‘That’ll be the Markers,’ Angela announced authoritatively. ‘They’re on first. Will we go in?’
Lizzie just nodded. Her excitement had turned to dread. She didn’t like the look of any of these people standing around. She clutched her mohair cardigan to her throat and followed Angela to the large wooden porch that had been stuck on to the front of the long low ballroom as an afterthought. A woman with scraped-back hair and ruddy cheeks who Lizzie recognised from the bakery tore their tickets without smiling, and then they approached the large double wooden-framed doors. Coloured lights could be seen through the frosted glass.
Opening the doors, the girls were completely overwhelmed by what met them. A thick layer of cigarette smoke hung over the small crowd that stood in clumps on the dance floor. People were shifting slightly from side to side but no one had progressed to what might have been described as dancing. The music was much louder than either of them had ever heard before, and they couldn’t even make out who was on the stage at the other end of the hall because of the flashing red and blue lights mixed in with the heavy cloud of smoke. The largest crowd was to their right. This was the bar. Angela pointed towards it and started walking. Lizzie followed.
They stood together by the wall halfway down the hall, each holding a bottle of Deasy’s red lemonade with a straw sticking out of it. Wide-eyed, they just stared at the people walking back and forth, too overawed to speak. It was only twenty past eight, and the woman behind the bar had told them that Brian Bello, not forgetting his Diamond Dust, wouldn’t be on stage until half past nine. The Markers had by now run out of new material and were making their way through a selection of popular songs by British and American bands. Hearing the familiar tunes relaxed the girls, and they began to sway a little and smile at each other. This might be all right after all. It might even be fun. Lizzie felt extremely brave when she made her way back to the bar all by herself to get them two more lemonades.
When the Markers finished, a very tall, thin man with a long face made even longer by large bushy sideburns clambered on stage to announce the raffle. The prizes were a dried flower arrangement provided by Ballytorne Blooms and a cooked ham from O’Keefe’s. It wasn’t clear which of them was the top prize. A woman standing close to Lizzie and Angela won the large basket of what appeared to be mostly dried grasses. When she brought it back and shoved it behind her on one of the high, narrow windowsills, the girls nudged each other and sniggered. Lizzie blew bubbles in her lemonade with her straw.
By nine thirty the crowd had increased threefold and the place was packed. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes filled the air. Realising that Brian would be on soon and they couldn’t see the stage at all, Angela grabbed Lizzie by the hand and dragged her through the throng towards the stage. They stopped about three people back from the front. The stage was surrounded by a group of girls who clearly weren’t from Ballytorne. Their hair was backcombed and lacquered, their dresses were sleeveless and they sounded like they might be from the city. Angela and Lizzie silently agreed that they had come as far as they were going to.
Within minutes the main lights were turned off and the beams of blue and red began pulsing through the smoke. The women at the very front began to scream like the girls Lizzie had seen in films. Through the dense fog on the stage they could make out bodies taking up their positions behind the drums and at the microphones on either side. The Diamond Dust had arrived. The dull thump of the drums started, closely followed by the deafening twang of the electric guitars. Lizzie could feel the music vibrating in her bones. The girls’ screeching had increased in volume and pitch. Angela squeezed Lizzie’s hand. This was it!
A flash of white light bathed the stage and then there he was, standing just feet from them. They gasped and found themselves joining in with the screaming. It was the only way they could express their excitement. He was even more beautiful than he appeared in pictures. Yes, he was shorter than they’d expected, but so slim. He was wearing a pale grey suit that had narrow tapered trousers. His shirt was white and his skinny tie was red. He pushed his hair back from a forehead already bathed in sweat, and then with a single smooth gesture unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a thin leather belt the same colour as his tie. The crowd of girls were jumping up and down now with excitement, and Angela and Lizzie joined them. It felt wonderful. So wild and exciting. Neither of them had ever experienced anything like this.
