A Little Learning

by Anne Bennett

  On the days of the examinations themselves, Janet was too sick with worry to eat and her anxiety affected Betty and Bert too.

  ‘I’ll be glad when it’s all over,’ Bert said. ‘Perhaps then we’ll see our lass smile again.’

  But when the exams were over, Janet’s principal emotion was extreme fatigue. ‘Needs a bleeding holiday before she starts work in that shop all bloody summer,’ Bert said.

  Bert asked around, and when Janet got in one day, a week before school broke up, Betty had a surprise. ‘Your dad’s booked us a week in a caravan near Weston-super-Mare,’ she told Janet. ‘Just as the holidays start we go.’

  ‘My job …?’ Janet began.

  ‘You’ll just have to start a week later,’ Betty said. ‘You need a holiday. You look worn out and that’s a fact.’

  Janet agreed with her mother. ‘Ruth needs a break too,’ she said. ‘Can she come?’

  ‘If her parents say she can,’ Betty said. ‘Duncan won’t be coming, he’s lodging with your gran,’ and she gave Janet a wink. ‘He’s got a girlfriend,’ she said.

  That wasn’t news to Janet. She even knew the girl’s name. It was Gloria Marsden, but she didn’t tell her mother that, for the Marsdens were a notorious family. Nor did she say that he roared around the streets on his bike with a shrieking Gloria clinging to him. She’d first spotted Gloria with Duncan waiting in the queue outside the Apollo cinema in Tyburn Road. She wouldn’t mention that to Betty either or say that Gloria dressed as a teddy girl, for if her mother should tell Bert, it would be like a red rag to a bull. She wore the draped jacket with the velvet collar, a tight skirt, and a big beret with pearls all over it like they did. Her face had been almost orange with thick make-up with bright blue eye shadow and cerise pink on her lips. She’d looked down her nose at Janet, pulled at Duncan’s arm, into which hers was tucked, and said, ‘That’s your bleeding brainy sister, ain’t it, Dunc? She don’t look that clever, does she? Bleeding drab bugger if you ask me.’

  Duncan had coloured pink and muttered, ‘Give over, Gloria,’ while Janet lashed back with:

  ‘Well, no one did ask you, Miss Gloria stick-your-nose-in Marsden, so keep your opinions to yourself.’ She went on, ‘And I hope you haven’t got the idea you look good in that get up and with all that muck smeared over your face.’

  She’d thought Gloria was going to hit her. Indeed, she might have tried it if Duncan hadn’t held on to her, and before she was able to break away, the cinema doors had opened and they’d begun to file in. Gloria had contented herself with a lift of her chin to Janet. ‘Snotty stuck-up cow,’ she hissed, and Janet replied:

  ‘Takes one to know one, Gloria.’

  She hadn’t told Betty about the encounter at the time, and she didn’t tell her now. She was just glad Duncan wasn’t going on holiday, for she had absolutely nothing in common with him any more.

  The younger children were enchanted by the caravan and all its secret hiding places, and spent ages finding them. Ruth and Janet had the small bedroom, Bert and Betty the bigger one, which they shared with Sally. Conner and Noel were thrilled with the unfurled bunks they were to sleep on. ‘Like real sailors,’ said Noel excitedly. ‘I bags the top one.’

  ‘No, I’m having the top,’ Conner said belligerently, and Bert stepped between them before they fell on each other, snarling and with their fists flying.

  Janet caught Ruth’s eye and laughed wryly. Some things never change, she thought. Aloud she said to the twins and Sally, ‘Come on, we’ll take you down to the beach and give Mom and Dad time to get straight.’

  The two girls were too tired at first to do more than laze on the beach soaking up the sun, or build sandcastles and jump about in the sea with the children. The family hadn’t much money to spend, though Conner, Noel and Sally had more than one ride on the donkeys. Ruth and Janet took them out one day to the fair to give Betty and Bert a day to themselves. They had as much fun as the children on the bumper cars and the waltzers and Bert and Betty were grateful for the break.

