Cast the First Stone

by Margaret Thornton

  Their way back led along Fleet Street, home of the newspaper giants; the Strand, Trafalgar Square, then back along the Embankment and across Westminster Bridge. Then there was time for a wash and brush-up before the evening meal.

  That evening would be their first visit to the Battersea Pleasure Gardens. Sightseeing was enjoyable and informative, but tonight, they hoped, there would be a chance to let their hair down.

  Eight

  Battersea Park had originally been opened in 1858 on the site known as Battersea Fields, a swampy area notorious for every kind of vice, centred around a disreputable public house called the Old Red House.

  It was soon considered necessary for Victorian Londoners to have somewhere to relax and enjoy themselves in a respectable setting; and, indeed, the new park soon became very popular. It boasted a man-made boating lake, rocks, waterfalls and laid-out gardens, and it became a very popular venue for the new craze of cycling, enjoyed by many Victorians, both young and older.

  And in the summer of 1951 the park became the site for the Festival Funfair in what became known as the Battersea Pleasure Gardens. It afforded a spot of light relief from the more cultural and educational aspects of the Festival itself on its site further down the river.

  To Fiona and her friends their visit to the Pleasure Gardens promised to be one of the highlights of their visit to London, if not the best of all. After another satisfying evening meal of steak pie and chips followed by syrup sponge pudding, they all piled on to the coach again, ready for Mike to drive them to the park. After he had stopped the coach at the entrance he told them they must be back in the same spot by half past ten and no later. This was the directive given by Colin and Sheila, who considered they were being quite lenient. None of the young people disagreed. They all thought that their leaders were granting them far more freedom than they had been led to expect. They had, of course, been given a little pep talk about behaving themselves and acting in a responsible manner, ‘. . . because we trust you,’ Colin had said, ‘and we know that none of you will let us down.’

  The Funfair was all that they had expected, and more, no doubt because they were all in a happy and receptive frame of mind, determined to enjoy themselves to the full. It was all there; dodgem cars; roundabouts; coconut shies and sideshows; ice-cream and candyfloss; hot dogs and lemonade; and a switchback ride.

  ‘Not as big as the Big Dipper at Blackpool Pleasure Beach,’ Dave remarked, ‘but it should be good fun all the same. Shall we go on it, Fiona?’

  ‘Er . . . yes; perhaps in a little while,’ she replied. She was feeling mesmerized, but very happy amidst all the dazzling sights and the mixed aromas of frying sausages, sweet candyfloss and pungent diesel oil, and all around the blaring sound of the mechanical music. She had never been on Blackpool’s Big Dipper, and the truth was that she felt a little nervous. She was determined, though, not to let her fear be obvious. ‘We’ve only just had our meal,’ she said. ‘Let’s wait till it’s settled; we don’t want to be sick.’

  ‘OK,’ said Dave. He put an arm around her as they wandered around the fairground. He proved his prowess at the hoopla stall and won a tiny pink teddy bear which he presented to Fiona. Diane and Andy were not close behind, and the four of them had a turn on the dodgem cars, the two lads taking delight in racing around the rink and bumping one another’s cars as hard as they could, to the excited squeals of the girls.

  They wandered towards the lake where rowing boats could be hired, but decided they would leave that experience until the next night. They had been told that those who wished could make a second visit to the Pleasure Gardens, depending, of course, on whether their funds would allow it.

  ‘No, we’ll go on the Big Dipper instead,’ said Dave. ‘Come on, Fee; you said that you would.’

  ‘I’m game if you are,’ Diane said to her friend. ‘It’ll be fun. Anyway, you’ve got Dave to take care of you.’

  Still feeling somewhat apprehensive, Fiona sat next to Dave, securely fastened into the little car and holding on to the rail in front of her like grim death. Then they were off . . . and it turned out to be not nearly as frightening as she had expected. Her heart was in her mouth as they slowly ascended towards the top of the first incline, then started on the rapid descent. There were screams from all the girls and whoops of delight from the boys. Fiona’s stomach turned somersaults as she felt the wind rushing past, blowing her hair all over the place.

