by Fiona Kidman
‘Didn’t think I’d seen you around,’ said Chas. ‘Ah well, we’ll make a right old night of it.’
Before they left the car, they performed a strange ritual. Chas went round to the boot of the car while the others stood waiting, then surreptitiously whipped it open and, glancing up and down the street, produced numerous bottles of beer, a bottle of whisky, and a bottle of Pimms.
‘Didn’t forget you girls,’ he said proudly, flashing the label at them for an instant. Then he opened his suit coat and put the whisky and Pimms in the inside pockets. Dick did the same with a couple of bottles of beer.
‘Your turn, girls,’ said Chas.
Harriet and Leonie looked sideways at each other.
‘You’ll have to tell Harriet what to do,’ said Leonie.
‘Well … you, you stick them down round your … the bottles … you know, you put them in your um, girdle round your, mm, well, round your girdle anyway, because they can’t see them under your skirts. It’s all right, we won’t look.’
The boys turned their backs while Leonie and Harriet, dazed, tucked as many bottles as they could between their girdles and panties.
‘Finished?’ asked Chas. ‘Coming, ready or not.’
He inspected them carefully. ‘Mmm, not bad. Remember to keep your hands under them, we don’t want any slipping out, do we?’
‘Why did we have to do that?’ Harriet asked Leonie, as they were stowing away the ubiquitous white cardigans in the cloakroom, and putting on another layer of bright red lipstick. They had taken the bottles out and put them in a corner while they attended to their hair and makeup.
‘I don’t think you’re allowed to take drink into balls,’ said Leonie.
‘You’re cool, aren’t you?’
‘Had to learn.’
Outside, Chas took the beer from them, and said, ‘The only time I ever enjoy warm beer.’ He took a deep sniff at one of the bottles, exhaling with clownish pleasure, to loud cheers from the men around.
For most of the evening Harriet and Dick watched the others and talked. He was no dancer, but when it was absolutely necessary they shuffled around together. A large crowd of footballers from the same team sat round in an alcove that had been created with lumps of timber draped with wilting punga ferns.
‘We went out and collected those this morning,’ Dick said proudly. He opened another bottle of beer, and offered her some. She had already drunk two glasses of it, the Pimms having long gone. Her head was beginning to ache, but she accepted another glass. The noise, the smoke and the whole atmosphere were getting to her. A woman fell drunkenly across her. The band struck up the supper waltz, and she and Dick shuffled off once more.
In the supper room, long trestles were spread with chicken and saveloys, tomato sauce, pavlovas and trifles, interspersed with dishes of savoury eggs and sandwiches.
‘A good spread,’ said Dick, eyeing the tables with approval. ‘Come on, tuck in, old thing.’
Her stomach churned. Since the episode in haberdashery, she was beginning to think that she must have a weak stomach. She and Dick seemed to be at the head of the queue, the result of their inept trot around the dance floor. Dick turned to her. ‘Thanks awfully for coming with me,’ he said. At that instant the doors burst open and hordes of dancers flocked around the tables, engulfing them. Wave after wave pushed forward, there were hundreds of people straining to get at the food. It looked as if it was the end of wartime rationing, although everyone looked exceptionally well-fed.
Dick looked dejected. ‘Come on,’ urged Harriet, ‘I know you want something to eat.’
‘But you don’t, do you?’
‘Not awfully, but why don’t I go and sit out on the dance floor where it’s quiet? When you’ve got some food, you can bring it through. Go on,’ she said encouragingly, as he seemed to hang back. ‘If you get me a piece of chicken, I’ll have some of that.’
His pleasure was evident, and he disappeared into the throng, ploughing his way towards the paper plates. Harriet slipped out on to the dance floor. The room was still thick and heavy, but at least it was quiet. The chairs stood at angles like disjointed limbs, abandoned and neglected, and the pungas had given up any pretence of being decorative. Only one or two people floated past Harriet, and they seemed ambivalent nebulous figures, disconnected, though one man made his presence known rather loudly in a far corner by being sick.
