The Art School Dance

by Maria Blanca Alonso

  Coral agreed, left Josh to mind the bar and pointed the group to a vacant corner. As Tone was about to sit beside Trev she managed to insinuate her bulk between them, shuffling them apart. Alternating male and female around the table was always the best way.

  'Well,' she said, then left the single word hanging in the smoky air, as expressive as any of her miscellaneous murmurs.

  'Well,' Virginia echoed.

  'Two wells make a river and your big head makes it bigger and your big toe makes four more,' sang Trev with a drunken laugh.

  The company looked at him, Coral and Virginia open-mouthed, Tone frowning.

  'I think we’d better go,' said Tone. 'You’ve had enough, you’re pissed already.'

  'It’s a poem, a rhyme we used to say at school.'

  Tone was bundling cigarettes and matches into his pockets. 'Come on, Trev, let’s get off.'

  'Aw!'

  'Don’t be silly, the night hasn’t started yet,' said Coral. 'I’ll tell you what, we’ll take a walk around the corner to a place I know. The fresh air will do us all good.'

  'Bed would be better for him, the piss-pot,' said Tone, glaring at his mate.

  Yes indeed, but perhaps later. For the time being another drink or two was what was needed, and Coral urged them to their feet, up the stairs and outdoors.

  'We’ll go to the ‘Metro’,' she said, leading them around one corner, then another, into darker narrower streets. 'The boss is a friend of mine.'

  They were welcomed and admitted free of charge into the basement club which was decorated with posters for Ricard and Gauloise and Parisian attractions.

  'A nice place, eh?' said Coral, her buxom chest swelling with pride at the celebrity reception her group had been afforded.

  'I don’t think much of the music,' Tone replied, his frown now directed at the group who hunched beneath the low ceiling of the stage, unable to do much other than nod their heads and make ham-fisted gestures against the strings of their guitars.

  Coral tried to tell him what the music was but her words were lost as a deafening crescendo brought the tune without a tune to an end.

  'What did she say the song was?' Trev asked, and Virginia bent her head close to his to tell him. With her eyes closed and a not unsophisticated aftershave wafting over her she could almost imagine that she was with someone else. She stayed in this position, head on his shoulder, nearly slumbering.

  'I’m going to the bog!' Tone announced, as the band struck up again.

  Trev nodded, but the movement did not disturb Virginia; her head remained in place on his shoulder.

  Fifteen minutes later Coral remarked that Trev was taking rather a long time.

  'He’s had a fair bit to drink, you know what it’s like,' Virginia murmured, her lips licking against Trev’s neck.

  'Why did he take his coat with him?'

  Another fifteen minutes passed.

  'Go and see what’s keeping him,' Coral said to Trev.

  'Yes, I suppose I’d better.' His lips kissed Virginia’s cheek as he lifted her head from his shoulder. 'Back in a jiffy, Ginny.'

  Virginia kept her eyes shut, still pretending that he was someone else.

  'He’s gone,' said Trev, when he returned.

  'Gone?'

  'The bloke on the door says he left twenty minutes ago.'

  Coral thumped the table, spilling their drinks. 'The bastard!'

  The jolt snapped Virginia’s eyes open. 'What’s wrong?'

  'The bloody bastard has gone!'

  'And so has my drink,' observed Virginia, seeing her wine swilling over the table. 'We may as well follow,' she decided, persuading herself that Trev was as he had seemed in her dreams, worth taking home.

  'What? And let that shithouse ruin our evening? No way!' said Coral, opening her purse. 'Come on, Virginia, help me get the drinks.'

  With the promise of another glass Virginia closed her eyes and shifted her head back into place on Trev’s shoulder. 'You can manage on your own,' she yawned.

  Coral punched her hard on the shoulder. 'No I can’t. Come on.'

  Virginia went, stumbled across the floor and leant against the bar while Coral ordered drinks. A half pint glass of beer was thrust into her hand.

  'What’s this? A half of bitter?'

  'That’s right. Drink it up quick, then you can be off.'

  'But what about Trev?'

