"Look, Christine, dont be mad. I'll do anything for you, anything, and I won't always be down the pit. No, by God! I've got some thing else in view. I'll have money some day, Christine, and I'll dress you up."
He spread his hands, making an outline about me but without touching me.
"Only be nice to me, Christine, let me see you alone sometimes."
I had never before heard him plead, and it didn't seem like him, and I could have felt sorry for him, but I said, and quite firmly, "I dont want you for a lad, Don. Why, you're more like me brother."
"All right," he said, his voice definite, "I'll be your brother. Only dont keep avoiding me. I'll play the brother anything you want."
"But, Don, dont be silly, you can't." I was trying to get past him as I spoke, and suddenly he brought me close to him, and with his face almost touching mine he muttered, "But Ronnie does, doesn't he? He plays the brother all right. Oh," he gave me a shake, 'dont tell me what I know. And when we are on, there's little Sam dear little Sam.
You dont mind sneaking off into the wood with Sam, do you? And dont tell me he's still at school and only a kid. Aye, he's only a kid but he's all eyes and quivers where you're concerned. " He shook me again, and then exclaimed, " You've played fast and loose with the lot of us for years and it's finished. "
"Let me go, do you hear, let me go! If you dont I'll tell Aunt Phyllis."
This threat brought his head up and he emitted a hard laugh.
"You'll tell Aunt Phyllis, and do you know what she'll say? She'll say you're a liar, she's always said you were a liar, and she'll go to your mother and she'll tell her to stop you from running after me and trying to trap me. Go on, tell Aunt Phyllis."
"Here, what's up, what's he doing to you, lass?" The man's voice seemed to come out of the water, and when I turned my startled gaze towards his head which showed just above the landing stage the appeal in my eyes brought him up quickly and across the landing, crying,
"Leave her be!"
When Don's hold relaxed on my shoulder and he turned round to confront the man, my legs seemed too weak to hold me and I staggered a moment before turning to run. The last I heard as I dashed up the alleyway was the man shouting, "You try it on an' you'll find yersel' in the river."
I wanted to tell my mother of the incident but I was scared, for she would surely go into Aunt Phyllis and then there would be a row and Sam wouldn't be allowed to come in. Strangely enough it was this last that stopped me from confiding in her. Sam's only refuge was our house, for never a day went by but Aunt Phyllis's hand and voice were raised against him, and more so of late because she knew that when he came out of school he met my Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim was now living openly with the woman in the sweet shop, and it was to Sam that he gave the money for Aunt Phyllis, and always when Sam put the money on the table Aunt Phyllis pelted him with questions, then usually accused him of telling lies like his father, and the result of this would be Sam getting his ears boxed, I doubt, too, if I had told my mother everything, whether she would have believed me utterly, for that night Don came into our kitchen and he acted as if nothing at all had happened, in fact, as if we were on the best of terms. First of all he joked banteringly with Ronnie, saying, "You'll never believe it, Ronnie, but old Threadgold is putting me up for deputy. He says I've got all it takes." Then, turning to my mother, he said, "In five years' time I'll be a manager, how about that for success. Aunt Annie? And all due to the boy's brains."
Ronnie laughed, as did my father, but my mother only smiled and said,
"Well I suppose there's stranger things happen." Then just before he took his leave he said to Ronnie, "Did you hear Father Ellis's running a social a week come Saturday?"
"No," said Ronnie.
"Who told you?"
"Jonesy asked me did I want any tickets, and I bought a couple." Then turning from Ronnie, he looked straight at my mother and with a disarming smile he said, "Will it be all right for Christine to come along, Aunt Annie?"
My mother blinked twice, then lowered her gaze quickly to the mat before turning to me. The look on my face must have puzzled her for she replied neither "Yes' nor " No', but left the decision to me, saying, "Well, it's up to Christine. If she wants to go to the social, she can."
"We'll all go." Ronnie had stood up.
"That's settled then," said Don. He gave a nod that included us all.
