The Palace of Strange Girls

by Sallie Day

  “How’s your daughter getting on, Ruth?” Ronald asks.

  “Oh, she’s getting better from her operation quickly now.”

  “No, you misunderstand. I mean the other one. Helen, isn’t it? The blonde one. She whose face launched a thousand ships.” The look that passes across Ronald’s face prevents both Jack and Ruth from feeling flattered. “Is she still working at the dress shop?”

  “She works Saturdays—that’s enough. I won’t let her work full time. Next term she’ll be starting A-Levels and there’ll be plenty of school work to keep on top of.”

  “Well, your girl could do a lot worse than work for Blanche,” Ronald says. “She’d get to know one or two things about the way the world works that she won’t learn at school,” he goes on with a smirk.

  Cora sees the expression on Ruth’s face and hurriedly interrupts: “I shouldn’t be surprised if Helen ends up going to university. The shop may be all right for a Saturday job but the shine would soon wear off if she had to sell dresses for the rest of her life.”

  “Well, you don’t know. She might catch herself a husband,” Ronald persists.

  “Over my dead body. She needs a proper career first. There’s plenty of time for boys after she’s finished university,” Ruth counters.

  “I don’t know about you but I’ve always thought education is a waste of time for women. No man wants a clever-sticks for a wife. You don’t need A-Levels to look after a husband. Look at Blanche—now there’s a woman who’s made the best use of her assets. Anyway, Helen’s pretty enough not to need paper qualifications. You never did, Cora, and you’ve done very well for yourself—you signed on for a life of luxury the moment you married me.” He turns to Jack and says pointedly, “Cora wasted time with the odd loser before she married me. But she’s smart enough to know which side her bread is buttered on. Aren’t you, darling? She made the right move when she married me.” Ronald pauses, watches, dares Jack to react.

  Jack had been in Italy when he’d heard Cora had got married: a big do, by all accounts. assistant bank manager weds cotton queen: the local paper gave it a full page. Jack’s sister said it had been the talk of the town—a slice of rich fruitcake for every customer who walked into the bank on the day. The cake was nothing short of a miracle when you considered how ordinary people were struggling with rationing. The effort to remain civil to Ronald has Jack shifting in his seat, crossing his arms and taking deep breaths. He is about to suggest that he and Ruth leave when Cora jumps up and says she’s off to powder her nose. Ruth gets up as well and the two of them are off without a backward glance.

  “Now that the ladies have left us, let me get you a proper drink, Jack.” Ronald hails a passing waiter and orders a couple of whiskies. The waiter is all over him like a rash: yes, sir, no, sir, thank you very much indeed, Mr. Lloyd.

  “What happened to your eye, man?” Ronald asks with apparent concern as the steward appears with their whiskies. “Ruth’s not been letting you out at night, has she? Oh, no offense intended! Doubtless you were defending a lady’s honor when you got it. I suppose it’s only to be expected with our local war hero.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Well, Jack, we couldn’t all be swanning around the Mediterranean picking up medals. Some of us had to stay at home and take the responsibility for keeping things going. You can’t expect a bank to look after itself.”

  “I heard different, Ronald. I heard you’d already got your call-up papers. I heard it was a case of money changing hands, of strings being pulled.”

  “You’re not above pulling the odd string yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the manager’s job at Prospect. What did you have to do to get offered that? Oh, you needn’t look surprised. John Foster banks with me. I’ve recommended one or two very good investments to him over the past year. He’s excited at the moment. He’s pretty sure that there’s going to be some left over after the government grant comes through and he’s always on the lookout for a decent return. He let it slip that you’d been offered the job of manager.” Jack fails to react so Ronald continues, “Cora tells me that Ruth has her eye on one of those new semis, but that’s the ladies for you, bless them. Always ready to spend the money before it’s even been earned. It’ll mean a mortgage, of course. Still, you know where to come. I’ll be happy to consider your application. Of course, you’ll understand, I can’t make any promises.”

  “I won’t be taking out a mortgage with you.”

