Rose of Tralee (31 page)

*

Over the supper table, generously laden with a great tureen of savoury stew and another of mashed potatoes, Colm listened with interest as Rose told Mona that she was off to the Daulby Hall with her friend Ella and would Mona like to come along? Colm liked dancing; if Nell had done him any favour it was to teach him to dance, and he had been along to various ballrooms since he arrived in Liverpool and had danced with a number of pretty, light-footed young women. But he’d never been lucky enough to choose the same dance-hall as Mona and now it looked as though he might find out where she went – or at least, where she might – or might not – be going tonight.

But he pretended indifference, continuing to eat the delicious stew – Mrs Ryder was a wonderful cook, as good, in her way, as his mammy – whilst listening closely. What would Mona say? Would she agree to go the the Daulby? Even if she did not, she might easily name the ballroom of her choice, and then ...

‘Dancin’, our Rosie? Wharrever next!’ Mona’s thin, darkened eyebrows rose dramatically. ‘I thought you was too busy wi’ your books an’ exams for such pastimes!’

Rose giggled. ‘I was. But I passed, didn’t I? So now I want some fun. Are you goin’ to come along wi’ us, Mona? We’re goin’ to the Daulby, an’ I thought I’d wear me pale-blue linen. It ’ud be the first time I’ve had it on, an’ Mammy made it months ago, didn’t you, Mam?’

‘I did,’ Mrs Ryder agreed placidly. ‘But it were for parties, not the office, an’ you’ve been too busy for parties, chuck. Still, you should go about more.’ She turned to her niece. ‘Why don’t you both go, keep an eye on each other?’

‘We-ell, I might,’ Mona said, cocking her head on one side. ‘I’ve gorra coffee-coloured lace dress I’m longin’ to wear. Only why the Daulby? You get all them foreign seamen . . . they jabber on so, an’ they squeeze an’ all.’

‘The ones off the Argentinian boats?’ Mr Dawlish put in. He laughed. ‘But they dance well, I’m told.’

‘Oh, no one dances like an Irishman,’ Sean put in. He grinned at his son. ‘You oughter go along as well, Colm, let ’em see how a feller from Dublin can leap like a leprechaun an’ show a clean pair o’ heels to the best of ’em.

‘You’re right there, Mr O’Neill,’ Mona said, forking in more stew. ‘The Argies can dance, I’ll give ’em that, but they smell of cattle boats, so I still prefer our local fellers.’ She looked under her lashes at Colm, making his heart skip a beat, then glanced at Tommy’s fair head, bent over his plate as he industriously ate. ‘Though I always thought Irishmen had two left feet, to say nothin’ of clods of earth on their boots!’ Colm and his father laughed and protested, and Mona, dimpling at them, addressed Tommy, who was sitting opposite her. ‘Wharrabout you then, Mr Frost? Why don’t the pair o’ you come along to the Daulby? As soon as all the girls realise you ain’t foreign they’ll be all over you! Why not, eh?’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Colm said, ‘As for boots, you’re doin’ me a rare injustice, Miss Mona, for I’ve got me a good pair o’ dancin’ pumps and foot it wit’ the best, though it’s not certain I am of the tango, or the foxtrot. But I can Charleston up a storm I’m tellin’ ye. An’ anything I can’t dance I’ll watch till I pick it up. I’m a quick study wit’ me feet, so I am.’

‘Well, I’ll see how me cash is holdin’ out,’ Tommy said. ‘If I’m in the money I’ll certainly give you girls a
treat an’ come to the Daulby. Seein’ as ‘ow I’m a boy scout at heart it’ll be me good turn for the week,’ he added in a mock-righteous tone. ‘Mekin’ sure the pair of you ain’t dragged off to the white slave trade by some sleazy, hip-swivellin’ Argy.’

‘The three of us,’ Rose reminded them. ‘Don’t forget me pal Ella’s comin’ along an’ all. We’re meetin’ in the foyer at nine thirty an’ we were goin’ to the upstairs ballroom, although we aren’t beginners. Most o’ the Argies stay downstairs for some reason.’

‘I might as well come wit’ you, Tommy,’ Colm said. He did his best to sound casual, uncaring, but feared that his voice let him down by its evident cheerfulness. ‘If we go in at half-time it’s cheaper and I’m savin’ up for Christmas – aren’t we all, now? – but it’s a dacint evenin’ out for threepence, and havin’ a few dances an’ soft drinks is cheaper than spendin’ an evenin’ in the pub punishin’ the hard stuff.’

‘Don’t they sell alcohol at the Daulby, then?’ Mr Dawlish said, grinning. ‘Oh well, don’t you go tryin’ to persuade me to join you – I’d rather tek a few pints an’ have a bit of a singsong any day than prance around wi’ a lot of fancy Argy fellers a-watchin’.’

