sUnwanted Truthst

by Unwanted Truths (epub)

  Gail nudged Jenny in the ribs. ‘He’s over there. He’s such a hunk.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘By the toilet, I really dig him,’ Gail sighed.

  Jenny gathered that the tall fair-haired lad must be Steve.

  ‘Come on let’s jive. He’ll notice me then.’ Gail pulled Jenny up and they joined some girls dancing in the middle of the floor.

  Jenny remembered how she used to dance with Desmond. He had returned to Nigeria a couple of years before. Alice had said that, ‘it was not before time’, and that she thought, ‘he was never going back’. Although she hadn’t seen him for three years, Jenny felt that she had lost a friend. The record finished and Gail walked towards Steve. Feeling self-conscious by herself, Jenny went into the girls’ toilet, stood in front of the mirror for a minute and then came out again. Gail was still talking to Steve and seemed oblivious to anything or anybody else.

  Jenny picked up her bag and walked over to the hatch. As she stood sipping her drink the swing doors to the hall burst open and two boys entered laughing. They were both dark-haired, but one was slightly taller than the other and wore a blue jumper. She stared at him. Both boys looked at her as they walked past; the taller one’s eyes meeting her own. Her cheeks turned red as she returned to her chair.

  Gail ran over and sat down. ‘Steve’s asked me what I’m doing at the weekend. I know he’s going to ask me out. I just know it.’ Her head shook excitedly.

  It was Jenny’s turn to nudge Gail. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Over there by the pool table; the taller one, he’s just picked up the cue.’

  ‘Oh, they were here when I first started coming, Martin someone, I think. My cousin knows him. She’s over there. I’ll go and ask her.’

  ‘No don’t!’ she called out, but Gail was already halfway across the floor.

  ‘Yes, that’s Martin Barretti,’ Gail said breathlessly arriving back at Jenny’s side. He lives next door to her. ‘Do you fancy him then?’ Her blue eyes demanded an answer.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Oh yeah – you’re all red.’

  Jenny was conscious of Martin for the remainder of the evening. As she danced with her friend she kept glancing over to the pool table. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at him. When the boys had finished their game, they stood talking and drinking, pretending not to be interested in the girls dancing in front of them. But Jenny was sure he was looking at her.

  *

  Two weeks later, Jenny stood between Gail and her cousin, keeping one eye on the doors. There they are, she thought, bang on time.

  Gail put her hand over her mouth. ‘He’s coming over, give me your drink.’ She pushed Jenny into the middle of the hall. Suddenly she was standing in front of him. She couldn’t look him in the eyes, so looked over his left shoulder.

  ‘It’s Jenny, isn’t it? You’re new here, aren’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, this is only my third time.’

  ‘I’d buy you a drink, but you’ve already got one.’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘Are you doing anything this Saturday?’

  ‘No,’ Jenny answered, although she knew that her mother would be expecting her to go shopping.

  ‘Would you like to come for a walk then – say Saturday afternoon?’

  ‘OK,’ Jenny blushed.

  ‘Where would you like to meet?’

  Knowing that he didn’t live near her, she said the only place that she was sure he knew, ‘I could meet you in Hove Park.’ She caught his eyes for a second and looked away.

  ‘By the miniature railway?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine.’ She smiled.

  ‘OK. I’ll see you there then, two o’clock on Saturday.’ He left her and walked over to where his friend was waiting by the pool table.

  Gail pulled Jenny into the toilet. ‘Come on, what did he say?’

  ‘He asked me out on Saturday.’

  ‘And?’ said Gail.

  ‘And what?’

  ‘What did you say?’ Gail emphasised, as if talking to a small child.

  ‘I said yes of course.’

  ‘There you are.’ Gail smiled at her cousin, who was standing behind her.

  Jenny stared at Gail, and then her cousin. ‘You didn’t tell him I wanted to go out with him did you?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ said Gail, adjusting her hair in the mirror. ‘It’s obvious you fancy him like crazy. You can’t stop staring at him.’

  ‘That’s so embarrassing,’ said Jenny, wishing that she hadn’t made her attraction so obvious.

