‘What married couple does get on?’ Gordon said with derision. ‘Rowing’s just part and parcel of getting wed, as far as I can see.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Jo mused. ‘I don’t remember me mam, so I don’t remember any arguments even if there were any.’
‘Lucky for you,’ Gordon replied. ‘Make love not war, that’s my motto.’
His tone was casual, but Jo’s heart jolted just the same. They said no more as he drove through the deserted streets of Tynemouth and parked looking on to the river mouth and the pier. The water glinted molten under a bright moon and the smell of the sea wafted in. Gordon turned up the radio and lit them both cigarettes.
‘I like to come here and unwind after playing,’ he told her, leaning back and flicking ash out of the window. ‘Just me and the sea.’
Jo doubted he ever came here just on his own, but found herself relaxing in his company. He was quite different from Mark, more detached, more cynical, with an underlying edge of hardness. He oozed self-confidence, as if he expected to get his own way. Yet there was something that reminded her of his brother, flashes of the same wicked smile.
It prompted her to ask, ‘Do you see much of Mark when he’s home?’
Gordon gave her an appraising look. ‘No, why should I?’
Jo felt herself blushing. ‘You used to get on, before…’
‘Before me dad threw the little bugger out?’ Gordon finished for her. Jo squirmed at the harsh words, wishing she had never mentioned Mark. But he didn’t seem to care. ‘We’ve never been close, not really. Not like you and Colin. Different peas out of different pods, more than likely. Anyway, it was the best thing could have happened to him, going to live with me nana; being out of the firing line. Ivy’s always spoilt him rotten. It’s me who’s had to put up with all the shit at home for years. Not that I’ve had any thanks out of Mark for it.’
Jo was surprised at his bitterness. She had always thought of him as the favoured one. The thought of Gordon showing a touch of vulnerability under his hard-man image only made him the more desirable. She let him go on without interrupting.
‘I was surprised when he took off to sea, mind. Bit envious really. Made me dad sit up an’ all. He’d gone on for years about Mark being ripe for a career in the nick and then he was suddenly in the Merchant Navy, something me dad had never done. He didn’t know what to say. But he’s still too proud to have him round the house like Mam wants. It would kill him to have to admit he was wrong all along about Mark being worse than useless. And it’s a way of getting at Mam, refusing to see him. He’ll punish her for ever for having it off with someone else. You know he thinks Mark’s another man’s bastard, don’t you?’
Jo nodded uncomfortably. ‘What do you think?’ she asked quietly.
‘Well, you can tell by just looking at him, can’t you? Looks like Omar Sharif.’ Gordon flicked his cigarette out of the window and shifted closer. ‘So, do you see much of the prodigal when he’s on leave?’
Jo gulped. ‘Well, now and then. When Colin’s home mostly. We go out as a group. He and Brenda were courting for a bit.’
‘Aye,’ Gordon laughed, ‘Mark and half of Wallsend.’
‘That’s not true!’ Jo said hotly.
Gordon leaned over and stroked a strand of hair from her burning cheek. It sent a shiver through her. ‘That’s nice,’ he smiled. ‘I like to see loyalty.’ Pushing her hair behind her ear, he probed. ‘But Mark’s never been out with you?’
‘No,’ she whispered, as his fingers trailed down her neck. He reached behind her head and pulled her towards him.
‘Never kissed you then?’ he murmured in her ear.
‘No,’ she croaked, feeling her heart pounding as his breath tickled.
‘I bet he’s wanted to,’ Gordon said, and then his mouth was on hers and she closed her eyes. Compared to Skippy and the other boys from school she had kissed half-heartedly in the past, he was an expert. She felt the deftness of his fingers in her hair and the taste of his tongue in her mouth. She wanted it to go on and on, but after a minute he drew away.
He smiled at her, then started up the engine as if nothing had happened. ‘Don’t want your dad calling out the police, do we?’
She was too shaken to speak, wondering if he could hear her heart thumping. He had stirred something in her and she yearned for him to kiss her again, but already they were cruising out of Tynemouth and heading homewards.
