by Sandy Taylor
Rita bent over the pram, adjusting the covers and touching Miranda’s face. I could tell she didn’t want me to take her out, but Nigel was at his mother’s, and Rita didn’t want to take Miranda to the hospital, because she said it was full of germs.
After a thousand more instructions, I was eventually allowed to wheel the pram down the garden path, leaving Rita gazing anxiously after us.
I walked down West Street towards the seafront. So much had changed since I was last here. The In a Spin record shop, where Mary and I had spent so much time choosing the latest records and where on that fateful day we had met up with Elton and Ralph, was now a hairdressers called Mary Eleanor and Bellman’s the wool shop was a second-hand car dealers.
I walked further down the road till I came to the café. It looked exactly the same. I could even see the jukebox through the steamy window. How I wished I could just open the door and find Mary, Elton and Ralph sitting at one of the tables smiling at me. I felt a lump forming in my throat and hurried away.
I wanted to be back in London. I didn’t want to be here – it hurt too much. I continued along the seafront, feeling sad and empty inside. Miranda started making little mewing noises like a kitten. Her face was pink, and she was fussing with the ribbon that was tied under her chin. ‘What the eye doesn’t see the heart won’t grieve over,’ I said, removing the bonnet and a couple of blankets. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’ Miranda stared back at me. I wondered what she was thinking. ‘You’re a very wise little girl, aren’t you?’ I said, smoothing back the hair that was sticking to her forehead. ‘I’ve got a feeling that you and I are going to get along fine. But don’t let on to your mother.’ All of a sudden she smiled at me as if she understood every word I was saying. ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘I think we are going to get along fine.’
I walked all the way along the seafront, past the King Alfred swimming pool and the bowling green and turned in at the gates to the lagoon. Then I saw him. He was sitting on our bench overlooking the boating lake. He had his back to me; his body was bent forwards, his elbows resting on his knees. I stared at him for a long time, then I turned the pram around and walked away in the opposite direction, every footstep taking me further away from him, every breath taking me further away from where I wanted to be.
9
After Mary’s death ‘I went into myself’. At least that was how Aunty Brenda described it. Her remedy was to ‘get out of myself’. Simple right? Wrong. I was like a lost soul. I had literally lost the other half of me. I should have been able to turn to Ralph, but I couldn’t. Every time I thought about Ralph and Peggy I was reminded of Mary. Ralph had written to me during that time, but I had never opened even one of his letters. I eventually threw them away. Everything was too raw. I was dying inside, and no one could help me. I was making everyone around me miserable, so I’d walked a lot. The trouble was there was nowhere I could go that didn’t remind me of Mary. The seafront, the beach, every street, every shop. It was my brother Clark who had come to my rescue.
Clark had always wanted to be a photographer, and as soon as he left school, he got a job on The Argus. My little brother was following his dream. He came home one day with a magazine. ‘We get this every month, Dottie,’ he’d said. ‘It’s got a job section, and there’s one here that I think might interest you.’
I looked at the job he had circled.
‘I can’t do this. It’s about working for a magazine. What do I know about magazines?’
‘You read them, don’t you?’
‘I eat sausages, but I don’t have a clue how to make them. They’d never hire me in a million years.’
Clark drew my attention to a line in the advert. ‘Look – no experience necessary.’
‘But surely you need to be able to type?’
‘It’s worth a shot.’
‘And it’s in London.’
‘So?’
I shook my head. ‘Thanks, Clark, but I’d just be making a fool of myself.’
‘Do you fancy that sort of job?’
I’d never thought of any sort of job except Woolies. As far as I was concerned that was where I was going to work until I got married. But then I never knew that my life would turn out the way it did. How could I ever have imagined that my best friend would die and the love of my life would betray me in the worst possible way?
‘Come on, Dottie. What is there to lose?’
‘But London?’
‘I’ll come with you. Answer the ad. Just see what happens.’
It had been a Saturday when Clark and I had caught the train from Brighton station and travelled to London for my interview with Trend magazine. I had hardly slept the night before. I’d been convinced I was going to make a complete idiot of myself – I could just imagine the interview.
INTERVIEWER: ‘Miss Perks, why do you want to work for this magazine?’
ME: ‘I haven’t got a clue.’
INTERVIEWER: ‘What experience do you have in this field?’
ME: ‘Umm, none?’
INTERVIWER: ‘Typing speed?’
ME: ‘Come again?’
INTERVIEWER: ‘How fast do you type, Miss Perks?’
ME: ‘Where’s the toilet?’
If it hadn’t been for Clark I wouldn’t have gone at all. I’d thought the whole thing was a complete waste of time. Yet something had made me get up early, wear my best clothes and catch the bus to the station with Clark. I’d realised I had to get away from Brighton. If I wanted to change my life then it was up to me to change it. No one was going to do it for me.
I’d sat opposite Clark staring out of the window as the train raced towards London. Clark had bought a copy of Trend, but I’d been too nervous to read it. Clark had been totally absorbed in it. ‘I’d have given anything to have been there.’
‘Where?’
‘Woodstock,’ he’d said, passing the magazine to me. ‘It’s like the biggest rock festival there has ever been.’
