'Come again?'
'I've never been out with a black girl.'
'Why's that, then?'
'Well in South Africa.' Peekay paused, not sure how to answer. 'Well, whites don't go out with blacks, I mean girls.'
'Why not? What's wrong with black women?' Peekay glanced up to see whether Doris was having him on, but her question seemed perfectly innocent. 'Ja, well nothing, I suppose, it's just, well it's not the thing to do.'
'You're barmy. If you ask me, I'd like to go with a black man. I got a girlfriend who. goes out with a Jamaican, he's smashin'.'
Just then Togger emerged, held firmly by the arm. He was sweating and looked somewhat nonplussed. 'Oi, Peekay!' he called.
Peekay rose as they reached the table. 'What'll it be?' he asked Togger, who was standing slightly behind the big girl. Togger shook his head Violently; his eyes cast heavenwards, he ran his finger across his throat. But it was too late. The big girl was already beginning to sit down. 'Ooh, Babycham!' She seemed to have forgotten that she'd earlier rejected Peekay and looked up at him, beaming.
'With a dash, please!' Peekay looked puzzled. 'My Babycham, with a little drop of brandy,' she repeated.
'Half a bitter,' Togger added wearily, borrowing a chair from an adjacent table and sitting down.
'Another Babycham, Doris?'
'Ta very much, Peekay.'
'With a dash?'
Doris giggled, giving Peekay a saucy look. Peekay was waiting at the bar when Togger appeared at his side. The barman was pulling Togger's half pint. 'Christ, Peekay, we got to scarper!' He pointed to the two Babychams on the counter, 'Know what they are?'
'They're leg-openers, dead set!'
Peekay looked pleased. 'I thought that was the general idea?'
'Oh, mate! Have a heart! Two or three of them and that Gladys is gonna rape me! She dances like a bleedin' hippo.
I think me shoulder's dislocated an' all.' He took a hurried gulp from the half pint on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Plenty more where them two come from uptown.'
'Not with tits like Doris!' Peekay said, reaching for the two glasses.
'Better! I know this strip joint, I know the birds an' all. You think she's got tits!' Togger rolled his eyes. 'One girl, Geraldine, she's got bristols you can see comin' round the corner ten seconds before the rest of her arrives.'
'Jesus, Togger, I reckon a few more dances and a few more of these, I could put the hard word on Doris.'
'No doubt about it, Peekay, but I reckon our friendship couldn't stand the bleedin' strain.'
Half an hour later, after Togger had sworn on a stack of imaginary bibles that he'd call Gladys and Peekay had written down Doris's number at the Dolls' Hospital where she worked in Hammersmith, they were back on a bus headed for the West End.
'I'm telling you, Togger, this better be bloody good,'
Peekay chaffed. 'By the way, I want to congratulate you.
That theory of yours, it works amazingly well!'
Togger threw Peekay a sour look; then he giggled. 'Jesus,
Peekay, when she grabbed me and hauled me onto the bleedin' dance floor I nearly shit meself!'
'This strip joint, what's it like?' Peekay asked.
'About the same as any other, I suppose, only I know the birds at this one, so we won't have to pay a pound a drink.'
'How much?' He was aghast.
'Well that's it, you see, it's a private club like. You pay three quid to be a member and then you buy drinks for the girls at a quid a time; that's how the management makes a crust. There's hundreds of them clubs accounting for every taste.'
Peekay's mind boggled. This was the big time all right. 'I've only got about four quid left, Togger.'
'Blimey, Peekay, we're the bleedin' cog-nos-centee. Paying's for mugs 'n perverts. Besides, me sister works there, don't she?'
'You're sister's a stripper!' The words were out before Peekay realised what he'd said, or rather, how he'd said itâ¦
Togger looked at Peekay with a hurt expression. Peekay grabbed his shoulder. 'I apologise, Togger. I didn't mean it to sound like that. It's just that I've never been to a strip club. I've never seen a stripper!'