‘I’m wit’ you there,’ Sean said. He wiped a piece of bread round his now empty plate and heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘Sure an’ you’re a wonderful cook, Mrs Ryder. My Eileen won’t be knowin’ me at Christmas, so fat I’m after becomin’ on your good food.’

‘Get along wi’ you, Mr O’Neill,’ Lily Ryder said, beaming. ‘Rosie, if you clear the crocks Mona and meself will fetch in the pudding.’

Colm watched the two girls gathering up the plates and hugged himself inwardly. At last he was going to hold the delectable Mona in his arms, murmur into her ear – and be extra careful not to stand on her size
fives! He had a shrewd suspicion, though, that Mona might prove expensive company. Nell’s depredations had made their mark on him; he fought shy, now, of girls who demanded expensive drinks or wanted only the best seats in cinemas and theatres.

On the other hand, though, he told himself as he watched the arrival of the apple pie and custard, no one gave anything away for free in this world and he had a pleasant suspicion that Mona would prove generous in other ways if he stumped up for the largest box of chocolates, the best seats. So there you had it. If you wanted a first-rate looker and a chance to cuddle in the dark you had to be cheerful and part with your hard-earned cash. A pity Christmas was coming up ... but he’d manage, somehow. He would work overtime, get some work clearing leaves up in one of the big houses on the outskirts of the city. Oh aye, and Mona would be worth it, lovely girl that she was.

‘Colm, have ye gone deaf, son? That’s the second time Mrs Ryder’s asked you if you’d like custard. What’re you t’inkin’ about, boy! Stop dreamin’ about the dance or there’ll be none left an’ I know how you love treacle tart.’

Colm felt his cheeks grow hot. ‘I weren’t ... I were t’inkin’ I might take on some odd-jobbing in me time off, so’s I can buy me mammy a better Christmas present.’

‘Good idea,’ Tommy said approvingly. ‘We might go together, Colm.’

Mrs Ryder cut into the tart and passed it, and the jug of custard, up the table to Colm.

‘Don’t tease the boy, Mr O’Neill,’ she said kindly. ‘It’s the girls dream about dances, not young fellers. Help yourself, Colm, an’ then pass the jug along.’

*

Although it seemed rather strange when Rose thought about it, there had been no suggestion that the four of them might make their way to the Daulby together and probably it was as well. It was generally accepted that if a feller was serious he would pay for you to go into the dance, but for a casual friendship like theirs it was fairer all round to meet inside. And besides, Mona’s toilet, when she was going dancing, was somewhat elaborate. She tugged out every good dress she possessed – and she possessed many – before agreeing with her cousin that the coffee-coloured lace was the nicest.

‘Ella’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve got to,’ Rose grumbled, as at last Mona, with a final dusting of powder on her small nose and a last brush at her shoulders to make sure no loose hairs remained on the lace, finally pronounced herself ready. ‘We said half-nine, not half-ten!’

‘Don’t exaggerate, flower,’ Mona said, setting off down the stairs at a trot. ‘We may not make half-nine – well, we won’t – but we’ll be there by twenty to the hour if we gerra move on.’

‘I hate being late,’ Rose grumbled as they let themselves out of the house with her mother’s reminders not to go missing trams or arriving home at midnight ringing in her ears. ‘Still, I bet the fellers won’t be on time.’

‘Stop moaning and run!’ Mona shrieked suddenly. ‘There’s a tram, our Rosie; if we miss this ’un it’ll be a while afore the next at this time o’night.’

They tore down the Vale and onto Oakfield Road, and really sprinted to the tram stop.

‘But there’s a bloomin’ crowd aboard,’ Mona said as they inched towards the doorway. ‘I don’t mind
standin’, but I do mind bein’ left behind. I bet half o’ these kids is goin’ to the Daulby.’

But they weren’t left, because Rose plunged impetuously forward, getting foot on the step and heaving herself aboard, then turning to help Mona. There were some good-natured squeaks and growls from passengers shoved even further down the car, but the conductor rang the bell and the vehicle moved ponderously forward. The movement shunted everyone towards the front and a good-natured railway worker, still in his overalls, pushed the two girls behind him and put a muscular arm across the entrance, effectively penning them in.

‘Where’re you goin’, gals?’ he asked. ‘This tram’s always crowded an’ I’m off at the next stop.’

‘Daulby Hall,’ Mona told him. She tossed her golden curls and showed him the brown paper bag under her arm. ‘Can’t you tell, mister? Them’s me dancin’ pumps in there, an’ I’m wearin’ me best dress.’

