by Ted Lewis
“It’s not surprising. I know his parents.”
“So what do you say to him, then?” I asked.
“Well, I tell him that I’m going out with you. But it doesn’t seem to sink in.”
“What does he say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really listen. It’s just like a gnat buzzing on the other end of the line.”
“Why don’t you tell him to buzz off, then?”
“You can’t. He’s that kind of person. You just listen then wait for him to go away.”
On the bus into town, I asked Janet what the Martin character had wanted anyway.
“He wanted to take me to the Ferryboat Dance,” she said. “He said he had a spare ticket as though he was doing me a great favour.”
“He sounds a right twit to me.”
“Oh, he is. You’ll probably see him tonight. I’ll point him out to you.”
The pubs round the pier were jam-packed with mobs of people waiting to go onto the Ferry. Already there was a great queue at the barrier. Janet and I walked toward the pier. Ron and the other members of the band were unloading the drum kit from the trumpet player’s car. The eyes of the queue followed every detail of the band’s performance. We were to be allowed onto the ferry first, being the privileged people we were. With Janet next to me, making me feel proud, and in my uniform, part of the band, I hammed it up for the queues’ benefit.
We strolled down the gangway. At half-past six the faint whisper of a breeze complemented the nervousness in our stomachs, the nervousness we always felt before we played a big date.
At half-past nine the boat was like a floating beer bottle. Seven hundred people were describing every single different way of being drunk. At half-past nine we were playing the final number of our second session. At nine thirty-one I walked off the stand, out of the saloon, and onto the car deck. Five minutes earlier Janet had told me that the car deck was where she would be so that she could get some fresh air. I couldn’t see her straight away so I sat down on a pile of ropes and drank my beer. Angela arrived.
“Now then, Victor.”
“Now then, Madame.”
She sat down next to me.
“What do you think of the do?” she asked me.
“Very good from where I am. What do you think of it?”
“I’m enjoying it. Your band’s playing best.”
“What about the London lot?”
“They’re all right, but you’re best.”
“You’re biased because I’m in it.”
“That’s right. But it won’t get me anywhere.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It might get you a free gin and whatever it is if you’re lucky.”
“That’s all though.”
“I don’t get you. The one time we both had the chance you said no. Now you’re always insinuating the opposite.”
“I had reasons.”
“Rubbish.”
“I did.”
“Yes. Good reasons. Like you didn’t want to.”
“That’s right, Victor.”
“I wish you’d have a drink and be quiet.”
I passed her the bottle.
“Anyway, have you seen Janet round? I was to meet her up here when I finished playing.”
She passed the bottle back.
“Janet? I thought you knew where she was. I thought you were giving it a rest.”
“No. I don’t know where she is. Why, have you seen her?”
“Well, I might have done. But honest, I thought you knew where she was.”
“No.”
“How’s it going anyway? Between you and Janet?”
“All right. Why do you ask?”
“Just interested. I’m surprised it’s lasted this long. I would have thought you weren’t really suited.”
“Oh, you would? Well, it’s going to last a hell of a lot longer, so you can stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying, Victor. It’s not me as should worry.”
I didn’t answer.
“I would have thought that somebody else had cause to be worried before me,” she said.
“You mean me, don’t you? Come on then, stop acting about. What has your evil little mind stirred up this time?”
“It’s not for me to say, Victor. After all, I’ve nothing to worry about.”
“All right. You’ve nothing to worry about. Now let’s have it.”
“Oh, it’s nowt really. Just a certain name that’s been floating round the Ladies’ cloakroom recently.”
“In connection with Janet?”
“You know, don’t you, Vic. I thought maybe you would.”
“I don’t know anything until you tell me.”
“Do you know a lad called Martin Farr?”
“No.”
“He’s here tonight. On the top deck. But I honestly thought you knew where Janet was. I really did.”
“Well, I do now, don’t I?”
“You asked me.”
“Yes.”
I had made up my mind not to go to Janet because I didn’t want to give Angela her satisfaction. Instead I got up and walked over to where Hilary was standing and asked her to dance. Her friends didn’t like that part very much.
“Having a good time?” I asked.
I was burning with the need to go on to the top deck and I was frozen with the fear that it might be as Angela had said.
“Fine thanks,” said Hilary.
“Good,” I said. “I am, too.”
“Is Janet enjoying it?”
“So I understand. I wouldn’t know, really.”
“Oh.”
The music stopped. It was time for the band on the car deck to leave the stand and for another one to take its place.
“How about going up top and having a drink?” I asked Hilary.
“All right.”
