Her friends were getting some serious Irish rounds in that evening. They always got together on a Friday night. It was 1965 and the 60s were now in full swing. All the girls were wearing the latest fashion statements, mainly sleek tunics and mini skirts. She loved her clothes then. Her ambition was to become a fashion designer. She had already been told she could make it as a top model by Lucie Clayton’s modelling school in London. Humphrey came over with a stack of drinks in his hand and a couple of packets of crisps stuffed in his mouth. He plonked them on the table.
“I can’t fecking believe this place on a Friday night. You can’t swing a cat in here. Who’s for the Cavern later?” He shouted over the crescendoing voices.
“Will you believe it Pat, he’s already talking night clubs when we haven’t even started the evening.”
Friendship was the real reason they were all together on a Friday, and of course, an opportunity to pick up a date. Many of them had travelled and been to and back from London, but they always returned to their homeland Ireland. This was the place you could really let your hair down, with old friends, cracking jokes and sharing the Irish passion for drinking. When you bought a round you bought everyone a round. Before you knew it you had a line of drinks in front of you, waiting to be demolished.
In London the pubs weren’t the same. They were much more staid affairs unless you went to one of the avant-garde pubs in the Kings Road where the drugs scene was starting to make a major impact. It was good to be back and hear the Irish lyrical accents all around her.
“God the things I saw going down in London. I’m so glad we have Ireland to come back to, for a bit of normality.”
“That’s why they call it the swinging sixties.” Humphrey replied. “ Buildings and skirts are getting higher, hair longer and the music louder.”
At that moment her elder sister walked in wearing a replica Mary Quant black and white checkered short skirt and tailored jacket. Her hair hung loosely round her shoulders, protected by a loose headscarf.
“Hi sis, how are you doing?”
“Oh for the love of God I need a drink. Those frigging buses are never on time. I got absolutely soaked. It’s raining cats and dogs out there!”
Miriam slowly lit a cigarette and inhaled its’ contents. The bar had the smell of drink loitering in the air as people pushed past spilling their pints. It was good to be back. She had spent the last three months at St Martin’s Lane College of Art and Design in London. The course was the same her father had done many years back. There weren’t very many women on the course, but that wasn’t unusual in those days when more women went in to modelling or became air hostesses. She wanted to do more with her life, to become successful in her own right. London had taught her the new meaning of ambition. She had seen sweeping changes in the fashion industry which had previously been aimed at the wealthy and elite only to be replaced by a younger group of people eager to buy ready wear fashion off the shelves on the high street. She came from a large family and wanted to break free, free from the reigns of Catholicism which still weighed heavily on them in those days.
“Do you think there will be any peace in Ireland one day or will we always be at each other’s fecking throats?”
She didn’t want to comment. Her father was English, which posed a real threat to them in Ireland in those days. Her mother was Irish. The only reason they didn’t stand out in their community was because they had been brought up in the Jewish community of Cork. This was the quietly ambitious community that just kept their heads down and concentrated on hard work and making money. Many unbeknown to her were to go on and be famous designers.
“So how’s the new job with the ballet? What do you get to do?” She asked David.
“Oh I get to choreograph all the male dancers, which is fun! Nothing like the sight of a male dancer in tight leggings.”
“David, that is too much information, you naughty boy.”
“You never know you might get a peak yourself, if you succeed. I might be able to tip some fashion design your way, when you’re established. It beats having to slog away at a factory all day.”
He looked at the others, then turned and gave her one of his classic cheeky grins. David was as camp and gay as the best of them and she loved him for it. None of them asked where he hung out when he was not with them or how many lovers he had, but they knew that if you were in the theatre or ballet that you were probably likely to encounter a strong gay fraternity.
“So, how’s your love life Miriam?”
“Oh I don’t have any one special at the moment.”
“Didn’t meet anyone special in London then?”
“No, no one special,” she replied somewhat wistfully. She gently stroked the stem of her glass, savouring her surroundings.
“All you need is love.” came rolling out on the Juke Box.
“Anyone want another drink?” David asked.
“I’ll get these in.” Miriam said. “It’s my turn.”
She got up and straightened her skirt. She popped to the Ladies through the sea of people and retouched her make up and applied some hairspray to her newly cut bob. As she pouted her lips and showered herself with Chanel No 5, she took another look at her reflection in the mirror. Not bad for a model if she said so herself. She edged through the heaving crowds towards the bar. She could feel the admiring glances from all the men in the room as she walked past. She knew most eyes were trying to catch her attention, for any response that might acknowledge their existence or give them an indication as to whether their attraction was reciprocated.
