They gazed in awe now at the modern refrigerator – what a boon that would be! – and the stainless steel sink and shining draining board; the electric cooker; and the built-in cupboards.
‘Look at the bright colours!’ exclaimed Fiona. ‘Red and white; doesn’t that look jolly? I thought kitchens were always painted cream and green. That’s what ours is.’
‘Ours as well,’ agreed Diane. ‘My mum would really love this.’
‘I’m not so sure about mine though,’ said Fiona. ‘She’d think it was too modern. She’s a great one for “making things do”, as she says. Although, to be fair, I suppose there’s never been too much money to spare for luxuries.’
There was another specimen kitchen in shades of blue, with a built-in breakfast bar and strip lighting on the ceiling. ‘It’ll be a long time, I suppose, before we all have kitchens like this,’ said Diane. ‘Perhaps by the time we’re married, eh, Fiona? And just look at the automatic washing machine!’
They agreed that this would be the ‘mod con’ that would be of the most interest to women visiting the exhibition. There was a fully automatic one on display in one of the kitchens, and in the other one a model that was known as a ‘twin-tub’, with an electrically powered wringer. Fiona and Diane had seen for themselves what a trial the Monday washday was to the woman of the house. Fiona’s mother was fortunate enough to have a small wash house outside the house. The clothes were washed in a dolly tub, then fed through a large mangle with wooden rollers to squeeze out the water. The back garden was large enough for the washing to be hung out to dry; but the bane of every housewife was a wet washday, when clothes were hung on an overhead rack or on a ‘clothes maiden’ round the fire.
The bathrooms, too, were luxurious to their eyes. Lavatories with low cisterns and a handle to flush, instead of a chain; baths and wash basins in pale colours – pink, blue, green and lemon – instead of the ordinary white that ended up a dingy grey. They were cased in as well, unlike the bath tubs that most of them were used to, and the walls were tiled from floor to ceiling, some highlighted with designs of flowers or birds.
‘Very nice too,’ said Fiona. ‘I suppose we’re quite lucky though, Diane, you and me. At least we don’t have to go down the yard to the lav, do we?’
Fiona’s home was a council house, but quite a modern one in that it had an indoor bathroom and toilet. Her grandmother still lived in a house with a WC at the end of the yard. Fortunately it was not one that was shared with neighbouring houses, as was the case, still, in many homes. Neither was there a bathroom, although the powers that be were supposed to be considering it, as they had been doing since the end of the war. Fiona’s gran still bathed once a week in a zinc bath that hung on a hook in the wash house.
The furniture in the sample dining and living rooms was vastly different from the sort that most people were still living with in those post-war years. The cumbersome three-piece suites that took up most of the room in a small lounge were things of the past, as were the solid oak dining chairs and tables and glass-fronted display cabinets. The modern settees and armchairs – with wooden arms rather than the upholstered kind – were light and easy to move, with splayed tapering legs; far easier for a vacuum cleaner to get underneath. Dining chairs, too, were a new innovation, some made of laminated wood on spindly metal legs.
Gone was the wallpaper in the traditional colours of fawn, pale green and brown. The walls, instead, were painted – not papered – in bright colours or pastel shades of emulsion paint that could be wiped clean. Wallpaper, too, if it was used, could be wiped down.
Looking at the curtains and the rugs in bold designs of geometric shapes, Fiona pondered that it might be a long time before ideas such as these became popular in many homes. She could not see it ever happening in her parents’ home.
Wandering round these ‘ideal homes’ took up most of the morning. After they had joined the lads for lunch they stayed together for a while, looking with interest and a certain amount of envy at the latest designs of radios and television sets. Only Andy’s family, of the four of them, owned a television set. They were fascinated too by the latest record players, with something known as hi-fi and stereophonic sound. Fiona had a ‘Dansette’ portable record player, and being a sensible girl, aware that there was never too much money to spare, she knew she would have to be content with that, and with her small collection of records. At least her mother did not seem to object too much to her liking for Guy Mitchell and Doris Day.