"So long."
So long. "
As soon as the door had closed on him I turned to my mother, saying hurriedly under my breath, "I'm not going to the social."
"Why not? I thought She looked at me closely.
"I just dont want to go."
"All right, all right, me girl, if you dont want to go you needn't."
I knew she was puzzled, for I had been on to her for some weeks to let me go to the dances that were run in the school room on a Saturday night, and of which I had heard from time to time such glowing and romantic accounts. A social, of course, was different. At a social, because of the old people and the very young, you played whist and games and just had a dance or two. Don had been clever in picking on a social. Don was clever altogether. His cleverness at this moment filled me with fear who would have thought that only this morning he had acted like someone mad on the boat landing?
That night Ronnie came into my room again. It wasn't so very late and I wasn't asleep, and he sat on his hunkers by the bed and whispered,
"What's up, Christine?"
"Nothing," I said.
"What makes you think that?"
"There's something wrong. I saw your face when Don was on about the social. Has he been at you?"
I could see the outline of him bending forward, and when his hand came on to my shoulder I shrugged it off, moving over to the wall, and I turned the conversation by saying, "Look, our Ronnie, if me mam knew you were coming in here she would get mad."
"Why should she, I'm doin' nothing? Good lord' his whisper was intense
'can't I just talk to you?"
His words sounded so reasonable that I felt silly. Silence fell between us, heavy and thick as the gloom in the room, and then he whispered, "Don't think I'm sayin' anything against Don, but keep clear of him, Christine. Promise me. Do you hear me?"
"How can I promise when I dont know what you mean," I stalled, knowing full well what he meant, and also knowing there was no need to extract a promise from me.
"Don't go out with him alone, he's wantin' to take up with you. Do you like him?"
"No, and you know I dont."
I heard him sigh. Then after a pause he said, "But that could only make him keener. He likes them hard to get, makes him feel tough. And he is tough, he might make you go out with him."
I hitched myself up in the bed and my whisper carried all the conviction in me, "I'll never go out with Don Dowling, never. And you can tell him that if you like." After a moment I felt him rising, and then he whispered, "Good night."
I wondered if my mother would be surprised if I asked for a bolt on my door, and my last thoughts before I went to sleep were, "Don't be silly, you can't ask for a bolt on the door...."
In spite of all my protests that I didn't want to go to the social, I went after all. Two things contributed to my final decision. One was the pressure of Ronnie, and the other, which more than weighted the balance of the scales, a dress which my mother brought back from Mrs.
Durrant's. It was an evening dress of pale blue velvet, and when my mother held it up before her I exclaimed in admiration, "Oh! dont cut it up, Mam, wear it."
"What!" my mother exclaimed, 'with no back to it? " She glanced merrily at Dad.
"That would be the day, wouldn't it?" He nodded but declared gallantly, "There wouldn't be a bonnier back shown at the do."
There was a lot of laughter, followed by a lot of talk about just how she was going to alter the dress. The result of her handiwork was something quite beyond my dreams. She made the neck what she called
'low'. This meant that the
line came below the nape and allowed my gold crucifix that had belonged to my great-grandmother to lie just below the hollow. The sleeves did not reach my elbow and were trimmed with minute flowers she had unpicked from the original belt. The skirt was full and reached below my calves, and the bodice she made in a wrap-over style. Why she chose this shape I didn't question. There was at the time nothing to question. It was Don who said, some years later, "She even padded your front so we wouldn't know you had breasts."
I had asked Mrs. Turnbull if I might be let off early on the Saturday night, and this privilege she grudgingly granted. Mollie, too, wanted to come to the social, but she would not let Mollie off.
At six o'clock I dashed out of the shop and through Fell- bum and up the hill, and I was panting and red in the face when I reached the kitchen. My mother had all my things ready and she followed me up to my bedroom. There was as much excitement as if it was for my wedding.
