The Girls from See Saw Lane (7 page)

‘Who said anything about marriage? All I said was that he was okay.'

After what felt like forever, a fat man who was the warm-up act came onto the stage. He was a comedian and he told lots of not-very-funny jokes about his mother-in-law and his wife and Irish people. He was so hot that there were huge great circles of sweat under his arms and his face was all shiny and wet and he had to keep patting it with a handkerchief. Nobody took much notice of him and at last he left the stage and then there was a ripple of excitement and Elton's band came on.

They were very loud and very energetic and, much to my surprise, I thought that Elton was really good. It was quite a thrill to be there. The band covered some of the big hits,
Let's Twist Again
,
Sealed with a Kiss
and they did a brilliant rock and roll version of
The Locomotion
. But they also did some of their own songs. I didn't know if Elton had written them or was just singing them, but a couple of the songs were really good. Mary never took her eyes off the stage and at the end of every song she clapped like mad and shouted: ‘Elton! Elton!'

Elton was the lead singer and there was no doubt in my mind that he was basing himself on Mick Jagger. He had the same way of coming to the front of the stage and pushing the microphone stand forward, and frowning at the audience. I had to smile, thinking what my dad would have made of it. I reckon that Elton thought he was the cat's whiskers, especially with Mary screaming like she was and setting some of the other girls off. 

In the middle of one song, a cover of
Can't Help Falling in Love with You
, Elton came right over and crouched down in front of Mary and sang some of the words right into her face. The spotlight was picking out his face and hers and they were both staring into one another's eyes and I don't think I'd ever seen Mary look so happy!

After he moved away again, she turned to look at me and her eyes were bright and her cheeks were glowing. I was happy for her. But during the next song, Elton seemed to be singing to an older blonde woman on the other side of the stage. She must have been at least twenty-one. I hoped Mary didn't notice, but it was hard not to because Elton kept winking at the blonde and narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips when he sang to her.

Ralph somehow or other managed to squeeze his way back to us and gave us both our drinks. I sipped at the drink and it was sweet and very cold. Ralph watched me and I gave him a little smile over the top of my glass. He asked if we were enjoying the show so far and before I could answer, Mary said ‘Yeah we're having a great time.'

‘Are you all right?' Ralph said, smiling at me.

And I said: ‘Yes, I'm fine,' but I wasn't really, because I was so squashed and there was a horrible tight feeling in my chest, and although I'd sneaked a puff on my inhaler I was still finding it hard to breathe and the smoke was making the inside of my lungs all itchy and, on top of that, my eye was sore. But it was all worth it, to be here, in this place, with Ralph.

Afterwards, Mary wanted to hang around the stage door and wait for Elton, but luckily there wasn't time. Instead, Ralph bought some chips and walked us to the bus stop. It was such a relief to be outside again, in the cool air. I almost wanted to cry with relief. I didn't even notice all the crowds around us, the sound of a police siren on its way to break up some fight, probably, and all the rockers and their girls showing off and bumping into us. Mary went on and on about what a brilliant evening she'd had, the best night of her life, etcetera. I kept eating chips and thinking how nice Ralph was and how I thought I liked him in exactly the same way that Mary liked Elton and that I didn't care what he did for a job. What was wrong with being a plumber anyway? I ate another chip. It was hot and salty. The whole thing made my head hurt.

When the bus came, Mary jumped straight on. I hesitated. I turned back towards Ralph.

‘Thanks,' I said. 

‘What for?'

‘You know. The drink and everything.'

Ralph smiled and looked at his feet and scratched the back of his ear. I wondered if I dared kiss him. Just on the cheek, just to let him know that I liked him, that I was interested in him, but before I could pluck up the courage, Mary noticed I wasn't on the bus and she'd turned round and grabbed hold of my arm. I never got to say goodbye to Ralph at all.

Mary and I sat on the front seat of the upstairs of the bus. Down below us Brighton slipped away and the estate arrived. Mary drew a heart in the grime on the window with her finger and she put an arrow through the heart and at the back of the arrow she wrote MARY and at its tip she wrote ELTON 4 EVER.

Then she looked at me and said: ‘Your eye looks funny.'

‘Tell me about it,' I said.

‘I expect it will be all right by tomorrow,' she said.

‘I hope so.'

‘It was worth it though, wasn't it?'

