Cast the First Stone (11 page)

Fiona tasted it warily, then decided it was not bad at all, in fact she liked it more than she had expected to. She drank it rather more quickly than she should have done. Diane, she noticed, was sipping hers more slowly. All around her there was chatter about what a good time they were having in London and what they had enjoyed the most.

‘It's supposed to be the highlight of our visit tomorrow, when we go to the exhibition,' said Alison, ‘but what's the betting we'll all be looking forward to another visit to the funfair tomorrow night?'

‘Hear, hear,' agreed Dave, putting his arm around Fiona. ‘We've had a great time, haven't we, Fee? Especially on the Big Dipper.'

‘Yes, it was amazing,' said Fiona. ‘I was a bit scared at first, but I don't know why, 'cause I really enjoyed it. I can't wait to have another ride.' She laughed out loud, and her voice, to her own ears, sounded louder and more shrill than usual. She was already halfway through her second gin and lime, which Dave had bought this time. She no longer felt worried about the fact that she was not eighteen, or about what Colin and Sheila might say if they walked past. In fact she felt very light-hearted, and light-headed as well.

Jean looked at her watch. ‘Come on, you lot,' she said. ‘We'd better be heading back. It's only ten o'clock but we'd better not risk being late.'

When they stood up Fiona felt rather unsteady on her feet, but everyone else appeared to be alright. The three older ones led the way as they went back over the Albert Bridge. Alison and Jean were both linking arms with Paul. It seemed as though they were all just good friends and that he was not ‘going out' with either of the girls. Andy and Diane were walking hand in hand; Fiona was pleased that they were getting on so well.

As for herself and Dave, she felt as though she was walking on a cloud as they strolled along, their arms around one another. She knew that the slight dizziness she was feeling was the effect of the drink that she wasn't used to, but she didn't care because she felt so happy and as though she hadn't a care in the world. Now and again they stopped to kiss, not at all concerned if there was anyone to see them.

There was still fifteen minutes or so to spare when they reached the fringes of the park, near to where Mike had arranged to pick them up. Dave led Fiona into a secluded copse of trees, then he drew her into his arms, kissing her passionately. She did not demur when she felt his hands caressing her body. He had never done this before, although she knew that he had wanted to and that it had been up to her to say no. This time she did not want to stop him. She returned his kisses ardently . . . But after a few moments he broke away.

‘We'd better go, Fiona,' he whispered. ‘We daren't be late. But there's always tomorrow. Fiona . . . darling; you know how much I care about you, don't you?'

‘Yes . . . I think so, Dave,' she whispered back. ‘And . . . and so do I.'

He smiled at her, very lovingly and tenderly, then he kissed her lightly on the lips. They walked back hand in hand to where the coach was waiting. No one seemed to have noticed them, not even Diane and Andy, who were deep in conversation. Fiona decided that there were some things that it would be better not to tell her friend.

They all piled into the coach and when they were all seated Colin counted them. ‘Good; all present and correct,' he said. ‘That's what we like; keep up the good work, folks. You've all enjoyed yourselves, have you?'

There was a chorus of ‘Rather!', ‘You bet!' and ‘Super duper!'.

‘Smashing!' said Colin. ‘Off we go then, Mike. Home, James, and don't spare the horses!'

Fiona had drunk only two gin and limes; not a huge amount but more than enough for someone as unaccustomed to it as she was. Her head was deliciously woozy and she felt that her inhibitions had taken flight.

She and Diane spoke very little as they got ready for bed. Diane had had the same amount to drink but seemed to be more in control of herself. Fiona was aware that her friend was looking at her rather oddly, but she did not ask any pertinent questions.

Thoughts of Dave and their growing intimacy floated around in Fiona's mind when she first laid her head on the pillow, but it was not long before sleep overcame her. She did not stir until the insistent clamour of the alarm clock woke her at seven thirty.

She found, to her relief, that she did not have a headache or any ill effects from the night before. Neither, it seemed, did Diane, but her friend was looking at her intently.