After three songs Lizzie felt herself getting hoarse, but she didn’t care. She drained the last of her lemonade and, with only a moment’s hesitation, let the bottle fall to the floor. This was mad and brilliant and she had never been so happy in her entire life.
The whole crowd was dancing now and she was aware of being pushed nearer to the stage. She was pressed right into the group of girls and felt very hot. She felt too hot. Her vision was becoming a little blurry and she felt … she wasn’t sure. Was she dizzy? Was she going to be sick? Too late she realised she was going to fall to the ground. She reached out for Angela’s hand but it wasn’t there. The lights and music disappeared into a small white dot and then vanished completely.
When she came to, she found herself sitting on a wooden chair with her head between her knees. A wide hand was stroking her back and she heard a woman’s voice.
‘You’re all right. You’re all right. Big breaths, love. That’s it. Good girl.’
She looked sideways and recognised the woman from the bakery who had been taking the tickets at the door. She heard a door open and a wave of music came rushing in followed by a man’s voice.
‘How is she?’
‘She’ll be grand. Won’t you, pet?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lizzie managed to say.
The woman’s veiny red face loomed in front of hers.
‘There you are. Welcome back to us.’
‘Where am I?’
‘You fainted, love. We brought you in here to the side office till you were feeling better.’
Lizzie nodded her head. ‘Thank you.’ Her throat felt sore and dry. ‘Can I have a drink, please?’
‘Of course. I got you a little brandy there. It’ll make you feel better.’
Lizzie either didn’t hear her properly or hadn’t understood, because she took the glass and downed its golden contents in a single swig. Her throat was on fire and her stomach was heaving. She spluttered and coughed and spat on the concrete floor.
The man was laughing! ‘Jesus. She likes a drop!’
‘Ah, it’ll do her no harm,’ the woman replied, and then, turning to Lizzie, she said, ‘Wait there till you’re feeling strong enough to get up.’
After the brandy Lizzie doubted that she would ever want to get up again. She leaned into the bony bentwood back of the chair. She saw her cardigan draped over piles of messy paperwork on the desk beside her. Reaching out for it, she could see that the milky-white mohair was now streaked with cigarette ash and mystery stains from the dance floor. She presumed it had happened when she fell. She gave a weary sigh. All she wanted to do was go home. Where was Angela?
The door opened, letting in another blast of music. The woman from the bakery was carrying a cup of tea perched on a saucer. She handed the steaming cup to Lizzie.
‘There you go, love.’
‘Thank you.’ She held the saucer with both hands and blew at the steam. ‘What time is it?’
The woman glanced at the tiny gold watch that pinched into the flesh around her wrist.
‘Nearly eleven. Not long now.’
Lizzie jumped to her feet, slopping tea into the saucer. She put it down on the desk and then leaned on the back of the chair to steady herself.
‘I have to go. My friend will be waiting. Her father got here ages ago.’
‘Oh, right. You can get out just here.’ She indicated a second door with a Yale lock and two small panes of glass. ‘Put your cardigan on.’
‘It’s all dirty,’ Lizzie said and realised she sounded pathetic.
‘That’
ll wash out. Everything will be better in the morning. You go home and have a good sleep.’
The gust of chilled air that hit Lizzie’s face felt refreshing. She stepped out into the night.
‘Thanks for taking care of me.’
‘Not a problem. Safe home now, love.’
Lizzie walked down the side of the building and found the wide gravel area at the front where Angela’s father had dropped them. A few cars were loitering with their lights on. She got closer and peered at them, but none of them were the right car. Maybe he was late. She looked around at the people smoking and laughing. A few couples were standing in the shadows kissing. Where was Angela? Could she have met someone? Trying to look casual as her heart began beating faster, she walked back and forth inspecting the dresses of the girls. No Angela. However, with a sickening jolt she realised that one of the couples was Fiona and Ger. Fiona mustn’t see her like this. Lost and alone, like the little baby she had accused her of being. She dashed back to hide behind the side of the porch. She would see the car from there.