By the end of the afternoon they were all feeling quite mesmerized by all the new sights and wonders they had seen. They all had a collection of leaflets about the latest inventions in design and technology to take home to show to their parents and friends. They were more of a souvenir, though, than anything else. It was doubtful that many of the innovations would be seen in the homes of ordinary folk until much later in the decade.
They were all looking forward to what would be their last evening in London. How quickly the three days had flown! And tomorrow, Thursday, they would be saying goodbye to the capital city, setting off quite early in the morning in order to arrive back in Leeds by the end of the afternoon.
They all opted to visit the funfair again although, for many of them, funds were running low. But they all agreed that they would help one another out financially if needs be, and make it a never to be forgotten last evening. Once again they all agreed to be back at the coach by ten thirty.
Fiona and Dave, and Diane and Andy stayed together for a while. They had a second ride on the Big Dipper. The girls found it not so scary this time, as they knew what to expect, but just as exciting and exhilarating. Then they wandered over to the boating lake and hired two rowing boats. The boys, of course, did the rowing whilst the girls sat lazily at the other end. Fiona listened to the distant sounds of the funfair; the laughter and shouts of excited visitors; and the somewhat discordant music from the roundabouts and mechanical rides. A little breeze drifted across the water and she felt chilly. She shivered as she fastened her cardigan, which she had been wearing loosely draped over her shoulders.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Dave.
‘Just a bit,’ she replied. ‘I’ll be alright when as get off the water.’
‘We’ll call it a day then, shall we?’ he said. ‘Shall we go across to the other side of the river again and have a drink? We’ll feel warmer when we start walking.’
‘Good idea,’ she replied. ‘We don’t need to wait for Diane and Andy, do we? Look; they’re over on the other side of the lake.’ Fiona waved but her friend didn’t appear to notice her.
‘No, they’re happy enough on their own,’ said Dave. ‘Anyway, we want to be alone together for a while, don’t we?’
Fiona nodded, suddenly feeling a shade uneasy although she was not sure why. She and Dave had grown much closer to one another over the last couple of days. The more she had got to know him the more fond she had become of him; and she felt sure that she could trust him . . . couldn’t she? Why then was she feeling a little bit afraid? She did not dare to examine her thoughts more closely. At the back of her mind, though, she knew she was a little bit scared of the growing intensity of her feelings towards him. If this was what it was like to fall in love, then maybe that was what she was experiencing, this heady feeling of delight mixed with anticipation and longing.
‘You’re very quiet,’ remarked Dave, putting his arm more closely round her as they crossed the bridge to the other side of the river.
‘Am I?’ she answered. ‘I’m a bit preoccupied, I suppose; thinking about the great time we’ve had, and that we’ve got to go home tomorrow.’
‘Never mind,’ said Dave. ‘All good things come to an end, as they say. But it won’t be the end for you and me, will it? Cheer up now! We’ve got the rest of the evening together, haven’t we?’
There was an empty table outside the pub where they had stopped the previous night. There was no sign of the trio that they had met up with there, nor of Diane and And
y.
‘Come on, let’s have something to warm up,’ said Dave. ‘What about rum? My dad swears by that; to warm the cockles of your heart, he says, whatever that means. Parents say some odd things, don’t they?’
‘Yes; I’ve heard my gran say that,’ smiled Fiona. ‘She’s a great one for these old-fashioned sayings. Yes, I think that might be rather warmer than gin and lime. You can’t have rum on its own though, can you?’
‘No; rum and coke, that’s the thing to have,’ said Dave, knowledgeably. ‘I’ll have that as well instead of beer.’ He looked round for the barmaid to take their order.