  'He’ll be okay. I’ll see he gets home safely.'

  The dawning came quickly, hours earlier than usual. 'Meaning that half a man is better than none? I get it. Tone has pissed off so you think you’ll settle for Trev?'

  'Just go,' said Coral.

  'Oh no. You conned me into doing this favour for you and I’m going to see it through.'

  She hurried back to Trev’s side, where she felt she would be safe. Coral followed, none too happy, placed drinks on the table and said that she was going.

  'So soon?' grinned Virginia.

  There was no comment; Coral turned her back on them and left.

  'Poor Coral,' said Trev, and this time he rested his head on Virginia’s shoulder.

  'Poor you,' said Virginia. 'You look tired. Come on, let’s go.'

  Slowly Trev got to his feet, slowly enough to give Coral a comfortable start over them. Virginia led the way from the club and towards the nearest taxi rank, clinging to Trev in the belief that she would thus be safe from assault, from Coral or from any other aggravated drunkard.

  'Where do you live?' she asked, seeing a row of taxis ahead.

  'Kirkby.'

  That was quite a trek. Still, Trev was weakening, resting his tiny body as heavily as he could against her, so she helped him into the first taxi in the line, gave the driver his instructions, then settled herself next to her prize. The city blurred past, then terraced houses, then dark empty spaces broken only by scattered clusters of lights. She roused Trev and he gave the driver more exact instructions, left, right, third left and stop outside the next high-rise block. It was only then that he admitted that he had no taxi fare.

  'You what?'

  Trev shrugged meekly. 'Tone was the one with all the money.'

  Cursing, Virginia paid the driver, counting the cost and hoping it was going to be worth it, followed Trev up eight flights of concrete staircase, her eyes too tired to read the graffiti on the walls.

  'This is the one,' said Trev, just as she was starting to pant for breath, opening a door and leading her into a thickly carpetted flat.

  Though the velour cushions and anaglypta walls were not to her taste, Virginia had to admit that the room was more comfortable than her own. And in addition to the living room there would be a bathroom, a kitchen, bedrooms. She settled herself on the settee and smiled.

  'Coffee?' Trev asked, less sleepy and more sober than he had been all night.

  'Lovely.'

  He went through a door, presumably to the kitchen, and Virginia unbuckled her belt, dropping her trousers to her ankles. Trev could remove them for her when he came back.

  'Pull those back up!' he cried, entering the room with two silver jubilee mugs of Maxwell House.

  Virginia made no move to do so, so he did it for her, putting the mugs on a glass-topped coffee table and yanking her jeans back up around her waist.

  'That’s better,' he said, and sat beside her.

  'Much better,' she sighed, her head against his shoulder once more, thinking that no doubt he expected a little more foreplay.

  She caressed his hands, stroked his neck and the numbers on the digital clock above the fire clicked remorselessly on. She nibbled at his ears and it all became too much for her.

  'I want to go to bed!' she cried, flinging her arms around him.

  'Hush,' he said, twisting out of her embrace. 'You’ll wake Mum.'

  'Mum? You still live with your Mum?'

  'Yes. Just until my wife comes out.'

  'Comes out? Of where?'

  'Nick. She’s doing six months, so I had to move back home so Mum can lo
ok after the baby.'

  'A baby, too?'

  Mother, wife, baby. And two younger brothers who would be home at any time, Trev added. There was obviously no room for Virginia, not even on the settee where she might be caught copulating with any one of three brothers, much to the chagrin of a doting Mum. She fixed her jeans, stood and walked to the door.

  'Yes, it is late,' said Trev. 'You’ve probably got quite a way to go.'

  Late had become early, there was a suggestion of sunrise behind the thin curtains and a weak light shone through the frosted glass of the front door. Trev asked if he would see her again, as he let her out of the flat, but the smile on his lisping lips said that he did not expect to.

  'No,' he said, 'it’s difficult when you’ve got a wife in nick.'

  'Bastard!'

  *

  ‘Bastard’ was what each called the other, Coral and Virginia, when they met again the following day.

  'You call me a bastard? Do you realise that favour I did for you cost me a fortune and a three hour walk home?'