‘Fiona,' she began tentatively. ‘Be careful, won't you, with Dave? I know you might think it's none of my business but . . . well, you were a bit tipsy last night, weren't you and . . .'

‘No more than you,' retorted Fiona. ‘You had two gin and limes, the same as me. And what about you and Andy? Maybe you should be careful too. It sounds like the pot calling the kettle black.'

Diane shook her head. ‘There's nothing about me and Andy. We're only just getting to know one another. It's not like you and Dave. I've seen the way he looks at you.'

‘I know what I'm doing, really I do,' replied Fiona quite offhandedly. ‘Don't get your knickers in a twist, Di. I'm alright, honestly, and I can trust Dave.'

‘Very well then, if you say so,' replied Diane. ‘But just watch it, that's all.'

‘OK, will do,' grinned Fiona.

If she were honest with herself she felt a tiny bit embarrassed when she saw Dave at breakfast time, but he greeted her quite normally. What had gone on between them the night before appeared to have been forgotten, or was not about to be mentioned in the light of day. They did, of course, have to act normally in front of Colin and Sheila and not appear to be too friendly with one another.

They set off soon after nine o'clock, on foot this time as the Festival site was within easy walking distance. It was decided that the young people should be free to make their own way round the exhibition as they would each have their own particular interests. Fiona and Diane agreed to meet Dave and Andy later. They decided on a spot near to the Skylon where they would eat their packed lunches, once again provided by the hotel.

The lads were eager to visit the pavilions concerned with science and industry. There was the Dome of Discovery telling the story of British scientific and technological advances; the Production Pavilion, which housed craft workshops and a model coal mine; and the Land of Britain Pavilion which depicted the country's physical geography.

Fiona and Diane and several of the other girls were more interested in the Homes and Gardens Pavilion, so this was the place they visited first of all. It showed sample room settings in the modern style that was now becoming known as the ‘contemporary look'. New shapes and brighter colours were being introduced to all rooms of the house, a contrast to the austerity and drabness of the war years and the years that followed.

Fiona and Diane had both grown up in houses with small kitchens that contained only the most essential requirements: a gas stove; a porcelain sink and wooden draining board; and a shelf above the cooker on which to keep pans. All the crockery and food items were kept in a tall free standing cupboard known as a kitchenette. At Fiona's home there was a meat safe that stood in the yard, just outside the back door. It was covered with a wire mesh to prevent flies and other insects from entering, and in it was kept meat, milk and dairy items. It was scarcely adequate, though, in the summer months; food was often less than fresh and sometimes, reluctantly, had to be thrown away. This had been looked on as a crime in the war years, and old habits still died hard.

They gazed in awe now at the modern refrigerator – what a boon that would be! – and the stainless steel sink and shining draining board; the electric cooker; and the built-in cupboards.

‘Look at the bright colours!' exclaimed Fiona. ‘Red and white; doesn't that look jolly? I thought kitchens were always painted cream and green. That's what ours is.'

‘Ours as well,' agreed Diane. ‘My mum would really love this.'

‘I'm not so sure about mine though,' said Fiona. ‘She'd think it was too modern. She's a great one for “making things do”, as she says. Although, to be fair, I suppose there's never been too much money to spare for luxuries.'

There was another specimen kitchen in shades of blue, with a built-in breakfast bar and strip lighting on the ceiling. ‘It'll be a long time, I suppose, before we all have kitchens like this,' said Diane. ‘Perhaps by the time we're married, eh, Fiona? And just look at the automatic washing machine!'

They agreed that this would be the ‘mod con' that would be of the most interest to women visiting the exhibition. There was a fully automatic one on display in one of the kitchens, and in the other one a model that was known as a ‘twin-tub', with an electrically powered wringer. Fiona and Diane had seen for themselves what a trial the Monday washday was to the woman of the house. Fiona's mother was fortunate enough to have a small wash house outside the house. The clothes were washed in a dolly tub, then fed through a large mangle with wooden rollers to squeeze out the water. The back garden was large enough for the washing to be hung out to dry; but the bane of every housewife was a wet washday, when clothes were hung on an overhead rack or on a ‘clothes maiden' round the fire.

