Rock a Bye Baby (12 page)

Pete’s fingernails were black, his hands calloused. Couldn’t help it, of course: he worked in a garage, according to Rita.

Pete bent close to Marcie. She winced as a fog of boozy breath smothered her face.

‘So! What you giving Johnnie for his birthday?’ he slurred, a salacious grin curling his mouth.

Marcie gritted her teeth and held her breath.

‘I bought him a card.’

Pete threw his head back. He nearly fell over with the force of his laughter. ‘A card! A bloody birthday card!’

She’d bought the card when they’d gone shopping and without Rita seeing. It had seemed the right thing to do.

Pete was not her favourite person. Fist resting on hip, Marcie glared at him. ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

His breath fell over her again. ‘I think he wants to do more than open an envelope, darling.’

Marcie found herself wishing she hadn’t come. She’d been angry and mortified when Johnnie had left her at the bus stop, but at least he’d come back for her, otherwise she wouldn’t have come tonight.

‘I’ve come to his party! He should think himself lucky for that.’

Pete was frowning as though some sober thought had swum through his muddled brain and was puzzling him. He turned to Rita, his lips brushing her nose as he murmured, ‘Is it really Johnnie’s birthday? I didn’t know that. I should have stood him a pint.’

‘Course it is.’ Rita laughed. ‘Don’t you remember?’

There was something about Rita’s expression that put doubt in Marcie’s mind. Rita did have a habit of bending the truth to suit her purpose. Marcie bristled. Rita was her mate. They’d been at school together and now they worked together. They exchanged makeup, clothes and snippets of gossip, and they’d rarely argued. Things had changed since Pete’s appearance on the scene, but if she was really honest with herself Rita had always been much the same.

‘Better go on up to this tatty party,’ Marcie muttered as she turned away. Again she threaded her way between the Saturday night drinkers, both locals and holidaymakers, determined to acquire at least one hangover before they returned to the job and familiar streets.

Alfie, the man who’d been hanging on to the bar door, was nowhere to be seen. No doubt his wife’s persistence had paid off and he was now snoring comatose in his own bed.

When she glanced over her shoulder Rita and Pete were having a snog and oblivious to everything and everybody.

Ignoring the offer of drinks she marched out, her face blazing red. Rita was not the only friend she’d ever have and she certainly wouldn’t be her bloody last!

Out in the corridor one of the leather boys had a girl pressed up against the wall. Their lips were suctioned together like a couple of sink plungers.

Another couple were panting and groaning at the end of the corridor almost beneath the stairs and next to the payphone, where it was darker and more private.

She stood and stared. There was something fascinating about watching people doing something so private in a public place. But two strangers doing it weren’t so arousing as the vision invoked in her mind – her and Johnnie, entwined, breathless and heaving against each other.

The tingling stayed with her as she made for the stairs.

Pausing halfway up she considered tearing the birthday card in half, but decided against it. She couldn’t be sure whether Rita was lying or not.

The room heaved with music and cigarette smoke.
Parchment shades on scattered wall lights diffused the light. A jukebox lit up one corner and the earnest faces of those hanging over it.

‘Groovy Kind of Love’ had replaced ‘Bits and Pieces’. The stamping had stopped, but no one was responding to the slower number as avidly as they had the previous. No one was dancing.

Girls dressed in leather, trying to look tough and unconcerned, talked in small groups, their mouths working chewing gum at the same time as speaking. Girls like Marcie, their hemlines at least six inches above their knees, couldn’t hide their interest in the boys. It didn’t matter that they were leggy and modern; the leather boys had the look that attracted them.

The girls in leather, faces thick with make-up, threw menacing looks. Their targets were the girls in mini dresses, their hair falling thick around their shoulders, fringes hiding eyes outlined in black liner.

The menacing glares turned en masse on the newcomer.

Marcie ignored both their looks and their snide remarks.

Johnnie wandered over to the jukebox. A group of girls in leather gathered around him, eying him like willing slaves.

So much for their pretence of being tough; they’d do anything for him and probably had.

Tarts! The lot of them!

You’re jealous, said a little voice inside her head. It was true. She couldn’t deny it.

