by Sandy Taylor
‘Thanks,’ said Mary, miraculously cheering up and immediately fishing in her bag for her compact so she could check her face.
I went up to the counter and stood next to Elton. I looked at the hairs on the back of his neck and cleared my throat. He completely ignored me.
‘Have you got Telstar by The Tornados?’ he asked the boy behind the counter.
‘Now that,’ said the hip boy taking a swig of his coffee, ‘is a very good choice. They recorded that track in their agent’s front room,’ and Elton got all puffed up with importance like it was him that had recorded Telstar in his front room.
‘Hello,’ I said.
Elton turned slowly and frowned at me as if I’d just crawled out from under a log. I smiled at him hopefully. He was wearing aftershave that made him smell like a car smells, of leather and petrol. He looked me up and down very slowly but didn’t speak.
‘Hello Dottie,’ said Ralph, smiling around Elton.
I smiled gratefully at Ralph. He smiled back at me. I smiled some more. Elton made a bit of a sneery face and I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.
‘I’m with Mary,’ I said. ‘Mary Pickles.’ I glanced over my shoulder. Mary was hiding behind one of the record racks out of Elton’s sight. She had crossed the first two fingers on each hand and was holding them up to me, nodding her head in encouragement.
‘You two were always together at school,’ said Ralph. His voice was soft and
deep, more like a man than the boy I remembered.
‘So were you two,’ I said.
‘Blast from the past,’ said Ralph, smiling.
‘Yeah,’ I said, smiling back. We couldn’t stop smiling at one another.
Elton rolled his eyes, turned away and started to flick through the bargain records in the rack by the counter. He didn’t seem in the least bit interested in the conversation. Ralph might have changed but Elton was exactly the same; arrogant and kind of pompous.
Mary must have given up on me. She came over to stand by us. She squeezed in between me and Elton and gazed up at him like a lovesick puppy. He didn’t take a blind bit of notice of her; he just continued looking through the records.
I didn’t know what else to say and I was beginning to feel a bit stupid just standing there.
‘Aren’t you going to get a record?’ Elton asked Ralph.
‘In a minute,’ Ralph answered. There was a red rash creeping up from the collar of his shirt and making its way up his neck. Suddenly he blurted out: ‘Fancy a coffee?’
‘There’s a good cafe opposite the Palace Pier,’ said Mary. She was speaking very fast and in a very high voice, and her smile was nearly splitting her face. ‘It’s called Dells. They’ve got a jukebox and a football table.’
‘And they do really good coffees,’ I said. I needed a drink. My mouth felt like the bottom of a baby’s pram, all fluff and biscuits.
‘Great,’ said Ralph. He glanced at Elton, who was still ignoring us. ‘Why don’t we meet you there in about twenty minutes? That all right with you, Elton?’
Elton looked at me and Mary as if he’d only just noticed us. ‘Don’t mind,’ he said, in a bored sort of voice.
Beside me I could sense Mary nearly fainting with excitement.
‘That’s settled then,’ said Ralph. ‘See you in twenty minutes.’
Me and Mary paid for our records and the hip boy put them in paper bags and passed them back to us, and all the time I was really conscious of Ralph watching, and it was strange, because it was only old Ralph Bennett. It wasn’t like he was somebody new and yet, in a strange sort of way, it was. I was quite relieved when Mary and I went out of the shop and headed to the cafe.
Mary’s Diary
Dear Diary,
Me and Dottie could have gone to the record shop any day but we went today. I call that fate it was definitely meant to be. I have been waiting for this moment all my life
Oh Elton, Elton, Elton
Mary Pickles
loves
Elton Briggs
She really does!!!!!
Love Mary Pickles
Aged seventeen.
Me and Mary hadn’t seen Elton and Ralph since we’d left school two years ago and now here they were in our record shop.
‘I think I’m going to faint,’ said Mary, going all dramatic.
‘Well, don’t faint all over me,’ I said.
‘Did you see the way he looked at me?’
