‘I suppose you can’t help not being able to dance,’ Lizzie said. She spoke rather grudgingly, Clem thought. ‘Still, it’s not too late to start. Come on!’
On the floor couples were gyrating and whirling to the music of the Charleston; Clem saw feet twinkling, elbows waggling, fingertips flying and thought for an astonished moment that the dancers looked more like chickens when a fox has got into the hen run than human beings. He turned helplessly to Lizzie. ‘I can’t do this one! Honest to God, Lizzie, if you drag me on to the floor we’ll both regret it. It’s too . . . too . . . complicated. I couldn’t possibly . . .’
‘So you think I’m not capable of teaching a feller how to dance?’ she said truculently, pulling her reluctant companion on to the floor. ‘Anything Jenny Finnigan can do, I can do. Don’t worry, I’ll see you don’t get trampled underfoot.’
‘We’ll regret it,’ Clem muttered beneath his breath, but he followed Lizzie meekly enough. It was clear that her mind was made up and he did not want to quarrel with her in such a public place. Besides, it would have been useless. They were already on the dance floor and beginning to . . .
Even if Lizzie was not regretting it – and Clem guessed that she must have been – he himself very soon was. He did his best to keep out of the way of twinkling feet, kicking heels and snapping fingers, but this was not like the more conventional dances which Jenny had taught him. This was dangerous and when, after a particularly painful blow in the eye from a passing elbow, he made his way off the floor, Lizzie followed him. Breathing hard she said angrily: ‘You didn’t even try to follow me. Well, if that’s how you feel . . .’
‘I did my best,’ Clem said doggedly, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. ‘Look, Lizzie, why can’t we make ourselves scarce? I don’t want to quarrel with you, I want to talk and a dance hall’s no place for conversation. I hadn’t realised what a deal of noise the band makes, nor that everyone talks all the time and stamps and shrieks. Can’t we go outside somewhere it’s quiet?’
‘We can’t just desert Sally and Geoff,’ Lizzie was beginning, but Clem interrupted her.
‘Look, I’ve simply got to talk to you,’ he said fiercely. ‘It’s no use aboard the
Rose
’cos we’re boat’s crew then and Priddy and Jake are never far away. It’s no use in this dance hall ’cos it’s rowdy and hot and I don’t mean to have to bellow when I’m asking the girl I love to marry me. So please, my darling Lizzie, let’s gerrout of here. Sally and Geoff will understand.’ He tugged at her hand and to his secret astonishment she followed him meekly out of the main hall and into the street beyond.
Standing under a street lamp, however, she suddenly turned back. ‘I’ve left me jacket and me own boots in the cloakroom,’ she said desperately. ‘I must fetch ’em. Besides, Sally’s slippers are crippling me –
I’d never get as far as the tram stop, let alone all the way to the canal.’
This made Clem remember that his own jacket and cap had been similarly abandoned and the two of them returned to claim their property, meeting outside on the pavement once more with a definite sense of anti-climax. Without speaking another word they headed for the nearest tram stop, but when they reached it Clem put his arm around her waist and led her firmly past. ‘We won’t catch the tram, ’cos I’ve already explained it’s no use trying to talk aboard
The Liverpool Rose,
’ he said. ‘Lizzie, I want us to marry because I can’t imagine ever being happy without you. If the only way I could get you was by going back to the pit then I’d do it. Will that convince you it’s you I want and not just a crew member for the dear old
Rose
?’
Lizzie stopped short, pulling Clem to a halt beside her. She turned to face him then threw both arms round his neck, giving a stifled sob as she did so. ‘Oh, Clem, why didn’t you say that before?’ she asked. ‘If you’d said it before, I’d have understood. I wouldn’t never have . . .’
‘Said what?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘About going back to the pit, do you mean?’
Lizzie, her head tucked comfortably under his chin and her arms straining around him, gave a watery laugh. ‘No, not that,’ she murmured. ‘The – the other bit. The bit you said in the dance hall about – about not havin’ to bellow when you’re asking the girl you love to marry you. You never said you loved me before, Clem.’
Clem’s arms were already tightly around Lizzie but now he held her a little away from him. ‘I never seemed to get the chance,’ he admitted. ‘But I
do
love
you, Lizzie, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life before. And come to that,’ he added in an injured tone, ‘you
still
haven’t said you love me, queen.’
‘Oh, Clem, I love you ever so much,’ Lizzie said raptly. She snuggled back into his arms as though it was the place she most wanted to be. ‘Aren’t we a couple of idiots, though? Both of us loving the other one and too perishing frightened to say it out loud. Oh, Clem, I’m so happy! And as for sendin’ you back to that bleedin’ awful pit when we could live out our lives on
The Liverpool Rose
. . . as if I would! We may never be rich, but we’re going to be the happiest couple in the whole world!’