I’d looked at the pictures. ‘They’ve hardly got any clothes on.’
‘I know, isn’t it brilliant?’
‘Is it?’
‘It’s all about freedom, Dottie, being young, turning your back on the establishment, giving young people a voice. Imagine the photos I could have taken.’
I’d looked at the pictures again. Yes I had been able to see why Clark would have loved this, and he’d been right, there was a kind of abandonment in the young boys and girls with flowers in their hair, dancing with a sense of freedom that I had never known.
‘And you’ll never believe who performed there. Santana, Joan Baez, The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin. And guess who the closing act was?’
‘Surprise me.’
‘Only Jimmy bloody Hendrix. It’ll never happen again, you know. Those people have made history.’
‘Why don't you apply for the job at Trend? You’d be more suited to it than me, and they’re not going to give me a job anyway.’
‘Just stay cool, Dottie – they might be desperate.’
‘They’d have to be desperate to take me on.’
The train had pulled into Victoria station much sooner than I had wanted it to. We’d walked across the crowded platform and down the escalator. I’d never been to London before, let alone on the Tube. I’d been terrified. Clark had sensed how frightened I was and taken hold of my hand. I had smiled at him gratefully.
As the train had rattled its way beneath the streets of London, I’d tried to imagine doing this every day. I couldn’t.
We’d come up into the sunshine of Sloane Square and for the first time since I’d left home that morning I’d felt a twinge of excitement. It had all looked so different to Brighton and I’d wanted different. I hadn’t wanted memories of Mary and Ralph on every street corner.
I’d straightened my shoulders as we made our way up the King’s Road.
The offices were above a tattoo parlour called Pierce on Earth.
‘Cool,’ Clark had said.
‘Would
you mind if I went in on my own?’
‘You sure?’
I’d nodded. ‘I think I’ll be less panicked on my own.’
‘I’ll have a wander round and meet you back here.’
The reception area had been small and colourful, with loads of posters on the walls advertising concerts and festivals, and I’d started to feel excited.
Someone had given me a cup of coffee. I could hardly drink it, my hand had been shaking so much. There’d been another girl waiting as well. I’d smiled nervously at her, and she’d smiled back. It had been comforting that she’d looked just as terrified as I had.
After she had been called in I’d leaned back into the leather sofa and closed my eyes and asked myself if this was this really what I wanted. To live in this big city on my own, to leave my family, to leave everything that was familiar to me?
‘Miss Perks?’
I’d opened my eyes. A young girl had been smiling at me. ‘Late night?’
‘Early morning,’ I’d replied, smiling back and standing up.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ she’d said.
I’d followed her along a corridor, then she’d opened a door and I’d been immediately hit by the noise. I had never seen so many people in one space before. Everyone had seemed to be talking at once, typewriters clicking away, people rushing around, everyone seeming to have a purpose. The place had been full of energy and life and excitement, and suddenly I’d wanted to be part of it. I’d wondered if I could. It had been a million miles away from Woolies, where you just stood behind a counter watching the clock.
People had smiled at me as I hurried after the girl, and one boy had given me the thumbs up.
At the end of the room we’d stopped outside a door. There’d been a sign on it that read ‘PETER LESSING EDITOR’.
‘Good luck,’ the girl had said as she’d stood aside and motioned me in.
The guy sitting behind the desk had been surprisingly young. I had expected someone much older. He’d stood up and held out his hand. ‘Peter,’ he’d said, smiling.
‘Dottie Perks,’ I’d said, taking his hand.
‘Coffee?’
‘I just had one thanks.’
‘Okay, tell me about yourself.’
I’d decided to be perfectly honest. ‘I’m afraid that I have no experience of working for a magazine. I’ve worked on the cosmetics counter at Woolworths since I left school, and I can’t type.’
Peter Lessing had laughed. ‘Are you trying to talk yourself into the job or out of it?’
‘I’m not sure.’
He’d leaned back in his chair and stared at me for what seemed forever, as if he was weighing me up. ‘Well, I like a challenge, Dottie.’
I’d bitten my lip. ‘That would be me then,’ I’d said.
He’d stared a bit more. ‘Would you be willing to start at the bottom?’
‘I wouldn’t mind starting in the car park.’
He’d laughed and stared at me some more.
Was he actually going to hire me? I’d wondered.
‘You live in Brighton?’ he’d asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Can I ask why you want to leave there and come to London?’
Well I’d been honest so far, so I’d thought I might as well continue being honest. ‘Broken heart,’ I’d said.
‘Oh dear, I’ve had one of those myself, not good.’
‘Not good,’ I’d agreed.
‘Have you thought about where you’re going to live?’
‘If you offer me the job, you mean?’
Peter Lessing had grinned. ‘I rather think that I am offering you the job, Miss Dottie Perks.’
At the time, I couldn’t believe it. He actually thought that I could do it.
‘Really?’ I’d asked, smiling.
‘If you want it. The question is do you want it?’
I would have been leaving everything I knew for something I didn’t have a clue about, but I had liked the man sitting smiling at me from across the desk instantly, and I’d known instinctively that I could trust him. If it didn’t work out I could always go back home. I’d taken a deep breath. ‘Yes, I do want it.’
