The Last Girl (11 page)

You must be
wondering how I find the time really, but you know what they say: if you want
something done, ask a busy man. And the result? I'll tell you what it is. At
long last, the old kid has got some privacy in this house. No-one goes in those
rooms without her say-so, poking and nosing through her belongings on the sly.
In short, her life's her own.

Thanks to me.

So now I bet you're thinking old Larry is a right idiot.
Well, laugh as much as you like, only excuse me if I make one thing clear. All
that about Mandy, about her breaking the mould and not being like the others -
well, I knew it wouldn't last. And more fool you if you thought any different.
You had only to ask and I'd have told you. Larry's seen too much not to know
something was bound to come along and spoil it all. But if I do seem a bit
dazed just at this minute, blame it on her. Because after the show she put on,
she very nearly had me wondering.

The point I
want to get across is, I might not actually have said anything at the time, but
I had my doubts, I did really. Look at the people she was being forced to mix
with for a start, up at that college of hers. Her seeming to be so nice herself
only made it ten times worse. Bad always wants to go after good. It's the way
of the world.

That's why I
didn't worry about the fact she never brought folk back here. I just liked to
think she was choosy. Added to which it was a relief, not having the house
deluged by strangers, never knowing what they might be carrying away with them
in their pockets. Thinking about it now though, I reckon 'choosy' didn't come
into it. The girl is as poor as a church mouse, and you need money for friends.

Of course
once or twice she's tried to make out that it hasn't always been like that,
going on about some pal of hers up in Edinburgh, as if the whole place was
queuing up to know her. To tell the truth, though, I couldn't bring myself to
show that much interest. She was talking about people hundreds of miles away,
and besides, she had me, didn't she. There wasn't any call for anybody else. No,
it was present influences I was losing sleep about at nights.

And I was
right, wasn't I? There's influences everywhere, even in this house.

I'd better
start at the beginning. Go back a week, to just after the time I talked about
everything in the garden being rosy. We were up here as usual, settling down
for a good old chat before bed. It all started off normally enough. I'd been
sorting through some drawers earlier on and come across an old photograph I
didn't even know I still had. You can more or less imagine what I'd done with
the rest. Anyway, it's there in front of her when she sits down, and sure
enough, she picks it up.

'What's this,
Larry?' she says. 'Are you here?'

'Mandy love,'
I say, all surprised. 'You weren't meant to see that. But since you ask, it's
me all right. Me and a few others. Go on, see if you can guess which one?'

She's got
about ten to choose from, all of us in uniform, so it takes a little time.
Finally she points.

'That one,'
she says.

And that was
my Mandy for you. Spot on. Fifty years and she still knows her old Larry. A
couple of seconds pass and then she says, 'Good grief, Larry. You were quite
handsome.'

'That's what
they used to say, love. But only look where it got me. A little bit less of the
handsome, and maybe there wouldn't have been so much of the Doreen. Know what I
mean?'

Well she
doesn't answer, because already she's staring at the rest of the picture. Not
much of an attention span, has our Mandy sometimes. 'What about the rest of
them, Larry? What happened to them?'

'All dead,
love,' I said. Well, it was simpler that way. Otherwise she'd have wanted all
their life stories, and look at the time that would have taken. But the effect
is exactly what you'd hope and expect.

'Oh Larry,
I'm sorry. How terrible for you. Where did it happen - North Africa?'

Well hardly.
It's the sand that's got her confused. That was taken on Bridlington beach, and
we were the catering corps. The war ended before we ever got posted. But
there's no time to say a word about this because a certain young lady is still
talking.

'All so
young, Larry. Were they very good friends?'

'Best friends
a chap ever had, love.'

Actually,
Harry's there if you look close enough. But she's not to know that. The thing
is, what should happen next but she reaches forward and touches my hand, just
like that.

And that
really did take me by surprise. I was still trying to think of something polite
that wouldn't have offended, when all of a sudden comes the Voice from Below,
to ruin everything.