  All in all, the holiday was judged a success, and they returned refreshed from the change. The summer raced by for Janet, busy with her job, but never did she forget for a minute the ‘O’ level results, which were due the second week in August. When they came through and she realised that she had passed every exam with distinction, she was light-headed with relief. It was congratulations all round when she discovered that not only had Ruth done nearly as well as she had, but that Claire had graduated from her Montessori course with honours.

  In September Janet and Ruth joined the sixth form. As a concession to their ‘grown up’ status, they would be partnered by the boys from St David’s Academy in their dancing lessons. They weren’t an impressive bunch. Janet described them scathingly as ‘A bunch of wets who are, in the main, spotty, shy and very nervous, and not necessarily in that order.’

  At a nod from the teacher who’d brought them over, they would sidle across the room and mumble an invitation to dance. Janet often wondered why they bothered. Fox trot and quick step were one and the same to them as they shuffled about the room, with seemingly two left feet and no sense of rhythm.

  ‘And why,’ Janet complained to Ruth, ‘do they sweat so much? Their faces positively glisten, and their hands are so sticky and clammy they make marks on my dress and I could wring out my shoulder pads.’

  ‘My feet are crushed too,’ agreed Ruth, and added, ‘we’re supposed to enjoy the thing.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Janet with a grin, ‘it’s supposed to be a treat.’

  They laughed together, and then Ruth said, ‘And did you find out about their hobbies and interests, like Miss Weatherstaff suggested?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Janet said. ‘One hobby is telling awful jokes we wouldn’t have found funny in infant class and they are also interested in playing tricks on people which are, without exception, in extremely bad taste.’

  ‘What about the one who won the rugby match single handed?’ Ruth said.

  ‘You mean the mate of the one who rescued the cricket team from defeat by himself?’ Janet asked sarcastically.

  ‘Rather immature, aren’t they?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Very,’ Janet agreed. ‘Give me a real man any day of the week.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ruth, ‘but where are they? Look at us, sweet sixteen and never been kissed.’

  ‘Nor likely to be,’ Janet said grimly, ‘if the only contenders are the animals from the Academy.’

  By the spring of 1953, coronation fever had gripped the country and events to mark the occasion were planned in streets and estates throughout the land. Pype Hayes estate was no exception, but it appeared that Ruth’s street was. When Janet heard that neither Ben nor Aaron were going to be home either, she urged Ruth to come to her house for the day. Leah Hayman opposed her granddaughter’s decision, but Ruth stood up to her at last.

  It was a special day in more ways than one, for just a couple of days before, two men had arrived at the door with a large box. Bert was the only one who didn’t seem surprised, and the questions came thick and fast. He refused to answer any of them, ‘Wait and see,’ he advised – but when the men slit the box side to slide the article out, the twins could contain themselves no longer. ‘A television!’ Conner said in awed tones.

  ‘A telly, a telly, we’ve got a telly,’ cried Noel, and began bounding about the room in excitement.

  ‘Less of that,’ Bert had admonished. ‘You’ll have the thing over.’

  Betty stared at Bert, speechless. ‘Well, lass?’

  ‘Oh, Bert, can we afford it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have bought it if we couldn’t afford it,’ Bert had said. ‘I bought it the same way our Duncan bought the bike, so much down and so much a week.’

  ‘But you said that was no way to go on,’ Betty had reminded him.

  ‘Only way for a big, expensive item,’ Bert had said. ‘It’s all right as long as you don’t go mad and just get one thing at a time.’

  Bett
y had still looked doubtful, and Bert had draped his arm around her shoulders reassuringly. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘and after all, another coronation probably won’t happen in our lifetime. Surely you’d like to see it?’

  They did see it, and so did the hordes of friends and neighbours who filled the Travers’ house that day. They saw the milling, cheering crowds of people who lined the route the young Queen would take. ‘History in the making,’ Sean McClusky remarked. ‘Fancy having it brought to your own living room like this.’

  The people in the small room cheered with the crowds when the first coaches and cavalry came into view on the flickering black and white screen. They saw the titled in their coronets and ermine trimmed robes, who Bert disparagingly called ‘the toffs’. ‘Ringside seats they have,’ he commented, ‘while some of the poor ordinary buggers have been camping out for days.’