  Coral stabbed a finger towards the till. 'How much money do you think it cost me last night? And I was still frustrated at the end of it! I didn’t even get off with the bloody midget!'

  'Neither did I!'

  'You didn’t?'

  Virginia was embarrassed to admit it, but no, she didn’t, not even a nibble. This made Coral’s anguish a little easier to bear; her fat cheeks puffed into a smile and for the first time that morning the teeth shone through.

  'There’s a lesson to be learned here, Virginia,' she said philosophically. 'Don’t blow your money on men because they don’t appreciate it and it won’t buy you any special favours.'

  'That’s easy for you to say,' said Virginia. 'My money’s already blown. I’m skint. How about cashing me another cheque?'

  'Skint? You had thirty quid off me yesterday.'

  But the majority of that had already been committed to other expenses, Virginia explained; rent, rates, child maintenance, monthly subscription to the Legion of Mary.

  'I only had a fiver of that to spend on myself,' she said. 'That went on a taxi for Trev. Come on. I can’t go to the bank until there’s money paid in next week.'

  With favour fighting favour, each one leading to further troubles, Virginia wrote out a cheque and received twenty pounds from the till, just one day older but even deeper in debt.

  Chapter Seven

  Twenty pounds is nothing, it does not go far, especially not when a person earns a reputation, deserved or otherwise, and finds credit hard to come by. The twenty pounds Virginia received from Coral soon ran out.

  It was no use, she decided, after a week in the flat with nothing to do but stare at the hole in the wall; she had to get more cash.

  Groggy with her first taste of fresh air for so many days, she ventured outdoors. It was evening. The streets were dark, traffic crawling along and clouds hissing above, chasing the retreating sun into a vivid neon strip of sky and taking with them the rain. The night was chilly and it would be no friend to Virginia.

  She went into a public house, to rest a while or maybe longer depending upon the clientele and the affability of the management. She stood on the threshold to appraise her surroundings and savour the warmth, took particular note of the landlord; stately and barrel chested, with a splendid moustache, there was a military bearing about him which Virginia found herself echoing in her stride as she walked across the room.

  'Good evening to you.'

  'Evening,' said the landlord gruffly.

  'I’ll have a half a pint of mild, please,' said Virginia, asking for the cheapest drink available.

  Her needs were attended to with a pronounced lack of enthusiasm. No doubt the chap had had a hard day, with its unfair quota of bitter moments.

  Virginia paid for the drink with a smile and her last few coins, suggesting that the beverage was worth every hard-earned button. She tasted her drink, then remarked on the landlord’s bearing, asked if he had been in the army perhaps.

  The landlord shook his head.

  'No? You weren’t in the guards or the marines?'

  'No.'

  'So it must have been the air force.'

  'Wrong again.'

  'Strange,' said Virginia, her eyebrows cocked. 'I somehow picture you in uniform.'

  'That’s right. The police. I retired six months ago.'

  Pardon me, thought Virginia, and went to sit down before her legs gave way. That bloody Tormentor on high was back again, playing tricks like the savage God that He was.

  So what to do with the hairdryer which she had brought along in the carrier bag, hoping to palm it off on a landlord in return for the price of a drink or two? Virginia approached a solitary drinker in a quiet corner of the room and struck up a conversation, ascertained that the man was married and congratulated him on his good fortune.

  'For myself,' she sighed, with eyes downcast, 'I had hoped to tread that happy bridal path, our romance was blossoming, and my fiancé offered a gift as a token of his affection.' She took the hairdryer from the carrier bag. 'This very hairdryer, it was, and what did he do the week after he gave it me but run off with the very sales assistant he had bought it from.'

  'How sad,' the man commiserated.

  'And now the hairdryer, marvellous machine that it is, I can’t bear to use it. It can only serve as a means of regurgitating his memory.'

  'Yes. Tragic.'

  Virginia held the hairdryer out so that the man could see it more closely. 'You wouldn’t be interested, perhaps?' she asked. 'A surprise for the good lady?'

