She had taken Larry Delaney’s advice about getting rid of the beehive for singing on the stage; he said men found loose hair far more appealing and it would set her apart from the other female singers who all seemed to go for the more formal, pinned-up style. Kirsty found she preferred it down now for going out, and at the back of her mind was relieved not to be running the risk of the dreaded lacquer-bug. Anyway, this wavy style was much easier to comb out at night.
Heather’s outfit was slightly more subdued than her sister’s, with a dark-blue circular skirt and a blue boat-necked fitted top, her waist also emphasised with a broad black patent belt.
‘I’m still not sure if I should go . . .’ Heather said now, a worried frown on her face.
‘Don’t be daft,’ Kirsty told her indignantly. ‘Surely you’re not goin’ to let that Gerry put you off? He’s bound to have got the message by now.’ She halted, unable to avoid another little playful dig. ‘Mind you, I still think your timin’ was bad – I’d have definitely waited until after Christmas to finish with him, until I’d got an engagement ring or at least a decent present out of him!’
‘It’s all right you making jokes,’ Heather told her in an injured tone. ‘You don’t now how it feels having somebody watching every move you make.’ She combed out her long dark hair, carefully put in an off-centre parting, and then caught one of the sides up in a large pink and blue jewelled clasp. ‘It wasn’t you that had him acting all strange last weekend – everywhere I went he was there, with his eyes boring into mine.’ She paused, shaking her head. ‘I’d no idea he was like that . . . and I’d no idea that he had such serious notions about me.’
‘Look – forget him!’ Kirsty advised her older sister in a no-nonsense tone. She still hadn’t told Heather about the night a few weeks back when she thought she saw him lurking around in the back garden. She probably wouldn’t bother mentioning it now, as the more time passed, the less sure she was that she had actually seen anything. It had probably just been a neighbour or something innocent like that. ‘If he keeps annoyin’ you, get my daddy to have a wee word in his ear. Or if that doesn’t work, get my daddy to give him a good oul’ box in the ear!’
‘I’d feel a bit stupid dragging my father into it,’ Heather sighed, searching in her make-up bag for her pink lipstick. ‘I’ll just have to see what happens when I meet him again.’
Kirsty jostled Heather’s elbow. ‘Anyway, I’ll be there tonight, and if he so much as looks at you, he’ll have me to deal with. I won’t be long in givin’ a good right hook.’ Her arm shot out now to demonstrate. ‘Or failin’ that I’ll take off my stiletto and batter him over the head!’
Heather laughed, in spite of her concerns. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you!’
‘Here,’ Kirsty suddenly remembered, ‘talking about stilettos – I’ve giving up on those pink ones. I should have got them in a bigger size.’ She motioned to Heather’s feet. ‘Why don’t you try them? They might fit you, we’re both about the same size, and pink would go nice with that wine dress you have.’
‘Thanks,’ Heather said smiling gratefully, ‘that’s really good of you.’ Although truthfully, she felt the shoes were a bit too bright for her. Kirsty was braver with colours than she was. ‘I’ll try them on later and see how they look.’
Kirsty stood on her tiptoes to apply the black mascara on both top and bottom lashes. Then she stopped midway, suddenly giving a guilty giggle. ‘Thank God for the oul’ age pensioners!’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be goin’ out here tonight if it wasn’t for them. Imagine cancelling a Golden Wedding just because there’s a bit of snow!’
Although she had more or less decided to leave The Hi-Tones she still had a number of bookings with them over Christmas and the New Year that she had said she would honour. They had been more than understanding about her leaving, but Kirsty still felt guilty and didn’t want to leave them in the lurch at their busiest time. Besides, if she waited until after Christmas, it would give them that bit longer to get a new female vocalist.
‘Have you seen outside recently?’ Heather asked her, thumbing towards the window. ‘It’s more than just a bit of snow. I was just beginning to think that maybe we’re mad going out in it ourselves.’
‘As long as the buses are still running, we’ll be fine,’ Kirsty said, opening her eyes really wide to let the black mascara dry. ‘Is Liz going tonight?’