  ‘Unseasonably cold as well,’ Peter said. ‘Damned uncomfortable to sleep out in this.’

  A silence fell as the ceremony in the Abbey began, and every eye was on the Queen. She was so small and slight, she was like a young girl. Behind her, eight maids of honour held her train.

  ‘She’s a bleeding beauty,’ Bert said. But it wasn’t beauty, though Elizabeth was pretty enough; it was her regalness, her dignity in the simple white linen gown that looked so right on her. She walked slowly down the long aisle and was anointed with the holy oils. They saw the heavy crown placed on the young Queen’s head, and the cry rang out: ‘Vivat, vivat Regina!’ Bert produced a bottle of ten year old malt whisky which he’d been saving for the toast and the glasses were filled, though many of the women chose sherry as their tipple.

  ‘Long live the Queen,’ Bert said, and his words were echoed in the house and by the crowds waiting outside the Abbey.

  Many of the women began crying when they saw the Queen’s handsome young husband kneel before her to swear ‘Life and Earthly Loyalty’.

  The light, drizzling rain could not dampen the ardour of the crowds as the Queen and her husband began the return journey to Buckingham Palace. As the state coach appeared, so the roars of the crowds increased. ‘Damned if it doesn’t make you proud,’ Bert said. ‘We can put on a bloody good show when we have to.’

  No one disagreed with him, for national pride was high at that time. It had begun with the newspaper headlines just days before, reporting that Edmund Hillary had conquered Everest, a fitting and apt present to bestow on the young Queen on her coronation.

  The street outside the house was cordoned off and festooned with streamers and flags of red, white and blue. Most of the children had little Union Jack flags. It was a shame the day was so miserable and cold for the party fare had to be carried to the school hall. However the children did justice to the party tea the women in the street had been preparing for days, and a puppet show followed, giving the adults the chance to tidy up.

  Then there were hilarious and very noisy party games before a conjuror came to do a few tricks and calm the children down before going home. Everyone stood to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ before they received a present to commemorate the occasion.

  None of the children wanted to sleep afterwards, and anyway it would have been too noisy for them, with the adults still carousing, so eventually they were allowed to run about wild in the street. Most of the younger people, Janet and Ruth included, went back to the school hall to a party and dance organised for them there.

  Tables were arranged round the edges of the hall with table lamps, the only lights used, hiding the shabbiness of the place, as the red, white and blue tablecloths hid the scuffed and scratched school tables. Trestle tables covered in white with red and blue napkins stood at one end, filled with party fare. A bar was opened on the other side, and on the stage a band was playing ‘Three Coins in a Fountain’.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ Ruth said.

  Janet was pretty proud of the coronation committee. They had done well, she had to admit. Streamers decorated the walls and ceiling, a banner was pinned across the front of the stage with the first line of the national anthem, and clusters of balloons were pinned to the walls.

  ‘Let’s find a table,’ Janet advised, and they were joined a few minutes later by Peter and Breda.

  ‘Mom’s giving an eye to Linda,’ Breda said. ‘She’s fallen asleep on her settee. She told me and Peter to come and check on you two.’

  ‘She did not,’ Peter said with a smile. ‘They’ll think we don’t trust them.’ He put his hands out and drew Janet to her feet. ‘On your legs, young lady,’ he said, ‘and we’ll take a turn around the room.’

  Janet found her uncle a surprisingly good dancer. They’d not been on the floor five minutes when the band struck up a quickstep. ‘Are you game for this?’ she said with a grin. ‘Or do you want to cry off and rest your aching bones?’

  ‘You cheeky young scallion,’ Peter said. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve tripped the light fantastic many times and I could give you a run for your money.’

  ‘You’re on,’ Janet said and then gave a small squeal as Peter caught her round her trim waist and whirled her away. This is dancing, thought Janet, not that flat footed plodding of the Academy boys.

  Later as she stood over by the doorway to cool off a bit, she was startled by a voice saying in her ear, ‘Hello there.’