One man’s glance at the bar opposite trapped her attention. He was older than her, dressed in a smart suit with an air of superiority about him. He was chatting to a group of men of similar stature. His blond hair was swept back and his blue eyes kept smiling at her, mesmerizing her. He was laughing and joking with his friends, yet kept glancing in her direction. His skin was slightly suntanned, as if he had just come back from holiday. He seemed to be commanding the attention of his friends, clearly in control of the conversation. He wasn’t flirting with her, he was too far away, but he was just looking at her in between talking and laughing with his friends. There didn’t seem to be a female companion with him. Don’t what ever you do make it look obvious that you fancy him, she told herself. Just calmly order the drinks and return to your friends. She locked out of his eye embrace and took the drinks back to the table.
“Oh there was a queue at the bar. You know what it is like trying to push yourself past all those men.” The conversation continued to flow but she wasn’t listening. The way that man had glanced at her had disarmed her. How would she attract his attention without him knowing? She couldn’t go up to the bar again, that would be too obvious. She didn’t want to leave for the night club in case he didn’t come. In any event it probably wasn’t his scene. He looked far too sophisticated to want to go to the Cavern. Maybe if she went to the Ladies, she would catch a glimpse of him again.
“What took you so long sis? You were ages.”
“Sis you haven’t been listening to a word I have been saying, have you?”
“Oh sorry, I was in a different world.”
“It’s not something you’re not telling me?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
She could hear the laughter getting louder and louder from his side of the bar, but couldn’t see him. From the sound of their high clipped accents, they weren’t Irish. She tried to ogle the conversation, but the bar was so busy and noisy, it was impossible to catch anything.
After what seemed like an infinite period of time, she caught him walking towards her in the direction of the Mens toilets. As he glided effortlessly through the crowds, she could not avert his gaze.
“Len, I thought it was you! How are you doing?” cried her friend Pat. She got up to give him two air kisses. Oh my God she knew him. Miriam tried to fain nonchalance but he turned round and looked at her.
“So these are your friends, I take it
.”
“Yes, let me introduce you. Humphrey, David, Orla and her sister Miriam. ”
He duly walked round and shook their hands.
“We are all going to the Cavern later if you want to join us?”
“I might just do that,” he said. “I’m still a bit jet lagged though. I’ve only just got back from South Africa.”
“The girls mentioned that you were off on another speculative investment.”
“We still had time to pack in some Game Reserves. Listen I’ve got some business to finish up with at the bar. I might catch you guys later.”
And with that he continued in the direction of the Mens. She had no idea whether he would make it to the club or whether she would ever see him again. She did not know if the others had noticed the warm mutual attraction between them.
“How do you know him?” she asked.
“Oh he has been in all the Society pages. Quite a scandal. He was married to Lady O’Connell and got divorced last year. He is a hugely successful businessman in his own right. We used to live close to his family, before he started moving in those circles. I think he spends a lot of time in South Africa. I always thought he was a bit of a catch, until this O’Connell scandal. I think his ex wife got remarried pretty quickly and the new husband adopted his children.”
“ Children?” she asked.
“Well he is about fifteen years older than us.”
“How terrible to lose your children.”
“I don’t know why. It could be that is the only way they could get citizenship to South Africa.”
Even though this was the 1960s divorce was still considered a shameful thing in the eyes of Catholicism, that and children out of wedlock.
Miriam still had about four rounds of drinks to get through, but she didn’t want to be drunk when she next saw him, if he did turn up at the club. She briefly saw his back when he returned from the Mens, before it disappeared into the crowd. Now she couldn’t see him at all. She strained her neck to see if she could still hear their voices but the noise in the pub had risen to another level.
“What’s wrong sis, you’re not drinking?”
“You know what? I don’t feel like any more. Shall we just go straight to the club? Perhaps after a few dances, I will feel like some more.”
“Lets go then.”
She quickly scanned the pub again, but there was still no sight of him or his friends
They picked up their belongings and edged through the crowds to the exit. They stumbled out of the swing doors into the cold night air. The rain had stopped thank goodness, so she needn’t worry about her hair. Perhaps he had already left and gone straight home she thought. After all he did say he was jet lagged.
There were plenty of revellers in the street teetering in their heels along the pavements. She could hear the splash of the rainwater on the streets from the cars as they went past. The Cavern was only two blocks away, so they decided to walk there. When they arrived at the entrance, two burly blokes were there to greet them and wave them in. She could hear the loud music pulsating from the club below.
There were hardly any people in the club as it was still early. She cast her eye over the dance floor but there was still no sight of him. Her heart sank. Had he decided to call it a night she wondered?
“I’m going to grab us a table and then Miriam it’s your turn to get the drinks.”
Miriam edged up to the bar which had three champagne buckets full of champagne.
“Let me get these,” she heard a voice say behind her with a hint of a South African accent. She could feel his breath on her neck and felt his hand on hers.
“I suspect everyone will be wanting champagne. I’ll buy two bottles, then, we can keep one to ourselves. Don’t whatever you do, go back to your friends. Just stay here,” he said with some authority. “Hi Tina. Can we have two bottles of Bollinger, one for that table over there and one here?”
