by Sandy Taylor
I’ve been watching the clock all day, wishing the time away.
I wish Dottie would stop worrying about stupid things like what if her breathing isn’t so good. What if we miss the last bus home. What if. What if, what if.
Just relax Dottie, for gawd’s sake.
I’ve got to look the best I’ve ever looked.
I’ve got to make Elton fall in love with me.
Will tonight ever come?
Tatty bye diary
Love
Mary Pickles (almost girlfriend of Elton Briggs)
Aged 17 years.
Chapter Eight
It was the Saturday that me and Mary were going to see Elton’s band. I was pretty excited to be seeing Ralph again, but my excitement was nothing compared to Mary’s, she was practically hysterical. She had been watching the clock over the cigarette counter all morning, as if staring at it was going to make it go any faster.
‘I’m not going to look at it again until I’ve served five customers,’ she said.
Two customers later I caught her looking at it again. I knew tonight was important to her, but I just didn’t want her to be disappointed. The trouble with Mary was that she never did anything in half measures. It had been the same in school. She had to paint the best picture. She had to write the best story. She had to win the race. That’s just the way Mary was. And now she had to get the boy.
When work finally (finally!) finished, we went back to Mary’s house and her mum gave us some toast and dripping, which was all that was left after Mary’s swarm of locusts brothers had been in the kitchen. Mary’s mum ran herself ragged trying to feed those boys. There was always at least one of them in the kitchen rooting through the cupboards looking for something to eat. It used to drive Mrs Pickles absolutely to distraction. She used to chase them away, swatting them with a tea towel like they were stray cats or something! Mary said that if her mum wanted to save food, she had to hide it. That day we ate our snack at the kitchen table while the twins foraged around us, and after that we went upstairs to Mary’s bedroom, the only brother-free place in the house.
It was only a tiny room, a box room really, and Mary’s bed took up almost all the floor space. Above the bed was a picture of Montmartre, which her old headmistress, Mrs Dicks, had given her. It showed all the artists painting around the church, with the city of Paris spread out below. Mary told me why it meant so much to her.
‘Mrs Dicks told me to look at the picture, really look at it,’ said Mary. ‘She told me to imagine myself in the picture, sitting in front of an easel with a box of paints at my side. She said if I really wanted to be that girl in that picture, I could do it. I had the potential and the talent, but it was up to me to use it, not to waste it. She said it always feels like you’ve got as much time as you need to do all the things you want to do, but you’ll be surprised how life has a habit of stepping in and interfering with those plans, and most importantly never settle for second best. That’s what she said, Dottie. Never settle for second best. I didn’t really understand what she was on about at the time because I was too young, but I do now.’
And that was why Mary decided not to apply to Brighton College of Art but to aim straight for the top, for L’Institut d’Art in Paris. Only thirty students were admitted each year, so there was massive competition for the places. Everyone said she was daft, as there was a perfectly good college of art right here in Brighton, but Mary was determined, and once Mary was determined you might just as well save your breath.
‘I know I’m not ready yet,’ said Mary. ‘But I will be one day.’
And she would. Mary spent every free minute practising her drawing. She couldn’t afford oil paints and canvases, not on her salary from Woolworths, but she could apply for the Institute with pencil drawings. If hard work could get Mary a place at that art school, then I had no doubt at all that she would get there.
Mary’s bedroom was really tiny. You had to kneel on the bed to look out of the window and there was only room for one person to stand up at a time. Still, Mary and I loved it in there, with Mary’s things all piled on the shelves above the foot of the bed. I was really jealous of Mary having a room all to herself and not having to share with an annoying older sister like I did.
‘Come on,’ said Mary, tipping a box of make-up, brushes and ribbons onto the bedspread. ‘It’s time to get ourselves ready to spread our wings.’
I grinned at her and decided to stop worrying about all the bad things that might happen and join in Mary’s excitement.