  He smiled sheepishly, as surprised by the offer as his wife would be by the gift. 'No, I don’t think so.'

  'One crisp tenner. That’s all.'

  The man shook his head, but slowly and without conviction, and Virginia guessed that she might have him with a few more carefully chosen words. She spoke of the merits of the device, the saving for the man and the delight of his wife, who would thank him and want to repay him, who would wrap her arms around him with a kiss-kiss, bang-bang, and off they would go to bed to enjoy the conjugals for the first time since Christmas.

  'Excuse me for a moment,' the man said, getting to his feet.

  Virginia understood and nodded, thinking that he probably wanted to go to the gents to check his funds in privacy, but the man strode briskly to the exits rather than to the toilets, was gone from the bar before he could even be cursed or tripped.

  Ah well, at least in his haste he had left a half full glass of beer. Virginia commandeered this before the landlord had a chance to notice.

  She was lamenting her luck and consoling herself with the beer when -’brrr!’- a cold draught came from the door as it was opened and closed. But what a heart-warming sight she saw! The girl who entered was not especially attractive, but she was alone, her lack of company was her greatest recommendation, and Virginia sniffed the air as she passed, recognising the sweet essence of salvation.

  Carefully her gaze stalked the girl to the bar and back, as one would with any timid creature. She was a typist, perhaps, a secretary bird of that species which Virginia so often despised; this seemed highly probable when she saw the way the girl’s nylon legs crossed as she sat facing her. The eyes spoke of sadness and of empty nights and she approached her slowly, anxious not to startle.

  She excused herself, begged her pardon for speaking without invitation, and commented on her hair which she said had a sheen like sunshine. She was a great one, Virginia, for the flattering phrase and the so-sincere suck, and the secretary bird was caught unawares.

  'What do you mean?' she asked warily.

  'Your hair, when you move your head, it’s like a television commercial. It could be used to sell holidays in the sun.'

  'Well, er, that’s very nice of you, but really quite unexpected.'

  'Of course, you must forgive me, it was terribly rude of me.' She smiled a sane and friendly smile. 'You must think I’m crazy.'

  'No. Just
... unexpected, like I say.'

  Again Virginia apologised for likening the girl’s hair to happiness folded softly against her neck, as comforting as a child’s blanket.

  The girl was confused, people had never spoken to her in such a way before, and she was a little worried, too, as Virginia’s fingers reached out to touch, trembling slightly to prove how hesitant and shy she herself was.

  Her hair was soft, it was warm and silky, and Virginia said that she could see by the smile that she had her secrets.

  'Secrets?'

  'With your hair.'

  'Oh no, just shampoo and conditioner,' the girl blushed.

  'Ah, the conditioner is the thing. But now I’d better leave you alone. Once again, please forgive me for bothering you.'

  'But-'

  'Yes?'

  The girl laughed and shamefully confessed, she thought Virginia had been trying to pick her up; there were women like that, she knew.

  Virginia put one hand over her heart, cupped her other over the girl’s hand and told her with sincerity that this had not been so.

  'Oh.'

  Disappointment?

  'Not that you aren’t attractive,' Virginia added hastily, and the girl lowered her eyes in modest agreement. 'Of course you’re attractive, but I approached in admiration, nothing more. No, picking up anyone, male or female, is far from my mind at the moment.'

  'It is?'

  'Yes. My spirits are far from soaring, you see, my soul is not exactly rapturous.'

  'You’re unhappy?' the girl intuited.

  'Desolate.'

  'Can I help?'

  Virginia smiled, sadly, and shook her head. 'It was the most darling man who reduced me to this pitiful state, you see. He was beautiful, he was handsome, and he was taken away from me this very week.'

  'Taken?'

  'By a wicked trick of fate, by some malevolent deity. He was driving too fast as he came to meet me.'

  The horrible truth dawned on the girl. 'You mean he’s dead?'

  'And his parents blame me, of course. I lived with him and his parents, you see, and now they want me gone.'

  'You lived with them and they’ve thrown you out?'

  'It’s understandable. My presence can only serve as a painful reminder of their dead son.'