  ‘No it isn’t. He fancies you too. He’s looking over here now,’ Gail said as they opened the door and went back into the hall.

  *

  Jenny spotted his blue jumper first. He was standing at the end of the miniature railway track. Her heart leapt and she quickened her step.

  ‘Hello,’ said Jenny as she walked up behind him. She had decided to wear the same blouse and skirt she had worn when he had asked her out. She was not normally superstitious, but had thought it might be a good omen.

  He turned and smiled. ‘Hello Jenny.’

  ‘Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘No, not long. Shall we go for a walk?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I used to love going on this train when I was a kid. I was always pestering my parents to bring me up here. Have you been on it?’

  ‘Only once; I think it only runs on Sundays and Bank Holidays,’ said Jenny.

  They walked side by side in silence, crossing the old drover’s road that sliced the park in two. Stopping by the swings they watched as some children were pushed higher and higher by their friends; their screams filling the air.

  ‘I used to push my sister like that until she cried; that was down in Stoneham Park,’ said Martin. ‘Did you used to play here?’

  ‘Yes, with Gail sometimes. She lived opposite me before she moved. I preferred the roundabout though,’ said Jenny.

  ‘You live near here then?’

  ‘Yes, up by the windmill. Gail said you live next door to her cousin.’ Jenny reddened as she imagined what Gail must have said to him.

  ‘Yes, I used to play with her when I was young, but not anymore.’ He gave Jenny a wry grin and reached for her hand. They stood watching as a young boy tied the free swings to the struts, until the shrill whistle of the park keeper made him run away.

  ‘I used to do that too,’ Martin laughed. They walked slowly towards the tearoom. ‘Do you fancy a drink? We could sit down for a bit.’

  ‘Yes, that would be great. There’s a table outside,’ Jenny worried whether she should let go of his hand first.

  ‘What would you like?’ asked Martin, dropping her hand as they stepped onto the veranda.

  ‘A lemonade if they’ve got one, otherwise a Tizer.’

  Jenny sat down. Two couples were playing a game of doubles on the tennis courts opposite. She felt shy in Martin’s presence; but not uncomfortable. She remembered how awkward she had felt whenever she had been to Gail’s house and her older brother was there. She hadn’t even been able to say hello to him.

  ‘You’re in luck.’ Martin placed the bottle of lemonade in front of her. ‘Tizer for me and I’ve bought a Wagon Wheel. I thought we could share it. Hope you like them.’

  ‘I love them.’ Jenny’s stomach rumbled at the sight of food. She had been too excited to eat before she left home, saying that Gail’s mother wanted to talk to her about exams, and that she was late and hadn’t got time for lunch. ‘I heard you work in a bank. Which one do you work in?’

  ‘The Midland Bank in Brighton, I’m a trainee bank clerk. I only started four weeks ago. I’m enjoying it so far. What do you want to do when you leave school?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue. I start my O levels in September.’

  ‘I didn’t know either. Dad wanted me to get a steady job with prospects. He runs a café near the seafront. I used to work there i
n the school holidays. He said he wanted something better for me though. That’s what they all want isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, all my parents say is – I’ve got to get a job in an office.’

  ‘Do you want that?’

  ‘I don’t want to work in a factory or a shop, and I know I want more out of life than just being a housewife.’ She thought of her mother charring for Mrs Rowland, coming home exhausted and then having to clean her own flat. Her life wasn’t going to be like that.

  ‘What do you enjoy doing?’

  ‘I like reading – especially about foreign countries, I enjoy the countryside and cycling, but I don’t expect any careers advisor is going to think much of that.’ She decided not to mention the capital cities; he might think it odd.

  ‘I like the countryside too. Perhaps we could go for a ride sometime?’

  She blushed.

  As they left the tearoom, Martin reached again for her hand and they strolled to the southern edge of the park.

  ‘I’m fascinated by this stone. It’s enormous,’ Martin said as they stood and read the metal plaque at the base of the Goldstone, a twenty-ton sarsen stone that gave its name to the surrounding area.