We climbed the steps to the top deck. We moved to the bar, my eyes not trying to find Janet. I bought some drinks.
“Janet’s over there look, Victor,” said Hilary.
I looked. Janet was standing with Karen and Karen’s boyfriend and someone I supposed was Martin Farr.
“So she is,” I said. “How nice for her.”
Karen looked in our direction and touched Janet on her arm. Janet looked at Karen and Karen spoke to her. Janet turned toward me brightly, took a step forward and then saw I was with Hilary. She looked into my face and turned back to the group. Martin Farr looked over Janet’s head in my direction. I smiled at Hilary.
“What’s up, Victor?” she asked.
“Nothing, Hilary. Should there be?”
“What’s up between you and Janet? Or rather what are you making up between you and Janet?”
“I don’t know what you’re on about, Hilary. All I know is I’m having a good time.”
“I’m off down, Victor.”
“Why?”
“I’m off, that’s why.”
“Sod you, then.”
She went away. I turned back to the bar. I felt sick seeing Janet over there, making her feel lousy about letting her see me with Hilary. I felt lousy about seeing her with Martin Farr, and I knew it was only my pride which was making me feel lousy. I felt angry that she should put herself in a position which could damage my pride. I felt about eleven years old. Why didn’t I just walk over to her and say I was sorry? The only way I could come out of it with my pride undamaged was to make her come over to me.
I drank my drink and walked away from the bar and toward the steps which led down onto the car deck. I made sure I didn’t look at her. I was banking on her coming over to me. If she didn’t, I would have to think of something else. I thought she wasn’t going to come
and I was halfway down the steps when I heard her close behind me call my name. I turned round and smiled at her. She stopped, a few steps above me.
“What’s the matter?” she said.
“Nothing. Why? Should there be?” I continued smiling.
“I see,” she said. Then she turned to go back up the stairs.
“Janet.”
She carried on walking. I went after and stood in front of her.
“Look. What do you think’s the bloody matter?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you then, seeing as you’re all so innocent about everything. I suppose I’m expected to hang about down there until you’re ready to tear yourself away from that happy band up there, especially Martin Farr, Esquire.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous. I see. Of course, you wouldn’t know that Angela has been filling me in on the Ladies’ cloakroom gossip you’ve been giving them about that prick. You and Karen must have a good time together.”
“Oh my God, you are a fool. What on earth do you think I said? I talked about him exactly the way I talked about him to you.”
“I’m sure. I expect you told them about him because you felt flattered that this clown rang you up every night and you wanted them to know.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“And while I was there hanging round waiting for you, you were enjoying the bastard’s company for everybody to see.”
“Is that all you care about? That everybody can see? Why didn’t you come over to me? I was waiting for you, and Karen and her boyfriend offered to buy me a drink. We came up here and Martin came over and butted in. Karen and I were making fun of him, if you must know. I wanted you to come to us, to show him how I am with you, so he would see how ridiculous he is.”
“You expected me to come over to you like a lap-dog, did you? Well, you were disappointed, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I was.”
“Well, you’d better get back to your friends. They won’t disappoint you. They’re too predictable.”
“All right.”
She turned away again. I remained where I was. She walked up the steps. She stopped at the top and looked at me. I walked up toward her.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at me.
“I didn’t mean it. Honestly.”
“Why did you come up with Hilary?”
“I don’t know. I was jealous.”
“You knew there wasn’t any need.”
“It was what Angela said.”
“Don’t you know I love you?”
“Yes.”
I took her hand. The blue of evening tinted her white dress. I pulled her toward me and against the rail.
“I don’t know why I get like this,” I said. “I don’t know. I love you.”
The girl drifted into my line of sight. The night was hot and the crowded room perspired in time to the music. The time was one thirty. The place was my digs. The occasion was my farewell party sponsored by my landlady. The last time I would have a party in that city. Janet wasn’t there. She hadn’t been allowed to come because the party was to take place after the Friday night session at the Steam Packet. The boys were there though and apparently nine-tenths of the Jazz club. And my landlady and her boyfriend and her sons. And this girl who I’d wanted to be introduced to for the last four years who was now superfluous because of Janet.
The girl was wearing her fair hair up and a few unmanageable strands tickled the back of her neck. She wore a white sheath that set off her tan, shiny skin perfectly. She moved with a model-like poise, holding her glass to her bosom. She seemed to be on her own and not worrying about it. Her face gazed pleasantly round the room.
“Eh up, Harry,” I said, “how come that chickie always seems to be on her own?”
“I dunno, I dunno, I dunno,” explained Harry.