‘We’re going to look amazing, Dottie Perks,’ she said. ‘We are going to look so amazing that all the boys will be stunned and awed and unable to take their eyes off us for a single second!’
We spent ages backcombing our hair and changing our clothes. The window was open and all the outdoor noises from the estate came in; barking dogs and kids shouting and playing with home-made water-bombs and music. Mary’s two oldest brothers, Winston and Warren, were outside trying to start the motorbike they kept in the front garden and spent all their lives playing with. Despite the attention, the bike never actually did anything apart from make screeching, coughing noises when the boys jumped on the pedal. It was nice being in Mary’s bedroom listening to all those familiar sounds.
We had to take turns with the mirror. Mary went first. She told me that this was only fair, because it was her mirror and she wanted me to watch her so that I would feel brave enough to put on lipstick and mascara and blusher. She sat, cross-legged on the bed, and scrutinised her reflection as she tried to get the lipstick on just right.
‘There’s so much hairspray on this mirror that I can hardly see anything,’ she complained, rubbing at the glass with her elbow.
‘In my case, that’s a good thing,’ I said.
Mary cocked her head to one side and pulled a flirtatious face.
‘I have to look my best, Dottie, because there‘s going to be lots of girls there tonight all vying for Elton’s attention.’
Well, I wasn’t sure I agreed with that, but I wasn’t going to say anything.
‘Do you think I look okay?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘No, really, really okay. The best I’ve ever looked?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dottie—’
‘You look fab,’ I said.
‘Fab enough for Elton to notice me? Fab enough to stand out amongst all the other girls at the club? Because tonight is really important, Dottie. Tonight is my chance to impress the lead singer in a rock band! I mean, imagine that! Imagine me, Mary Pickles, going out with him, Elton Briggs. Imagine the band becoming really successful, like the Rolling Stones.’
‘Imagine,’ I said.
Mary sighed dramatically and clasped her hands to her heart. I rolled my eyes at her in the mirror.
‘Hurry up,’ I said, ‘it’s my turn!’
I tried to push past her, but she pushed her back onto the bed. Then she took a paper bag out of the pocket of her coat that was hanging on the hook on the back of the door and wiggled it in my face.
‘Guess what I’ve got!’
‘What?’
She opened the bag to show me.
‘False eyelashes!’
‘Are you sure you know how to put them on?’ I said. ‘Sally at work said they’re really tricky.’
‘It can’t be that difficult, Christine was wearing some the other day.’
I turned over the packet to read the instructions.
‘Mary, it says you need tweezers and a magnifying mirror and…’
‘It’ll be fine. I’ll do yours first, then you can do mine.’
Putting on the eyelashes wasn’t as easy as it looked. Mary somehow or other managed to put one of them on the wrong way up, so the lashes curled down over my eye, like a dead spider.
‘I can’t go to a club looking like this,’ I said.
‘You look fine.’
‘No I don’t. I look stupid.’
I went into the ba
throom and managed to sort it out, but my eye had gone a bit pink and watery. I thought it would be best not to make a big deal of it. After that, I did Mary’s eyelashes and made a pretty good job of it, even if I do say so myself.
We took it in turns to stand on the bed so that we could see ourselves in all our finery. Mum had slipped me some money to get something new for our evening out and I found a nice little blue top to go with my jeans. Mary was wearing a tight, pale green jumper and a skirt with a nipped-in waist. Her hair was held back with a ribbon and the eyelashes really suited her. They made her look much older and less innocent.
‘Do I look nice, Dottie?’ she asked for about the millionth time.
‘You look fab,’ I said.
Mary and I had arranged to meet the boys inside the Whisky A Go Go Club. It was famous, not just in Brighton but throughout the whole country, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. In my head I’d imagined bright lights and a glamorous entrance with swinging doors and rope banisters on the staircase, chandeliers and a red carpet like in a film. I thought everyone would be very glamorous too. Instead, it was down a side street and there were lots of rough-looking people hanging around outside, leaning on the walls and smoking and staring at us. The boys were mostly wearing T-shirts and had greased-back hair and tattoos up their arms and the girls were in very short skirts and were wearing sunglasses even though it was evening and the sun was close to the horizon. It made them look a bit sinister because we couldn’t see their eyes. On the main street, we could hear the roar of motorbike engines as the rockers rode through Brighton with their cigarettes trailing smoke as they looked for girls and excitement and trouble.