When later I stood in the kitchen turning myself round be fore Dad's gaze I had a mighty surge of pleasurable happiness. I was for the first time acutely aware of myself as a whole, I had a body that did justice to my face and hair, and the feeling felt good.
There was a softness in Dad's eyes that was almost moisture as he gazed at me without speaking. Then he said softly, "Lass, you're a picture come to life."
"Oh, Dad." I shook my head at him, but nevertheless felt greatly pleased, not so much with the words he had spoken as with the depth of feeling with which he uttered them.
Ronnie, standing by the table, had said nothing, and this was taken for brotherly indifference. He was wearing a blue serge suit which my mother had got him last year through the store club, and now the sleeves were a little too short, although my mother had turned down the cuffs as she had also done 62 the turn-ups of the trousers. Yet he looked nice; he looked like my dad must have looked at his age, but already he was much taller than Dad.
My mother was once again adjusting my dress and patting the folds into place when there came a tap on the outer door, and she shouted "Come in'.
Don came in, followed by Sam. Don had on a blue serge suit and it looked new. He was wearing, I noticed, new shoes, too, and over his arm he carried his mack, also new. Everything about him looked so startlingly new that an exclamation was forced from my mother, and she said, "Why, Don, aren't we smart the night! Has your ship come in?"
He moved the mack from one arm to the other, straightened his tie and said, "Not a ship yet. Aunt Annie, just a little sculler."
I saw Dad look at him. Our Ronnie and Don received the same wage; we were in a better position altogether than Aunt Phyllis, yet our Ronnie could not have a new suit.
As Don answered my mother he did not look at her but at me. Although I was standing sideways to him I knew that his eyes were moving all over me, yet he never said a word. It was Sam who, coming and standing in front of me, looked up into my face with a look that was to grow and deepen with the years, and hurt me with its tenderness and frighten me in a particular way with its adoration. Now his eyes tight on mine, not on the dress, he said in awe-laden tones, "Eeh! Christine, you look lovely."
I did not deny this as I had done to Dad, or would have done if Don or Ronnie had said it, but I answered him softly, "Do I, Sam?"
"Aye," he nodded, and then he looked to where Dad was standing near the fire, and my father and he smiled at each other knowingly.
"Well if we're going we'd better be moving unless we want to meet them coming out." It was our Ronnie speaking and somewhat impatiently. I walked into the front room, my mother following, and there she helped me on with my coat;
then turning me round towards her and flicking an imaginary speck from my shoulder and adjusting the cross on my neck, she said softly, "Enjoy yourself, lass." Yet her tone did not convey the meaning of the words, rather it held a
warning, but she continued to smile. Then accompanied by Dad, too, now, I followed Ronnie and Don.
Self-consciously I stepped out into the street and there, at her door, stood Aunt Phyllis. I smiled at her but she did not return my smile.
She could see most of my dress through my open coat, yet she didn't make any comment on it, but looking towards Don, she snapped, "Mind, I'm not waitin' up all night for you." Then seeing Sam standing behind me and in front of Mam and Dad on the step, she said, "Come on in here, I've been looking for you."
I walked away down the street between Don and Ronnie. At the corner, leaning against the wall with two or three other men, was Mr.
Patterson from next door. He was chewing a long piece of straw, and he pulled it quickly from his mouth and exclaimed, "By! Christine, you're a smasher the night. Off to enjoy yersel'?"
"Yes, Mr. Patterson, I'm going to the social."
"That's it, lass, enjoy yersel' when you're young. You're old afore you know it. Life flees. We're nowt but Feathers in the Fire." As we walked on Don muttered under his breath, "Feathers in the fire. Old afore you know it. He makes me sick. That lot were never young. It won't happen to me."
Ronnie, leaning across me, inquired jokingly of him, "What are you going to do, take monkey glands ?"
"Aye, monkey glands it'll be, but in the form of money. Money is all the monkey glands a feller needs. Money will keep me young, I'll see to that."
Ronnie's eyes were narrow now, and he looked Don up and down before saying, "Well, it looks as if you've had your first dose. Where did you get the windfall to buy that lot?"
