All the Way Home and All the Night Through

by Ted Lewis

  “I’m telling you, Hamish.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a bloody hypocrite,” said Hamish, in disgust. “Stop trying to make out you’re any bloody different to us. You’d have loved to have gone.”

  “I said that. I would have, but I’m glad I didn’t, now.”

  “No, you’re not,” said Hamish. “You’re kicking your bloody self.”

  “Do you want a punch in the mouth?”

  “Hold it,” said Don.

  “Victor,” said Hamish, “anytime you think you’re up to it, I’ll be waiting.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake pack it in!” shouted Paul. “Stop being bloody childish.”

  “I’ll knock his bloody head off if he says ‘owt else to me!” shouted Hamish.

  “Be silent, Hamie,” said Harry.

  “For Christ’s sake,” said Bill, waking. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Sod off back to sleep,” I said.

  “You what?”

  “Oh God. Let’s all shut up, shall we?” I said.

  “What a good idea, Victor,” said Harry.

  We got back into town at about seven o’clock. Paul dropped me first because my place was first on the route into town. The morning was grey and chilly. I felt very tired. I got out of the van.

  “See you tonight, then,” said Don. “Eight o’clock.”

  “Tonight?”

  “The Gardener’s Arms.”

  “The Gardener’s? Oh, hell yes. We’re playing the University. I’d forgotten.”

  “Eight o’clock, then.”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you then.”

  “See you.”

  The van drove off and I went into the house.

  By half-past two, the grey cloud had broken up and a late autumn sun was flashing onto the city now and then. I waited in the bus station for Janet’s bus to arrive. I was standing looking at the covers of Spick and Span and Beautiful Britons which were displayed on the newsstand.

  “Browsing?” said a voice.

  I didn’t turn round.

  “Yes, Arnold,” I said. “I’ve just solved my Christmas present problem as far as you’re concerned. A year’s subscription to one of these.”

  “Gee, thanks. Incidentally, I just saw Ivan. What a scene that must have been last night.”

  I turned to look at him.

  “Yes, it must have been.”

  “Yeah, he said that you opted out. Wonders never cease.”

  “All right. Can it.”

  “All right, Victor.”

  “Hello,” said Janet’s voice.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Hello, Janet,” said Arnold.

  “But you expected me to come, didn’t you?” she said.

  “Oh, yes, but you know.”

  She linked her arm in mine.

  “Anyway, Arnold,” I said, “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Yes, all right, Victor. If you run into anymore scenes like that last night, let me know,” he said as he began walking off.

  I could have killed him. I turned to Janet as though Arnold hadn’t said anything. I smiled at her. Her face wasn’t quite as gay as it had been when she had first arrived.

  “Well,” I said, “what would you like to do?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s a nice day. Let’s walk, shall we?”

  We walked through the crowds, along the wide streets. I wondered what she was thinking. I didn’t want to tell her about the previous evening because I knew she wouldn’t believe that I hadn’t gone along with the others.

  “What did Arnold mean when he mentioned last night?” she asked.

  “Last night? Oh, I’d been telling him what a good club it was. It was terrific actually. And a good crowd. Before you came, he’d been saying that he would have gone along if he’d known it was going to be that good.”

  “But you couldn’t have found room for him in the van, could you?”

  “No, hell no, and besides, he’s not the kind of company any of us relish having round. No, I expect he’d have conned somebody with a car into taking a load of the mob along.”

  “Oh.”

  We walked a little farther.

  “Victor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Some time ago you surprised me by something you said. Very much.”

  “What was it?”

  “You said that since you’d known me you hadn’t been with any other girls.”

  She stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Can I still be surprised?”

  “Yes, you can,” I said. “Believe me. Because it’s true.”

  “I just wanted to know. Don’t ask me why.”

  She took my hand and we continued on our way.

  On the last day of term, the day of the Christmas dance, Janet and Harry and I were sitting in the coffee bar across the road from college. The day was bright, cold and expectant.

  “What are you coming as, Janet?” asked Harry.

  “It’s a secret. Wait and see.”

  “She won’t tell me, even,” I said. “But seeing as the theme’s the Wild West, she can’t be much other than a saloon girl or an Indian maid. Can you?”

  “Wait and see.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ll buy you another coffee if you tell us.”

  “No.” She got up. “I must go. I’m expected. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right,” I said, hurt a little that she was not expecting me to take her to the bus stop. “I’ll see you tonight. Don’t be late.”

  After she had gone, I said:

  “I hope she isn’t late for her sake. You never know what little bits of stuff worth fancying might be hanging round.”

  “Yes, Victor,” said Harry.

  The Albert Hall. Dockers pub. Pro’s pub, licensed for singing in huge upstairs room. Rough pub. Annually invaded by fancy dress students. Miraculous lack of incidents between dockers and students. Only just though. Victorian pub. Drinking pub. Dedicated to drinking. Powder blue gabardine suit Pub, double-breasted twenty-inch bottoms white open-necked shirt pub. Hard pub.

