘He’d make mincemeat of you, I’m giving you fair warning.’

  ‘If you promise to have lunch with me I’ll leave you now,’ said Joe.

  She walked on. ‘You’re not blackmailing me.’

  He caught her up, fell into step. They rounded the corner and walked straight into Kevin.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘Men are stupid,’ said Sadie.

  ‘Some of them,’ said Rita, who was backcombing her hair in front of the mirror. Sadie sat on her unmade bed, watching her. ‘Who’re you thinking of? Joe?’

  ‘And Kevin. Both of them!’

  Rita turned round. ‘What’s Kevin been doing to you then?’

  Sadie told her how Joe had followed her home and they had met Kevin. ‘Kevin took the huff at me. He wouldn’t believe Joe had just followed me. He said boys don’t follow girls unless they think they’re on to something.’

  ‘He doesn’t know Joe. He’s a right nut, that boy. But he really fancies you, you know, Sadie.’

  ‘That’s what Kevin thought. We had a row and I burnt the sausages as black as cinders and the place was full of smoke and then he went off to his evening class and left me –’ Sadie paused for breath. ‘So I thought I’d come on over and see you.’

  ‘Glad you did.’

  Sadie enjoyed the evening. It was cosy, sitting by the fire chatting to Rita, drinking cups of coffee, and not having to worry about anything. They talked mostly about boys and Rita said that she didn’t see why Sadie shouldn’t go out with Joe. ‘You might get to like him,’ she said, looking slyly at Sadie.

  ‘But, Rita, I’m married!’

  ‘Oh that! It’ll never last.’

  The words made Sadie feel cold inside; the evening was no longer cosy, and she wanted to go home. Rita went on smoking and talking about Joe. He was a restless boy, in and out of work. At the moment he was not working: that was why he could hang around the shop half the day.

  ‘I must go,’ said Sadie, getting up abruptly.

  She met Kevin coming up the street on her way home.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked.

  ‘Rita’s.’

  ‘You saw that fellow Joe, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did not,’ she cried. ‘I spent the evening talking to Rita.’

  ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’ His eyes were black.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We were talking about men. We were saying how stupid they all were.’

  Sadie went out with the girls the next day at lunchtime. She was fed up sitting in the cloakroom eating sandwiches on her own. She had had enough of being on her own in the evenings. After all, it wasn’t as if she was an old married woman of thirty, she told herself. She spent less than the other girls, but even so, felt guilty at spending the money at all. She and Kevin had so little to spare. And she had the black dress to pay for at the end of the week. Her pay would only be half of what it should be. What would Kevin say?

  ‘What’s up with you?’ asked Rita. ‘You’d think there was poison in your soup.’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Sadie stared at the pool of tomato-coloured liquid on her spoon. ‘It’s that dress. I don’t know how I can pay for it.’

  ‘Pay it up,’ said Rita. ‘A bit each week. That’s what we all do. You can get more clothes that way.’

  ‘Hi, girls!’ Joe’s voice made them turn.

  Sadie spilled soup on her skirt. She scrubbed it with her handkerchief. The tomato colouring would leave a stain.

  ‘How’re you today, beautiful?’ Joe caught a strand of her hair. She tossed her head, wincing with pain when he did not let go. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He doesn’t like girls who say no to him,’ said Rita with a grin.

  ‘He’ll have to get used to it then,’ said Sadie.

  Joe pulled up a chair beside her and leaned his chin on her shoulder. ‘No wonder they’re all fighting one another where you come from,’ he said. ‘If they’re all like you!’

  ‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re an eejit?’ said Sadie, pushing his chin off her shoulder.

  ‘No. But coming from you it sounds real cool. You’ve such a lovely way of saying it.’

  ‘It takes a lot to get him riled,’ said Rita.

  Sadie wished Rita wouldn’t grin all the time. Today she felt irritated by Rita with her false eyelashes and purple lips and her giggle. The trouble was that she felt irritated by everybody at present. By Kevin too.

  ‘What in the name is this you’ve given me?’ demanded Kevin when he looked at his dinner.

  ‘Rissoles.’

  ‘Rissoles. Tastes of bread.’

  They were made mostly with bread and an egg and a small portion of sausage meat.

  ‘I didn’t have enough money to buy anything else,’ Sadie snapped.

  ‘But you had your housekeeping money this week.’

  ‘Money goes nowhere these days,’ she said, hearing echoes of her mother in her own voice. ‘Food’s a terrible price.’

  ‘But even so.’ Kevin forked amongst the drab-looking food. ‘You can’t expect a working man to eat this.’

  ‘You can eat what you like. Or earn more money.’

  Kevin laid down his knife and fork. ‘Are you complaining then about my wages?’

  ‘Only if you complain about my food.’ Sadie swallowed the last of her rissole thinking it was the worst thing she could ever remember eating. She dr
ank a cup of tea quickly to wash it down. ‘Are you going out tonight?’

  ‘I promised the lads I’d have a game of darts.’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘I’ll stay at home if you want.’

  ‘You sound dead keen.’ She rose and lifted his plate.

  ‘It’s not that. But we’ve a match on Friday and we need the practice. Why don’t you come and watch? Nobody would know you’re not eighteen. You look it.’

  ‘I feel eighty,’ she said, scraping the remains off Kevin’s plate into the litter bucket. ‘Do you think I’d fancy sitting watching you playing darts?’

  ‘I’ll stay at home then.’

  ‘And what’ll we do? Sit and stare at one another?’

  ‘What do you want then?’ he asked.

  She shrugged, having no answer. He turned on the radio and they listened to the news about Ulster. A soldier had been shot dead by a sniper, another was seriously ill. The incident had happened in a Catholic estate in Belfast.

  ‘It’s time they locked your lot up,’ said Sadie.

  ‘They’re not my lot,’ said Kevin angrily. He got up, switched off the radio. ‘I might as well go out.’

  She knew she had made the remark to annoy him. But he deserved it, she told herself, going out night after night leaving her alone, thinking only about himself. She paused a moment by the sink, frowning. She hated what was happening to them but could not seem to stop it. They were arguing about money; they were arguing about Ulster, and they had never argued about it before. When they lived there their revulsion at what was happening had brought them closer together. She sighed. She didn’t want Rita to be proved right.

  She put on her coat and walked along the street. Lights shone at windows. Families were at home eating their evening meals, talking to one another. Or were they? How did she know? Through many of the uncurtained windows she saw solitary figures eating off plates on their laps. A lot of people lived alone here, shut off in their separate rooms as if they were in boxes. A lot of people must be lonely.

  She stopped outside the pub. It was a place of warmth where people went so that they would not be alone. Kevin was in there.

  She pushed open the swing door and entered boldly. She need not have worried: no one paid any attention. The place was full of smoke. She stood inside the door, bemused by the chatter and the press of bodies. Then she saw Kevin’s dark head standing up above the others. She stood on tiptoe, lifted her arm to wave to attract his attention. But as she lifted it her smile died and she lowered the arm again. Kevin was talking to two girls. She edged round a fat man to get a better view. Yes, there was Kevin, his face alight, listening to one of the girls as if what she had to say was of the greatest interest to him in the world. His shoulders crumpled and he laughed out loud, for all the pub and herself to hear.