A man sat down beside her but she didn’t turn around.
‘Dick left you on your own?’ he said.
She turned around. The man was sitting close to her, smiling, protective. ‘I’ve been watching you all evening,’ he told her.
‘I asked him to leave me, he’s getting some supper. I guess he’ll be through soon.’
‘He’s a nice guy.’
‘I know, you don’t need to tell me that.’
‘You his girl? I didn’t know old Dick had a girl.’
‘No. Chas jacked it up. You know Chas?’
‘Of course I know Chas. He’s our captain.’
‘So you’re a Rover too?’
‘That’s right. Why did you think I’ve been watching you and Dick?’
‘I thought you might have enjoyed looking at me,’ Harriet said, not at all surprised at herself for saying so. Nothing seemed very surprising any more.
‘Yes … well …’ He looked at his hands. ‘There was that, too.’
Over on the band platform the band was starting to come back in. The leader was picking away at a guitar.
‘Wait here for me … you, what’s your name?’
‘Harriet.’
‘Okay, Harriet. You wait here for me, eh?’
‘What if Dick comes back?’
‘Still wait, he won’t mind.’
‘Who shall I ask for if I have to come looking for you?’
‘Denny Rei.’
Denny went over to the band, and spoke to them briefly. They seemed to laugh at him, or with him, or maybe at her, it was hard to tell, but they all looked over her way. Then they started to play, and he came back to her, asking her to dance.
They danced as if they had always been dancing together, and the band played ‘Twilight Time’. ‘Heavenly shades of night are falling,’ they sang and he hummed in her ear, ‘deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me, its twi … light time.’
Her feet were light, and her head had cleared and there didn’t seem to be anyone else there at all, but when they stopped there was a round of applause and she saw people everywhere. Standing amongst them was Dick, clutching a plate of chicken.
She let go of Denny and hurried over to him.
‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me, it was terribly rude.’
‘I’m glad you had a good partner. You’re really a very good dancer, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve hardly ever danced before, but when I do it’s like I forget myself. It’s beautiful, like flying.’
‘Denny’s a nice bloke. Plays good scrum half too.’
‘Hasn’t he got a partner?’
‘Never know with Denny, he’s the sort that could get away with coming on his own. I couldn’t’ He stared round unhappily. To please him, Harriet took the piece of chicken he’d been clutching.
‘Tell you what,’ said Dick, inspired. ‘Now everyone’s out of the supper room, it’ll be empty. We could go back in there.’
‘All right,’ she agreed, and followed him once more into the other room. It looked as if dreadful carnage had taken place, being littered with chicken bones and squashed oozing pavlova remains. A decorated pig’s head grinned obscenely from the middle of a table and in a corner of the room lay a pile of broken glass.
They sat down. Dick watched her with concern. He really was a very nice boy Harriet decided, not as plain as she had thought at first. His complexion was poor and he had too much Brylcreem in his fair curly hair, but apart from that, he was someone you could really like.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Honestly, Dick, I didn�
��t mean to embarrass you.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Dick. ‘It’s just that Denny’s — Denny.’
‘What about it?’
‘He liked you and you liked him. I could see it.’
‘Well, I’m not going to walk out on you.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But don’t you see, you’re a nice girl and if Denny … oh, I dunno. What’s the use?’
‘You mean because he’s a Maori?’
‘He’s a good joker, I told you. But he goes out after what he wants.’
‘But that’s not what you meant.’
‘Look, Harriet, I don’t care what he is, it’s just that if you got tied up with him, I reckon you could be in a lot of trouble.’
‘That’s stupid,’ cried Harriet. ‘All I did was dance with him. You are jealous, aren’t you? You’re a miserable little sod. You sit around making stupid talk all evening when everyone else is dancing, then you throw a shitty at me when I get the only decent partner I’ve had all night.’
Dick looked as if he could cry. ‘I-I-I think y-you’re a b-bit drunk,’ he said.