  ‘Great, isn’t it?’ shouted Dave, pulling her closer to him and kissing her cheek. Then they were going up the next slope, and she was anticipating the scary delight of the whooshing of the wind in her ears and the crazy feeling of exhilaration. She felt her legs turn to jelly as she stood once more on terra firma, and her head was spinning round and round. But she agreed with the others that she wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

  ‘It’s still only quarter past nine,’ said Dave. ‘We’ve got over an hour left. Shall we walk across to the other side of the river? We’ve plenty of time and we can do the rest of the funfair tomorrow. What do you think?’

  They all agreed that they would do a little exploring. ‘But we must keep an eye on the time,’ said Fiona. ‘We daren’t be late back.’

  ‘Stop worrying! We won’t be,’ said Diane. ‘I say, aren’t we having a good time?’ she whispered to her friend as they loitered behind for a moment, letting the lads lead the way.

  ‘Wonderful!’ agreed Fiona. ‘And you’re getting on famously with Andy, aren’t you?’

  ‘So far, so good,’ replied Diane. ‘And so are you and Dave, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes; he’s asked me to go out with him; properly, I mean, as his girlfriend, when we get back home,’ Fiona told her. ‘I really like him ever so much, Diane. I don’t want anything to spoil it.’

  ‘Why should it?’ said Diane. ‘You’re thinking about your parents, aren’t you?’ Fiona nodded. ‘Well, don’t! Just enjoy yourself while you can. Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be alright. Come on, let’s catch up with them . . .’

  They crossed the river by the Albert Suspension Bridge which led to the part of the Embankment known as Cheyne Walk; an elegant road with medieval and eighteenth-century dwellings, as well as a few public houses. Dusk was falling and the view back across the river was an enchanting one. The delicate lines of the suspension bridge formed a filigree pattern against the darkening blue of the sky, and the lights strung amongst the trees in the park glimmered like jewels in the darkness. The only incongruous sight was that of the Battersea Power Station a little further upriver, looking like an upturned billiard table, the four chimneys, one at each corner, resembling the legs, black against the night sky.

  As they passed one of the pubs on the waterfront they heard a shout. ‘Hi there! Do you want to come and join us?’

  Seated round one of the wooden tables at the outside drinking area were three of their fellow Youth Club members; Alison and Jean who were in the Upper Sixth Form at the school that Fiona and Diane attended, and Paul, who was the same age as his two companions but who had left school at sixteen and was now working in his father’s garage.

  They all stopped and returned the greeting.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ said Alison. ‘There’s plenty of room. Paul, could you grab that stool from the next table, then we’ll have enough seats.’

  ‘Er . . . I don’t think we should, really,’ said Fiona. ‘We’re not old enough, are we? You lot are all eighteen, aren’t you? But we’re not . . .’

  ‘You must be nearly eighteen though,’ said Jean. ‘You’re only a year below us at school.’

  ‘Next year actually,’ replied Diane. ‘My birthday’s in April, and Fiona’s is in May. I don’t know about you two,’ she said to the lads.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ said Dave. ‘I’ll be eighteen next month, and Andy the month after.’ He sat down on the bench. ‘Come on, you lot. Don’t be daft! Nobody’ll know if we don’t say anything. It’s impossible to tell how old we are. And they’re not goin
g to ask for our birth certificates.’

  ‘They might,’ countered Fiona. ‘And supposing Colin and Sheila walk past? They’d be really annoyed with us.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ replied Diane, sitting down on the stool at the end of the table. ‘Stop worrying, Fee, it’ll be alright. Anyway, we look eighteen, if not more, when we’re not in our school uniform. Come on now; sit down and shut up!’

  ‘Oh, alright then,’ said Fiona. But she was still feeling apprehensive. It was the first time she had ever been in a public house. Well, she wasn’t really in one now, she told herself, just sitting outside, but it still amounted to the same thing. And she had scarcely ever drunk anything alcoholic. At one time her parents had used to buy a bottle of port or sherry at Christmas time and she had been allowed a little sip. But they no longer did so. It seemed that alcohol was one more thing that was taboo, like dancing or going to the cinema or wearing make-up.