They hardly spoke, but as he drew up outside the flats, she forced herself to ask, ‘Are you seeing that Christine? The one Mark used to…’
He shot her a look. ‘Not especially. Just for the odd drink.’ Then he smiled and touched her face. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘No, why should it?’ Jo tried to sound unconcerned and opened the door.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Are you doing anything tomorrow?’ She shook her head, holding her breath. ‘I’ll pick you up at twelve then. We can go up the coast or something.’
Jo had a sudden panic about what her father would think. ‘Great, but I’ll meet you on the high street – by the garage. Save a lot of questions from me dad,’ she grinned.
He nodded and blew her a kiss. ‘Don’t be late.’
She watched him drive off, the sound of the car radio fading quickly, and took deep breaths to still her trembling. She let herself in as quietly as possible and was thankful to find her father sound asleep in his chair. Creeping to bed, she lay for a long time, savouring the unexpected end to her evening and wondering impatiently what tomorrow would bring. She had never felt so strongly for a lad before. It was as if her childish infatuation with Gordon had been fanned into a real passion by his sudden attention. He made her feel vital and alive. Just the way he looked at her made her feel desirable, like a fully grown woman. It was a heady, explosive feeling.
The next morning, she told her father she was going to the beach with friends and would be out all day.
‘You got in late last night,’ he commented.
‘Aye, there was a band on, so we were late clearing up,’ Jo said, as she forced down some toast. She could hardly eat for anticipation at seeing Gordon again. ‘I didn’t like to wake you when I came in.’ She packed a towel in a patchwork shoulder bag, put on denim shorts and jacket over her bikini and tied her hair in a bright scarf, peasant-style.
‘You’ll take a picnic?’ fussed her father. Jo seized some fruit from the basket on the sideboard and a chocolate biscuit to keep him happy.
‘Not working today then?’ he persisted.
‘No, Sunday’s going to be me day off,’ Jo assured him. ‘I’ll be in tomorrow though.’
‘Maybe we can go out together next Sunday,’ Jack suggested, ‘have our dinner at Shields or some’at?’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Jo agreed distractedly, squirting on some more perfume. She ignored the odd look he gave her and kissed his cheek quickly. ‘I’ll get me tea at Marilyn’s or someone’s, so don’t keep anything for me. Ta-ra, Dad. See you later.’
Then she was out of the door before he asked any more searching questions about who she was going with or how she was getting there. Jo wished that Pearl was around this summer to take his mind off fretting over her. But then again, her aunt was just as likely to ask awkward questions, and her opinion of Gordon was little higher than Jack’s. ‘Treats his mother like a skivvy just as much as Matty does,’ Pearl had said. ‘He’s a Duggan through and through, that one.’ But Jo dismissed her aunt’s unkind words. Pearl was just prejudiced against him because of Matty; she didn’t know Gordon at all. If it was Gordon’s way of surviving in that warring, unhappy household, who could blame him?
The streets were baking in unaccustomed heat by midday, and Jo sat on the wall by the Fina garage wishing she had put on a long skirt to stop her legs burning. Gordon drove up twenty minutes late.
‘Sorry, slept in,’ he smiled beneath dark glasses as she got in. He leaned over to brush her hot cheek with a kiss and glanced at her long pale legs. ‘You’ve kept
them well hidden.’
Jo grimaced. ‘I don’t have any false tan either.’
‘You don’t need to cover them up,’ he said, touching them lightly, ‘they’re beautiful.’ Jo felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
She laughed bashfully. ‘I’m not used to compliments especially from you.’
He laughed as he accelerated out of town. ‘I’ll have to change that, won’t I?’
They headed up the coast, northwards into Northumberland, the radio blasting out of the open windows. Stopping in the market town of Alnwick, they had a couple of drinks at the White Swan and then headed for the beach. Gordon knew of a quiet cove with a small caravan park on the cliffs above. He took her hand and they scrambled down the dunes onto the beach, picking a spot near some rocks away from the holidaying families. Jo felt quite tipsy from the lunchtime drink.
