The Girls from See Saw Lane (6 page)

‘Now now,' said Aunty Brenda. ‘Let's get back to the dresses, shall we? Where were we up to?'

‘Mum was just telling Dottie that she was podgy,' said Rita.

‘I don't think she said it quite like that, Rita,' said Aunty Brenda.

‘All I meant,' said Mum, ‘is that Dottie isn't as round as she used to be. I'm sure that when she's older she'll have a beautiful figure.'

‘Fat chance,' said Dad. He wasn't trying to be ironic. He doesn't know how.

‘And you can shut up an' all, Nelson Perks,' said Mum. ‘We all know where Dottie gets her weight from. We'll be lucky to find tails off the peg for you, with your fat belly and short legs.'

 ‘What short legs?'

‘Yours!' said Mum. ‘They'll have to get a suit made specially to fit you.'

‘I haven't got short legs!' said Dad. ‘I've got a long body. Bloody cheek, I've got a good mind to boycott this wedding and stay at home.' 

He folded his paper and picked it up and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

‘Don't raise our hopes!' shouted Mum.

Mary and I ran upstairs and into my bedroom and we lay on my bed side by side and laughed into the bedspread until we couldn't laugh any more.

After Mary had gone home, I went downstairs. Mum was in the living room with Rita and Aunty Brenda. I sat down beside Mum on the settee.

‘Me and Mary were thinking of going to a club on Saturday night,' I said ever so casually, ‘to watch a band.'

Mum pulled a face.

 ‘I don't like the thought of you going to nightclubs, Dottie,' she said. ‘There's a lot of funny people in nightclubs.'

‘There'll be one more then if Dottie goes,' said Rita.

‘Excuse me while I laugh,' I said.

‘I'd really rather you just went to that cafe of yours,' said Mum. ‘It's a lot safer.'

‘I won't be on my own,' I said. ‘I'll be with Mary and… a couple of boys.' Behind Mum's back Rita raised her eyebrows and made an ‘I knew it!' face at me.

‘Oh?' said Mum. ‘What couple of boys?'

‘Elton Briggs. He asked Mary to go. And I'll be with Ralph Bennett.'

‘Who's Ralph Bennett?' asked Aunty Brenda.

‘A friend I used to know from school.'

‘She's got a boyfriend, Maureen!' said Aunty Brenda.

‘No I haven't!' I said. ‘We're just friends.'

‘Oh yes? That's what Elizabeth Taylor said about Eddie Fisher, just before she pinched him off that lovely Debbie Reynolds!' said Mum.

 ‘Hussy!' said Aunty Brenda. Rita nodded. I tried not to look at her.

‘You don't mind if I go then, do you? To the club? We'll all stick together and I'll make sure we get the last bus back.'

There was a silence while Mum bit her lip and looked at me, and I knew she was thinking about what was the worst that could happen and imagining all sorts of catastrophes. ‘What about all the smoke? You know you're not good with smoke.'

I thought that was a bit rich considering we practically lived in a semi-detached ash tray.

‘Oh, let her go,' said Rita. ‘She's got to grow up sometime.'

Flippin' heck. Was my darling sister on my side?

‘See what your dad thinks,' said Mum.

I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen and peered through the smoke until I located him. He was sitting at the table reading the sports pages, half an inch of roll-up between the yellow ends of two fingers.

I sidled up to him.

‘Dad, you don't mind if I go into Brighton on Saturday night to listen to a band do you?' 

‘What does your mum say?'

‘She said I was to ask you.'

Dad looked up at me.

‘You're not going on your own are you?'

‘No. I'm going with Mary Pickles and Ralph Bennett.'

‘A boy?' said Dad. He's quick; you have to give him that.

‘Yes,' I said.

‘As long as you don't bring any trouble home,' he said.

I wanted to ask him what sort of trouble but thought I'd better quit while I was ahead.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. He squeezed my hand.

 ‘Thanks Dad.' 

‘You daft bugger,' he said. 

I went back into the living room. Mum and Aunty Brenda were sitting on either side of Rita, looking over her elbows at the pictures in her magazine.
Sing Something Simple
was playing on the radio and Mum was absent-mindedly humming along with the music and swaying slightly. 

‘Dad says he doesn't have any objections to me going,' I said, ‘as long as I don't bring any trouble home.'