  “No? Got all the money hidden under the Singleton family mattress at home, have you? Or maybe you lack the courage for a financial commitment? Still, you might change your mind when your first salary rolls in. Management will be quite a change for you, won’t it? Leaving behind all that worker solidarity nonsense. But don’t get me wrong. I admire you, Jack. I really do. Not many men would be capable of the sort of moral and political gymnastics involved in taking the manager’s job. Not when you consider the number of layoffs that John Foster has got planned. It’s a bit of a joke really, isn’t it? I mean you, of all people, helping management get shut of half the workforce. I have to smile. I wonder what your comrades in the weaving shed will have to say when they find out? John Foster wasn’t sure you’d take the job, but I knew you would. I told him. I said you’d swallow your principles fast enough when you caught sight of the money. Meanwhile Ruth must be over the moon. I’ll bet she hasn’t given you a moment’s peace since you told her.”

  Ronald watches Jack shift in his chair and starts to laugh. “Oh, Mr. Singleton. Oh, what a tonic you are, with your black eye and your little secrets. Ruth doesn’t know, does she? I thought not. I knew the minute Cora said she’d heard nothing about it from Ruth.”

  Jack stands up, his fists clenched at his sides. “You miserable bastard. I ought to give you a bloody pasting. But that would suit you down to the ground, wouldn’t it? Getting me thrown out of your fancy hotel.”

  Jack grabs Ronald by the throat and lifts him partway out of his chair. Ronald begins to choke, straining his eyes this way and that to look for help. “I hope for your sake you never run into me again because, I promise you, I’ll not let you off so easily next time.” Jack pushes his flabby opponent down into his chair and leans his full weight into the hand grasping Ronald’s throat until the banker’s eyes look as if they might burst from their sockets. “Do you hear me?” Jack asks.

  Ronald croaks and nods.

  “Good.” And with that Jack releases his grip on Ronald, and turns and walks away.

  20

  Mermaid’s Purse

  This purse is really a case filled with eggs from the ray fish. It is a pale cream color and rectangular in shape with a single tendril trailing from each corner. You will often find a mermaid’s purse near the high-tide mark, and if you’re very lucky, it may still contain some of its secrets! Score 20 points for a purse full of secrets.

  Come on, Beth. Get a move on! They’re waiting for us.” Helen yanks her blonde hair free of her ponytail and empties the contents of her white clutch purse all over the blue blanket. Out come the face powder, the lipstick (“Pink Kisses”) and the forbidden mascara, all of which have been purchased secretly over the past week and hidden in the zipped pocket of her bag. Helen opens the blue plastic mascara tray and spits expertly on the block of mascara, rubbing the surface of the black cake vigorously with the tiny brush supplied. She crosses her legs and balances her elbow on her knee in order to steady the loaded brush as she strokes it down the length of her eyelashes. Several layers of mascara are required and she must bat her eyelashes frantically between coats in order to let the previous layer set before applying the next. She squints again into the tiny mirror and applies a covering of face powder, blue eyeshadow and finally a layer of “Pink Kisses” to her lips. There will be time to rub it all off again before her parents return. Beth watches the whole routine in silent fascination. Beth hasn’t seen Helen with makeup on before. When she’s finished Helen
looks like the picture of the Little Mermaid in Beth’s fairy-tale book. The transformation is amazing.

  “Don’t stand there gawping. Get your coat on and don’t forget your scarf,” Helen says.

  “Do I have to? It’s too hot.”

  “It won’t be hot on the pier. Mum will kill me if you end up getting a cold. She’ll say it’s my fault.”

  Beth pulls on her coat but she refuses to button it up.

  “For goodness’ sake, Beth. You’re seven. Can you still not dress yourself properly? Come here.” Beth is reluctant. “Here, you can button up your coat while I tie the scarf round your head. Be quick. They’re waiting.”

  “It’s not fair! You’re not wearing a coat.”

  “I haven’t been poorly. And anyway I’m taking my cardigan.” Helen is wearing her new underskirt and the top she bought from the Co-op yesterday. Her cardigan is draped over her shoulders.

  “That’s just for fancy. It doesn’t count.”