“Come on, fat sod. You know everything.”
“I know. No, I think it’s because she had some great romance some years ago and she never bothers now.”
“Bet his name was Mark and I bet he was a young civil engineer—
and he had a quizzical twist of hair falling incongruously across his generous forehead—”
“—and his dark troubled eyes bored questioningly into her spinning brain—”
“—and it was written by Dodie Fadge—”
“—and serialized in Woman’s Scarcely.”
“She works on telephones.”
“Who?”
“That chickie.”
“Oh. What’s her name? I do know but I can never remember.”
“Jack Benny.”
“Come on.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because when you’ve told me I’m off to have a word with her. Do you mind? It is my party.”
“I thought you gazed on none but Janet.”
“That’s right. What’s her name?”
“Caroline. You deserve whatever you get.”
He walked away in disgust. I went after him.
“What’s the matter with you then?”
“Well, I reckon you’re a soft sod. I mean there’s you and Janet and everything’s going fine and you want to chat birds up all the time.”
“I’ve only been with two birds since I’ve been going out with Janet.”
“I mean.”
“What’s come over you all of a sudden? You know as well as I do that I was drunk the other times. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Supposing Janet found out. You’d be surrounded by crap then.”
“Christ, I’m only going to have a chat.”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. I don’t know why I’m going to these bloody lengths anyway. I know it’s innocent.”
I turned and walked over to Caroline.
“Hello,” I said.
She turned toward me.
“Hello, Victor.”
“Surprise. You know my name.”
“You’d have been surprised if I hadn’t,” she said, smiling pleasantly without effort.
“Surprise for you. I know yours.”
“My!” She put her hand against her chest, “I am honoured.”
I smiled. She smiled back.
“I’ve seen you round a lot and yet this is the first time I’ve ever spoken to you.”
“And now you’re leaving town.”
“Sad but true.”
“I often wondered what you were like,” she said frankly.
“Now you know.”
“Yes and no. Are you as in love with Janet Walker as people say you are?”
“Is that what people say?”
“All the time.”
“Then they must be convinced they’re right.”
“Are they?”
“I don’t know them that well to judge.”
She took a drink from her glass.
“You look very nice,” I said.
“Thank you.”
She put her glass down on the sideboard. I put my arms round her and kissed her. I closed my eyes. I tried not to feel anything but clinical interest, but the moment was unfairly pleasant. I drew back. We looked directly into each other’s eyes.
“I wish I wasn’t leaving this place,” I heard myself saying.
“Because?”
“Because I would have liked to have known you.”
“You love Janet.”
“I did until two minutes ago.”
This was unbelievable.
“And now?”
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“What a pity. What a great pity.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
We kissed again. The feeling was comparable to when I kissed Janet. My stomach turned over with fear, yet I wanted this to happen at this moment. I felt as if I had been in love with this girl for a long time and I wanted to cry and tell her that I loved Janet. Yet I felt relaxed and I was enjoying the strange feelings which had so effortlessly taken control, even the great sadness of my thoughts about Janet.
It was like a dream. I took her up the stairs to my room and we lay on the bed holding each other tenderly with the window open and the soft night air coming in and stroking us. She told me about the person she had loved and what had happened to them both. Everything seemed perfectly natural and acceptable when I told her how much I was going to love her and when she told me how much she wanted that to happen and when we kissed, we cried, and that seemed natural, joyful and sad all at the same time. We didn’t make love and after some time, she fell asleep. I lay there staring out of the window.
I got up from the bed and wandered slowly down the stairs. The party had thinned out but people were still slowly dancing and it was still hot; I looked at my watch. It was quarter to four.
In the front room I discovered Harry. He was sitting in an arm-chair next to the record player, smoking a cigarette and staring into space. A girl was curled up at his feet, asleep, her head on his knee. I sat on the edge of the table next to him.
“Fag?” Harry said. I took one of his cigarettes.
Then it was all over. The girl upstairs became as she was before --- a girl. Just like that, everything snapped back. I knew it had been an illusion inspired by the drink, the fact of my last party, the end of my four years, the girl’s loveliness, the warm summer night. A terrifying, sad, lovely illusion that I didn’t regret because strangely it didn’t detract one bit from my feeling for Janet. It was almost as if the girl had been Janet. It was strange that it should happen while we felt for each other the way we did then, rather than at a time when we were no longer together, when it could be explained by my wanting to compensate for the loss of Janet.
Caroline came into the room and walked toward me.
“Hello,” she said, and smiled.
I couldn’t tell her it was over. I took her hand.