'And you think a stripper's on the game, is that it?' Peekay coloured violently. 'Togger, honest, I don't know what to say. This, it's all new to me. I was brought up in Pentecostal church, the Apostolic Faith Mission. Pastor Mulvery used to say that a girl who wears lipstick and paints her nails is a fallen woman, and as for a stripper? Shit, I don't think his imagination could stretch that far! But I'm telling you, it would simply have been another name for a whore!'
Togger grinned. 'Say no more, Peekay. It ain't unheard of for a stripper to forsake her art for the easy life on her back. You'll like me sister, she's a model really, and a doo-wap-de-wally-wally girl. Strippin's only Friday and Saturday nights. Times are hard, she's moved out from home.'
'Doo-wap-de-what?'
'A doo-wap-de-wally-wally girl! You know when the singer's beltin' out a song, the three girls who stand behind him with their' ands out making little circles and their hips swingin', going,
'Doo-wap-de-wally-wally, doo-wap-de-wally-wally!'
Peekay laughed. That's bloody marvellous, doo-wap-de-wally-wally. Wait until I tell Hymie.'
Togger was suddenly serious. 'That's the problem with me whole family. They're all
nearly
but not quite. Carmen, that's me sister, she always wanted to be a jazz singer; she
nearly
made itâ¦but not quite.'
Peekay rested his hand on Togger's shoulder. 'Listen to me. I know what you're going to say, about this morning when I put you on the seat of your pantsâ¦'
'You're right, Peekay. Here we go again! I thought. Till this morning I reckoned I was just about the best bleedin' amateur welterweight in Britain. I ain't been beat in three years; then you come along and give me a bleedin' boxing lesson!' Togger looked up at Peekay, his eyes tearful. 'Shit, not me also? Not another member of the
nearly-but-not-fucking-quite
family of fucking Browns!' Togger tried to smile. 'Me old man was
nearly
light heavyweight champion of the Merchant Navy, but 'e got knocked out in the final round when he was light years ahead on points.'
'Togger! Stop talking like this! We're in this together, you hear? You train with me, we're going to the top together.' Peekay shook Togger's shoulder. 'You want to know something?' Togger looked at him querulously. 'Take me, I'm so fucking scared I have to win or I'll shit myself.'
'What the hell are you talkin' about?'
Peekay paused. 'Take you, you're not scared of who you are. You're Togger Brown and proud of it. You're known around your manor, people like you, you're open to life and you let it in.' Peekay paused again. 'Even your mum, you're loving and kind to her. Let me tell you about my mum. She's a dressmaker, she worked all her life behind a Singer sewing machine. When she wasn't praying to the Lord she was working for the rich people in town, making their clothes. I had no old man and she kept us, me and my grandpa. But we didn't love her. At six I wrote her off. Ever since, I've felt guilty for not loving her, for not being a real son. You see, for reasons I'll tell you about someday, I was scared when I was a kid. Scared shitless. So I decided to hide, run away from life.'
'You're crackers, Peekay. You! Run away from life? You're going to Oxford and you just might end up world welterweight champion. Do me a favour, son!'
'No, Togger, listen to me, it's true. You can hide in two places, you can be a nobody and simply disappear into the crowd, or you can hide up front, way ahead of anybody else. But that means you can never lose. You've got to fight harder, punch better, get better marks, win, win, win! Sometimes, inside me, I feel fifty years old and always scared. Scared that they - I don't know who "they" is - that
they
will find out who I really am. They'll see the yellow streak under the winning streak, see what's really under all the camouflage.'
Togger's mouth fell open. 'Blimey, Peekay!'
'All I'm trying to say, Togger, is that you seem to be the furthermost from a
nearly-but-not-quite
personality as it is possible to get.'
Togger, his face serious, looked at Peekay. Thanks, Peekay. No, I mean it. Thanks for that, I appreciate your sayin' that a lot.'
'Next stop Piccadilly!' the conductor shouted.