‘Was it?'

‘Of course it was, we were the best-looking girls in there.' 

I squeezed her hand and I thought how lucky I was to have a friend who cared about me as much as Mary Pickles did, and I hoped, I really hoped, that this time Elton would notice her and ask her to be his girlfriend. And the next time she asked me if I liked Ralph the same way she liked Elton, I would definitely tell her that he was much more than okay. As the lights of Brighton slipped past outside, I promised myself I would be true to my heart from now on, always.

T
he morning
after we'd been to Brighton to watch Elton's band, I was having a really lovely dream about me and Ralph skating round the ice rink. We had our arms crossed in front of our bodies and were gliding round, just the two of us, and never mind that in real life when I went skating the boots nearly always killed me because my feet were so big and I had to hang on to the side if I didn't want to spend the whole time on my bum. In my dream, Ralph was smiling down at me and I was staring into his eyes, which were, by the way, a very nice shade of darkish green, and I was feeling like I never wanted to stop, we were going round and round and it felt so easy and so right. Then suddenly the dream started to go wrong… I was bumping up and down, I was tripping over, I had lost hold of Ralph… I was falling… I opened my good eye and saw my sister who was holding a shoe about two inches above my nose.

‘What are you doing?' I squeaked.

‘Don't move, Dottie,' she said. ‘There's a big black spider on your pillow.'

Don't move? She had to be joking. I've never moved so fast in my life. I sprang out of the covers and hid behind Rita as best I could. It was hard to get a good look at the spider on account of the rollers she puts in her hair every night. I don't know how she ever manages to sleep. 

‘I think it's dead,' she said.

I peered round her elbow.

Judging by the squashed mess on my pillow that spider must have been crawling round arachnid heaven a good couple of swipes ago.

‘I hate spiders,' said Rita, shuddering inside her baby-doll nightie.

‘So do I,' I said. ‘But that's my eyelash you just murdered.'

Rita turned round to look at me with exasperation. She dropped the shoe onto the floor. It was one of her best stilettos, she must have been pretty scared of the spider to use that.

‘You're such an idiot,' she said.

‘Why am I an idiot?'

‘Because you're supposed to take them off before you go to bed.'

‘I couldn't take them off could I?' I said. ‘They were stuck to my eyelashes.'

‘And stop winking at me!'

‘I'm not! I can't seem to open my left eye.'

‘Oh you stupid girl! What have you done?'

She turned away from me and drew back our bedroom curtains. Daylight came flooding in, highlighting my tidy half of the room and Rita's messy one.

She came and looked at my eye again. ‘I think it's infected or something. It looks awful.'

Rita picked up the clothes she'd dropped on the floor the previous evening and shook them out.

‘Go and show Mum what you've done to your eye,' she said. ‘You probably need ointment or something,' and she flounced out of the door and slammed it behind her. I heard her arrive at the bathroom door at exactly the same time as Dad and there was a bit of a scuffle before he gave in and left Rita to it. It was usually the best tactic when she was in one of her moods. Heaven help poor Nigel, I thought, but at least she wouldn't be
my
problem for much longer.

I sat down at the dressing table and leaned forward to peer at myself in the mirror. I looked like Dracula's sister; my left eye was all red and swollen with half a squashed eyelash hanging precariously onto the bottom lid; by comparison, the other eye seemed pale and bald, like a little naked kitten. I tried opening the shut eye with my fingers, but it was too sore. The only good thing about the scenario was that it was Sunday and I didn't have to see anyone or be anywhere.

I picked at the remaining lash for ages, until I heard Mum calling from downstairs, and from the tone of her voice it was obvious that Rita had come out of the bathroom and gone down to share the news with her.

‘Dottie,' she shouted, ‘come down here and show me what you've done.'

I sighed and put on my dressing gown and went downstairs. Clark was sitting at the kitchen table eating cornflakes; he winked at me.

‘Very funny,' I said, but it's hard to be withering with one eye swollen up like a golf ball.

‘Look at the state of you!' said Mum. ‘You'd better sit down.'

She dipped some cotton wool into a saucer of warm water and started dabbing at my eye.

‘Is that better?' she asked.

I tried opening it again but it still wouldn't budge.

‘Not really,' I said. By now I was beginning to feel a bit panicky.

