Ian had not made any particular friends, although he found everyone was pleasant and amiable. Many of the students were not local and were in digs. It was not a residential college so they had to find their own lodgings. This was not difficult as there were many boarding houses willing to take students during term time, and private houses, too, where the owners were glad of the extra income.
Ian knew he was fortunate, in one respect, to be living at home. It was cheaper and no doubt more comfortable than many of the digs, although he did not have the freedom that some of the other students were experiencing, being away from home for the first time. Some, like himself, were local, others from nearby towns in Lancashire, and some from quite a distance away as the college had a very good reputation.
It was during the second week of December that Ian was invited to a get-together that some of the students were planning at one of the seafront hotels.
A group of first-year students were working in pairs at pastry making. Ian was paired with a young man whom he had seen around but they had never worked closely together. He introduced himself to Ian.
‘I’ve noticed you at lectures,’ he said, ‘but we’ve never actually met, have we? Not properly. I’m Darren, Darren Parkinson, and you are … Ian, I think?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ he replied. ‘Ian Butler. ‘Pleased to meet you at last.’
‘Yes, same here.’ The two young men grinned at each other but did not shake hands as they were all sticky with pastry.
‘I think you’re a local lad, aren’t you?’ said Darren. ‘I thought someone said you lived in Blackpool.’
‘Yes, so I do. I’m a day student. It has its pros and cons. It’s cheaper living at home, of course, with my dad and stepmother, and I don’t have far to travel each day. I usually cycle here but it’s near enough to walk.’ The college was less than a mile from his home. ‘On the other hand, I sometimes feel that I miss out on the social side with going home each night. I haven’t had a chance to get to know anyone really well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unsociable but I suppose … well … I’m not really the sort to push myself. I’ve stayed to one or two things but on the whole I’ve been concentrating on getting on with the job in hand. What about you, Darren? You’re in digs, I suppose? I don’t think you’re a local lad?’
‘No, I’m from Bury.’
‘Yes, I guessed you were from somewhere in mid-Lancashire.’
‘The accent’s a giveaway, isn’t it? Not that I want to disguise it. Why should we?’
‘No, you’re right. There’s a Blackpool accent too. Apparently we don’t pronounce words like “moon” and “school” correctly. We tend to say “mewn” and “scewl”. I don’t think we know till it’s pointed out to us. My brother-in-law noticed. He’s from Yorkshire, and that’s another different accent.’
‘Yes, we’re all different, aren’t we?’ Darren commented. ‘That’s what makes life so interesting. Anyway, as I was saying, my home’s in Bury so I’m in digs in Hornby Road; it’s only a short walk away. I’m the only student there. Mrs Riley – she’s the landlady – takes visitors. It’s a small boarding house but she likes to take a student or two. She feels she’s doing her bit for the local college.’
‘But you’re the only one there?’
‘Yes, at the moment. Actually, it’s a double room with two twin beds so there’s room for another one. Might you be interested?’
‘Me! Oh, no. Like I said, it’s cheaper living at home and I think Dad would take a dim view if I said I wanted to move. Why? Would you like someone to share with you?’
‘Possibly, if it was the right person. The grub’s good. Cooked breakfast and a very satisfying evening meal, same as the visitors have. Of course, there are none there at the moment. She stayed open till the end of the “lights” as they call it – the end of October. And she’ll open for visitors again around Easter time. So at the moment I’m dining with the family: Mr and Mrs Riley and their daughter, Alison. She’s seventeen, a year younger than me.’
‘Oh, that’s nice for you then,’ observed Ian.
‘Not really.’ Darren shrugged. ‘Not my type. Anyway … you were saying you haven’t got around much yet; not had a chance to meet many of the students. Would you like to?’
‘Well, yes … I suppose I would. I mean … yes, that would be great.’
‘I guess I’m pretty much the same sort of person as you,’ said Darren. ‘I keep myself to myself a lot of the time, then realize I must make more effort. I got talking to two lads who lodge near to me and they’ve invited me along to a “do” they’re organizing at a hotel on the prom; the Pier View opposite Central Pier – not a very original name! Do you know it?’