  ‘What are you having then?’ asked Paul. ‘It’s my round.’ As the only one of the group who was working he had a little more money than the rest of them to splash around. And they all knew that Whiteside’s garage on the main road leading to Leeds was quite a prosperous one. ‘Dave and Andy, what about you? A pint of Tetley’s, eh?’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ replied Dave. ‘That is if they sell our famous Yorkshire brew here?’

  ‘Yes, of course they do,’ said Paul. ‘That’s what I’m drinking. What about you girls?’

  ‘Oh, an orange juice for me,’ replied Fiona. ‘Thank you very much, Paul.’

  ‘Now come on,’ said Paul. ‘You want something a bit more exciting than that!’

  ‘What are you drinking?’ Fiona asked Alison and Jean.

  ‘Lemonade shandies,’ replied Jean. ‘You should try one.’ But Fiona was not too sure about that. She didn’t think she would like the taste of beer, even if it was diluted with lemonade.

  ‘Er, I don’t think so,’ she said. She was starting to feel a bit silly and immature next to these more sophisticated girls; they seemed to know so much more about what was considered ‘cool’ to drink.

  ‘I know, I’ll have a gin and lime,’ announced Diane. ‘Go on, Fee; you have the same. My mum drinks that and I’ve had a taste of it. It’s nice; you’ll like it.’

  ‘Oh, alright then,’ agreed Fiona, knowing she would look a fool if she hesitated much longer.

  Paul, the man with the money, ordered their drinks from the barmaid who was hovering near. They arrived in a few moments; two pint glasses of frothy amber coloured beer, and two smaller glasses holding liquid of a most appealing shade of lime green.

  Fiona tasted it warily, then decided it was not bad at all, in fact she liked it more than she had expected to. She drank it rather more quickly than she should have done. Diane, she noticed, was sipping hers more slowly. All around her there was chatter about what a good time they were having in London and what they had enjoyed the most.

  ‘It’s supposed to be the highlight of our visit tomorrow, when we go to the exhibition,’ said Alison, ‘but what’s the betting we’ll all be looking forward to another visit to the funfair tomorrow night?’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ agreed Dave, putting his arm around Fiona. ‘We’ve had a great time, haven’t we, Fee? Especially on the Big Dipper.’

  ‘Yes, it was amazing,’ said Fiona. ‘I was a bit scared at first, but I don’t know why, ’cause I really enjoyed it. I can’t wait to have another ride.’ She laughed out loud, and her voice, to her own ears, sounded louder and more shrill than usual. She was already halfway through her second gin and lime, which Dave had bought this time. She no longer felt worried about the fact that she was not eighteen, or about what Colin and Sheila might say if they walked past. In fact she felt very light-hearted, and light-headed as well.

  Jean looked at her watch. ‘Come on, you lot,’ she said. ‘We’d better be heading back. It’s only ten o’clock but we’d better not risk being late.’

  When they stood up Fiona felt rather unsteady on her feet, but everyone else appeared to be alright. The three older ones led the way as they went back over the Albert Bridge. Alison and Jean were both linking arms with Paul. It seemed as though they were all just good friends and that he was not ‘going out’ with either of the girls. Andy and Diane were walking hand in hand; Fiona was pleased that they were getting on so well.

  As for herself and Dave, she felt as though she was walking on a cloud as they strolled along, their arms around one another. She knew that the slight dizziness she was feeling was the effect of the drink that she wasn’t used to, but she didn’t care because she felt so happy and as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Now and again they stopped to kiss, not at all concerned if there was anyone to see them.

  There was still fifteen minutes or so to spare when they reached the fringes of the park, near to where Mike had arranged to pick them up. Dave led Fiona into a secluded copse of trees, then he drew her into his arms, kissing her passionately. She did not demur when she felt his hands caressing her body. He had never done this before, although she knew that he had wanted to and that it had been up to her to say no. This time she did not want to stop him. She returned his kisses ardently . . . But after a few moments he broke away.

  ‘We’d better go, Fiona,’ he whispered. ‘We daren’t be late. But there’s always tomorrow. Fiona . . . darling; you know how much I care about you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes . . . I think so, Dave,’ she whispered back. ‘And . . . and so do I.’