Just then, Aunty Brenda came through the back door without knocking, which was typical. Once she saw my predicament it would be all over the estate. I'd never get to live it down.

‘Just thought I'd pop in with some dress patterns,' she breezed, plonking her bag on the table, causing some of the water to slop out of the saucer. She lifted the tea cosy and felt the pot with the back of her hand and had poured herself a cup of very stewed tea before she noticed me.

 ‘Why is Dottie winking at me?' she asked Mum.

‘She's not winking at you, Brenda,' said Mum. ‘She's glued her eye shut, hasn't she.'

Aunty Brenda didn't appear to be surprised by this at all.

She put two sugar lumps into her tea and said: ‘That happened to my neighbour Mrs Baxter, you know, her with the funny husband and the mock-Georgian door. You know the one, got a girl called Penelope with thin hair, about Dottie's age. Well anyway, she squirted glue in her eye instead of Optrex. That eye never saw the light of day again; they had to give her a glass one in the end.'

Disgusting! I thought.

‘It was ever such a good match though,' said Aunty Brenda. ‘Of course, you might not be so lucky, Dottie, what with you having such funny colour eyes.'

Rita had come in to the kitchen some time during this conversation. Her hair was still in curlers. She helped herself to a triangle of toast off the plate.

‘Well, she can forget about being my bridesmaid,' said Rita. ‘I'm not having her walking down the aisle with a glass eye.'

‘Dottie won't need a glass eye,' said Mum, squeezing my shoulder.

 ‘I wouldn't bank on it,' said Aunty Brenda, shaking her head.

‘You'll have to go down the hospital,' said Mum, ‘they'll know what to do. I expect they get this sort of thing all the time.'

Rita snorted.

‘I can't go on the bus looking like this,' I said.

‘Well not in your dressing gown, obviously,' said Mum. ‘But how else do you think you're going to get there?'

‘You could always call an ambulance,' said Clark, who was all for a bit of drama.

‘Couldn't you call me a taxi?' I asked hopefully.

‘You're a taxi,' said Clark.

‘Very funny.'

‘I know,' said Mum, who did sometimes have good ideas. ‘Clark? Where's that patch you had to wear when you got hit by that cricket ball?'

‘Upstairs, I'll get it!'

‘Make sure you disinfect it,' I called after him. All in all I was feeling quite miserable.

I went back upstairs and got dressed and put Clark's patch over my eye and I looked really, really stupid. I thought all I could do was hang my head low and hope I didn't bump into anyone I knew. Sometimes I really wished I was small, like Mary. You could get away with things if you were little, but when you were the size of a house, like me, you tended to stick out at the best of times.

Back in the kitchen, Mum smiled at me and said: ‘That's better, nobody'll notice now.' 

Oh really? 

‘Would you like me to come with you?' she asked.

‘No, I'll be fine,' I said miserably.

‘Go on, let me. It'd get me out of this madhouse for a couple of hours,' Mum said quietly.

‘Are you sure?'

She passed me my cardi and shouted to Dad, who was in the front room. ‘Nelson! I'm taking Dottie to the doctor, she's glued her eye shut.'

‘Pity it wasn't her mouth,' Dad said, and then started laughing his head off as if he'd said something funny, which he hadn't.

‘It's your mouth that needs gluing up,' said Mum. ‘Then you wouldn't be able to keep sticking all them fags in it. And you can do the washing up while I'm gone.'

‘That told him,' giggled Clark, spraying cornflakes all over the table.

‘And you can dry,' said Mum.

  
I sat on the bus thinking about the night before. The Whisky A Go Go hadn't been a bit like I thought it would be. It had been so crowded and dark and so full of smoke it put me in mind of our front room. If that's what spreading your wings is like, you can keep it, I thought.

Mary had enjoyed every moment of the evening and I knew she'd want to go there again. I wasn't so sure. I thought back to the cafe and how much I'd liked sitting and talking to Ralph and how he'd looked at me as if he'd really liked me. And do you know what? I thought, I think he does like me. I really think he does.

‘Come on, Dottie,' said Mum. ‘This is our stop.'

I followed her through the gates, past a lawn fringed with geraniums, into the hospital, feeling like a little kid. The waiting room was packed and I felt like a right lemon sitting there like Long John Silver; the only thing missing was the parrot. The waiting room was full of men who had obviously been in fights, old shaky-looking people and squealing toddlers with bright red cheeks and sweaty heads.