Fiona no longer had any inhibitions about being too young to be there. There was another couple from the Youth Club that she knew vaguely, and Tim and Brenda, sitting further back. And near to them were – oh, my goodness! – Mike, the driver, with Rita. Fiona turned away hurriedly, but Rita had noticed them and she waved cheerily. She was obviously too interested in her budding friendship with Mike to bother too much about what her charges were up to.
Fiona soon found that the rum was making her feel a little warmer, just as Dave had said it would. It was a very pleasant taste, mixed with the coca-cola.
‘I’ll never forget these few days; they’ve been just great,’ said Dave, holding her cold hand between his own. ‘You’re still feeling cold, aren’t you? Let’s have another of these.’ He beckoned to the barmaid and placed their order. ‘As I was saying,’ he continued, ‘these last few days have been wonderful, getting to know you so much better, Fiona. I wasn’t sure that you liked me – you know, really liked me – until we came away.’
‘Yes, I do, Dave,’ she replied, looking at him intently. ‘I really do.’
‘And you won’t be worried about going on seeing me after we get back home? You know, with your parents, an’ all that?’
‘No.’ Fiona shook her head positively. She was feeling, again, rather light-headed – and with that came the feeling of light-heartedness that she had experienced the night before. ‘I shall go on seeing you, and I don’t really care what they say.’
‘Good for you!’ laughed Dave. He kissed her on the lips and she didn’t care whether anyone saw them or not. ‘Come on, sup up, as my dad would say, and we’ll make our way back.’
It was still only ten o’clock and, as Fiona had guessed would happen, they made a detour into the copse where they had stopped on the previous night. They wandered a little further until the sounds from the fairground could be heard only faintly on the evening breeze. It had turned quite chilly now, but with Dave’s arms around her she was scarcely aware of the cold, and the intensity of his kisses was making her breathless.
His hands were exploring her body, in all the more intimate places, and she was powerless to show any resistance, nor did she want to do so. Then they were lying on the ground on Dave’s sports coat, which he had quickly removed. Her head felt woozy from the effects of the drink. She was carried away, too, on a surge of desire, hardly aware of what was happening . . . She heard herself cry out; she did not know whether it was from shock or the height of her passion. Then she lay passively in Dave’s arms as he whispered to her that he loved her.
She felt, though, almost as though this was happening to someone else and not to her. It was like a dream; it was all so unreal, and soon she would wake up and find that she had imagined it all. When at last she rose to her feet her legs felt wobbly and her head was spinning. Dave brushed the leaves and bits of tree bark from their clothing before they set off back to the coach.
They were not late. They were, in fact, a few minutes early. Diane and Andy, hand in hand, joined them, both looking on top of the world.
‘We’ve had a smashing time,’ said Diane. ‘Look what Andy’s won on the shooting range.’ It was a miniature model of the Skylon; Fiona thought it was rather ghastly but Diane seemed highly delighted. ‘I shall keep it on my bookcase,’ she said, ‘and it’ll always remind me of our trip to London. What’s up, Fiona?’ she added, looking anxiously at her friend. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky.’
‘I’m alright,’ said Fiona with a weak smile. In truth she was feeling a little bit unwell and it was not entirely the effect of the drink. She shivered, a tremor that went right through her. ‘Actually I’m feeling rather chilly,’ she said. ‘I noticed it when we were on the lake. I hope I’m not starting a cold.’
‘So do I,’ said Dave concernedly. ‘Look, the coach is here now. Let’s get on and then maybe you’ll warm up again.’
The two of them sat together on the way back. Dave took hold of her hand and smiled at her. She smiled back but neither of them said anything on the way to the hotel.
‘See you all bright and early in the morning,’ said Colin. ‘We want to set off at half past eight. So breakfast at half past seven, OK? Goodnight everyone, and God bless.’
They all trooped off to their bedrooms, Dave and Andy saying a casual goodnight to the girls as they parted company, as Colin and Sheila were close behind them. Fiona was feeling far from well by now. She collapsed on to the bed as soon as they entered the room.