  It was so unexpected she jumped and swung round in surprise. ‘Ben!’ she cried. She’d hardly seen Ruth’s brother in the two years he’d been away in London at medical school. The fairly rare times he was home had never coincided with the times she was visiting the family, but she’d have known him anywhere. His black hair was still worn long and the curly locks still fell over his forehead. His brown eyes were as bright and full of fun as ever, his mouth as wide and his teeth even whiter than she remembered. But Ben Hayman had gone away a boy, and yet it was a man standing before her and, she realised with a jolt, a very handsome one at that. Her heart was thudding and she was finding it hard to breathe, and she wondered if this was what people meant by love at first sight.

  The room, the music, the dancing couples on the floor, even Ruth, had ceased to exist for her as she and Ben stared at one another, as if they were the only two people in the world. Ben recovered himself first. He gave a sudden start as if he’d just recollected what he was there for, and said, ‘I … I’ve come to pick Ruth up. I’ve brought Father’s car.’

  ‘Oh … oh, yes,’ Janet said. She indicated the dance floor. ‘She’s dancing with my uncle somewhere in there. My aunt has just popped across to see that their little girl is all right and I … I came for some air. I was hot.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ben. He seemed strangely nervous, Janet thought. He stood beside her by the open door, watching the dancing. Janet assumed he was looking for Ruth. She was somewhat taken aback when he suddenly turned towards her and said nervously, ‘I … I, um, was wondering, are you still hot or would you, um … would you like to dance?’

  ‘Yes, no. I mean, I’m fine,’ Janet said in confusion, ‘but haven’t you got to go?’

  ‘There’s no rush.’

  She fitted into his arms as if they’d been dancing together all their lives, just as she’d known she would. Many times, Janet had imagined falling in love with someone. She still wasn’t sure about marriage, but most people fell in love, everyone knew that. Her mother said her Auntie Breda had been in love more times than she’d had hot dinners. She’d discussed it endlessly with Ruth: how they’d feel, what they’d say. They’d gone over and over the boys of their acquaintance (mainly those from the Academy) and decided that none of them were the type to fall head over heels for. ‘I wonder which of us will be first?’ Ruth had mused.

  ‘You,’ Janet had said. ‘I haven’t met one member of the opposite sex yet that I’d be vaguely interested in.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Ruth said, ‘but doesn’t it fill you with excitement to think of a world out there full of men?’

  ‘Not really,’ commented Janet dryly. ‘I mean they’re hardly a
ll holding their breath to fall at our feet, now are they?’

  ‘We must promise to tell each other everything when it happens,’ Ruth said.

  ‘We tell each other everything anyway,’ Janet had reminded her friend, but as she waltzed, almost cheek to cheek, with Ben Hayman that coronation night, she wondered how much she would tell Ruth about it later.

  ‘Could I see you again soon?’ Ben said, almost casually, to hide his real feelings.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Janet said stupidly. She knew quite well what he meant.

  ‘I mean, could we go out on a date?’ Ben said with a smile. ‘Or if you’d prefer, would you, Miss Travers, do me the honour of meeting me one evening?’

  Matching his mood and correct tone with an impish grin, Janet replied in like manner, ‘Oh, Mr Hayman, thank you very much for asking me.’

  They got no further, for at that moment Ruth swept past them, caught sight of her brother and descended on them both.

  ‘Ben, when did you get here?’

  ‘Not long ago,’ Ben said, and added good naturedly, ‘and I wish you’d push off for a bit, I’m trying to convince your friend Janet to go out with me.’

  ‘You and Janet!’ Ruth exclaimed. ‘I don’t believe it!’ But the telltale blush on Janet’s face convinced her that her brother was telling the truth.

  ‘Stop it, Ben,’ Janet said sharply, annoyed at what he’d said in front of her friend.

  Janet watched Ruth being ushered towards the bar by her uncle, then turned to Ben and said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t go out with you. I’m too busy.’

  ‘Look, I’m not here for long,’ Ben said. ‘Surely you can spare me one evening?’

  ‘What do you mean, not here for long?’

  ‘It’s reading week, term hasn’t ended officially yet,’ he said. ‘I go back in a few days and don’t come home again until mid-July.’