Heather gave a long sigh. ‘Don’t mention Liz . . . she’s been going on to me non-stop about how I should get back with Gerry. She says Jim Murray isn’t botherin’ with her half as much now because they’re on their own. She said Jim liked havin’ Gerry to walk home with at the end of the night, because it’s a good ten-minute walk from her house to his in the dark.’
‘What a bloomin’ big Jessie he is!’ Kirsty said scornfully. ‘Going to finish with Liz just because he’s scared of walking home in the dark! That definitely doesn’t say much for what he thinks of her.’ Her eyes suddenly felt irritated and she blinked to clear them. There was a moment’s silence. ‘Oh, damn it! I’ve just smudged all my mascara!’ She turned to grab a piece of toilet roll to blot it off before it was too late. ‘Blidey hell! It’s that oul’ Izal toilet paper again!’ she moaned. ‘How can I rub my eyes with that?’ She tutted loudly. ‘I’ll have to go into the bedroom for some paper hankies. I thought my mammy was supposed to be buying that new soft Andrex paper from now on? Honestly! There’s times when you’d think we were still livin’ in the Dark Ages in this house.’
Chapter 20
The bus ground to a halt opposite the Town Hall in Motherwell. The snow had eased, and the council workers had diligently kept the main roads clear apart from small grey drifts at the side.
‘So did Jim definitely say he’d meet you in at the dance?’ Kirsty quizzed, as all three girls stood waiting for the bus to pull away and let them cross over safely.
‘He said something like that,’ Liz said, ‘but I don’t want to look that desperate that I’m going to turn up here on my own.’ She gave a small laugh, looking from one sister to the other. ‘Well, I am actually desperate – but it’s just that I don’t want him to know it.’
Kirsty rolled her eyes at Heather, amazed that any girl would contemplate running after a fellow in such an obvious way. But Liz had made it plain to her friends from the start that she was out to capture Jim Murray by hook or by crook.
‘Well, if he’s not here, never mind,’ Kirsty said dismissively. ‘There’s always plenty more fish in the sea.’
Then all three linked arms and ran across the road and into the welcoming warmth of the dance hall.
It was around the fourth or fifth dance that Heather realised with a jolt that Gerry was standing at the side of the floor, staring straight across at her. He was with Jim and another lad, but he was standing slightly separate from them, so he could watch the dancers. The fellow Heather was dancing with whirled her around enthusiastically to ‘Rock Around the Clock’ and when she came back to face the same direction, there he was again – still staring. The minute the dance finished and she made to go back to join the other girls, he was at her side.
‘Can I have a word with you?’ he said in a low, urgent voice. ‘Please.’ He was dressed immaculately as usual, in a dark striped suit with what looked like a brand-new white shirt and a red and navy striped tie. His dark hair was newly cut and well-groomed with just the right amount of oil and, as always, his shoes would be gleaming. Gerry always made an effort with his appearance, but there was something about him tonight that said he had put in that little bit of extra effort.
From the glances the other girls beside them were giving him, Heather knew that Gerry wouldn’t have had to ask any of them twice to dance – they were only waiting and hoping. Why was it that she didn’t feel like that about him any more? Dancing with him, feeling his arms around her, was the last thing she wanted to do now.
She took a deep breath and deliberately shifted her gaze to the floor. ‘I’ve nothing
to say to you, Gerry,’ she said in a low, firm voice. She swept her dark hair back over one shoulder, desperate to be away from him. ‘Nothing’s changed since we last spoke. I really don’t want to fall out with you . . . but I think you should let this go.’
‘I realise now that I rushed you . . . I should have waited – given you more time. The Australia thing was only a notion . . . I’m not even sure if I want to go myself.’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference,’ she said, looking directly at him. She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘I don’t feel the same way, I’m still young and I’m not ready to get engaged or settle down with anybody yet.’
‘You made a good pretence of being ready,’ he told her, his voice rising now. ‘Asking my advice about your new job and telling me about your plans for the future. That kind of talk would make any fellow think you were serious.’