  ‘Yes, it’s huge,’ but today Jenny was only interested in the boy at her side. They continued around the edge of the park, stopping at the tennis courts to watch a father teaching his son how to perfect his serve. They crossed back over the drover’s road.

  ‘I expect you like Cliff Richard, don’t you?’ Martin asked.

  ‘No, not much; I prefer Paul Anka; The Everley Brothers; and Neil Sedaka.’

  ‘They’re all American.’

  ‘It’s not because they’re American. I like their sound.’

  ‘I prefer instrumentals; The Shadows and Duane Eddy. I’ve got all their records. I’m saving up to buy a guitar. I reckon I’ll have enough by Christmas.’

  ‘Do you fancy joining a group?’

  ‘A couple of mates have, but I’ve a way to go yet.’

  They continued in silence. Jenny tried to think of something else to say, but the harder she tried the more the words retreated. She spotted the tracks of the railway through the trees, and hoped that he would want to see her again.

  ‘It’s my sister’s thirteenth birthday next Saturday afternoon. She’s having a special tea for a couple of friends from school. Would you like to come?’

  She thought it was as if he knew what she was thinking. ‘Won’t your parents mind?’

  ‘I’ll tell Mum you’re coming; one more won’t make any difference. She’s very easy-going. Dad won’t be there, he’ll be at the café. It’s more relaxed when he’s not at home. It would be good if you could come.’

  ‘Yes, I’d love to. Have you just got one sister?’

  ‘Yes, she’s enough. She’s so annoying. What about you?’

  ‘No, I’m an only child,’ she said, then adding, ‘but I don’t mind, I have some good friends.’

  ‘What you never have, you never miss.’ Martin smiled at her. ‘Not that I’d miss Anna; the house would be a lot quieter. She’s a pain in the backside. Well, it looks as if we’re back where we started.’ They stood staring at the engine shed.

  ‘I’d better go,’ said Jenny.

  He turned to face her and taking both her hands in his, dipped his face and briefly touched her lips. ‘I won’t be at the club on Tuesday, my uncle’s coming down. So I’ll meet you at the end of my street next Saturday, about three o’clock?’

  *

  The area to the south of the railway was known locally as “Poet’s Corner”. At the end of the nineteenth century, a councillor with a literary bent decided to name all roads built surrounding the town’s hospital after poets. Jenny leant her cycle against the wall of the house in Byron Street and looked at her watch: five to three. The ride down had not taken as long as she’d thought. She peered into the distance. Someone that looked like Martin was coming out of a house at the far end of the street, as he came nearer she saw that he was holding something in his hand. She should have bought a present for his sister. It was too late now.

  ‘You came on your bike then?’ Martin said as he approached her. ‘This is for you.’ He passed her a brown paper bag.

  ‘For me?’

  ‘Yes, look inside.’

  ‘It’s Neil Sedaka, his latest,’ she said, her face breaking into a wide smile.

  ‘Yes, you said you liked him.’

  ‘I do, thank you. I should have bought a present for Anna.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. She’s got loads, and her friends will bring some more. You better put it in your saddle-bag,’ he nodded towards the record.

  ‘Are you sure it’s alright me coming? I mean with your mother.’ Jenny took hold of the handlebars.

  ‘Course it is. Come on.’ Martin draped his arm around Jenny’s shoulders and they walked along the street.

  ‘Have you always lived here?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘We used to live in the centre of Brighton. But I don’t remember it. I think we moved here when I was about five. You can leave your bike here, behind mine.’ Martin led Jenny through a side door, to where a bicycle with drop handlebars stood against the wall of the house. Jenny positioned her front wheel so that it lightly touched the rear wheel of Martin’s bicycle. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Martin said as Jenny bit her lower lip. He took her hand and led her through the back door and into the kitchen.

  A slim dark-haired woman, wearing an apron with a frill around the edge, looked up and smiled at Jenny. She was turning a jelly upside down on a plate. ‘So you’re Jenny?’

  ‘I hope it’s alright me coming today, Mrs Barretti?’

  ‘Yes, of course it is. Martin hasn’t stopped talking about you all week.’