‘No, I can’t say I’ve noticed it but there are thousands of hotels, aren’t there?’
‘So would you like to come along? They said I could bring a friend.’
‘Yes, I would like that. Thanks very much.’
‘It’s Wednesday next week, at eight o’clock. That’s just before we break for Christmas. There’ll be quite a few private parties going on next week, I suppose, but this one is Guy and Ant’s idea. They sing and play the guitar so they’ll be entertaining us. There’ll be about eighteen or twenty there, they said. A few drinks, of course, and they’ve arranged for us to have a buffet supper. So you’ll come?’
‘Yes, I’d love to. But there’s one snag … I’m only seventeen; not old enough to drink!’
‘Who’s to know? You look older than that. And don’t tell me you’ve never had a drink?’
‘Of course I have.’
‘Well, then, what’s the problem?’
‘There isn’t one.’ Ian laughed, feeling very pleased and happy. ‘Will there be girls there as well? Not just for the lads, is it?’
Darren gave him what seemed to be an odd look. ‘Well … yes, I should think so. They didn’t actually say but I assume there will be. Does it matter?’
‘No, I just wanted to know. I shall look forward to it …’
They had been working companionably together as they talked, and the apple pie they were preparing was now ready to go into the large oven, together with those of the other students.
‘I think that’s a jolly good effort of ours,’ said Darren, admiring the carefully crimped edging to the pie, the decoration of pastry leaves on the top and the milk and egg glaze which would ensure a golden glossy finish.
‘Yes, very well done, you two,’ said the woman tutor passing by their table. ‘Now, clear away, wash up and leave everything tidy. That’s the most important part of food preparation, as you know. It’s getting near the lunch break – half an hour or so. Your pie should be ready to take out before you go.’
The students’ efforts were made use of in the cafeteria at midday. Ian and Darren were highly satisfied with their creation. It smelled very appetizing too.
‘I wish my brother-in-law could see that,’ Ian remarked as they made their way to the dining area. ‘He’d be quite impressed.’
‘The Yorkshireman?’ enquired Darren. ‘Why? Is he in the catering business?’
‘Oh, yes – he and my sister run a cafe in Harrogate. They opened it soon after they got married a couple of years ago. That was really what inspired me. I’ve been over to help them during the school holidays. Just as a general dogsbody to begin with, although I did quite a lot of waiting on at the tables. And I got really interested in what was going on in the kitchen. So … here I am, hoping to be a qualified chef myself one of these days. What about you, Darren? What made you decide to go into catering?’
‘Dunno, really. I’ve always enjoyed my food. My mum’s a smashing cook and I used to help her in the kitchen along with my sister – she’s two years older – but my mum said that cooking wasn’t just for girls. My dad didn’t agree. He’s a real male chauvinist; he lets Mum wait on him hand and foot but she doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a mechanic, a foreman at a local garage and he comes home all mucky and oily. He cleans up befor
e he has his meal but that’s him finished then for the day. He didn’t half go on at me when I told him what I wanted to do for a career! I won’t tell you what he said. Well, I expect you can guess! Not a job for a proper man and all that. I reminded him about Graham Kerr – you know, the Galloping Gourmet chef on TV – but he said he’d never heard of him. So, that’s my story … Now, let’s see what they’ve got to tempt us today.’
Neither of them needed more than a snack as they would be enjoying a good evening meal. They chose the soup of the day, which was tomato, with a crispy roll, followed by a piece of lemon meringue pie.
Ian found it was good to have someone to chat to over the meal. It was strange that their paths had never really crossed until now, although they had known one another by sight in the way that they knew most of the students. Ian was pleased that he had found a mate with whom he was compatible, or so it seemed at first acquaintance.
‘See you around then,’ said Darren as they went their separate ways after lunch to different lectures. ‘If we don’t meet again I’ll see you on Wednesday night at the Pier View. Around eight o’clock, OK?’
