Closer than Blood: Friendship Helps You Survive. Julie Shaw

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СКАЧАТЬ dancing herself, she loved to watch. Loved watching how the couples would look as though they’d come straight out of the movies once they stepped out onto the dance-floor, the men so handsome in their long drape jackets, with their coloured collars and suede brothel creepers, and the girls in their ballet pumps, their circular skirts flying as they pirouetted around to Bill Haley and Buddy Holly. It was magical to watch, and looked magical to do, as well, and though Shirley was happy enough dancing with Anita – John Arnold had never been much of a dancer – how she had ached to be in the arms of a lad so she could properly put into practice all those hours she’d spent secretly learning how to jive with a kitchen chair.

      And now she had one. Well, she hoped so. If Anita was to be believed, anyway. Knowing everything about everyone, she assured Shirley that Keith loved to bop and that only last week she’d seen him jiving away with his sister.

      The walk to Bankfoot took them a good half an hour, but it was a lovely early summer’s evening and they passed the time chatting about what they’d been up to during the day. Keith was dressed in typical Teddy Boy attire and, from the musky smell she kept catching off him, had dabbed on some aftershave as well, and she was pleased that her new boyfriend had gone to so much effort.

      ‘Come on then, kiddo,’ he said, grinning as they finally approached the entrance. ‘Let’s go show ’em how it’s done, shall we? Though hang on,’ he added, glancing first down at Shirley’s black pumps and then at her bag, ‘you’re not going to pull a pair of high heels out of that handbag of yours, are you? Only you’re two inches taller than me already, and I don’t want to look stupid.’

      Shirley smiled politely, and though she couldn’t have cared less about his height, immediately and instinctively tried to lower her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t like wearing high heels much,’ she lied, pleased at her foresight in choosing to put the flats on her feet, rather than one of the pairs of kitten heels she often wore for dancing. It made her smile to herself, even so. Here he was, so concerned about appearances and everything, yet the Teddy Boy suit he was currently sporting was so obviously a couple of sizes too big. In fact – and she stifled a giggle at the thought – at first sight, seeing Keith turn up in it had put her a little bit in mind of Norman Wisdom. But the impression had disappeared almost as quickly as it had formed. No, despite his size, Keith Hudson was nothing like Norman Wisdom. There was a glint in his dark eyes that was nothing like Norman Wisdom’s. Something so manly. Something so sexy.

      He was the best-looking lad she’d ever been out with, in fact, and being led into the Ideal on his arm – this lad from the notorious Canterbury estate, no less – made her feel ever so slightly weak at the knees. She could only hope they’d hold up once she was properly in his arms so she didn’t go down like a sack of potatoes.

      Bert Shultz was on the door, wearing the same thing he wore every weekend: black suit and dicky bow. He nodded his usual greeting at Shirley, and seemed happy enough to take the two shillings Keith proffered for their entrance, but at the same time he narrowed his eyes. ‘Evening, lad,’ he said, dropping the money into his cash box. ‘I don’t want any of your shenanigans tonight, do you hear? Some of the other lads from your end are here tonight,’ he elaborated, ‘and I’ve already had to eject a couple of them. Best behaviour tonight, lad, okay?’

      Shirley turned, expecting Keith to nod politely at this, but instead he walked straight inside, dragging Shirley in his wake, and offering a mild, ‘Get lost, Bert,’ as he did so.

      Shirley gaped. ‘But –’

      ‘I can’t stick that stuck-up get,’ Keith said, once they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to.’

      Shirley felt a nervous flutter of excitement in her stomach. It was a feeling she was beginning to become more than a little familiar with; a feeling that was becoming synonymous with being around her new, rather dangerous-seeming boyfriend. She’d never tell her mam and she surprised herself by admitting it, but it was a feeling she liked rather a lot. ‘I know!’ she agreed gaily, as he led her into the dance-hall. ‘What a bloody toff he is, isn’t he?’

      Keith tightened his grip on her arm and returned her smile with a wink, and soon they were making their way across the crowded dance-floor towards the gang of people already hanging around the bar area. Not that it was a bar in the usual sense of the word. There was no alcohol served in the Ideal Dance-hall – not to anyone. So sarsaparillas and milkshakes were the order of the day. Hardly any of the girls minded; they were there for the dancing – but with some of the other dance-halls selling alcohol these days, for the older lads it was a real bone of contention.

      Not that they couldn’t get hold of some if they wanted it. For those in need of a bit of Dutch courage, there was always the Red Lion next door, the pub which Bert Shultz’s parents owned, and in whose car park the Ideal had been built. So the older lads would usually get a pass-out from Bert during the band breaks (or as often as they felt thirsty), down as many pints as they could afford and then come back in again, better placed to chat up any girls they’d had their eye on and – assuming they could still stand up reasonably straight – hit the dance-floor again. For fear of any drunken uprisings that might follow, Bert had no choice but to encourage it as, after all, it was money in his parents’ pockets.

      ‘Hey up, Shirley,’ Keith said, pointing to where two lads were standing at the far end of the bar. ‘There’s Bobby and Titch – sorry, my mates Bobby Moran and Titch Williams. Let’s go stand with them for a bit, shall we?’

      Shirley’s face fell. For one thing, wasn’t Keith planning on getting her a drink? And for another, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go and stand with them anyway. She’d seen the one Keith called Titch a few times before, and he was bad enough – loud and raucous and loved to think he was a bit of a ladies’ man (which he wasn’t) – but Bobby Moran was much worse. He looked a good few years older than Keith and she’d seen him around several times, and every time he’d been drunk and staggering around the place. He liked to fight, too – Anita had told her that before, and if she was honest, she found him rather scary. ‘Do we have to?’ she asked Keith. ‘That Bobby gets right on my nerves.’

      Keith laughed and carried on walking across the dance-floor, which was currently half empty, as the band hadn’t started yet. ‘Oh, he’s all right really,’ he reassured her. ‘Once you get to know him. He fancies my big sister, Margaret, you know. Had a right crush on her, he did.’

      ‘But isn’t she in her thirties?’ Shirley asked him, bewildered by this.

      Keith laughed. ‘Well into,’ he said. ‘But that didn’t stop her going on a date with him once – strictly out of pity, of course, but he’s never stopped going on about it ever since. Still can’t understand why she married her Bob and not him.’

      Shirley followed Keith, as there didn’t seem much else to be done. ‘Well, I obviously don’t know anything about Bob,’ she whispered, as Bobby Moran raised an arm and waved at them, ‘but I imagine your sister made the right choice.’

      She meant it, too; Keith’s friends looked like they’d come to the Ideal straight from a jumble sale – well, via the Red Lion, of course. Bobby Moran was wearing a funny little hat that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Charlie Chaplin, and the other one – Titch Williams – was in a blue drape jacket with a black collar, which wouldn’t have been too bad on its own – well, if it had fitted him – except that sticking out of the bottom were a pair of horrible brown trousers.

      Titch wolf-whistled as they reached them, looking her up and down as he did so. ‘You’ve done all right for yourself, young Hudson,’ he said, treating Shirley to the sort of smile that made it clear he thought his get-up was the bees knees, even СКАЧАТЬ