by Neale, Kitty
‘Do you want me to ring him?’ she asked. ‘See if he’ll change his mind? Or if he wants you to go to stay with him?’
‘Are you kidding?’ snorted Penny. ‘He won’t change his mind now he’s written to the head. He doesn’t want anything to do with me and I’m glad. I don’t want to live in that horrible place, either. It’s all full of gadgets and he doesn’t know how to use any of them. Doesn’t even know how to switch on the cooker. Can’t I live with you?’
‘Of course you can!’ cried Lorna. ‘We’d love you to. Your room is ready and waiting, whenever you want it. But I thought I’d better ask.’
‘Thanks but no thanks,’ sighed Penny. ‘I’ve already told them here that I’ll be at yours and they’ll send on the exam results. I don’t want anything to do with Adam. I’d rather be with you.’
Lorna couldn’t keep the pleasure from her voice. ‘We’d be so happy to have you back, love, and you know it. Shall we start looking for a local sixth form? Wouldn’t you like to carry on studying? There are some good ones around here, and there are colleges too.’
For a moment Penny was tempted, imagining two more years of Spanish and Geography, no more Maths, just the subjects that would take her to a different part of the world. Then she came back to earth. Who was she fooling?
‘No, it’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of all that. I’ll get a job.’
Chapter Twenty
Penny had had hopes of finding something interesting to do in Margate but she was doomed to disappointment. The clothes shops had enough assistants and anyway, she didn’t have any experience. The bars wouldn’t take her – she was too young. ‘More than my life’s worth to have you on the premises,’ groaned one landlord, who ran the pub closest to Lorna and Robert’s house. ‘You’d be a hit with some of the punters, and no mistake. But I could lose my licence.’
‘Never mind, maybe in a couple of years,’ smiled Penny, hiding her growing alarm. Although, from what she could see of the punters, she wasn’t too keen on being a hit with them. They were old enough to be her grandfather.
That left some of the smaller corner shops, which she’d hardly been into over the years except on the very rare occasions when Lorna hadn’t been organised to get in the bread or milk. The most exciting thing they sold was a series of postcards featuring the lido and the donkeys on the front. But at least they didn’t demand that she was over eighteen or had years of experience.
Mrs Manning had run her shop three streets away for almost forty years, taking it over from her parents just after the war, and very little in it had changed since then. She’d made a nod to progress and bought a new till, and she even had a device on which you could swipe bank cards onto little transparent paper slips, but she didn’t like to use it and most of her customers preferred to pay cash.
‘No credit, mind,’ she said to Penny, eyeing her dubiously and wondering if she could be trusted. Still, she was the niece or some such thing of that nice Mr Harrison, and besides, her last assistant had left in a hurry, no doubt because of a very dodgy boyfriend. This girl seemed nice enough, if a bit young, and she wasn’t totally sure about how she dressed. But teenagers were different to in her day.
‘No, of course not,’ said Penny, wondering what she’d got herself into. She’d dressed carefully for the interview, although when given the choice she tried to copy her heroine, Madonna. She’d kept on her wristbands and pendants but deliberately toned down everything else and hadn’t used eyeliner at all, so she felt almost naked.
‘You got to be here to help me open up at half seven,’ the woman went on. ‘Folks round here like to pop in to get a pint of milk for their breakfast or a morning paper. Not a slugabed, are you? Nice early riser?’
‘Oh yes,’ Penny lied. This was getting worse and worse. Still, it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do, and she was determined not to be a burden on Lorna and Robert. They couldn’t have been more welcoming, but she was growing more aware of the fact they weren’t really family. The way Adam had treated her had hit her hard, despite what she said. There was no way she was going to be more dependent on them than she could help.
‘Good,’ said Mrs Manning, almost smiling at her new assistant’s enthusiasm. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early, then.’