‘That's good advice,' said Aunty Brenda. ‘Your poor mother doesn't want you bringing trouble to her door, especially with Rita's wedding coming up.'

 ‘What trouble are you talking about?' I asked innocently.

Aunty Brenda shook her head and gazed up at me.

‘Ahh, she's very immature, isn't she, Maureen?'

‘Always was,' said Mum.

"Hello, I'm here," I thought.

‘Haven't you told her about, you know what…?' Aunty Brenda asked in a knowing voice.

Actually I knew all about ‘you know what', I mean I was seventeen for heaven's sake, but I didn't think that now was the time to tell them that I knew.

‘I never got round to it,' said Mum.

‘You should have done by now, Maureen. It's your duty as a mother. I bought our Carol a book with illustrations. That did the trick.'

While I was trying to keep a straight face, Aunty Brenda went all peculiar and started talking in a weird voice and slowly mouthing words at me as if I was deaf.

‘You mustn't bring any unwanted babies to your mother's doorstep,' she said.

I decided to play along with it.

‘I'm going to listen to a band,' I said. ‘Where would I come across any unwanted babies? And even if I did, why would I want to bring them home?'

Aunty Brenda leaned round behind Rita's back and said to Mum: ‘I'll give her a loan of the book.' 

   Later, Mary and me walked to the recreation ground and sat on the swings. All the little children had gone home and we had the place to ourselves. It was still warm; a gorgeous summer evening, all soft with little moths and the scents of the flowers in the gardens of the houses on the estate and the sounds of the families inside the houses coming out through the open windows.

That evening, on the swings, I told Mary all about the unwanted babies. After she'd stopped making the swing sway madly all over the place with laughing so much, she went into the ‘How Babies Are Made' scenario again, which we both found slightly disgusting but which still had a sort of fascination that we couldn't resist. It was hard to keep off the subject when we were on our own. 

‘I can't see why anyone would want to do that,' I said, twisting the swing chains round and round. They were rusty and made my fingers red. ‘Unless they wanted a baby.'

‘Or they wanted to make someone jealous…' said Mary giving me one of her knowing little smiles.

‘How do you mean?'

‘Well, take Christine from the sack factory.'

‘Take her where?'

‘Very funny! Remember when she used to fancy Bruce Denny? The lad who worked in the arcade on the pier?'

‘Yep.'

‘Well he never even noticed her till she slept with that goofy-looking boy from the butchers, and then he asked her out.' 

‘But why would you go out with someone who only wanted you for one thing, I mean, that's not real love is it?'

‘Oh Dottie, you are so square!'

‘Round, Mary,' I said, ‘round!' And we both fell about laughing again. We laughed all the time about sex, but really I found even the thought of it too embarrassing to be true.

When we were younger I asked Mum why Mary Pickles knew all about having babies and I didn't and she said it was something to do with keeping hamsters and having the
News of the World
on a Sunday. Sometimes I wondered if there was a big conspiracy to make us all believe that you had to do
that
to make a baby when really there was a much more sensible way of doing it. I thought I'd be hard pushed to do
that
with Paul McCartney and I really, really loved Paul McCartney.

For the briefest moment I wondered if I would ever
do it
with Ralph Bennett, and that thought made me feel a bit weird inside. I lifted my feet off the ground and let the swing spin back. It made me giddy.

‘We'll have to buy some new clothes for Saturday,' said Mary dreamily.

‘I haven't got any money.'

‘You'll have to do something with the clothes you've got then,' said Mary.

‘Like what?'

‘I dunno. Hitch your skirt up or something. Make yourself look older, sophisticated. Like you go to clubs a lot.'

I smiled and slipped off the swing. It was still light and beyond the rooftops of the houses on the estate the sunlight was colouring the sea a bright red gold behind the tall grey chimneys of the power station.

‘I can't wait for Saturday,' Mary said, jumping off her swing and falling into step beside me. ‘It's time we spread our wings. We've already spent too much of our lives hanging around the estate. This could be the start of something fabulous.' She took hold of my arm. ‘And I promise you that if we come across any unwanted babies lying around the place we'll just ignore them.'

‘Absolutely,' I said linking arms with Mary and walking back towards the estate.

I
t 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 bathroom 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.'