‘I did actually. He looked at you as if you’d just crawled out from under the same log that I’d crawled out from.’
‘Elton always looks like that, he’s just really cool.’
‘Positively arctic,’ I said.
‘Dottie, this is really important to me. This could be the most important day of my life.’
I smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it could.’
‘I want to run.’
‘What?’
‘I want to run and run and run.’
‘Couldn’t we just walk fast?’
‘Oh you, Dottie Perks.’
‘Oh you, Mary Pickles.’
‘I’ve never forgotten Elton, you know.’
‘Well I can see that now, but I kind of hoped you had. You haven’t exactly gone on about him since we left school.’
‘That’s because I knew you didn’t like him.’
‘I don’t know him. All I know is that he was always upsetting you.’
‘That’s part of being in love, Dottie. You always hurt the one you love.’
‘Is that a fact?’
‘Well, that’s what Clarence Frogmore Henry said.’
‘Who the heck’s Clarence Frogmore Henry?’
‘He’s the bloke that sang the song.’
‘Well, I don’t think you have to hurt the one you love. I think it makes more sense to be nice to the one you love.’
‘You’ve got a lot to learn about love,’ she said, catching hold of my hand and starting to run.
‘I don’t think I’ll bother,’ I shouted, stumbling behind her.
We had only run a short distance when I let go of her hand and leant against a wall.
Mary ran back to me.
I took the puffer out of my pocket, inhaling the medicine and holding my breath.
‘I forgot,’ said Mary.
‘I know.’
‘I’m always forgetting.’
‘I know.’
‘We’ll walk really slowly,’ she said. ‘In fact we’ll crawl, and if anyone says anything, we’ll tell them to take a long run off a short pier.’
‘You’re daft, you are.’
‘I know, it’s endearing, isn’t it?’
‘That’s one word for it.’
‘Feeling better?’
‘Much.’
We walked slowly down West Street and on to the seafront. There were crowds of people milling around the aquarium and the little shops, whose windows were full of pink shiny Brighton rock wrapped in cellophane and plastic windmills for the children to hold in the wind. We were used to all the holidaymakers who arrived in the summer with their umbrellas and their plastic mats and their noisy children. The rock in the sweet shops was for them. Me and Mary had never bought the rock and we’d never visited the aquarium. When I was a kid, my mum said if I ever ate it I’d end up with no teeth. My sister Rita said that in my case that could only be an improvement. She’s very sweet, my sister. Not.
‘How do I look?’ asked Mary.
‘You look nice.’
‘What do you mean I look nice? I need to look more than nice, nice is ordinary, I have to look better than ordinary. I have to look extraordinary.’
‘You look fab,’ I said. ‘Really, you do.’
‘Have you got any lippy on you?’
‘Haven’t you got any, then?’
‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I had any would I?’
‘Well you usually do.’
‘For heaven’s sake, have you got any or not?’
‘A bit
but you’ll have to dig it out with a match.’
‘Have you got a match?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you know how irritating you can be at times?’
‘It has been mentioned. I’ve got a hair grip, that should do it.’
‘What colour is it?’ she said.
‘What the hair grip?’
‘No, stupid, the lippy.’
‘It’s called Corn Silk. It’s a kind of apricot colour. It will go nicely with your jumper.’
Before we went into the cafe, we went across the road to the Flick ‘n’ Curl hairdressers, ‘cos they had this big mirror in the window and Mary could put the lippy on.
I found the hair grip, managed to get the lippy out and smeared some on Mary’s lips. She tucked them into her mouth to spread it about a bit. She stood in front of me holding her face up like a child. I licked the corner of my handkerchief and tidied the edges up for her.
‘Do I look all right?’ she said again.
‘You look fab!’ I said, smiling at her.
Dells cafe was full of people. Its windows were covered with posters and notices advertising gigs and what films were on at the Regent Cinema, and there was a lovely smell, a combination of coffee and that hot, sugary scent of fresh doughnuts. Mary and I went in and the first person we saw was Christine Smith, leaning against the jukebox. Her best friend Angie Brown was over by the counter. They both worked in the sack factory and they had this permanent smell of fish about them. I don’t know why working in a sack factory made them smell of fish, but it did.