  I wait tor eight-thirty and Janet. Thick with drink. Apprehensive after eight-thirty becomes nine. More beer passes across the table. No sign Janet. Why should she? Who am I anyway that she should? She doesn’t and if she doesn’t it can’t, won’t, last. Not her. Damn and blast. Take off top hat of Doc Holliday ensemble and run fingers through hair.

  Half-hour later. Forget Janet temporarily, in grim gun battle across tables. H.J.B. and me against rest of Jazz band. H.J.B. slides mortally hit to floor, more like mortally drunk. Don is hit by two bullets in the gut but drags himself valiantly to bar and gets fresh round in. I finish off rest of band with hand grenade which is cheating but now dead they have earned more beer. H.J.B.’s drink is passed to him beneath the table. Takes drink from glass and finally eases great self up from floor pouring drink somehow up his sleeve.

  Tap on my shoulder. Begin to draw guns on the turn but is well-known Indian maiden Janet, smiling vivaciously.

  My God I thought you weren’t going to come.

  Of course I was going to come. I had to wait for Jenny.

  Put arms round her waist pull her to me.

  I really thought you weren’t coming.

  Silly. You knew I would.

  I love you, I say.

  She squeezes my hand hard and face becomes serious. Presses face against my mouth. I am unbelievably happy. There is no more lovable than she.

  Come and sit down next to Harry and I will get you a drink.

  You look terrific in that outfit. It really suits you, she says.

  Compl
iments from her are compliments, I think.

  You look marvellous, I say. Even more marvellous than usual, if that’s possible.

  Dressed as Indian maid with long plaited pigtail and incongruous large brimmed black raffia boater. Looks a natural delight.

  Sit down next to H.J.B. He is staring glazily at ceiling with hands clasped across stomach.

  Hello Harry. What’s the matter? Are you all right? asks Janet.

  They got me.

  His face begins laughing. Doesn’t stop till I give him next drink.

  I’m so glad you’re here, I say to Janet.

  I’m glad I am too.

  Do you think it’ll last? Has it got a chance?

  I don’t know.

  I hope so more than anything. I want you to hope so too.

  Perhaps I do.

  I put my arm round her shoulders.

  Closing time becomes imminent. Get last orders in and stagger across road to dance. Beautiful cold blue night rushes triumphantly into lungs. Shoot by passing trolley buses. We reach college and push past some Teds who are trying to get into the dance. Rudge tells them to clear off. We go in.

  The dance is seething with noise and alcohol fumes. Members of staff and members of mayoral party nervously try not to be fallen on.

  Janet and I stay close, warming to each other as each minute passes. Things are becoming hazier for me, more difficult for me to stand up.

  Janet, come with me.

  We leave the main hall and go down into the basement. Many couples are strewn around in various stages of loving. I pull Janet gently towards me.

  I want to love you for a long time, I say. Do you want that?

  She pushes herself closer. Her mouth is at lobe of my ear. She I speaks tremulously.

  I don’t know Victor. All I know is how I feel now. We kiss gently, not wanting to stop.

  I’ll have to go to the gents, I say, wait for me here.

  Don’t be too long.

  I won’t.

  I go into the gents. Pukers are already piling up near the wash basins. Don emerges from a toilet. His face is ashen and his eyes don’t take me in.

  Hey up Donald.

  I register with him.

  I feel better for that, he says.

  He takes a paper towel and dabs his face.

  Better in than out, I say.

  We’ll be on soon. Better climb them stairs.

  I don’t think I could see the keyboard let alone play it.

  We’ll have to do our best. Come on, we’ll give each other a leg upstairs.

  We put our arms round each other, sway back and forward and fall over the waste basket. This does for me. I can’t get up. I can hardly see.

  Get up Vic. We’ve got to make it up them flaming stairs.

  I start laughing. I just can’t stop laughing.

  Bloody hell’s sake, get up.

  Don manages to lift me. I push him away. I stop laughing.

  I can get up on my own, Donald.

  Well, come on then.

  I just want you to know I can get up without anybody else, that’s all.

  All right then. For hell’s sake come on.

  Seeing and standing and comprehending are supreme efforts of will now. We bundle through the door of the Gent’s. There is nothing to be seen of Janet.

  Where are you my mind says but another part says to hell with it and I giggle indulgently.

  We get half-way up the stairs and H. J. B. appears at the top with a bottle of something.

  Hey up fellers. Have a drinkie.

  We all flop on stairs and H. J. B. passes a bottle of stuff round.

  Why aren’t you with Janet, Victor? asks Harry.

  Why the hell should I be with her?

  I dunno. Why the hell should you be?

  Exactly. Why should I be?

  She doesn’t seem too worried about it anyway. She’s getting on all right with ole Cary Jensen upstairs.

  There you are then. I don’t chase no one.

  No Victor.