The waitress went off to get the champagne glasses and two bottles from the fridge. Len grabbed a stool and sat down next to her. She noticed he was on his own.
“Your friends didn’t come then?”
“No I sent them packing. I wanted you to myself.”
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Miriam took a small sip from her glass and placed it back on the bar. She took a sneak preview over her shoulder to check that her friends were happily ensconced at their table, which they were.
“So, you have just got back from South Africa, I take it?” trying to avoid any awkward silences.
“I have various business interests over there, mainly in property development. I split my time between London, Dublin and Cape Town.”
“I’ve just come back from London.”
“What took you there?”
“Oh modelling mainly and a fashion design course. I hope to be a fashion designer one day.”
“Not that ambitious then?”
He smiled again, his eyes searching for that hint of reciprocation, which she gave. Her friends were too busy talking to notice that she had not returned. The music was playing, but they didn’t notice.
“I tried to stick it out in London, but it’s hard to earn enough to get a proper flat.”
“It looks like you’re a woman used to nice things.”
“Oh I like nice clothes, nice things. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Good, because you’ll enjoy being with me.”
“What I love about London is that it is embracing change. No longer is Knightsbridge dominated by the stuffy establishments only prepared to endorse haute couture. There are lots of opportunities for young designers like me.” She took another sip of her champagne and grabbed an olive from the tiny bowl on the bar in front of them.
“It seems to me that the whole of society is on the move at the moment. Take what I do which is property development. I see the old order dying, particularly in Ireland. Ireland used to be full of traditionalist values based on rural, religious and nationalist ideologies. But now the Capitalist Market is having an influence. It’s a great opportunity to make money if you know the right people.”
Miriam pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her bag, listening intently.
“Here, let me” Len said proffering her a light and then lighting his own.
“I think when Kennedy came to visit a few years back he did a lot to raise this country’s profile.”
“You’re not telling me Ireland is now full of rock and roll, space races and smart clothes.” Miriam laughed “I can’t see Ireland losing its’ heart which is Catholicism. I was always taught to believe that a family who pray together, stay together.”
“That’s where my last marriage must have gone wrong,” he replied staring blankly into the distance.
At that point they were interrupted by Pat who was willing them to come and join them. Eager to avoid getting tangled up with the group again she was relieved when Len suggested that perhaps they should dance to the next song.
“Come on,” he said stubbing out their cigarettes. “ I could do with getting to know you more intimately.”
“You know the moment I saw you in that pub I was hooked,” he said whilst they danced.
“I guessed as much.”
“Listen, I’d love to stay, but I am totally jet lagged. Here’s my card with my number on it. Give me a call in the next few days and we’ll do lunch. I’ll say my goodbyes to the others.”
She took his embossed company card, which confirmed he was managing director of some property development company in Dublin. He said his goodbyes to their group and then left.
“What’s with you two sis?”
“Oh nothing.”
Miriam didn’t want to let on that there was more to this, in case nothing happened. They stayed and danced some more before saying their goodbyes that evening. She somehow knew in her heart that her life would never be the same again having met Len.
MARJORIE 1965
LONDON
MA
RJORIE LEANED AGAINST the sideboard in her kitchen overlooking the neatly manicured gardens below her in London. The wind rustled through the trees, whispering. The traffic was thundering outside with its’ normal monotonous drone. Marjorie put the kettle on the stove and waited for it to whistle. Her life was starting to feel better now. She had started a job at the solicitors Trower and Hamlins in New Square. Her position was as legal secretary to one of the leading partners. The offices were situated right near the Law Courts on the Strand and she was looking forward to going and watching some interesting cases after work. The pay was adequate, but she had been assured some overtime if she worked hard. She loved the smell of those offices, of old leather books and glorious mahogany polished wood. Her digs were just around the corner in a small mansion block off Marylebone High Street. In the background she could hear her neighbour switch the radio on to “She loves you ye ye”. She didn’t have much time for contemporary music then. In any event it was her birthday and she had reached the dreaded age of forty-two. Not good when you are still single. But she liked this new band who she thought was starting to become quite famous, the Beatles. They somehow made you feel upbeat about life.
Things had not always been so good for Marjorie. She grew up in the shadows of the First and Second World Wars and got married to a completely unsuitable guy Anthony in the Second World War, only to be divorced again by the time she was twenty one. At the time she thought this guy in uniform would sweep her off her feet. Little did she know that she would be left with the responsibility of looking after his parents. For many years after that, life just drudged on. How could she have reached forty-two and not done anything with her life?
She poured herself a cup of coffee and slowly sipped its’ contents. She didn’t have to go to work as it was a Saturday. She contemplated going to the cinema but there was nothing that took her fancy. She picked up a copy of the previous days’ Standard and idly flipped through its pages. They were advertising a special offer for the Planetarium at Tussauds, something to do with stars and infinite galaxies. As she had nothing better to do, Marjorie decided to get dressed and take the short walk to Baker Street.
Abandoned Love Page 2