‘Let’s go in the sea!’ she cried, stripping off down to her bikini. Gordon laughed, shedding his clothes on the warm sand and pulling on a pair of cut-off shorts. He raced her down to the sea and they splashed each other and gasped at the cold. They swam about for several minutes, then he said he’d had enough and hauled her out of the water. ‘Let’s get warmed up,’ he grinned, putting his arm around her dripping waist and giving it a squeeze. Back at the rocks they rubbed themselves down and then lay on their towels, listening to Gordon’s portable cassette player. He had brought a tape of Red Serpent that they had recorded in Jerry the drummer’s attic, and they lay close together listening to its heavy beat.
‘I think it’s fantastic,’ Jo murmured, resting her head on his arm, enjoying the feel of the warm hairs on her cheek. ‘Why don’t you try to go professional?’
He smiled with pleasure. ‘It’s not that easy. You need someone behind you with money. It’s just something the lads like to do for kicks at the weekend. I’m better off having a regular job at the yards. I’m doing all right. Got enough to get me own place when I want to – when I find the right lass.’ She could not read his expression behind his sunglasses, but she knew he was looking at her intently.
‘What sort of lass would that be?’ she asked.
‘Someone who likes my music,’ he smirked, tracing a rough finger across the dip of her waist and over her thigh.
‘Not Christine then?’ Jo said with a quizzical smile. ‘She’s not one of your groupies, is she?’
‘No, she has no taste in music,’ Gordon grinned. He shuffled closer. ‘Anyway, I haven’t brought you all the way here to talk about her.’ He kissed her drying shoulder, then her arm. ‘You taste of the sea,’ he murmured, running his tongue along the rim of her bikini top. Jo could feel her heart jumping under his touch and knew that he must feel it too. Then he was over her, his mouth firmly on her own, devouring her with kisses. She responded enthusiastically, running her hands over his back, revelling at the feel of his skin.
They lay embracing and touching each other for what seemed like an age, Jo hardly aware of the call of children further down the beach. Eventually, they lay entwined and fell asleep, Gordon’s arm resting heavily across her thigh. When she woke, she felt shivery, their spot now lying in shadow. The beach was emptying. Gordon pulled her up and threw his leather jacket around her shoulders.
‘Haway, we need to warm up,’ he ordered. Gathering up their clothes, Jo followed him back up the rocky path to the dunes above, wondering vaguely why he was not heading back to the car. He led her through a small gate and into a field of caravans. In the far corner was a small green caravan that looked as if it had taken root there many years ago. Grass grew up around its steps, and when Gordon tried the handle it was unlocked. Inside, the flowery curtains were drawn and it was dim and cool.
‘Whose is it?’ Jo whispered nervously.
‘Jerry in the band, it belongs to his family, but they hardly ever come here,’ Gordon replied. Jo stood at the door, not moving. ‘Haway,’ he smiled, ‘no one’ll disturb us here.’ He reached out and took her hand, guiding her over to the bench seat and plonking her down on a damp cushion. He rummaged in the cupboard next to it. ‘He sometimes leaves a few cans… Here we are.’ Pulling out a couple of cans of Tennant’s lager, Gordon handed her one and opened the other, taking a long swig.
Jo did the same, shivering inside his jacket. He reached towards her and she flinched, but he fished in his jacket pocket and brought out his battered cigarettes, offering her one with a grin. ‘Relax,’ he said gently, taking off his sunglasses, ‘I’m not going to pounce.’
Jo laughed nervously and took another swig from the can. They looked at each other for a long moment and she knew she wanted him. It was like a deep, gnawing hunger that would not go away. She had tasted his kisses and felt the strength in his arms and shoulders, and she wanted more. Jo wanted all of him with a sweet, aching longing. Before her courage failed her, she put down her can and said, ‘I want you to pounce.’ She was shaking with nerves and cold, wondering what he would say.
Gordon laughed softly and put down his drink. ‘I hoped you would. Come here, then.’ He held out his arms to her and she squeezed round the Formica table.
‘I’ve never done it before,’ she whispered.
He looked surprised. ‘Well, aren’t I the lucky one?’ he smiled, and pulled her to him. ‘The lads of Wallsend must be blind.’