  “Do you want to see the rock pools or not?” Beth nods. “Well, then, button your coat and we’ll go.” There’s a quiver of excitement in her voice that is infectious. The sisters look at each other and burst into laughter.

  Only a matter of hours ago Helen was in the depths of despair. She had spotted Doug on the other side of the prom when she was on her way to the newsagent’s this morning. Of course she’d waved at him, and started to cross the road to speak, but he’d made such a point of ignoring her that she’d been stopped in her tracks. There was nothing for it but to turn back before she was halfway across the road that separated them. Helen had laid the blame for this firmly with her parents and their resistance to letting her go out at night. Added to this was Connie’s sudden and inexplicable refusal to speak to her at breakfast. Having to spend the afternoon babysitting Beth was the final straw. Nothing would lift her gloom. But the sudden prospect of a trip to the pier with Alan has transformed her mood. Mrs. Clegg, who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the girls, didn’t bat an eyelid when Alan came up with the idea. She’d nodded, told them to be back by four and shut her eyes for a nap. Helen has never before witnessed such a level of maternal negligence. She is speechless with admiration and gratitude.

  Helen is finally going on her first date. It doesn’t matter that Beth and Red Hawk are coming too—in fact, it’s almost a bonus for Helen—she suddenly feels shy. At last she’ll see the Laughing Donkey bar—even if she doesn’t actually go in and have a drink. Helen is elated. She ignores the stairs and takes Beth down in the lift. This is strictly against the rules—their mother has a fear of lifts and, as a result, insists that the family use the stairs on every occasion. What, Ruth reasons, if Beth collapses in the lift? She may be trapped and die before rescuers can reach her. Helen has no such reservations, she can think of no more glamorous way to arrive at the ground floor than by lift.

  Helen had always imagined that it would be windy at the end of the pier, but it’s not. The flags and bunting are stationary in the heat. Still, it’s exciting. It’s low tide, but if you walk to the end of the pier there’s sea on three sides. It’s a different world without the connection of land. Helen imagines that it must be like this on board ship, but without the sickening rocking from side to side. All the rush to put her makeup on had been worth it. Alan whistled at her when the lift doors had opened. They had set off with Helen holding on firmly to her sister’s hand, but Beth had wriggled and pulled until Helen finally let go. Beth rushed ahead and fell into step with Red Hawk, leaving Helen to walk beside Alan. Anybody seeing them would think he was her boyfriend. It’s a dream come true—just wait until she tells the girls at school.

  The pier is packed with teenagers lounging against the rails and couples sitting side by side on the wrought-iron benches. The noise is deafening. There’s the whirl and clash of the painted bumper cars and the blast of organ music, the smell of boiled onions and hot dogs, and the screams of holidaymakers on the swing boats. Helen and Alan make their way along the pier. They have to keep stopping for Beth, who wants to see the sea between the gaps in the planking. When they are halfway along the pier Alan calls his brother over. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a shilling, which he gives to Red Hawk and says, “Now bugger off. And take her with you.” Alan tilts his head in Beth’s direction.

  “Beth has to stay with me. She’s not allowed to go anywhere by herself,” Helen protests.

  “She isn’t by herself. She’s with our Rob, isn’t she? They’ll be all right.”

  Helen looks unconvinced. “Where are you going to go?” she asks her sister.

  Beth looks at Red Hawk and shrugs her shoulders.

  “You can’t go until you tell me where,” Helen insists.

  “Rock pools. I want to see the rock pools.”

  “OK. Well, don’t go out of sight,” Helen says as she reties the scarf under Beth’s chin and she adds in a whisper, “And if that boy does something stupid, don’t you. OK?” Helen points back to the clock above the pier entrance. “Be back here before half past.”

  Beth frowns. “Is that the one when the big hand is at the bottom?”

  Helen, conscious of her sister’s confusion and keen to avoid embarrassing her, leans down and whispers in Beth’s ear, “See the hands on the clock? When the little one points to three and the big one points to six you have to come back. OK? And don’t go anywhere where you can’t see me.”