‘I’m pleased. We’ll take a chance on each other, eh?’
I’d nodded.
‘Did you come here on your own?’
‘I came with my brother.’
‘Then I suggest you buy a paper, go for a coffee and look for a flat. Welcome to Trend.’
Clark had been sitting in the reception area when I’d come out. I’d walked towards him with a big grin on my face.
‘They were desperate then?’
‘They were desperate.’
Clark had given me a big hug. ‘Better find you somewhere to live then, girl.’
We’d done as Peter said and bought a newspaper and found a little café. Clark had bought a map of London so that we could pinpoint where I needed to live.
‘Do you want to share with someone, or do you want to live on your own?’
‘I think I’d rather share, just to start with anyway.’
Clark had spread the map out on the table and studied it. ‘I think we should look at North London,’ he’d said. ‘There’s good Tube links to here.’
We' found a couple in the right area, but only one where I would be sharing with a girl.
‘Right,’ Clark had said. ‘Fifty-nine Victoria Terrace, landlady Mrs Evelyn Pierce, top-floor flat, sharing with one girl. Own bedroom, shared kitchen and bathroom. Sounds perfect. Let’s find a phone box and give her a ring. It would be good if we could see it today.’
Luck had been on our side. Mrs Pierce had been in and said that we could come round and view the flat.
It turned out to be in Islington, a lovely red-brick house in the middle of a beautiful Victorian terrace.
‘I shouldn’t think it gets much better than this,’ Clark had said, staring up at the house.
I’d looked around. We were standing on pretty tree lined street with a park opposite. I’d been able to see people walking their dogs, women pushing prams and kids running about. It had felt friendly and busy, and suddenly it became important that Mrs Pierce liked me, because I’d thought that perhaps, maybe, I could live in a place like this.
We’d gone up the steps leading to the front door and rung the bell. A small thin woman had opened it. My Aunty Brenda would have described her as wiry.
‘You must be Miss Perks,’ she’d said, holding out her hand. ‘And this is?’ she’d asked, looking at Clark.
‘My brother,’ I’d said.
She’d shown us into a large sunny living room at the front of the house. Everything about it was fussy, from the patterned wallpaper to the flowery curtains. Several small tables were dotted about the room and on top of each one was a china chamber pot holding a plant, whose leaves drooped over the sides and snaked across the table. The whole place had felt claustrophobic, and I’d hoped the flat wasn’t going to be the same.
Mrs Pierce had small eyes that were too close together. ‘Do sit down,’ she’d said, motioning towards a peach sofa that had so many cushions on it that we’d had to perch on the edge. Mrs Pierce had settled herself opposite on a matching chair and peered at us over a pair of large tortoiseshell glasses.
‘So, Miss Perks, you are interested in renting my flat?’
I’d smiled at her. ‘Yes I am.’
She’d sat very precisely, with her hands on her lap and her legs close together. I’d found myself imitating her. I’d wanted her to like me.
‘Do you have employment?’
‘Yes, I’ve just been offered a position at a magazine.’
‘May I ask what sort of magazine?’
‘Music,’ I’d said. ‘Popular music.’
It had been hard to tell from her face whether this met with her approval or not.
‘And where do you live at the moment?’
‘I live with my parents, in Brighton.’
‘And can I ask your age
?’
‘I’m nineteen.’
‘Have you lived in London before?’
‘No, never.’
‘Well this a nice neighbourhood, and I have always felt very safe here. You will have your own bedroom, and you will share a kitchen and a lounge with Miss Renson. It’s at the top of the house, and I have told Miss Renson to expect you. Tap on my door when you’re done, and if you like the flat we will sort out the rent.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that I’ll like it. Thank you, Mrs Pierce.’
The young girl who’d greeted us at the top of the stairs was quite beautiful. She’d been wearing blue jeans and a long black baggy jumper. Her fair hair had been tied back in a ponytail, and she’d had these amazing blue eyes fringed with ridiculously long dark lashes. She’d looked like the models you see in a magazine. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at her.
‘Polly,’ she’d said, holding out her hand.
‘Dottie,’ I’d said. ‘And this is my brother Clark.’
Polly had smiled, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth ‘Well at least you look normal,’ she’d said.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Clark had said.
I’d made a face at him.
‘Well you seemed to have passed the Mrs P test – otherwise she wouldn’t have sent you upstairs to meet me. Want to look around?’
‘Yes, please.’
We’d followed her as she’d led us into a small kitchen and a surprisingly large living room.
‘And this is your bedroom,’ she’d said, opening a door. ‘The best room in the house if you ask me. I did think of moving into it myself after the last girl left, but I couldn’t be bothered to lug all my stuff in here. So it’s all yours.’
The room had been about twice the size of my bedroom at home with a large window that looked directly onto the park.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ Polly had said.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘Very swanky,’ Clark had said. ‘I’m getting quite envious.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Polly had said. ‘I’ll get us some coffee and leave you to think about it.’
After Polly left, Clark and I had sat on the bed.