'Amanda!
Telephone!'

Telephone!
Would you believe it, I'd forgotten all about warning the old kid that the last
thing she should be doing was telling people to ring her here. Ethel would
really go mad with her now. But again it was no good. The girl had vanished
before I could open my mouth.

This time
though, I decided to keep calm. She was gone now, but she was going to hear it
from me straight the moment she got back. Then I remembered: the last time she
went to answer a phone call, I didn't see hide nor hair of her for days after -
and nearly made myself ill fretting about it.

Well, this
time, it was going to be different. I decided to do what I should have done
before if I'd had the sense, namely, to follow her downstairs and wait for her
in the hall. That way, when she'd finished getting herself into trouble with
Ethel, I'd be right there to keep her company back up the stairs. Then we could
have that cup of tea I'd been on the very point of offering her. And most
important, I could tell her all she needs to know about Ethel and telephones.

So that's
what I did. I left my nice warm lounge and lumbered all the way downstairs just
so as to stand sentry by the hall table. That's friendship for you; hundreds I
could mention would have felt one blast of that draught blowing in through the
front door and been back up those stairs like a shot. You could hardly blame me
for hoping she wouldn't take all night about it, though. Quite apart from the
draught there was Ethel, like there always is. If she came out while Mandy was
still on the phone, there would have been all sorts of questions. Quite simply,
there is no limit to the woman's nosiness.

It was only
natural then that I'd be anxious to keep an eye on what was going on at the end
of the passage leading to the kitchen, not knowing if it was Mandy who was
going to appear any second, or Ethel. And that's when I noticed that the door
was open, that I could see straight in. That was unusual for a start. Ethel
guards her kitchen like Fort Knox, only just now she wasn't there. She must have
carried on into the scullery beyond, leaving Mandy to let in all the cold air
-which would be something else they'd be chalking up against her. Of Mandy I
couldn't see a thing. The Ducks keep their phone up on the wall behind the
door, and that's where she was now, murmuring away on the other side,
apparently not short of something to say for once. The one person I could see,
and see all too well, was Gilbert, sitting next to the fire, facing me. In
normal circumstances he would have seen me too, eyesight or no eyesight, but
not today, for the simple reason that he was making a great show of reading. It
was laughable really; he had his book held right up in front of his nose -
Tales of the South China
Sea
- but the only wonder was that he'd remembered to keep it the right
way up. See, he didn't fool me for a second. What he was really doing was
listening, getting an earful of every blessed word.

So there you
are. The poor girl couldn't even have a phone call to herself without one or
the other of the Ducks having their pennyworth. Which was bad enough when you
think about it. It's just that it wasn't a tenth as bad as what happened next.

I heard the
phone go 'ping', meaning that she must have finished at last, and sure enough,
a second later she appears from behind the door. The surprising thing was, she
was beaming all over her face, which was hardly what you would have expected
from someone who had just been forced to share a private conversation with some
nosy old goat under a tartan blanket. Nor would you have expected her to waste
any time getting out before Ethel popped up to call her to account. Yet the
silly girl did no more than go straight over to Gilbert and stand there for a
good minute smiling and chatting away as if he was her favourite uncle. He
loved it of course. You could see the old buffoon just lapping it up. And it
was that, I reckon - I mean her being so pleasant - that must have given him
ideas. Because just as she was turning to go (and another minute and I would
have been in to drag her out myself) the book he was holding suddenly slid off
his lap and to the floor. It landed at her feet, far too conveniently to have
been an accident, and like a flash, Mandy, being the girl she is, was bending
to pick it up.

And that's
when it happened. The thing I'm talking about. He goosed her.

Blink, and
you'd have missed it, it was that fast. One second he's sitting propped up with
cushions on all sides and a blanket on top, and the next he's there with his
hand right up her skirt. If I say I was shocked beyond words, you'll
understand, but the effect on Mandy was almost too painful to describe. Her
head shot up from where she was bent over the book with the result that she
must have been looking straight at me, yet she was too flabbergasted to notice a
thing. All I could see was her face as it was then, mouth shaped into a perfect
'0' and two bright red cheeks flaming up like matches on either side. Just for
that one second I was certain she was going to scream, faint, shout, do
something that would bring Ethel scurrying in from whatever she was up to in
the scullery, and with it the world down upon her head.