‘Do you think they'll be able to fix it?' I said.

‘We'll see what the doctor says,' said Mum quietly. She took hold of my hand and held it on her lap.

I loved my mum.

H
alf an hour
later I came out of the treatment room with the offending eyelash removed. I was relieved, but my eye did feel sore and I felt a bit sorry for myself. I put the eyepatch in the bin on the way out.

 When we got home, Mary was in the kitchen looking at Clark's latest set of photographs. He stared at me when I walked in and said: ‘Not a bad match, Dottie.'

I scowled at him. ‘What?' 

‘Your glass eye, it's not a bad match.'

‘Oh very funny, ha ha, you're a laugh a minute, Clark Perks.'

‘Did it hurt?' asked Mary, blinking. Her eyelashes, of course, still looked fantastic. At least she actually cared. She was the only person apart from Mum who had actually considered
my
feelings.

‘A bit,' I said. I didn't want her to feel bad, because although technically it was her fault, I knew she hadn't meant to hurt me. ‘Not much,' I said and I put a big smile on my face.

‘How come only one eyelash got stuck?'

‘I dunno. The other one came off in the night.'

Clark added: ‘And was bludgeoned to death in cold blood by Rita. Her trial comes up next week. We're all pushing for the death sentence.'

I thought that was really funny, Mum didn't though. ‘That's a terrible thing to say about your sister, Clark,' she said.

‘She's my sister?!!!!' screamed Clark and he grabbed his throat and made this choking sound and slid under the table. Mum was laughing now. We left them to it and went up to my bedroom. It smelled of Rita's perfume and hairspray. I opened the window to let a bit of air in.

‘Where's Rita?' asked Mary.

‘Her and the insurance man have gone to talk to the vicar this afternoon.'

‘I wish it was me and Elton talking to the vicar,' said Mary.

Fat chance, I thought, given that once he'd sung that one song to her in the club, he'd barely looked at her for the rest of the night.

Mary sat on the edge of my bed. ‘I know it's a bit of a long shot.'

‘What is?'

‘Me getting into the art school in Paris. They only take the best, but my drawings are getting better and better, I'm almost there, I'm almost ready to apply.'

‘That's great, Mary. I mean, I don't want you to go because I'll miss you, I really, really will, but if you think you're ready then you should try.'

Mary frowned. ‘I know.'

‘What's wrong then?'

‘I'll lose Elton.'

‘Not necessarily.'

‘Elton is really talented, there are people round him all the time, when I say “people”, I mean girls. Specifically. There are a lot of girls and most of them are taller than I am. And better developed.'

Mary flopped back onto the bed with her arms stretched above her head. She stared up at the patch of mould on the ceiling from where there was a leak in the roof and she sighed dramatically. ‘I need him to make some sort of commitment so that I know he will wait for me.'

‘I'm not sure Elton is the waiting kind, or the commitment type come to that.'

Mary rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘That's why I need a plan. That's why I need him to fall in love with me. I know he likes me, but liking me isn't enough. He likes hundreds of people. I need him to fall in love with me and realise he can't live without me. I need him to wait for me.'

She turned her head to look at me earnestly.

‘Oh,' I said.

‘So how do I get him to do that, Dottie?'

‘I guess it will just take time.'

‘I haven't got time, not when he's out there singing with his band and all those girls are throwing themselves at him. I have to get him to want me now.'

I picked up the threadbare rabbit I'd had since I was a baby and turned it over and over in my hands. ‘If you want to stand out from the crowd, you need to be different from the rest of them.'

‘Yeah, I know. But how? It's not like I've got ages to think of a plan. What if Brainless become the next Rolling Stones and Elton becomes the next Mick Jagger? What if he goes to live in London? What then? He'll have models and actresses and all sorts throwing themselves at him and I'll have lost him forever.'

I personally thought this was a bit unlikely, but if Brainless did become famous, then it was possible that Mary's theory was right. Certainly, if Elton had a hit record he wouldn't think twice about leaving Brighton and never coming back. Maybe somewhere in Dartford, where Mick Jagger grew up, there was someone like Mary wishing she'd made her move a bit more quickly. Mary had obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this. She had a look of urgency in her eyes that I could not ignore.