‘All right?’ asked Christine when we walked in. Her face was red and damp in the heat. She popped the last piece of a hot dog into her mouth and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
‘Yes, we’re fine thanks,’ I said.
‘Still working in Woollies?’
I nodded. ‘You still working in the sack factory?’ As if you couldn’t tell, I thought.
‘Of course we are,’ Christine said as if it was a daft question. ‘What are Woollies paying now?’
‘Three pounds five shillings,’ I said.
‘You’re mad,’ said Christine. ‘Me and Angie bring home five pounds a week.’
‘Five pounds!’ said Mary.
‘Blimey!’ I said. We were both pretty impressed. Five pounds would buy you a lot of clothes and make-up and records.
‘And we don’t have to work on a Saturday,’ said Christine. ‘Never.’ She was starting to show off a bit now. Never mind all that, I thought, at least Mary and me didn’t smell of smoked haddock.
Christine called to Angie who came over, sipping Coca-Cola through a straw from the bottle.
‘I was just telling these two, they must be mad working in Woollies. They only get three pound five a week and they have to work on a Saturday.’
‘You wouldn’t catch me working on a Saturday,’ said Angie.
‘It’s not so bad,’ I said. ‘We’ve both had today off.’
‘You wouldn’t catch me working any Saturday.’
So you just said, I thought.
‘You ought to come and work with the sacks,’ said Angie. ‘It’s a good laugh.’
‘Don’t you mind the smell?’ asked Mary with an innocent look on her face. Mary never meant to be rude, but sometimes she accidentally was.
‘What smell?’ asked Christine. She looked genuinely confused, and wrinkled up her nose and sniffed at her arm.
‘That sort of fishy smell.’ said Mary.
‘Are you saying we smell of fish?’ said Christine.
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘You don’t smell of fish, it just smells a bit fishy when you walk past the factory.’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ she said. ‘Have you noticed, Angie?’
‘Noticed what?’
‘That the factory smells of fish.’
‘Can’t say I have.’
‘Anyway,’ said Christine, ‘they wouldn’t take Mary on, she’d be too small to stack the sacks up. They’ve got a height restriction.’
‘I never knew that,’ said Angie, frowning.
‘Well, it’s true,’ said Christine, glaring at her.
‘But what about Brenda Cooper?’ I said. ‘She’s not much bigger than Mary and she…’
‘Fancy a go on the football table?’ said Christine, butting in.
‘If you like,’ said Angie.
Christine whispered something in Angie’s ear and they walked away giggling.
‘Blooming cheek,’ said Mary. She pulled out a chair and sat down at a table. I sat down next to her. Shafts of light fell across its surface. Mary took a packet of sugar cubes from the bowl on the table, unwrapped the paper and put both cubes into her mouth and began to crunch furiously.
‘I shouldn’t worry about it,’ I said.
‘I’m not,’ she replied.
But I knew she was. Mary got embarrassed when people went on about her height. I sat there not knowing what to say. I took my record out of the bag, there was something about the feel of a new record, it reminded me of when I was a kid and I found a Famous Five book at the library that I hadn’t read before. The word ‘Parlophone’ was printed on the record sleeve. I traced it with my finger. I wished the boys would hurry up.
As if on cue, the door banged against the bin and Elton and Ralph came into the coffee bar. We were sitting more or less by the door, so they saw us straight away. Mary sat up and made a big effort to swallow the sugar and to try to look composed. Elton winked at her, slicked back his hair with his fingers and walked straight past. Mary looked at me to see if I’d noticed the wink, but I couldn’t pay her any attention right then because Ralph was standing just in front of me and I noticed for the first time, properly, how tall he was now, and how wide his shoulders were, and how grown-up he seemed.