I knew then I
had to warn her, tell her not to do it, let her know that if she made a sound,
Ethel would have her out on the street so fast  she wouldn't even have time to
pack. But somehow or other, the words wouldn't come. The shock was too great.

Then
suddenly, there was no need. Mandy closed her mouth, snap! just like that. She
stood up straight and handed the book to Gilbert, as politely as you please and
yet without so much as a word or a look. Then slowly she turned her back on him
and walked towards the door - and me. For my part, I'd already backed off so as
not to be seen by Gilbert, was standing flat up against the wall in the gloom.
But that could hardly explain how she could have walked straight past me, and
yet not said a word. The fact was, she didn't even see me. And why not? Because
she was too busy laughing, laughing so much, and at the same time, trying so
hard to keep it quiet that the whole of her body was shaking with it and tears
were forcing themselves down her cheeks. She laughed all the way up the passage
and into the hall, and continued up to the top of the stairs. And all this time
I was right behind her, watching, too stunned to say a thing. Before I was even
halfway able to speak she had disappeared into her kitchen and closed the door
behind her, leaving me standing there, wondering if the entire world had gone
mad.

Of course, I
thought it was nothing but a nervous reaction on her part. People do the
strangest things when they're in shock. Especially the innocent ones. See what
I mean about Bad going after Good, though, corrupting it? Making a young girl
laugh because she's been indecently assaulted? And in this house of all places.
I could always have told you Gilbert was rotten - I just didn't know how
rotten.

You're not
going to be surprised to hear then that Mandy didn't come up again after this.
I hardly expected her to myself. But then again, Gilbert's behaviour had left
me in a terrible state. I couldn't get the picture out of my mind, of hands
disappearing under the pleats of her skirt. Right up it was, right up between
her...it's no good, I can't say it. But it stayed with me all evening, no
matter what I did to try and forget. And you know what made it ten times worse?
It was the thought of that poor girl, all by herself downstairs with who knows
what thoughts going through her head, and no-one to confide in. In the end,
round about eleven, I heard her footsteps on the landing, and couldn't bear it
a moment longer. If I did nothing else this night, I had to remind the old kid
that there's still some decent folk left on this earth.

The upshot
was I just about collided with her on the landing. She was coming out of her
kitchen wearing nothing but a dressing gown and a towel over her arm.

'Can't stop
Larry,' she said as we both stepped back from each other. 'My bath's going to
be ready in a sec.' And with that she made to walk past me towards the bathroom
as if nothing in the world was the matter. You should have seen the way she
smiled, though. It was heartbreaking, that's what it was. You could see she was
trying so hard to put a brave face on everything, fighting not to let her real
feelings show. All the more reason, it seemed to me, for not simply letting it
go at that. So instead of allowing her get past, I sort of spread myself across
the landing a bit, just to make her slow up a little, give us both the chance
to talk.

'Everything
all right, then, Mandy love?' I said, as casually as I could. Yet if only the
light had been better, she could have seen the worry and concern written all
over my face. As it was, she didn't seem to notice.

'Fine,' she
said. If I'd asked her about the weather, she couldn't have given much more
away. 'Thanks for asking.' And with that, she actually tried to squeeze past
me.

Well I had to
do something. I caught hold of her arm, looked straight into her eyes and said,
'Now just stop there, Mandy love. Listen to your old Larry for a minute. Are
you sure you're telling me everything? There's nothing happened to ... to upset
you recently?'

The
straightforward questions are always the best. This one wiped the smile right
off her face. But even then she didn't say anything, just stared down at her
arm where I was holding it as if something about it was different. Then her
face lit up and she was all smiles again.