The bathrooms, too, were luxurious to their eyes. Lavatories with low cisterns and a handle to flush, instead of a chain; baths and wash basins in pale colours – pink, blue, green and lemon – instead of the ordinary white that ended up a dingy grey. They were cased in as well, unlike the bath tubs that most of them were used to, and the walls were tiled from floor to ceiling, some highlighted with designs of flowers or birds.

‘Very nice too,' said Fiona. ‘I suppose we're quite lucky though, Diane, you and me. At least we don't have to go down the yard to the lav, do we?'

Fiona's home was a council house, but quite a modern one in that it had an indoor bathroom and toilet. Her grandmother still lived in a house with a WC at the end of the yard. Fortunately it was not one that was shared with neighbouring houses, as was the case, still, in many homes. Neither was there a bathroom, although the powers that be were supposed to be considering it, as they had been doing since the end of the war. Fiona's gran still bathed once a week in a zinc bath that hung on a hook in the wash house.

The furniture in the sample dining and living rooms was vastly different from the sort that most people were still living with in those post-war years. The cumbersome three-piece suites that took up most of the room in a small lounge were things of the past, as were the solid oak dining chairs and tables and glass-fronted display cabinets. The modern settees and armchairs – with wooden arms rather than the upholstered kind – were light and easy to move, with splayed tapering legs; far easier for a vacuum cleaner to get underneath. Dining chairs, too, were a new innovation, some made of laminated wood on spindly metal legs.

Gone was the wallpaper in the traditional colours of fawn, pale green and brown. The walls, instead, were painted – not papered – in bright colours or pastel shades of emulsion paint that could be wiped clean. Wallpaper, too, if it was used, could be wiped down.

Looking at the curtains and the rugs in bold designs of geometric shapes, Fiona pondered that it might be a long time before ideas such as these became popular in many homes. She could not see it ever happening in her parents' home.

Wandering round these ‘ideal homes' took up most of the morning. After they had joined the lads for lunch they stayed together for a while, looking with interest and a certain amount of envy at the latest designs of radios and television sets. Only Andy's family, of the four of them, owned a television set. They were fascinated too by the latest record players, with something known as hi-fi and stereophonic sound. Fiona had a ‘Dansette' portable record player, and being a sensible girl, aware that there was never too much money to spare, she knew she would have to be content with that, and with her small collection of records. At least her mother did not seem to object too much to her liking for Guy Mitchell and Doris Day.

By the end of the afternoon they were all feeling quite mesmerized by all the new sights and wonders they had seen. They all had a collection of leaflets about the latest inventions in design and technology to take home to show to their parents and friends. They were more of a souvenir, though, than anything else. It was doubtful that many of the innovations would be seen in the homes of ordinary folk until much later in the decade.

They were all looking forward to what would be their last evening in London. How quickly the three days had flown! And tomorrow, Thursday, they would be saying goodbye to the capital city, setting off quite early in the morning in order to arrive back in Leeds by the end of the afternoon.

They all opted to visit the funfair again although, for many of them, funds were running low. But they all agreed that they would help one another out financially if needs be, and make it a never to be forgotten last evening. Once again they all agreed to be back at the coach by ten thirty.

Fiona and Dave, and Diane and Andy stayed together for a while. They had a second ride on the Big Dipper. The girls found it not so scary this time, as they knew what to expect, but just as exciting and exhilarating. Then they wandered over to the boating lake and hired two rowing boats. The boys, of course, did the rowing whilst the girls sat lazily at the other end. Fiona listened to the distant sounds of the funfair; the laughter and shouts of excited visitors; and the somewhat discordant music from the roundabouts and mechanical rides. A little breeze drifted across the water and she felt chilly. She shivered as she fastened her cardigan, which she had been wearing loosely draped over her shoulders.

‘Are you cold?' asked Dave.