‘Hello again,’ Ralph smiled. It felt as if he was smiling at me, just me. I wriggled in my seat a little and tried to pull my pedal pushers further down my legs.
‘Hello,’ I said, trying not to look as pleased as I was. After that I couldn’t think of anything to say. My mind was as empty as the beach on a school day. It was like an empty space with the wind blowing through it. It was like the streets of our estate when everyone’s gone to bed.
After I hadn’t said anything for about a minute and a half, Ralph cleared his throat. ‘Frothy coffees all round then?’ he asked.
‘Thanks very much,’ I said gratefully.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ said Mary.
Ralph went to the counter to order the drinks and I followed Mary’s eyes back to Elton. He was chatting to Christine by the table football. Either he was downwind of her, or he had no sense of smell. Christine was wearing a gingham dress with buttons down the front and matching sandals, and she did look pretty, in an obvious sort of way.
‘Isn’t Elton dreamy?’ said Mary.
‘I suppose so,’ I said. I can’t have sounded very enthusiastic because Mary immediately responded.
‘What do you mean, you suppose so?’
I looked at Elton. He was good-looking, with his pointed boots and his tight trousers and his sharp haircut, but that was all he was. I didn’t exactly have much experience, but I’d met boys like him in Woolworths. They were always flirting, they’d smile and say something nice to you and make you feel as if you were special, and the next second, some other girl would catch their eye and they’d move on without a second thought. My Aunty Brenda said boys like that were ‘all trousers and no braces.’
Mary was staring at me, waiting for my answer.
‘Elton’s just not my type,’ I mumbled. ‘We can’t all fancy the same type, can we?’
‘But Dottie, he looks like Mick Jagger.’
‘He’s not my type either!’
She looked at me as if I was mad.
‘So who is your type? Ralph Bennett?’
She meant it as a joke.
‘Why not?’ I said.
‘Ralph Bennett!!!’ said Mary, screwing up her no
se like there was a bad smell under it. I glanced at Ralph. He was paying for our coffees at the counter. I was relieved to see he had his back to us.
‘He’s nice,’ I said. ‘At least he talks to us! At least he shows an interest!’
‘Talks to you,’ Mary corrected. ‘And anyway, he’s got ginger hair!’
‘That bloke from Wagon Train’s got ginger hair and you used to belong to his fan club! And anyway there’s nothing wrong with ginger hair.’
‘I know,’ said Mary. ‘But Ralph Bennett!!’
‘Well I think he’s turned out nice. Sssh,’ I said, ‘he’s coming back.’
‘Here you go, frothy coffees,’ said Ralph, putting a tray with four coffees down on the table in front of us.
Elton noticed his return, said something to Christine that made her laugh very loudly and in a very obvious way, and he sauntered across to us. He pulled up a chair and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle so that he took up an awful lot of space. He was probably trying to show off how skinny and long his legs were. They didn’t do anything for me, but I could see Mary noticing them. Elton did look a little like Mick Jagger. He had the same sort of swagger about him. He took a red Embassy box out of the pocket of his jacket, tapped it on the table, flicked open the lid, and shook out a cigarette. He offered it to Mary, and then to me, and when we both shook our heads. He put the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, struck a match, and cupped the end of the cigarette in his two hands as he sucked on it until the tobacco caught. Mary was trying not to stare, but he caught her eye and I saw him look at her for a few seconds. It was a very intense look. It wasn’t even me he was looking at but it made me feel a bit hot and uncomfortable. Mary blushed and turned away. She played with the end of her ponytail.
‘So…’ said Ralph, ‘what have you been up to since school?’
I concentrated on stirring my coffee.
‘We’re working in Woollies,’ I said. ‘How about you?’
‘Well I worked on the railways for a while, but now I’m an apprentice plumber,’ said Ralph with some pride. ‘It doesn’t pay much while I’m training, but the money should be pretty good once I’m qualified. Then I’m going to get a van and work for myself.’
‘So if you ever get a leak, Ralph’s your man,’ said Elton.