The man chuckled and told Mona that she was lookin’ rare smart an’ didn’t he wish he were ten years younger, and Mona said something about many a good tune being played on an old fiddle, which made Rose feel uncomfortable. She thought uneasily that her cousin was being very friendly considering she had never met the man before this moment, but it probably didn’t matter since he was an old man of at least thirty-five. Now if he had been younger she would have thought Mona was being flirtatious and egging him on. But before she could say anything someone else shouted ‘Tickets, please! Come along now, tickets, ladies and gents!’ and the conductor, a small, rosy-faced man, pushed and wriggled his way out of the crowded interior of the tram.

The girls turned away from the railwayman and handed over their pennies, and it was no time at all before the tram stopped at their destination and what looked like the majority of the passengers got down and made their way towards the hall, though some of them, Rose guessed, were heading for the Majestic cinema, where they would be meeting friends who had watched the film and would go dancing later, perhaps at the Daulby, or possibly at one of the other popular venues in the city.

‘Dear God, wharra crush,’ Mona said crossly as they went towards the foyer of the dance-hall. ‘I’m glad I brought me pumps in the bag, at least all those clodhoppers only trod on me workin’ boots. Now, Rosie, can you see your Ella anywhere?’

‘No, I ... oh yes, there she is,’ Rose said. She clutched her cousin’s arm. ‘Come along, we’d best grab her before she disappears. Is Saturday night always like this, I wonder?’

‘Bound to be. Folk come dancin’ on a Saturday ’cos they can lie in on a Sunday,’ Mona said wisely. ‘Is that Ella, in the orange dress? She’s a bit showy, ain’t she?’

‘It’s not orange, it’s flame. It’s a very fashionable colour,’ Rose said stiffly. She thought, herself, that the dress was a trifle bright, but Ella was her friend and Mona had no call to question her taste. Rose had noticed some very odd clothing in her cousin’s wardrobe this evening. ‘Come
on
, Mona, or we’ll lose her.’

She ignored Mona’s mutter of ‘Norra bad thing, to my way of thinking,’ and continued to wriggle through the crowd until she reached her friend’s side. ‘Here we are, Ell,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Got your joey?’

‘Aye. An’ a bit over for a drink an’ some chips,
after,’ Ella said. ‘Is this your cousin? Hello, Mona, I’m Ella Thompson. Me an’ Rose work in the same office, an’ we’re at night-school together an’ all.’

‘Glad to meet you,’ Mona said. ‘Come on, lets gerrin before all the best places are took.’

Rose was enchanted with the ballroom. She had been dancing before, but always at one of the establishments where it was taught. She saw the soft but brilliant lighting, the orchestra and the assembled dancers as though they were a marvellous sort of stage set and had to work hard not to show how impressed she was before Ella, who had obviously frequented such places before, and Mona, who seemed entirely at home

There were some chairs and tables, but mostly the girls stood on one side of the ballroom in small groups whilst on the opposite side the young men congregated, laughing and chaffing one another, and pretending not to notice the girls, although their eyes roamed speculatively across the room whenever they thought themselves unobserved. Rose scanned the young men as they made their way to the cloakroom to leave their coats and walking shoes but she could see neither Colm nor Tommy. Still, it was early yet and they’d probably have coats to hand in as well.

They emerged from the cloakroom clutching the tickets the girl on the counter had given them, Rose smoothing her skirt nervously and glancing rather self-consciously down at her new dancing shoes. She felt sure everyone must be staring at her, but when she glanced around she saw at once that people were too busy with their own friends to worry about strangers. The band had left the platform and were nowhere to be seen, and the dancers were queuing at
the bar for soft drinks, crisps and biscuits.

Rose peered around her, then clutched Ella’s arm. ‘Ella, I thought I saw someone from work! You know, the office boy, Reg. Is it him, over there by that pillar?’

‘Come on!’ Mona said. ‘There’s a table . . . first one there grab it!’

Rose followed and the three of them sat down quickly on the chairs then relaxed and looked around them.

‘I bet Tommy an’ Colm turn up after ten o’clock and you made me rush meself like a mad thing,’ Mona complained. ‘Everyone else has gone into the ladies to do their hair and powder their noses again – will you save my chair if I just pop off for a moment?’

‘Oh, you go then,’ Rose said. ‘Though why you want to put more stuff on your face I can’t imagine. It’s a good thing Mam didn’t take a hard look at you, me girl, or you’d ha’ been sent up to our room to wash it all off again.’

‘I’m older than you,’ Mona reminded her. ‘Besides, you can’t work in a flower shop an’ not make up nice. Nor you can’t come to a dance wi’ your face all bare, like a schoolgirl.’