The welcome chill had turned to cold night air. What had been in that drink? She rested the back of her head against the wall and felt a little better. She looked up into the stars and watched her breath float upwards.
Time passed and various cars arrived and left. Each time she looked up full of hope, only to be disappointed. He must be really late now. She was beginning to get worried. What if he never came? What would she do then? She suddenly remembered that there was a phone box just beyond the Stella Ballroom on the side of the road. She had no change because she’d given it all to Angela, but surely she could reverse the charges. This was an emergency.
When she got to the phone box, the smell of piss hit her before she had even opened the door. She pulled her cardigan up over her nose and stepped inside. The cord fell limply down to the side of the phone. Some idiot had ripped out the receiver. She could feel herself getting close to tears. She stumbled out of the phone box and headed back to the Stella. Something must have happened, but she was sure he’d come for her. They wouldn’t just leave her here at the side of the road.
Back at the ballroom, streams of people were coming out and getting into waiting cars. Clearly the show was over. She ran the last few yards expectantly. With so many cars, surely one of them contained Angela and her father. Was that him? No. Over there? Different colour. Car after car was not her golden carriage. Soon the front of the ballroom was deserted. Even the chip van had shut up shop and driven away. Lizzie wrapped her arms around herself and whimpered. She had no idea what she was going to do. She realised she had been a fool. Why had she let all the cars drive away? One of them would have given her a lift back into town. But then what if Angela’s father did come? He’d be looking for her and she’d get in trouble for going off with strangers.
The lights in the porch had been switched off, but Lizzie could see a glow coming from the back of the building. He’d never be back there, she reasoned, but with nothing to lose, she decided to go and check. When she got there, she found a van with its back doors open. Before she could investigate any further, a man came out of the building carrying a large electric speaker. After it had been stowed in the van he turned and noticed Lizzie.
‘Hello, missy.’ His voice was deep and it sounded like he was from up the country. Dublin maybe.
‘I can’t find my friend.’
‘A girl, is it?’
‘Yes. Angela.’
‘Well I’d say we know where your Angela is.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘Where?’
‘She’s getting a ride somewhere.’
‘Well her father was supposed to give us a lift.’
‘I don’t mean that sort of …’ He laughed until he made himself cough. ‘Where are you trying to get to, missy?’
‘Back into Ballytorne.’
‘Well if you can wait ten minutes I can drop you off in the van. I’m heading back to Cork with the equipment.’
‘Really? Thank you so much.’ A wave of relief swept over her. Everything was going to be all right. Wasn’t God wonderful? Wasn’t he looking after her tonight?
‘Sit in there.’ He indicated the passenger door. ‘I won’t be long.’
Lizzie opened the door with a creak and a clunk. She lifted her skirt a little and stepped up into the van. It stank of cigarettes and the ashtray on the dashboard was overflowing with extinguished butts. She pulled the door shut and waited in the darkness.
It wasn’t long before the other door opened and the man slid behind the steering wheel. With the cab light on she got her first good look at him. He wasn’t as old as she had first thought. His hair was curly and dark and nearly touched the collar of his leather jacket.
‘I’m Barry,’ he said and smiled at her. His teeth looked white against his dark stubble.
‘I’m Lizzie.’
‘Dizzy Miss Lizzie.’
‘What?’
‘The Beatles, love. Have you heard of them?’ He chuckled and started the engine.
‘Of course. I know that song, I just didn’t …’ Her voice trailed off. She giggled too. She felt warm inside. Maybe it was the brandy. ‘Are you in the band?’
‘Me? Jesus, no. They’re all in the minibus. I’m the roadie. I just follow them around with all the kit. Do you like them, Dizzy Miss Lizzie?’
Lizzie felt herself blush. ‘I like Brian Bello. That’s who we came to see.’
‘Well I reckon Angela saw some fellow she liked more.’