  He smiled at her, very lovingly and tenderly, then he kissed her lightly on the lips. They walked back hand in hand to where the coach was waiting. No one seemed to have noticed them, not even Diane and Andy, who were deep in conversation. Fiona decided that there were some things that it would be better not to tell her friend.

  They all piled into the coach and when they were all seated Colin counted them. ‘Good; all present and correct,’ he said. ‘That’s what we like; keep up the good work, folks. You’ve all enjoyed yourselves, have you?’

  There was a chorus of ‘Rather!’, ‘You bet!’ and ‘Super duper!’.

  ‘Smashing!’ said Colin. ‘Off we go then, Mike. Home, James, and don’t spare the horses!’

  Nine

  Fiona had drunk only two gin and limes; not a huge amount but more than enough for someone as unaccustomed to it as she was. Her head was deliciously woozy and she felt that her inhibitions had taken flight.

  She and Diane spoke very little as they got ready for bed. Diane had had the same amount to drink but seemed to be more in control of herself. Fiona was aware that her friend was looking at her rather oddly, but she did not ask any pertinent questions.

  Thoughts of Dave and their growing intimacy floated around in Fiona’s mind when she first laid her head on the pillow, but it was not long before sleep overcame her. She did not stir until the insistent clamour of the alarm clock woke her at seven thirty.

  She found, to her relief, that she did not have a headache or any ill effects from the night before. Neither, it seemed, did Diane, but her friend was looking at her intently.

  ‘Fiona,’ she began tentatively. ‘Be careful, won’t you, with Dave? I know you might think it’s none of my business but . . . well, you were a bit tipsy last night, weren’t you and . . .’

  ‘No more than you,’ retorted Fiona. ‘You had two gin and limes, the same as me. And what about you and Andy? Maybe you should be careful too. It sounds like the pot calling the kettle black.’

  Diane shook her head. ‘There’s nothing about me and Andy. We’re only just getting to know one another. It’s not like you and Dave. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing, really I do,’ replied Fiona quite offhandedly. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Di. I’m alright, honestly, and I can trust Dave.’

  ‘Very well then, if you say so,’ replied Diane. ‘But just watch it, that’s all.’

  ‘OK, will do,’ grinned Fiona.

  If sh
e were honest with herself she felt a tiny bit embarrassed when she saw Dave at breakfast time, but he greeted her quite normally. What had gone on between them the night before appeared to have been forgotten, or was not about to be mentioned in the light of day. They did, of course, have to act normally in front of Colin and Sheila and not appear to be too friendly with one another.

  They set off soon after nine o’clock, on foot this time as the Festival site was within easy walking distance. It was decided that the young people should be free to make their own way round the exhibition as they would each have their own particular interests. Fiona and Diane agreed to meet Dave and Andy later. They decided on a spot near to the Skylon where they would eat their packed lunches, once again provided by the hotel.

  The lads were eager to visit the pavilions concerned with science and industry. There was the Dome of Discovery telling the story of British scientific and technological advances; the Production Pavilion, which housed craft workshops and a model coal mine; and the Land of Britain Pavilion which depicted the country’s physical geography.

  Fiona and Diane and several of the other girls were more interested in the Homes and Gardens Pavilion, so this was the place they visited first of all. It showed sample room settings in the modern style that was now becoming known as the ‘contemporary look’. New shapes and brighter colours were being introduced to all rooms of the house, a contrast to the austerity and drabness of the war years and the years that followed.

  Fiona and Diane had both grown up in houses with small kitchens that contained only the most essential requirements: a gas stove; a porcelain sink and wooden draining board; and a shelf above the cooker on which to keep pans. All the crockery and food items were kept in a tall free standing cupboard known as a kitchenette. At Fiona’s home there was a meat safe that stood in the yard, just outside the back door. It was covered with a wire mesh to prevent flies and other insects from entering, and in it was kept meat, milk and dairy items. It was scarcely adequate, though, in the summer months; food was often less than fresh and sometimes, reluctantly, had to be thrown away. This had been looked on as a crime in the war years, and old habits still died hard.