She overheard the conversation of two girls close by. One of them was writing something in a small diary. ‘I’ve had fifty-three. Wouldn’t mind a go with Johnnie though,’ she said, her smile directed in his direction. ‘He’s got a big one. I’d love a go on that.’

Marcie felt her jaw drop. Her face must have been a right picture because one of the girls caught her shocked expression and burst out laughing. ‘We’re not talking about what you think we’re talking about.’

Two other girls giggled.

‘It’s the bikes we like,’ said the girl who had spoken first. She had shoulder-length red hair and a pleasant, round face. A white silk scarf – similar to the one Johnnie wore – was wound around her neck. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Marcie.’

The girl jerked her chin in acknowledgement. ‘My name’s Suzy.’ She did the same chin-jerking motion at the other girls. ‘This is Tina and that’s Pauline.’ The other two nodded a greeting then carried on with their conversation.

It made Marcie feel like an unimportant outsider. She was split between standing there looking stupid or pushing between the girls surrounding Johnnie – almost as though she were claiming him for her own.

‘I’ve got my leg over enough BSAs,’ said one of
the girls. ‘I’d like a go on a Bonnie. Had a go on other Triumphs, but never on a Bonnie.’

Marcie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to laugh out loud. They were talking about cadging rides on various makes of motorbikes! Was that right?

‘Excuse me …’

The girls looked at her in disbelief as she asked the question. Then they burst out laughing. ‘Yeah. That’s what we do. We see which of us can get a ride on the most bikes. Whoever wins … well … they win. And that’s it!’

She should have guessed. They were like a strange kind of club, all wearing denim jeans, leather jackets and black sweaters.

‘You with Johnnie?’ Suzy asked.

Unknowingly she had interrupted Marcie’s thoughts about how some girls never stopped being tomboys.

Marcie shrugged defensively. ‘Not really. What makes you think that?’

Suzy jerked her chin at Johnnie. He was standing watching her. Their eyes met. She sucked in her breath. What now? Give him the card? Toss her head and leave?

And then he smiled.

‘Better go and wish him happy birthday,’ she murmured.

‘If you like,’ said Suzy looking more than a little puzzled.

Marcie tossed one side of her mane of blonde hair back over her shoulder. There was no need to be nervous, she told herself. You look good despite the old dress.

She flashed Johnnie a pink-lipped smile and fished the birthday card out of her bag.

‘Happy birthday, Johnnie.’

He looked bemused when she gave him the card and even more so once he’d taken it from its envelope. It had a picture of a motorcycle on it plus a pair of crossed fishing rods. She didn’t know whether he was into fishing or not, but it was the only card she’d managed to find sporting a motorcycle.

‘A birthday card.’

‘I didn’t buy you a present, but perhaps this will be enough.’ She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him. The contact went on longer and deeper than she’d intended. Deep down she didn’t want it to stop, but her pride wouldn’t let her carry on. She mustn’t appear too keen. A boy like Johnnie would take advantage – just like Pete had taken advantage of Rita.

‘Well,’ he said somewhat breathlessly. ‘That was nice.’

Yes it was, but play it casual she told herself.

‘I’m glad you think so, but don’t think there’s
anything more than a kiss coming to you. I’ve only made this exception ’cos it’s your birthday.’

The blue eyes blinked in an amused manner. ‘It’s not my birthday.’

Marcie was taken aback. ‘Oh! Did I get it wrong? Rita said it was and so did your mate Pete.’

At the mention of Pete he burst into laughter. ‘Take no notice of him. He was just pulling yer leg – that’s all. Stupid sod!’

She wasn’t sure whether the stupid sod bit was aimed at her or Pete. She certainly felt stupid. And disappointed. And angry.

‘If that was his idea of a joke …’ she said huffily and took a backwards step. ‘Hey,’ said Johnnie, reaching for her with both hands.

This whole evening was not turning out as well as she would have liked. First there was her dad not allowing her to wear her new mini dress, now there was Rita and Pete making fun of her.

‘I’ll kill that bloody cow,’ she muttered, already turning on her heel.

‘Don’t take it so seriously,’ said Johnnie. ‘It was just a joke.’

Marcie’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘The joke being that I was supposed to give you something special for your birthday, a lot more than a kiss, in fact. No prizes for guessing what THAT was!’