‘Yes, thanks again. I’ll look forward to it. Just casual dress, I suppose?’
‘Yes, come as you are, but without the chef’s apron, of course!’
Ian laughed, feeling very light-hearted and as though he really belonged, at last.
Darren grasped his arm in a friendly gesture as they parted. ‘See you then. Cheerio for now.’
‘Yes, bye for now. I’m glad we’ve got to know one another,’ he added a little self-consciously.
‘Me too!’ Darren grinned as he walked away.
Alec and Norma were pleased that Ian had been invited to a college gathering. They had been concerned that he had not really become part of the social scene. They knew he missed his mates from school and he had not spoken much about the students he had met.
Alec did not warn him about the dangers of drinking too much. He thought he was a sensible lad who knew his limitations; anyway, he had to find his own way around in the big wide world.
Ian dressed with care on the Wednesday evening. He had a fairly new suede jacket in a light tan colour that he had bought with his earnings from Grundy’s. It went well with his black trousers, pale blue shirt and a slim tie in a darker shade of blue.
‘Gosh! You look handsome,’ Norma remarked when he was ready to leave. ‘All the girls will be giving you the eye tonight.’
‘Oh, I’m not bothered about that.’ He blushed slightly. ‘It’s just nice to be invited somewhere.’
‘Well, have a good time,’ said his father. ‘We’ll probably be in bed when you get back but you’ve got your key. Now, you must get a taxi back. Here, take this.’ He handed him a ten-shilling note.
‘Thanks, Dad. I’m walking there, though. It’s a nice mild night.’
It was a good mile to the hotel near Central Pier, but Ian walked briskly and arrived just after eight o’clock. He stepped through the swing doors and was greeted by the sound of chattering voices and laughter and the aroma of cigarette smoke and ale. It felt and looked warm and cosy with a rich red carpet, wood-panelled walls and comfortable armchairs and benches upholstered in a red plush fabric. There was a bar at the side with several people waiting to be served. As he stared around wondering where to go, Darren appeared.
‘Hi there. I was just coming to meet you.’ He took Ian’s arm. ‘We’re through here.’
He led the way to a room at the rear of the building, similarly furnished and with a smaller bar. There appeared to be about ten or twelve there already, both men and girls. Ian recognized several of them. Some looked up and said, ‘Hello’, while some said, ‘Hello, Ian’, which made him feel more at home.
Darren led him to a table where two lads were sitting and two girls who might, or might not, have been their girlfriends. Ian wasn’t sure but he knew them by sight.
‘Nancy, Sally, Bob and Jack …’ Darren introduced them casually. ‘And this is Ian.’
They all greeted him in a friendly way and he sat down on a bench with his back to the wall.
Darren sat down next to him. ‘We’ve decided to have a kitty,’ he said. ‘We’ll all put some money in then there’s no arguing about whose round it is. OK with you?’
‘Yes, sounds like a good idea,’ said Ian. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘Well, we’ve each put a pound in. Is that OK?’
‘Yes, fine.’ Ian took out his wallet and put a pound note on the table with the rest of the money. The groups at the other tables seemed to be doing the same.
‘I’ll go and get a round in while it’s not too busy,’ said Darren. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘Oh, a shandy, please,’ said Ian, playing it safe.
‘OK, what about the rest of you?’ The other four gave him their orders and Darren went off to the bar.
Ian watched him standing there looking very confident. Ian would have felt self-conscious ordering drinks. Darren was a good-looking lad, more well-built than Ian, with a pleasant, round face and fair, wavy hair that he did not damp down with brilliantine. Ian had dark brown hair which was perfectly straight.
Darren returned with the drinks and they all raised their glasses and said, ‘Cheers!’
By this time several more had arrived and the noise level had risen. Ian tried to do a quick head count. Eighteen, nineteen … which was more for less the number Darren had said. He recognized most of them.
There was a small platform at the opposite end from the bar and in a few moments two young men carrying guitars made their way there.