Her head was spinning. She kept trying to sit up straight but great black wells kept getting in front of her eyes.
‘Dick, you’re not stupid,’ she mumbled.
She didn’t remember getting into the fresh air, but when her head started to clear she was propped against the Standard Ten while Dick unlocked the door. He shovelled her into it, and they drove off in silence. When he stopped at the lake, she could feel herself coming to life again very quickly.
‘So that’s what happens is it? I know why people come down here. Believe me, I’ve been told about you lot No, thanks.’ She tried to open the door but Dick grabbed her wrist in a tight grip, his hands much stronger than she had expected.
‘Stop it, Harriet. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘I’d rather walk.’
‘I’m not going to touch you. I just want you to sit here with me for a while. Chas lent me the car to take you home, but it’s too early for you to go home to that cousin, or aunt, or whatever she is, of yours, just yet. Especially when you’re not feeling yourself. Come on, let’s just sit here till you’re feeling better. I won’t even talk to you if you’d rather not.’
‘Please, I’d like you to talk to me,’ she said. There didn’t seem to be any point in saying she was sorry any more.
So they sat and he talked about his dreams. He told her what it was like to want to leave Weyville, and how he’d dreamed of becoming an engineer, but it would have meant going away to university and his parents didn’t have the money so he’d taken out a boilermaker’s apprenticeship. Nothing ever seemed to fulfil him. He was twenty-five, he told her. She was shocked because he seemed so young, but he was a man. Playing football with the Rovers was the only thing that had kept him sane. He’d at least liked to have had a car, but he’d just kept on helping out with the family finances year after year; there was a great horde of younger brothers and sisters to look after.
People like Chas helped him out by jacking up dates like this for him. He was from the wrong side of the Weyville tracks, but he was a good footballer and the jokers liked him for that. He didn’t know how many blind dates they’d jacked up for him over the years and always kept hoping that one of them would turn out right for him, someone plain and homely who wouldn’t ask too much. He’d been disappointed when she turned out to be a smasher tonight; he’d known that she wouldn’t like him.
‘But I do like you,’ protested Harriet. It was true too. She felt warm and secure with Dick, not afraid. The possibility that one might actually be friends with a male occurred to her for the first time.
He explained seriously that she had everything going for her — looks, a good job by Weyville standards and she talked ‘nice’. That was why he’d been upset when she saw him looking at Denny like that.
‘I’ll probably never see him again,’ Harriet assured him, but neither of them believed it.
When he dropped her off at home, he said, ‘If you need someone any time, I’ll be around.’
That was when the double life began. Denny waited for her outside work a few days later. He led her to a battered pick-up truck, not expecting her to protest. As they climbed in, there was a feeling of inevitability between them.
Dark fell early in Weyville these deep winter nights. The frost had hardened across the plateau town as the lights flickered on. Lake water slapped with a dead empty sound outside the pick-up as they parked. Dark pressed deeper in.
Dark his face as he kissed her, deep his hand finding her. He lifted her body with its melting cunt across his, her buttocks resting on the seat, her legs tucked up against his shoulders. There was no pain at all this time, as he pulled her onto him. This miracle made her gasp with pleasure, and she felt herself like floating as she moved, pulling herself onto the strong shaft inside her.
Suddenly he was clawing at her thighs, trying to push her away as a great tide engulfed her. Bewildered she lay against his chest, feeling their sobbing breaths.
‘Girlie,’ he whispered, ‘do you always come like that? How can I be careful for you when you keep on coming at me like that?’
She shook her head uncomprehendingly.
‘I shot inside you,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it back no more.’
She understood him now. ‘Please do it again.’
‘But I told you …’
‘There’ll be so much up there now a bit more won’t make much difference, will it?’
So he laid her across the seat, and this time it was slower and more gentle. Still she heard herself calling his name, listening to it as if someone else was crying out in the still cold dark.
When they had finished he said, worried, ‘They say if you have a mimi it’ll wash it out. You know, pee.’