‘Well, you’re wrong,’ Heather said, suddenly conscious that the other dancers could tell they were arguing, and realising by the tone of his voice that he had probably had a few more drinks than he usually had. ‘And it’s not my fault if you took it all too seriously . . . it didn’t really mean anything serious to me.’
She saw his face stiffen at her words and the hurt and pain in his eyes, and a pang of guilt and regret washed over her. Guilt for having caused this situation by leading him on – and regret for not ending it sooner.
Then she felt a hand gripping hers.
‘Come on!’ Kirsty said, moving between them. ‘I thought we were having a night out with the girls?’
‘We were talking, if you don’t mind, Kirsty,’ Gerry said. He was polite but there was an edge to his voice. He had always got on well with Kirsty and Heather’s other friends, but now this situation seemed to be changing everything.
Kirsty looked at Heather, her eyebrows raised in a question.
‘I’m coming,’ Heather told her, then she waved across to the table where Liz and some of their other friends were sitting, just to make the point to him. She turned back to her old boyfriend now. ‘I’m sorry the way things have turned out – but these things happen. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends . . .’
Gerry looked at her, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful, and then he silently nodded his head and turned away.
‘You’re daft, Heather – you shouldn’t have got into any conversation with him,’ Kirsty told her as they walked across the floor. ‘You have to be cruel to be kind.’ When they sat back down, she turned to Liz. ‘I’ve just been telling Heather that she needs to totally ignore Gerry. Don’t you think she should just walk in the other direction when she sees him?’
‘Listen to Marjorie Proops here!’ Liz said, laughing and thumbing in Kirsty’s direction. Liz was much more light-hearted now that Jim had put in an appearance, and she didn’t want to jeopardise her own situation by being seen to snub his friend. ‘None of us would ever have a fellow if we took her advice. How many weeks is it since you’ve had a date, Kirsty?’
‘I’ve been asked out on loads of dates over the last few weeks,’ Kirsty retorted, with an exaggerated grin and a roll of her eyes, ‘and I’m happy to say I’ve turned them all down. Unlike some people, I’m very fussy who I go out with. I’ll wait until I find somebody that’s really decent.’
‘Famous last words!’ Liz said, batting her eyelashes. ‘There’s plenty of ould maids that thought like that, and they all ended up on the shelf.’
‘Well, it’ll be a while before I’m interested in another fellow,’ Heather said ruefully. ‘The way Gerry has been carrying on has put me off boys completely.’ She gave a lopsided smile. ‘I’ll fill my weekends from now on doing country dancing with Mrs McGinty and The Legion of Mary. And I’ve always got my knitting.’ She took a sip of her lemonade, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘That might not be too bad an idea – I could do with a few new jumpers for work.’
All the other girls laughed now. ‘I can just see you sittin’ in every Saturday night knitting away,’ Liz teased, making gestures as though she were knitting herself.
‘Och, it’s just your bad luck with this particular fella,’ Kirsty told her sister. ‘How were you to know how it would turn out? Gerry Stewart looks nice and he seemed a nice enough fella, but he’s obviously a bit odd in the head the way he’s carryin’ on.’ She lifted her glass now and gave a little sigh. ‘I’m beginnin’ to think that a lot of them in here tonight are odd. It wasn’t worth the effort of getting dressed up and coming out in the snow.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Liz stated. ‘There’s some of us are quite happy with the choice.’
A few minutes later the band struck up another rock-and-roll number and within seconds a group of fellows appeared at the table looking for partners. The first two in Teddy-boy suits made a beeline for the Grace sisters. Kirsty’s eyes lit up with amused surprise when she recognised the fellow she was dancing with as a boy from her class in school. When she got onto the dance floor, she stepped back for a minute to get a good look at his grey drainpipe trousers and matching long, draped jacket with the black velvet collar. She shook her head and laughed when her gaze dropped to the white socks and black, thick-soled suede shoes.
‘I didn’t recognise you in all that fancy get-up, Terry McGinn. When did you turn into a Teddy boy?’ she demanded, taking no trouble to disguise her amusement. He had always been a rather quiet, studious boy at school, and seeing him in the outrageous outfit was more than a surprise.