‘Guy and Ant,’ said Darren. ‘Do you know them?’
‘I’ve seen them around …’
‘They’re from Preston; they were at school together there.’
They tuned up their guitars, then one of them stepped forward.
‘Hello, folks,’ he began. ‘We’re pleased you’ve all come, and Ant and I will do our best to entertain you.’
There was a rousing cheer and hearty applause.
‘OK, then. We’ll start with “Peggy Sue” – that’s one of Buddy Holly’s – then “Walkin’ in the Rain” – the fabulous Johnny Ray’s song …’
They sounded very professional. Guy sang the melody line and Ant harmonized below; they had pleasant, light tenor voices. The audience listened appreciatively then joined in with the repeats.
They entertained for almost half an hour, progressing to several Elvis numbers then Cliff Richard’s ‘Livin’ Doll’.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ asked Darren.
‘Very much so,’ replied Ian. ‘Glad you invited me; wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Darren. He put an arm round Ian’s shoulders for a moment, then, just as quickly, he withdrew it.
The other four, Nancy, Bob, Sally and Jack, appeared to be casual boy and girl friends. Glancing around, Ian noticed other couples, but there were more men there than girls, some of the lads sitting together in a group and others, like himself and Darren, looking as though they might be mates.
There was a pause in the entertainment while they went to the buffet bar and chose what they wanted to eat from the selection on offer: assorted sandwiches, sausage rolls, pork pies, chicken drumsticks, crisps and salad items. They replenished their glasses and sat down to eat while a man who was the resident pianist at the hotel sat down and played popular tunes of the day.
There was a space between the tables making a small dance floor, and some of them, mainly the girls and a few lads, got up and danced, jigging and twisting and shaking to the livelier numbers: ‘All Shook Up’, ‘Jailhouse Rock’ and ‘Mambo Italiano’.
Ian and Darren sat in a companionable silence. There didn’t seem to be any need to talk. Ian was enjoying himself more than he had thought he would, feeling carefree and just a little light-headed after his third shandy. Watch it, he said to himself. Orange juice next time.
Then the pianist started to play a so
ng by Elvis, ‘Let Me be Your Teddy Bear’, and most of them sang along. To his surprise and slight shock, Darren put an arm round his shoulders again, singing along with a twinkle in his eye. It passed through Ian’s mind that his friend did resemble a teddy bear, with his round face and shock of blonde hair. He grinned at him, feeling a little uncomfortable, then gradually pulled himself away. Probably Darren had had too much drink; he was on Double Diamonds, not shandies.
The evening drew on, Guy and Ant entertained them again, then they introduced a girl, one of the students, who was also a musician. Her name was Stephanie Grey. Guy introduced her, then they accompanied her as she sang several soulful songs that they all knew, but they listened without joining in as she had such a melodic voice. They were all love songs: ‘April Love’, ‘When I Fall in Love’, and ‘Softly, Softly, Come to Me’, which Ruby Murray, with her seductive voice, had made so popular.
‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ said Ian. ‘I’ve noticed her at some of the lectures but I’d no idea she had such a lovely voice.’
‘Yes, a hidden talent,’ replied Darren, ‘or not hidden in her case. She’s willing to share it with others. It’s surprising what might be lurking beneath the surface in all of us. Who knows what talents we may possess?’
Darren had lowered his voice. It was soft and persuasive and Ian was starting to feel uncomfortable. He glanced around. Nancy and Bob, Sally and Jack had eyes for only each other, and at the other tables everyone was listening intently to Stephanie, lads with their arms round their girlfriends and some lads, Ian noticed, sitting close together, as were he and Darren. But no one was taking any notice of what was going on at other tables.
He felt even more alarmed when Darren took hold of his hand, gently and unobtrusively beneath the table. It suddenly dawned on him what this was all about.
‘Ian …’ Darren began, ‘… are you sure you won’t change your mind about sharing my digs? I’m sure we’d get on well together, you and me.’ His blue eyes were looking intently into Ian’s grey ones.
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