She hesitated, and he said, ‘It’s all right, you can do it on the ground here by the cab door. I’ll hold it open so no one can see if they come.’
Harriet squatted on the ground beside the truck. They could dimly see each other as she streamed, hot and pungent, making the crisp grass crackle as her water hit.
‘We’ll have to get some Frenchies, eh?’ he said when she was back in the truck.
She nodded.
‘That’s if you’re going to keep on with me.’ He laughed, knowing that he didn’t need an answer.
Leonie and Harriet met for lunch as usual the following day at the tearooms. There was quiet between them. Since the night of the ball and Harriet’s sudden departure, they seemed to have been living in two private little worlds. Harriet had gathered that Chas, although an attractive-looking catch and one of the most popular young men in Weyville, was domineering and expected his own way. Leonie liked him well enough to want to go out with him again, but the evening had ended with a tussle and a fit of sulks on Chas’s part. A lot of it wouldn’t have happened, Leonie seemed to imply, if Harriet and Dick hadn’t been away so long with the car and they could have gone home before Chas became unmanageably drunk. Harriet’s version of what Dick had done for her and why seemed to satisfy her, however. Denny’s name was not mentioned.
Now Leonie looked at Harriet shrewdly across the gingham tablecloth. Harriet was fiddling with an egg sandwich.
‘Your eyes look a bit heavy, kid,’ she said.
‘I didn’t sleep very well last night.’
‘Something on your mind?’
‘I — went out with Denny Rei last night.’
‘Ah,’ said Leonie softly. ‘And he fucked you.’
Harriet nodded.
‘God, why did you let him? If anyone found out — are you okay?’
‘Of course I’m okay,’ said Harriet sharply. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘Well,’ said Leonie. ‘Okay, then. It’s a bit different from the first time, is it?’
‘It was beautiful,’ said Harriet. ‘It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done. Nobody ever told me it was love
ly.’
Leonie closed her eyes. ‘Oh Christ, Harriet, what are you doing?’
‘I love him. Don’t you see? I want him inside me, right now. This minute. I’m seeing him tonight. Anything as nice as that can’t be wrong, Leonie.’
‘Black babies,’ spat Leonie at her across the table, like an obscenity.
‘That’s prejudiced.’
‘Sure, it’s prejudiced. You’ll have to learn to live with it if you keep on like that.’
Leonie got up and walked out of the tearoom. After a moment Harriet, filled with weeping, followed her out into the street. Already Leonie was striding away, rounding into the next block. Harriet started to run, calling her. Leonie slowed down only imperceptibly as she caught her up, her face stone.
‘Why? Why, Leonie?’ said Harriet, pulling at her elbow.
Leonie stopped in the middle of the street. ‘How could you? Don’t you know what you’re doing to yourself?’
‘Do you feel that strongly against him?’
Leonie shook her head in wonder. ‘I don’t have anything against him, you silly bitch. I’ve got something for you. You’re the first real friend I’ve ever had in my life, don’t you understand that?’
‘It’s the same for me,’ said Harriet.
‘Then don’t you care that I’m scared silly for you? You go with him, you get pregnant, you’ve had it, you give away everything. Weyville won’t wear it, and you’ve got a future in Weyville. God knows, it’s a hard place to have a future in, but you’re making it. Oh yes, I know, you think I’m up myself because I got you that job, well sure I’m proud I did, but I haven’t done any of the work that you’re putting into it. Don’t worry, I hear plenty about you in the bookshop. People like you — that new girl at the library, they say, she’s great. I talk to Mr Whitwell, he hasn’t forgotten me, but you’re the one that’s tops. She’ll make it, that one, that’s what he says, you put me onto something first class there. She’s got a good mind, can sense books, I’ll put her on buying soon; that’s what Mr Whitwell says. God, we know at the shop, no assistant at the library’s ever been allowed to buy a book. He does all the buying, always has. But you … you’ve been there six months and you’re whizzing to the top. Where do you think you’d stand in Weyville if you dropped that lot on yourself?’