‘A few weeks ago,’ he said, grinning back proudly, although there was a slight tinge of embarrassment around his cheeks. He then reached into his inside pocket for a small comb, which he quickly ran through his heavily Brylcreemed quiff.
‘Whit d’ye think?’ he asked, holding the jacket open. ‘Does it look good or whit? Does it suit me?’
Kirsty clapped her hands together now and laughed heartily. ‘It depends on what ye think looks good! Put it this way – if I didn’t know you, I’d say you looked as good if not better than any of the other Teddy boys.’
‘Coming from a good-lookin’ lassie – that’ll do me!’ Terry told her, with a delighted grin. As they jived to the music, Kirsty found herself enjoying herself in spite of her earlier reservations. ‘What does your father think of your new fashion?’ she asked, as Terry whirled her around. His father was a rather sombre, staid insurance man, who visited the Graces’ house every year when their subscription was up for renewal. He was definitely not the sort who would be associated with Teddy boys and their ilk.
‘My father doesnae know!’ he replied. ‘I keep the suit at ma pal’s house, and I change into it there before comin’ out. He’d skin me alive if he saw it – and so would the oul’ dear!’
Kirsty laughed even harder at this information, and couldn’t wait to get off the dance floor to impart it to Heather and the other girls.
‘Any chance of me and Frankie seein’ you and Heather home the night?’ Terry asked as soon as the dance ended.
‘None whatsoever,’ Kirsty smilingly informed him, with a little friendly tap on the cheek.
‘We could just go for chips if you like,’ he suggested, walking across the dance floor with her now in the direction of her table. ‘It’s a freezin’ night and you’d be glad of them to warm you up.’
Kirsty shook her head, her blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. ‘We’re with a crowd of our friends. Anyway, we’re not the kind of lassies that you Teddy boys would want to be seen with. We’re too tame and old-fashioned for you!’
‘Aw, c’mon now, Kirsty,’ Terry said, his hands spread out and his face looking all injured. ‘There’s nobody could ever call you tame . . . and anyway, I’m hardly a real, rowdy kind of Teddy boy.’ He leaned forward and whispered. ‘It’s only the suit and the hair that makes me look like this.’
‘Come back in a year or two when you’ve a car and plenty of money, and I’ll think about it,’ Kirsty said airily, and then with a toss of her flowing hair added, ‘and thanks for the dance.’<
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Kirsty’s tale about the Teddy-boy suit being kept at the pal’s house and Heather’s recounting of the dance she had with his friend, Frankie – who had two left feet – kept the table entertained in between dances. Then, Heather had felt greatly relieved when Liz dug her in the ribs during one of the slow waltzes to point out Gerry dancing with a beautiful, small, auburn-haired girl.
‘Tell me the honest truth – does it not make you feel dead jealous when you see him with another girl?’ her friend asked. ‘Even when you go off them, you like to know they still fancy you the most. That’s how I feel about any of my old boyfriends.’
‘I’m delighted to see him dancing with somebody else,’ Heather said honestly, ‘and I’d be even more delighted if he started going out with somebody else. I’ve no feelings for him whatsoever.’ She paused. ‘She’s a nice-looking girl . . . I hope Gerry Stewart decides he’s better off with somebody like her than me.’
‘She’s had all the fellas after her this evening,’ Liz whispered, craning her neck to get a better look at Gerry’s partner. ‘Thank God I never saw Jim anywhere near her.’ Earlier on in the evening all the girls had been admiring her gorgeous black lace, low-necked dress, which they all said must have cost a fortune, and could only fit someone with a twenty-inch waist.
Heather stole a quick glance at them, and was surprised to see that Gerry looked quite relaxed, and was dancing easily with the stunning-looking girl, his head bent down towards her, listening attentively to whatever she was saying. And even though she tried not to look, Heather couldn’t help but notice that several dances later, he was still with the girl. Then, some time later, she watched as he went off to sit at a table with her.
The Grace Girls Page 12