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’ asked Diane. ‘You’re feeling rotten, aren’t you? What is it? Too much to drink?’ She sat down beside her and put an arm round her. ‘Goodness! You’re shivering. Come on now, get undressed and into bed. You’ll perhaps feel better when you’ve had a good sleep.’
‘Yes, I do feel peculiar,’ said Fiona. ‘We did have something to drink, but I don’t think it’s that. My throat hurts and I feel hot, somehow, as well as shivery. I’ll just nip along the corridor, then I’ll get straight to bed.’
She had never felt so relieved at slipping between the sheets. Her head spun round as it touched the pillow, a maelstrom of thoughts running through her mind. She couldn’t sort them out or remember clearly what had happened. She just knew that she felt ill. The previous euphoria of the evening and the delight she had felt at being with Dave had vanished. All she wanted now was to sink into oblivion.
Ten
When she awoke the following morning at the strident call of the alarm clock Fiona knew almost at once that she had started a cold or something worse. Her head ached, her nose was blocked, her eyes were streaming and her throat was very sore. Of all the awful things to happen, after the good time they had been enjoying that week!
‘Come on now, wakey wakey!’ called Diane, who was already up and dashing round the room. ‘I set the alarm clock for quarter to seven seeing that you were in no fit state to do it. How are you? Feeling better this morning?’
‘Not really,’ answered Fiona, throwing back the bedclothes and staggering to her feet. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got a cold; I feel really dreadful.’ She looked and sounded a little tearful.
‘Oh dear! Poor you!’ Diane was at once full of sympathy and concern. ‘I though you might be starting one last night. Then I wondered if you were just a bit tipsy.’
‘I didn’t have all that much to drink,’ Fiona mumbled miserably. ‘Oh, Diane, I do feel ill. Everything’s going wrong!’
‘Of course it isn’t!’ said her friend. ‘It’s just because you’re feeling lousy. You’ve not fallen out with Dave, have you? You seemed OK with him last night.’
‘No, we’re alright,’ answered Fiona in a feeble sort of voice.
‘Come on then, love.’ Diane put an arm round her. ‘You’ll perhaps feel better when you’ve had something to eat. My mum always says you have to feed a cold.’
‘Yes, feed a cold and starve a fever.’ Fiona smiled weakly. ‘My mum says that. The trouble is . . . I feel feverish as well. Hot as well as cold.’
‘Well, you do sometimes at the start of a cold,’ said Diane, trying to be as cheerful and optimistic as she could. She could see, though, that her friend really was far from well.
‘Yes, that’s true,’ agreed Fiona. She tried so smile again. ‘I’m sorry, Diane. I’m a right old weary Willie, aren’t I?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Diane. ‘And you’re managi
ng a smile; that’s better. It’s not like you to be miserable, is it? You’ll cheer up when you see Dave.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Fiona, then, as Diane was looking at her rather strangely, ‘of course I will,’ she added, trying to sound positive.
Her mind was still hazy, full of mixed-up thoughts and memories. What she had told Diane was true; she had not had all that much to drink. But because she was unused to any sort of alcohol it had gone straight to her head, affecting her thoughts and her actions. Now, in the cold light of day she knew – or thought she knew – that she had allowed Dave to do much more than she ought to have done. Had they? she wondered. Had they ‘gone the whole way’? That was how she and her friends always referred to it. Yes, she feared now that they had. What on earth had she been thinking of? She realized now that she hadn’t been thinking much at all. She’d been swept away on a tide of emotion, not giving any heed to what might happen. And it had, indeed, happened. She knew it must have done because, as well as the symptoms of an oncoming cold or whatever it was, she was feeling a little sore ‘down there’.
She staggered along the corridor to the toilet, then had a quick wash and dressed in the first clothes that came to hand. Fortunately she and Diane had had the foresight to pack their suitcases before they left for the fairground the previous evening. So that was one less thing to worry about.
Cast the First Stone Page 9