Peekay, following Togger, was soon helplessly lost in the maze of little streets that networked London's Soho district. He was amazed at being accosted by the pros. They stood with unlit cigarettes virtually on every corner. 'Wanna a good time, darling?' It was the universal opening and, to his surprise, some of them were really very sexy. Togger appeared not to notice them, stopping at last outside a building which resembled hundreds they'd passed and which fronted, apart from four or five steps to the door and a small railed fence, directly onto the street. An outside stairway led down to a basement door about ten feet below street level, above which burned a Single tiny blue globe set into a socket on the lintel of the doorway. The window beside the doorway was blacked out, though the light from the street lamp reached halfway down the steps.
They descended the steps and Togger pressed the doorbell. Almost immediately the door opened and bright light spilled over them from the interior passageway. A very large, dark-haired guy with thick brows and bad acne scars, dressed in black pants and a white tuxedo top and red bow tie, greeted them, 'Hello there, young Togger. How's tricks?' He asked in a friendly but surprisingly light voice for such a big man. 'Comin' in then?' He stepped aside, pushing his back to the wall so they could squeeze past him. 'Be a love and sign your guest in,' he said to Togger, without any affectation in his voice.
'Les, this is me mate, Peekayâ¦from South Africa. He's a boxer, very handy an' all.'
Les smiled. He was missing three teeth on the left of his lower jaw so his smile looked lop-sided. 'How do, Peekay. We ain't expectin' no trouble, but you never can tell, nice to know we got a coupla likely lads on the premises.' He threw a punch at Togger, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. 'Take care now, Tiger!'
Togger wrote their names in a ledger which stood on a small table at the end of the passageway. Beside it stood a wooden plant stand from which an aspidistra sprouted. On the walls lining the passageway were several hunting prints; the wallpaper was in an art deco design and looked vaguely thirties in appearance. The effect was as though they'd entered the home of a middle-class, middle-aged couple who hadn't bothered to redecorate since their marriage. Only a small modem spotlight, which shone directly at the doorway to bring anyone entering into sharp relief, gave the game away.
The passageway led into a large room filled with a soft orangey red light from two spotlights set into the furthermost corners on either side of a small stage and bar which occupied the front wall area. The walls seemed to be painted in a gloss black and a red velvet upholstered bench ran around them. The remainder of the room was filled with small round tables, none of which seemed to take more than two people. The room was almost full, with about thirty men and a dozen women at the tables. On the bench surrounding the room sat almost as many men holding drinks, though no women. Several girls were serving, dressed in 'skimpy black satin dresses, the skirts not quite covering their bottoms and the fronts cut low. With this outfit they wore tiny white lace aprons and waitress caps, fishnet stockings and high heels. When they bent over the tables to serve they revealed a generous amount of panty bottom, and written across the panties in some sort of luminous paint were their names. The girl nearest to the entrance where Togger and Peekay stood appeared to be called Gerald, the 'ine' having slipped around the corner of her right buttock.
There appeared to be no band; instead a pair of speakers on either side of the small stage pumped out Dixieland.
'The red lights, they're for the skin tones, see,' Togger explained. 'Strippers always like to work under red lights, it gives 'em a sort of tanned look. You don't see all their bumps an' bruises.'.
Peekay followed Togger over to the small bar which sported four chairs, all of which were empty. 'Patrons can't use the bar,' Togger explained. A small neat man in evening dress who appeared to be in his forties, his thinning blond hair greased and combed flat against his scalp, greeted them. 'Gawd, look what the cat's brought in. Who's your pretty friend, Toggalogs?' Without asking, he poured them each a brown ale, half filling the glass and placing the bottles with the remaining beer beside the glasses on the bar.
'Hello, Tony, glad to see you're your cheery self. Tony, this is Peekay, Peekay, Tony. Tony owns this cesspit.'
'Cheeky sod! Welcome to Fleshpot, Peekay,' Tony said, turning to take an order from one of the girls.
'Hello there, Togger, long time no see. Where you been then, darling?' It was the girl with Gerald on her bum.
'Here, there and everywhere, kom-see, kom-sar! You know me, Geraldine, keepin' me nose clean.' Togger turned to include Peekay. 'This is Peekay, from South Africa, he's a mate of mine.'