Which is how Penny came to find herself behind the counter of the cramped shop, staring through the open door and longing for a bit of breeze, as Mrs Manning didn’t hold with fans because they disturbed the magazines. Her boss had stepped out for a ‘bit of a break’, which Penny assumed was to have a cigarette. There was a radio on the shelf behind her and so she turned it on, fiddling with the knob until she found Radio One. The Pet Shop Boys rang out with ‘It’s a Sin’, and suddenly she felt better. There was no one around, so Penny edged out from behind the counter and began to dance, swaying to the electronic beat and shaking her hair in rhythm. She could just about see herself in the curved security mirror and thought she looked pretty good. ‘It’s a, it’s a …’ she sang, not bothering to keep the volume down as she had the place to herself.
‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ a voice shouted.
Penny whirled around to come face to face with her boss. ‘Didn’t hear you come in, Mrs Manning!’
‘Not surprised, with a racket like that going full blast,’ Mrs Manning growled. ‘For Gawd’s sake turn it off, it’ll put off the customers.’
What customers? thought Penny, but did as she was told.
‘We can’t be having that muck on in here,’ her boss went on. ‘This is a respectable establishment. And you can’t even tell if that’s a boy or a girl singing.’
‘It’s a man,’ Penny said.
‘I don’t bleedin’ care,’ hissed Mrs Manning, ‘you are not having that rubbish on in here and as for dancing around like that, you should be ashamed of yourself. Consider this a warning. I only took you on on account of your uncle being such a pillar of the community. It’s a disgrace, you letting him down like that.’
Bit strong for one bit of dancing, thought Penny, but she forced herself to look sorry. She needed the money, after all. ‘It won’t happen again,’ she said.
‘I should think not.’ Mrs Manning straightened her nylon overall. ‘Call that music? Makes me sick. In my day we had proper tunes, and you knew what proper men sounded like.’
So that was that. Penny could see the days stretching ahead, no radio for company, only an angry old woman who didn’t trust her. Less than a mile away, holidaymakers would be soaking up the sun, swimming, paddling, arranging their deckchairs and making the most of the summer, but she’d be stuck in here in an overheated box, selling crap that nobody wanted. Thanks, Mum, she thought. Thanks a bloody lot.
A month or so later and things were no better. Penny now had to wear an identical nylon overall to Mrs Manning, which was so hot that she thought she might faint. The one concession from Mrs Manning was that they could sometimes have Radio Two on, as long as there wasn’t too much talking, which might put off the precious customers.
Penny was restacking a pile of tins of butterbeans, which Mrs Manning insisted everyone liked in summer, but given the amount of dust on them was probably not true. It brought back memories of school dinners, spoonfuls of things almost cold with no sauce or dressing, enough to make her retch. Was she imagining it or did they serve them better in Spain? Don’t torment yourself, she thought, wiping the top of each tin and positioning it slightly differently to try to make it look as if some had sold. She was so bored she barely heard the door go.
‘So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself!’ cried the new arrival.
‘Maureen!’ Penny shouted in delight, spinning round and dropping her duster. ‘What brought you here?’
‘Come to find you of course,’ said Maureen. ‘Come to show off me new jewellery. D’you like this?’ She pointed to a necklace of huge, brightly coloured beads that nobody could possibly miss. ‘Gift from a gentleman friend,’ she winked, and adjuste
d it around the collar of her white linen jacket, which had enormous shoulder pads.
‘Lovely,’ grinned Penny. ‘What did you do to your hair?’
‘Oh, got to have big hair these days,’ said Maureen. ‘Bigger the better, ’specially when you’re blessed with being a natural redhead.’ She winked. ‘Some days it’s more natural than others. What you doing in that horrible housecoat? Can’t see your lovely pendants.’
‘Oh it’s uniform,’ Penny said hurriedly. ‘Come and meet my boss. Mrs Manning, this is … this is my Aunty Maureen.’
‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ Mrs Manning said doubtfully. She didn’t know what to make of this young woman, who after all was a potential customer, but who looked extraordinary. Still, probably not short of a bob if she dressed like that, so not worth offending. ‘Related to Mr Harrison, are you?’
Maureen turned on the charm. ‘Actually I’m related to his wife,’ she explained. ‘So Penny’s more like a cousin, but we say aunty. I wondered if she might be free for lunch. Fancy that, do you, Penny?’
Mrs Manning looked meaningfully at her employee.