Mary and I linked arms, which was always a bit difficult given the differences in our height, and we held onto one another tight. To get in we had to pay a tattooed man at the door, who squinted at us through his cigarette smoke and then pointed us through coloured plastic strips hung over the door frame down some very dark, narrow stairs with no banisters at all and something sticky on the walls. The club itself was smoky and far too small for all the people squashed inside it and so dark you could hardly see anything, which was a shame.
Everything smelled of hairspray and armpits and cigarette smoke and perfume. I could feel my lungs getting tight and I thought: ‘Oh please God, don’t let me have an asthma attack, not here, not tonight, not in front of Ralph Bennett.’ I put my hand in my pocket for the millionth time to check that I had my inhaler, and it was okay, it was there.
Mary, being small, was able to squeeze her way through the crowd of people who managed to look cool despite being packed tight as sardines. They all seemed to belong and were smoking and laughing and talking in spite of the noise. I was holding onto Mary’s elbow for dear life and following in her wake. She was determined to get to the front so she could get a good view of Elton, and I was determined too because I knew that’s where Ralph would be and I quite liked the thought of saying I’d been to see a band with Ralph Bennett. I practised it in my head and it sounded romantic and special, the sort of thing a person would say if she had an actual boyfriend.
‘Come on, hurry up!’ said Mary over her shoulder. I could hardly hear her over the din of people shouting to make themselves heard over the music being played through the loudspeakers.
I was going as fast as I could, but unlike Mary, who was below head-height and sort of invisible, I had to keep apologising for bumping into people with my shoulders and hips and elbows and standing on their feet. As well as all this, I had the problem of not being able to see much anyway because my left eye was sore and the eyelid felt as if it was swollen. Not a great look for my first time in a nightclub.
‘’Scuse me,’ I said, squeezing through the crowd.
We got as near to the front as we could; the stage itself was only about three feet high and the size of a paving slab, and crouching on the stage fiddling with some wires and plugs was Ralph. He was wearing slacks and a sweater and his hair flopped over his eyes and he looked… Well, he looked handsome. I watched him for a while and he didn’t know I was there, and while I looked at him, the noise and the crowds and the smoke all seemed to fade away. It was as if Ralph and I were the only people in the club.
My heart beat a little faster and I felt a blush spread along my face and neck. It probably didn’t matter because it was so dark. I played with the chain of my necklace. Then he looked up and caught my eye.
‘Hi,’ he said, squatting on his heels to smile at us. Well, actually at me, I think. Perhaps.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Where’s Elton?’ asked Mary.
‘He’s backstage warming up.’
‘Can I go and see him?’
‘Not really,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s only the crew that’s allowed back there.’ His eyes kept flicking to my face.
‘Are you all right, Dottie?’ he asked.
I knew he was looking at my eye, so I wafted my hand in front of my face.
‘Gosh it’s hot in here,’ I said to change the subject.
‘I’m going to get a drink before they start,’ he said. ‘Would you like one?’
‘Thanks,’ said Mary. ‘Babycham for me.’
‘Me too,’ I said.
‘That will be two orange juices then?’ said Ralph, standing up and dusting his hands down the thighs of his trousers.
‘We’re nearly eighteen,’ said Mary pouting.
And you look about twelve, I thought.
‘He likes you,’ Mary said once Ralph had gone.
‘Does he?’ I asked, feeling all warm inside.
Mary turned to give me a withering look.
‘You’d have to be blind, or daft, or both, not to notice the way he goes all gooey-eyed every time he looks at you.’