  Beth nods briefly and then she is gone, winding her way through the crowd after Red Hawk. Helen is prompted to go after them to make sure Beth keeps her scarf on. She starts forward, but Alan puts his arm round her and says, “Thank God we’re shut of them, now we can have some decent fun. Let’s get something to drink for a start.”

  It’s crowded outside the bar. The drinkers have spilled out on to the walkway. There’s music blaring from the open doors. Billy Fury, Elvis, Cliff Richard and Bobby Darin. Helen relaxes and begins to enjoy herself. This date is a sweet revenge for Doug’s behavior this morning. Nevertheless she refuses Alan’s invitation to go into the bar. It looks dangerous with all those Teddy boys milling around in their drape jackets fixing their hair with flick combs and drinking beer as fast as they get it. She shakes her head and says, “I’ll stay here.”

  “You want a Babycham?”

  “I’d love a Babycham,” Helen says and they both laugh because it’s exactly what the woman in the advert says. Despite the crush it’s only a minute or two before Alan is back with the drinks. Helen is disappointed that the Babycham is handed to her still in its bottle. On TV they always serve it in a special glass. But after a bit of encouragement from Alan she tries to sip it from the bottle neck as nicely as she can and look as if she’s used to doing it at the same time. They stand and watch the bumper cars slamming back and forth around the ring. Despite the worry about Beth, Helen begins to relax. Somebody puts on a Bobby Darin record and the sound of his voice singing “Dream Lover” floats through the air. Alan puts his arm round her. This is as near perfect as Helen can imagine. They stand, swaying slightly to the music.

  Alan drains the last of his beer and says, “I’m ready for another, aren’t you?” Helen tips the rest of the sugary liquid down her throat and nods happily.

  Halfway through the second drink Alan kisses her and it’s so romantic. He then steers her to the seats at the very end of the pier. The ornate cast-iron forms are tucked behind the Laughing Donkey bar, and since they face out to sea, they afford a modicum of privacy. Alan swallows the rest of his drink and puts the pint down on the planking at their feet. Helen senses that something has changed. The sun is still shining, people are still moving back and forth, music continues to blare out from the bar, but some element she can’t quite identify has changed. When Alan leans over to kiss her his body blocks out the sun. He slides his arm round her waist and she can feel his muscles harden and lock as he clasps her. An involuntary shiver runs through her.

  “Are you cold?” Alan says.

  “A bit,” she lies. Helen
grasps the opportunity to stand up and step away, folding her hands across her chest. Another shiver runs through her and she shifts from foot to foot as if she’s about to run.

  Alan watches her carefully. “Here,” he says, draping his jacket over Helen’s shoulders and picking up his empty bottle. “I think it’s time for a refill.”

  21

  Donkeys

  Everyone loves to have a ride on a donkey when they visit the seaside! How many donkeys are there, and what are they called? Score 20 points for a donkey ride.

  It’s a dream come true for Beth. She has earned fifteen I-Spy points just by setting foot on the pier. She’s seen dozens of lifebuoys fixed to the pier railings at regular intervals—they’re five points each, but you can only score for one. If only she can spy a tidal scale then that’s another twenty points.

  “What do you want to do first?” Red Hawk asks when she catches up with him. He holds up the shilling between grimy fingers.

  Beth is torn between a ride on the donkeys or buying a red rock-candy pacifier. She takes the money from Red Hawk’s grasp. The coin lies heavy in her palm and glints with promise. “Let’s go on the donkeys,” she says.

  The donkeys are collected in a little circle a few yards away, but it takes Beth some time to reach them. She labors through the deep sand, the hem of her winter coat brushing the surface and her shoes filling with every step. The decision as to which donkey to choose is difficult. Bronco has a somber expression and knobbly knees. He stands perfectly still, disinclined to move even when the donkey man tugs his reins. Next to Bronco is Fred. Beth has been watching the donkeys for some days and knows that he is the slowest and always the first to turn back. The next donkey is called Lucy. She has a wary look in her eye and refuses to be stroked, shying away from eager children and jostling the other donkeys if they come too close. Beth is disappointed, she had wanted a donkey with a sunhat, like the ones on the front of the postcards.