‘Sorry, Maureen,’ she said. ‘I’ve already had my lunch break. I start so early that I take it at twelve on the dot.’
‘Early start? You of all people?’ laughed Maureen, then controlled herself. ‘Never mind, I’ll see you back at the house later. Or do you have to work late too?’
‘No, I’ll be back normal time,’ Penny assured her, hastening her to the door before she could say anything more. Then she picked up her duster and returned to the tins of beans, carefully wiping each one and restacking it. Somehow it didn’t seem quite so boring with the prospect of a night with Maureen to come.
‘So, you definitely not going back to school, then?’ asked Maureen, as they drank tea in the guest bedroom while Lorna cooked in the kitchen.
Penny shook her head gloomily. ‘What’s the point? I don’t want to go to university or become a teacher or anything like that. I’d rather earn my own keep.’ She fiddled with her favourite pendant.
‘What, in that dump?’ said Maureen. ‘Hot as hell and wearing nylon, no one to chat to all day but that dried-up old hag? Drive me mad, that would.’
‘It’s not for ever,’ Penny protested. ‘It’ll do for now. At least I’m not cooped up with a bunch of toffee-nosed cows talking about their ponies.’ She tried to laugh it off but Maureen knew her too well.
‘Got to cheer you up a bit,’ she observed. ‘You’re too young to be miserable. What did you used to like doing best of all?’
Penny thought for a moment. ‘At school? Not much, you were always being watched. Every now and again they’d hold a disco in the hall, and that was fun. Or I liked being on stage in the end-of-term plays.’ She grinned faintly. ‘Dressing up and showing off, I suppose.’
‘Bit like me then,’ laughed Maureen. ‘I know everyone looks down on what I did but I loved my days on stage, even if it was the opposite of dressing up. But it was the challenge, of getting them to look at you and yet keep their distance. It was a balance. Your mother, to give her her due, was brilliant at it. The audience couldn’t look away and yet they were terrified of her, she was so arrogant.’
‘Glad she was good at something,’ muttered Penny. ‘Better than mothering, for instance.’
‘True, she was pretty crap at that,’ sighed Maureen, seeing little point in lying. ‘But what I do now is even better. It’s an art form. It’s real entertainment. It’s classy. I love it.’
‘Are you on stage still?’ asked Penny. ‘Didn’t you give it up?’
‘I did,’ said Maureen, a little sadly, ‘but I love the teaching bit. And burlesque is different, it’s not sleazy. It’s all about the moves, the illusion. I wish I’d come to it younger. You don’t have to take off all your clothes if you don’t want to, you just got to make them believe they might see something they shouldn’t. It’s a game; you know it, they know it. Trouble is, if you do show a bit of flesh – and I got to be honest, you do usually have to show ’em a bit – they like it to be firm. Now I keep myself in shape – teaching the moves, you have to – but I’m not what I was. And under the spotlights there’s nowhere to hide. So I’m realistic.’
‘Is it really difficult?’ asked Penny, more interested now.
‘Depends what you call difficult,’ said Maureen. ‘Depends if you have a natural talent. You got to have rhythm, you can’t just stomp around up there and bat your eyelashes. It’s a show. Like revue. You ever seen Cabaret?’
‘Think so,’ said Penny, trying to remember. ‘“Money Makes the World Go Round”, that one? And Liza Minnelli in those tiny black shorts.’
‘That’s the one,’ said Maureen. ‘Stand up a mo.’ She assessed Penny. ‘You could carry off them shorts, and that little black halterneck number she wears as well. Not everyone could. You got the legs for it.’
‘And the make-up!’ Penny was getting the idea. ‘I can do my eyes really well, only you haven’t seen it as I don’t put it on when I’m at work.’
‘You got to be able to dance in heels,’ Maureen said. ‘See these?’ She waved her feet in their impressive stilettos. ‘These are nothing to what you’d have to move around in. Do you have any like this or higher?’
Penny looked at her. ‘After a school like mine? You are joking.’
‘Okay, okay, we’ll work on it,’ Maureen said, undaunted. ‘Try these. Fit you okay? Right, now walk up and down. Very good. You got balance and strong ankles, all that hockey must have done you some good after all. Now we need music. What’ve you got?’