  ‘Mum, for God’s sake. Come on Jenny.’ He took her hand and pulled her through the doorway.

  ‘Yes, take Jenny into the front room. I don’t know if Anna’s in there, her friends haven’t arrived yet. I’m setting the food on the table in the dining room.’

  ‘We’ll go in there first then,’ said Martin, throwing a grin at his mother.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she laughed.

  Jenny relaxed, picking up on the easy atmosphere, and followed Martin along the hallway and into a neat sitting room.

  ‘Well, Anna’s not in here, that’s good.’ Martin sank into the sofa. ‘Sit down here,’ he patted the seat beside him. ‘I’ll put some 45s on the record player in a minute. That will get us into the party mood.’

  ‘I like you in those trousers. They suit you.’ Martin looked down approvingly as Jenny sat beside him.

  ‘They’re Capri pants. I always wear them when I cycle.’

  There was a thundering of feet on the stairs. The door burst open. ‘There you are. Where’s my money?’ A girl with straight dark hair and a fringe faced them, with both hands on her hips.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Martin.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about; my birthday money. I had five pound notes, on my bed-side table. Now I’ve only got three. You’ve taken them. No one else would.’

  ‘No I haven’t,’ Martin said.

  ‘You’re a liar and a thief.’

  ‘And you’re a rude brat. We’ve got a guest, and all you can do is scream and shout. Aren’t you going to say hello?’

  ‘No I’m not.’ Her dark eyes flashed from under her fringe. ‘Not ‘til you own up and give me my money back.’

  ‘Anna, Anna, what on earth’s going on? It’s your birthday.’ Mrs Barretti stood behind her daughter in the hallway. Her hands were white with icing sugar.

  ‘I don’t care. I want my money.’

  ‘Martin, did you take it?’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t. She’s just lost it. It’s probably lying in all that mess under her bed. She never cleans her room.’

  ‘We’ll sort it out later Anna. You don’t need it now do you? Just calm down, and go and get ready. Your friends will be here any minute.
I’m sorry about this Jenny. Your first visit, what must you think of us?’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Jenny, thinking that she had never experienced the rough and tumble of family life. She remembered Pamela Edwards’ house, and then thought of her dead brother. He would be nineteen now; her own childhood would have been very different had he lived.

  ‘I’ll get you later.’ Anna flashed her eyes at her brother.

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ said Martin mockingly as his sister ran back up the stairs. He turned to Jenny. ‘She takes after Dad, always exploding at the slightest thing.’

  ‘Martin, there’s no need to say that,’ said his mother.

  ‘Well, it’s the truth.’

  ‘Can I help you with the tea, Mrs Barretti?’

  ‘Thank you Jenny. That would be nice. I’m even more behind now. My husband’s at the café this afternoon; Saturday’s always their busiest time. Mind you, he wouldn’t help if he was here. Italian men,’ she sighed, ‘more trouble than they’re worth.’

  Jenny followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Martin said that you live up at West Blatchington,’ she said as she placed silver balls onto the circles of white icing that capped the tiny sponge cakes.

  ‘Yes, opposite the windmill.’

  ‘It’s nice up there; near the Downs. I used to live near the New Forest, just outside Southampton. My sister still lives there. Unfortunately, it’s all houses and traffic round here. I prefer the countryside. Right, that’s the fairy cakes finished. There’s just the butter icing for the birthday cake to do, then I’ll be finished.’ There was a ring on the doorbell. ‘Anna,’ she shouted, ‘answer the door, your friend’s here. Jenny, would you mind taking this jelly through to the dining room?’ She passed her a strawberry mould in the shape of a rabbit. ‘I expect your mum used to make these for you?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’ Jenny remembered the bright green jellies and pink blancmanges of her childhood.

  Jenny placed the jelly in the centre of the table decked with paper plates and serviettes. She thought what fun Martin’s mother seemed. She imagined her laughing and dancing and contrasted her with her own mother.

  ‘So, how old are you Jenny? I can never tell with young people these days.’ She picked up the baking tray of fairy cakes. ‘Could you pass me that plate, the one with the cherries round the edge?’