‘No. Angela would never …’ Lizzie wasn’t sure what Angela wouldn’t do, but she knew that she wouldn’t.
‘Mark my words, we’ll see Angela’s arse sticking out of a bush somewhere along here.’ Barry laughed.
Lizzie was shocked. She had overheard boys saying things like that before, but nobody had ever talked like that to her.
‘The joke of it is, all you young ones love Brian, and he’s a big fairy.’
‘A fairy?’ Lizzie thought she knew what that meant, but it must mean something else, because there was no way that Brian Bello could be one of those sorts of men. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Well I’ve never actually seen him with a dong in his mouth, but no girlfriend? Come on. All those girls throwing themselves at him, and nothing. Not one girl in the three years I’ve been working with them. If that isn’t a fairy, then I don’t know what is.’
Silently Lizzie thought that just made Brian Bello sound like a very nice man, but she imagined Barry might not agree and said nothing.
Soon the lights of Ballytorne came into view. Lizzie had never imagined that the sight of some street lights outside the ESB offices could make her so happy.
‘Nearly home,’ she said.
‘You just tell me where.’
They drove on past the cinema and down into the main square. Lizzie thought she would get Barry to drop her at O’Keefe’s corner and then she could walk up the hill to Angela’s house. She hoped they wouldn’t all be in bed.
‘Just here, please. This is fine.’
Barry pulled the van up to the deserted footpath and turned off the engine.
‘There you are now.’
‘Thank you so much.’ Lizzie was struggling with the handle.
‘Sorry. It sometimes does that. I’ll come round and let you out.’
Barry jumped from his side of the van and then walked around to open Lizzie’s door. As she turned to get out, he grabbed her waist and lifted her up before placing her on the pavement. He slammed the van door shut behind her and looked down into her face expectantly. Lizzie pushed her hair behind her ears, but it immediately fell forward again.
‘Thanks again. Thank you so much.’
Barry cocked his head to one side and grinned.
‘Have you no little thank-you kiss for me?’
Lizzie froze. She didn’t know what to say. Of course she shouldn’t kiss this man, but he had been very nice to her, so she knew he wasn’t bad.
Ba
rry leaned down. ‘Just one kiss,’ he whispered. His left hand was back on her waist. Lizzie could feel her heart beating frantically.
‘I … I don’t know.’
He put his other hand gently under her chin so that she was gazing up at him. He leaned in even closer and spoke in a soft growl. ‘A little goodnight kiss.’ And then his lips were on hers and he pulled her whole body against him.
Lizzie knew this was all very wrong, but she liked the feel of his strong arm around her back and the pressure of his lips. He was nuzzling her hair now, and the roughness of his stubble scraped against her cheek. She winced but made no sound. She felt herself being pushed backwards by the weight of his body. She took a couple of steps back but he kept hold of her and steered them both into the deep doorway of O’Keefe’s butchers. She wriggled and tried to speak but his mouth was on hers again. She felt the wetness of his tongue probing her lips and she decided she didn’t like this kissing. His breath smelt strong and acrid and he was making low grunting sounds. His left hand slipped down and grabbed her bum. She raised both her hands and pressed against his chest, but he was leaning heavily down on her.
‘Shhh.’ His hot breath was in her ear. ‘You’re a good girl.’ He moved his mouth down to her neck and started to kiss it.
Lizzie felt sick. This was such a very bad, bad thing, but she couldn’t stop it. His legs straddled hers and she was pinned against the shop door. His hand ran down the back of her leg and then was travelling up underneath her skirt, rubbing her bare skin.
‘Please … please. I have to go home.’ But even as she said the words, she knew that he wasn’t going to release her.
He put his right hand around her throat. ‘Good girl. Good girl.’ Then he pressed his face against hers, his big hot wet tongue going everywhere, and moved both his hands underneath her skirt, where they grabbed at her knickers and started to pull them down. Lizzie leaned her head back as far as she could and twisted her body from side to side, but it was useless.
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