Livid and smarting, she turned her back on him
and prepared to march off. She was disappointed and what’s more she felt a bloody fool! Well Rita bloody Taylor was going to get a piece of her mind!

‘Hey!’

She knew he was behind her, following her down the stairs. Although she was hurrying she spared the time to glance at where the couple had been making whoopee under the stairs. They were still there. The girl was patting her hair and making sure her skirt was down where it should be. The boy had his back to her. She heard the sound of a large zip. He was zipping up his jacket.

All over, she thought! Just like her and Johnnie, though in their case it was all over before it had even started.

The crowd in the public bar was spilling out into the corridor. She squeezed through. Someone stepped on the strap of her shoe and pulled it off. She did a rushed hobble to the door and out into the night.

There was a lot of shouting as a new surge of drunks fell out of the public bar behind her. Johnnie was bound to get caught up in that.

Once outside Marcie bent down to adjust her shoe strap. It was still early. Alan Taylor would be picking her and Rita up at eleven thirty. She didn’t want to wait that long; neither did she want to go home early.

She weighed up the alternative. The prospect of
going for a drink by herself didn’t appeal. The alternative was quickly dismissed, leaving her with nothing else to do but to head for the bus stop and home.

Purple clouds streaked with salmon pink hung low in the sky. The smell of late summer – fish and chips, candy floss, hamburgers and the sea – hung in the air.

Johnnie made a grab for her. His fingers brushed her arm as she jerked away.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘No. I don’t want to leave you alone. If I’d wanted to leave you alone I wouldn’t have come back to that bus stop the other week.’

‘I managed.’

‘So I noticed. Well, there you are,’ he said, his tone turning surly. ‘A bloke with a Triumph Bonneville don’t hold a candle to a Jag when it comes to picking up girls.’

She read the look on his face.

‘I was not picked up. It was Rita’s dad.’

He looked surprised at that.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘This party was just a general thing we’ve been having for three years now.’

Her silence and arms stiffly folded across her chest was enough of an answer.

‘Pete can’t resist a joke. Sorry about that.’

Marcie turned and walked slowly away before stopping and pretending to study the skyline – not that Leysdown had that special a skyline – low-rise buildings
that never failed to look vulnerable against the dark water lapping at the beach.

Ice-cream banners flapped in the sea breeze; paper bags rustled in wire bins advertising Lyons Dairy Maid.

‘How about going swimming tomorrow?’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ve brought my trunks with me. You up for it?’

She thought about tossing her head and telling him to go and take a running jump. Instead she tapped her finger against her lips as though she were thinking it over. The taste of him still tingled on her lips.

She eyed him from beneath her deep blonde fringe. He looked as though he was holding his breath in case she declined his invitation. She didn’t.

‘Yeah. OK.’

‘I’ll pick you up from your place.’

She detected the frisson of excitement in his voice.

‘You don’t know where I live.’

‘If you let me take you home tonight I’ll know then. Right?’

It was in her mind to tell him to get lost, but she liked the way he looked at her. There was respect in his manner.

‘I’ll have to tell Rita that I won’t be coming home with her. Her dad was going to collect us. In the Jag.’

‘OK.’

‘What do you mean? OK.’

He shrugged. ‘What I said. I’ll take you home.’

‘I’ll have to tell Rita.’

‘Go on then.’

Rita was annoyed when she told her. ‘What about my alibi?’

‘I thought you said your dad didn’t care what you did.’

Rita chose not to comment on that particular statement. ‘Oh Christ! I’ll phone him. I’ll tell him I’m staying with one of the girls. You’ll back me up, right Patsy?’

The tall thin girl with long ratty hair and a sallow complexion said that she would. ‘It’ll cost you a pint.’

‘Done!’

Rita turned her back on her and shook hands with Patsy.

‘I’m sorry.’

Rita wasn’t listening. Marcie knew when she’d been given the brush off.

‘She’s not happy,’ Marcie told Johnnie when she got back to him.

‘Because I’m taking you home.’

She shook her head. ‘No. Because she needed an alibi.’

Johnnie put his arm around her and whistled through his teeth. ‘Your mate Rita likes to live dangerously.’