‘Really?’ I said. And suddenly I thought that the Whisky A Go Go was the best club in the whole world.
‘Yes, Dottie really.’
Mary peered at me.
‘You don’t like him the way I like Elton, do you?’
‘How do I know which way you like Elton?’
‘Well, I like him in a forever sort of way, I always have. I want to be with him forever, Dottie.’
‘Well maybe that’s how I like Ralph, but I’m not sure, I have to get to know him all over again, but for now, well, I think he’s okay.’
‘But he’s a nobody, Dottie. He’s going to be a plumber, for heaven’s sake. If you end up with Ralph Bennett you’ll never get away from the estate. Your life will be mapped out. Marriage, council house, kids. You’ll never get away.’
‘Who said anything about marriage? All I said was that he was okay.’
After what felt like forever, a fat man who was the warm-up act came onto the stage. He was a comedian and he told lots of not-very-funny jokes about his mother-in-law and his wife and Irish people. He was so hot that there were huge great circles of sweat under his arms and his face was all shiny and wet and he had to keep patting it with a handkerchief. Nobody took much notice of him and at last he left the stage and then there was a ripple of excitement and Elton’s band came on.
They were very loud and very energetic and, much to my surprise, I thought that Elton was really good. It was quite a thrill to be there. The band covered some of the big hits, Let’s Twist Again, Sealed with a Kiss and they did a brilliant rock and roll version of The Locomotion. But they also did some of their own songs. I didn’t know if Elton had written them or was just singing them, but a couple of the songs were really good. Mary never took her eyes off the stage and at the end of every song she clapped like mad and shouted: ‘Elton! Elton!’
Elton was the lead singer and there was no doubt in my mind that he was basing himself on Mick Jagger. He had the same way of coming to the front of the stage and pushing the microphone stand forward, and frowning at the audience. I had to smile, thinking what my dad would have made of it. I reckon that Elton thought he was the cat’s whiskers, especially with Mary screaming like she was and setting some of the oth
er girls off.
In the middle of one song, a cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love with You, Elton came right over and crouched down in front of Mary and sang some of the words right into her face. The spotlight was picking out his face and hers and they were both staring into one another’s eyes and I don’t think I’d ever seen Mary look so happy!
After he moved away again, she turned to look at me and her eyes were bright and her cheeks were glowing. I was happy for her. But during the next song, Elton seemed to be singing to an older blonde woman on the other side of the stage. She must have been at least twenty-one. I hoped Mary didn’t notice, but it was hard not to because Elton kept winking at the blonde and narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips when he sang to her.
Ralph somehow or other managed to squeeze his way back to us and gave us both our drinks. I sipped at the drink and it was sweet and very cold. Ralph watched me and I gave him a little smile over the top of my glass. He asked if we were enjoying the show so far and before I could answer, Mary said ‘Yeah we’re having a great time.’
‘Are you all right?’ Ralph said, smiling at me.
And I said: ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ but I wasn’t really, because I was so squashed and there was a horrible tight feeling in my chest, and although I’d sneaked a puff on my inhaler I was still finding it hard to breathe and the smoke was making the inside of my lungs all itchy and, on top of that, my eye was sore. But it was all worth it, to be here, in this place, with Ralph.
Afterwards, Mary wanted to hang around the stage door and wait for Elton, but luckily there wasn’t time. Instead, Ralph bought some chips and walked us to the bus stop. It was such a relief to be outside again, in the cool air. I almost wanted to cry with relief. I didn’t even notice all the crowds around us, the sound of a police siren on its way to break up some fight, probably, and all the rockers and their girls showing off and bumping into us. Mary went on and on about what a brilliant evening she’d had, the best night of her life, etcetera. I kept eating chips and thinking how nice Ralph was and how I thought I liked him in exactly the same way that Mary liked Elton and that I didn’t care what he did for a job. What was wrong with being a plumber anyway? I ate another chip. It was hot and salty. The whole thing made my head hurt.