They began kissing at once, urgently, as he guided them to the back of the caravan behind a thin curtain where a mattress lay on the floor. There was a pile of grey blankets to the side and everything smelled musty, but neither of them cared. Gordon’s jacket fell off her shoulders as they went down. Jo gasped as he touched her, aroused her. They made love in the muted light. He was practised and vigorous and she marvelled that Gordon Duggan should be the one to make her a woman.
Later, they lay wrapped in the blankets, listening to fractious parents shouting at their children to come in for tea to the surrounding caravans. ‘We should go soon,’ Gordon said, sharing a cigarette. But a few minutes later they were making love again and Jo thought she never wanted to go home. She was drunk with desire for him.
When he finally made a move to get dressed, she asked, ‘When can we do this again?’
He smiled. ‘We’ll find a time. Haway, it’s getting late.’
As they made their way to the car, Jo said, ‘Are we going out now – you and me?’
Gordon did not answer directly. ‘Best if we keep it quiet, don’t you think? The last thing I need is your father giving me a hard time. He doesn’t care for us Duggans, and my dad feels the same about you lot. He’d make me life hell.’
‘I don’t want that,’ Jo said quickly, ‘not because of me.’
He kissed her in satisfaction. ‘It’s our secret, then? We’ll keep prying noses like Nancy out as well, eh? Stop word getting back to your dad.’ He must have seen her disappointment, for he added, ‘Just for a bit − till we see how things work out.’
Jo swallowed hard. ‘Okay.’ She wanted everyone to know she was going out with Gordon and didn’t care what they thought. But if that was what he wanted, she would have to be content with keeping it secret. It would certainly make it easier with her father. And with no Colin or Pearl around this summer, he was even less likely to find out. Speeding home, listening to the Top Twenty on the radio, she consoled herself with the astonishing thought that, secret or not, Gordon was her man.
Chapter Eight
Jo spent the next month in a lovesick daze. Every minute she was not with Gordon felt wasted. She ached with longing for him, day-dreamed about him and woke up at night in a sweat thinking of him. She loved her job at the pub, for there was always a chance that he would walk in and order a drink with that knowing look and secretive smile that set her heart pounding. Band nights were the best, for under the noise of the crowd they exchanged words and planned where to meet. To her satisfaction she never saw him in the Coach and Eight with Christine.
‘Why would I want to see her when I’ve got my Jo-Jo?’ he teased.
He would pick her up in his car and take her to quiet places after she finished work for snatched lovemaking. Occasionally, when she had an evening off, they would drive into Newcastle to hear a band or go to a nightclub, and she would give her father the impression that she was out with a group of friends. Marilyn was the only person she confided in, for she had guessed quickly that there was something going on. Marilyn knew that Gordon picked her up at nights and she allowed Jack to think that Jo stayed late at her house.
‘Why can’t you tell anyone?’ Marilyn puzzled.
‘We don’t want any strife from our fathers,’ Jo explained, hiding her own dissatisfaction at the situation. ‘It’s just easier this way.’
They agreed not to tell Brenda. ‘Might as well put it in the paper as tell Brenda a secret,’ Marilyn joked. Jo knew she could rely on her best friend to be discreet, for they were going to share their future together at college and told each other everything.
‘I can’t believe I’m going out with him,’ Jo would sigh. ‘All those years when he never gave me the time of day − thought me a right nuisance. And now. . .’ She hugged herself in delight.
Marilyn would roll her eyes. ‘I hope you’re not going to be this bad once we’re at teacher training. I’ve never known you like this over a lad.’
‘Oh, don’t talk about the end of the summer.’ Jo shivered. ‘I don’t want to think about that.’
Gordon took complete possession of her mind. She hardly even thought about Colin, who was now in Northern Ireland. While her father fretted over news of an ambush in County Down and a bomb blast on the Shankill Road, Jo found herself detached from the outside world. A letter came from Pearl, but Jo hardly took in any of the news. Normally she would rush to the atlas and track where her aunt had been, but this time the letter lay around half read.
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 94