Now Don's head went back and he moved it in stiff, slow movements from side to side.
"That's my business. I gave you the chance last week to be in on a good thing, but no, didn't want to dirty your fingers."
Ronnie's face was stiff now and his voice resembled a growl as he said,
"I'm not getting' me self into trouble doing any shady business."
"It's not shady; it's business, but it's not shady. If you buy something' for threepence and sell it for sixpence that's business, there's nowt shady about it." 64 "All right, have it your own way but--' " Look. Are you going to this social or a boxing match, just let me know? " The words sounded cool; my tone was a grown-up tone. I felt grown-up, the dress was having an effect. Anyway, my attitude checked them both for they hesitated in their walk and laughed. Then, as if both of the same mind, they suddenly grabbed my hands and ran me down the hill as if we were children again, and in this moment of anticipation and excitement I did not resent the feeling of Don's hand in mine.
Just before we came in sight of the bridge they jerked to a stop and as I billowed out from them like a balloon about to take off I wrenched my hands free. Then I, too, came to a halt on the sight of two lads no, lads is not the right word, young men can only describe them. It was these two young men who had halted Don and Ronnie. They were surveying us from a rise just off the road. They were both dressed in grey flannels and sports coats and wound around their necks were long scarves.
To wear woollen scarves in the height of summer seemed ridiculous, yet they did not look ridiculous; in fact I thought it was we three who must be appearing ridiculous for they both were looking at us through narrowed lids in a scrutinizing, weighing-up fashion, as if we were some oddities that they could not really make out. But I felt no feeling of resentment that they should look at us in this manner, rather my feeling was one of interest, for in a peculiar way the taller of the two seemed to be known to me. His face was pale; what colour his eyes were I could not see from this distance, I only knew they were bright and dark. His hair was brown and had a slight wave in it, and his body was thin, very thin, and he was as tall as Don.
When we had passed them Don spoke.
"They make me sick," he said, sneering.
I turned my eyes swiftly to our Ronnie as he endorsed this in much the same tone.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"Cissies," replied Don, 'from Brampton Hill. They're still at school and they wear them scarves to let you know it. I would like to swing them by their scarves, I would that. "
"You mean college?" I said, with a spark of interest.
"Call it what you like it's still school, and these are die types that get the jobs with the money. My God!" he spat into the gutter, and I closed my eyes for a moment and gave a little shiver.
Ronnie, sensing my feelings, put it cheerfully now, "Ah well, let's live for the night. Away to the social and the high life of Fellburn."
He laughed and was about to link my arm when he thought better of it, thinking that whatever he did Don would do the same.
Ten minutes later I was standing at the school-room door being greeted by Father Ellis.
"Christine! Well, well." His eyes looked me over.
"A new dress. Did... did your mother make it?"
"Yes, Father." I was feeling now slightly embarrassed, for he had not lowered his voice and it had attracted the attention of most of the lads standing just within the doorway. They were buttoning and unbuttoning their coats. Among the eyes that were looking at me were those of Ted Farrel. Ted had been 'a big boy' at school when I had just left the infants, and I had always liked the look of him, and seeing him now close by and not with the width of the church between us, where I glimpsed him on a Sunday, I found that my opinion hadn't changed.
I turned my face away from the eyes and looked at the school clock. It said twenty-five past seven. The social would go on until half past ten. Three hours of enchantment lay before me. At half past nine I was back home standing in the kitchen looking with desperate eyes at my mother. Ronnie was standing with downcast head.
The sleeve of his jacket was hanging off and he was bleeding from the nose and a cut on the chin.
"What ... what in the name of God's happened?" asked Dad.
Mam had said nothing, and I burst out crying and ran upstairs. In a few minutes she was with me and she pulled me up from the bed where I had flung myself and helped me off with my dress. She never spoke until she had folded the dress and put it away in the bottom drawer.
Fenwick Houses Page 7