  I sit and feel desperate. I get up and go up the stairs. I turn the corner and there is Janet in the doorway to the hall talking to Tony Jensen and a friend of mine, Keith Rushton. Janet sees me and walks towards me.

  There you are. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I waited and waited and then I came up here to see if anyone would go down into the cloakroom and see if you were all right. I was just asking Keith.

  Is that so?

  Why, yes.

  You don’t really mean me to believe that do you? Why don’t you ask Keith to ask you if he can take you home? Eh?

  What are you talking about?

  Harry and Don pass into the hall and towards the bandstand.

  I don’t need you. You don’t really want me. Why don’t you go off with somebody else? Why don’t you do that?

  What do you mean?

  I can make out her face being angry. I feel mad with this perversity in me, uncontrollably possessed.

  Go on. Go off with someone else, I hear my voice saying. That’s what you want and that’s what I want. Go on. Leave me alone.

  She looks at me with a withdrawn expression and turns slowly away, walks towards Keith and Tony, walking more quickly as she recedes.

  I walk past them and mount the stairs on to the stage. The members of the band are doing their best to make some sense out of the instruments they find in their hands. I sink down on to the canvas chair in front of the keyboard.

  All right fellers. All right fellers, says Don. Now we’re off to play. “Milenberg” so sober up. Right. Ready? We’re off. One two, one two three four.

  The band comes in. One after the other. I try and comprehend the undulating mass of ivory in front of my eyes. My fingers can’t keep up with themselves.

  Ron is playing his solo. Don leans over to me.

  If you can’t do any better than that, pack it in.

  I stop playing.

  Sod you all, I say.

  I get up and stagger from the stand. The place where Keith and Janet had been standing is now occupied by Angela, who is obstinately wearing a tarty tight shimmering number instead of fancy dress. I make for her.

  Now then Vicky. Enjoying it?

  See Janet?

  Janet who?

  You must tell me. Where is she?

  Oh, you mean Janet Walker. I thought you were bringing her tonight?

  Stop it, Angela. Have you seen her?

  She smiles, then furrows her brow in mock concentration.

  Well now, I saw her a few minutes ago. Now where was she?

  Come on for God’s sake.

  My, aren’t we in a sweat. Aren’t we just. Take a tip, Vicky. She was never for you. Not in her class. She’s too nice for you. She knows it. Everybody else does too.

  I’m asking you Angela. I’m asking you.

  Well all right. You’re too late Vicky. She went off with Keith Rushton.

  Where?

  They went outside.

  Blind panic leads me to the door. I open it. This can’t happen I say to myself.

  I stand at the top of the college steps. There is a group of figures on the steps below me. Yobs. They are passing a bottle around. Several bottles are strewn at the bottom of the steps, some smashed. They are the yobs who tried to get into the dance.

  I stand there looking at them. Then I begin to walk down the steps. Janet, I think, don’t be with him, don’t let him touch you.

  One of the yobbos turns to me. He is little and looks full of spite.

  Hey up lads. One of the Mr bleedin’ clever students.

 
I carry on walking down the steps. I draw level with him and he pushes me viciously in the chest. I sway backwards but somehow remain upright.

  Where the bleedin’ hell do you think you’re off then?

  His face twists with a quick hatred. I can smell the whisky on his mouth. I look at him.

  Get out of the sodding way, I say.

  His friends move closer.

  I asked you a question, pansy boy. I want an answer or do you want to be here all night?

  Don’t push it, yobbo. Don’t push it.

  My words sound clear in the near-empty road. The cold air seems to have improved my vision a little.

  Listen to pansy boy. You all think you’re so much bleedin’ better than us lot don’t you. Won’t let us come into their pansy dance, will you?

  He pushes me in the chest again.

  Don’t put you’re stinking hands on me again you little yob. Grow a bit first.

  Give him one, Terry, says a voice coming from a dark face in the background.

  Yeah, give him summat, says another of them.

  I only want my girl, I say. That’s all I want and if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll push your snotty nose around to the back of your mucky neck.

  There is silence. Everyone stands still. A taxi cruises softly past.

  You heard him Terry. Give it him.

  Terry puts down his bottle.

  I only want my girl, I say.

  Come on then, says Terry. Come an’ find her.

  I make a move forward. Terry pushes me in the chest with all his might. I reel back but somehow gain momentum in going forward again and my eyes see nothing but hate-tinged vermilion and my fist hits Terry as hard as it can in his mouth. His hands go to his face and a fist belonging to somebody else clangs me on the side of my head knocking me off my feet. I hit the steps chest first and start sliding down towards the bottom. I feel the boots begin to go in, accelerating my demise but I don’t feel much pain. My arms are stretched forward and the edges of the steps graze my wrists. Then my hands jaringly come to a stop at the bottom, I feel something sharp in my left hand. I try to pull it away but one of them bends down and punches me in the back. The sharpness increases. Somehow I manage to get to my feet and I look at my hand. One of them punches me on the side of my head again, in the same place as before, but I am too interested in my hand to fall down. It is covered in blood.