‘Lots of Madonna,’ said Penny. ‘I love her. And Wham. And Bananarama. Jimmy Somerville and The Communards …’
‘No, no, that’s all too dancy.’ Maureen turned to the shelves where Lorna and Robert had left stacks of cassettes they hardly ever listened to. ‘Blimey, here’s that old Abba album we used to play when we was in Spain. Takes me back, that does. But it’s not what I’m after.’ She ran her fingers along the spines, dislodging a little puff of dust. ‘Well, what do you know. Wonder who got this? It’s Cabaret. We’ll give it a go.’
Maureen turned to the cassette player on the chest of drawers and found the volume. ‘Right, here we go. You copy what I do, you keep them shoes on.’
Hesitantly at first, Penny swayed and strutted, trying not to fall while keeping the beat as Liza Minnelli’s voice belted out that money made the world go round. She tried not to look at her feet.
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ said Maureen. ‘Very good, you got to meet their eyes. It’s all about the eyes. Make them think you’ve noticed them and they’re special. If you can do it to this fast tune then you’ve got promise. Now backwards … now side … wave your arms like Liza did … good.’
From below they could hear Lorna calling. ‘Five minutes and it’s ready.’
‘Better give me those shoes back,’ said Maureen. ‘Seriously, you aren’t half bad, Penny. Not sure I’d recommend showing everything you got till you fill out a bit – no, I’m only saying it like it is,’ she added as Penny’s jaw dropped. ‘But you know how to dance.’
‘Thought you said they liked firm flesh?’ asked Penny. ‘You saying I’m flabby before I even start? Wouldn’t I be good enough?’ She wasn’t used to such personal comments. The girls in the changing rooms at school had been bad enough but this coming from Maureen was deeply hurtful.
‘It’s not a matter of being good enough,’ said Maureen patiently. ‘You got great looks, Penny, don’t get me wrong. And you can’t learn to move your body like that. You can learn new moves but if you ain’t got what it takes to begin with then there’s no chance, so you got a big head start. You just got to fill out a bit. Like I said, you don’t have to show everything, that’s part of the fun. You go on stage in them little shorts and halterneck and the punters’ll go wild.’
Penny calmed down and was slightly relieved. She remembered the punters in the nearby pub and decided it was maybe no bad thing to m
aintain some distance from them. ‘Do you think I could, really?’ she asked. Suddenly it began to feel like a possibility. It would beat stacking beans, that was for sure.
‘Hmm, not sure Lorna will like it,’ Maureen warned her. ‘Maybe leave that to me.’
‘She’ll have heard the songs,’ Penny pointed out. ‘’Specially when you began to join in. So we might as well say something.’
‘Perhaps,’ Maureen said, not wishing to inflict her own fate on the girl. Hardly any of her family spoke to her even now, after she’d given up performing. ‘Come on.’ And they headed downstairs to face the music.
Chapter Twenty-One
Penny lay on her bed in her room, as the sound of the television rumbled from the living room. She didn’t want to go downstairs and watch it with Lorna and Robert. Ever since Maureen’s visit the atmosphere had been terrible. They couldn’t understand why she wanted to leave, let alone follow in Maureen’s footsteps. Or worse, in her mother’s.
‘But I can’t stay in that shop!’ she had pleaded. ‘It’s driving me mad, same thing every day, and that old woman on at me all the time.’
‘You could go back and take your A-levels, or do another sort of course if you wanted to,’ Robert pointed out. ‘It’s not the shop or nothing; you don’t have to go off to London.’
‘And you know what people will say about you if you do that job,’ Lorna had added. ‘Once you lose your respectability, that’s it. Look at Maureen.’
Penny had protested that it wasn’t the same as stripping and anyway she didn’t care about being respectable, which hadn’t gone down well. By the time Maureen left nothing had been settled but Penny knew she had to do something. There was a life out there and she wanted to live it to the full, not sit around suffocating in Margate. Lorna and Robert didn’t understand – they talked about London as if anyone would have to be crazy to want to go there, but this wasn’t fair as they’d both lived there and made the choice to leave. She wanted her own chance to find out.
