A Family Scandal. Kitty Neale
I’d feel better if I thought you weren’t on your own every evening when I’m away.’ Stan was relieved. It looked as if he’d be able to accept his boss’s proposal with a clear conscience. ‘I suppose there’s still no sign of him staying over in Peckham?’
Jenny shook her head, pulling away from her husband. Her brown hair, which these days was cut in a neat bob, swung around her face. ‘You know very well that Mavis won’t do anything until the whole mess with that evil husband of hers is sorted out, and that might take years. It’s a crying shame.’
Stan pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. He’d never had much to do with the Pughs when they’d lived next door and had found it hard to believe what had gone on only a few yards from their own happy home. ‘Yeah, what a bastard, ’scuse my French. It’d be better off for everyone if he washed up dead somewhere, wouldn’t it? That would solve everything.’
‘I wouldn’t wish that on anybody – but yes, you’re right. After what he did to Mavis and James, it would be no more than he deserves. Mavis has had to bring up their children without a penny of support from him, despite all that money Alec will have gained from selling the house.’
The sound of ‘Please Don’t Go’ blasted out from the Talisman club as Rhona and Penny pushed their way through the entrance lobby. Penny had been worried that she wouldn’t get in as she knew she looked younger than she actually was, but the doorman had taken one glance at her blonde hair and curvy figure and waved her straight through. She giggled nervously as she surveyed the crowd. Everyone seemed very sophisticated and confident. She straightened her shoulders. They were no better than her and she wouldn’t stand in a corner waiting to be asked to join in.
‘Shall we dance?’ she shouted in Rhona’s ear, struggling to make herself heard above the twanging guitar booming from the speakers.
‘Let’s get a drink first,’ Rhona shouted back. She didn’t want to seem too eager. That might put some men off and she wanted to have the chance to scout the place properly before deciding who was worth bothering with and who wasn’t. ‘If we wait until later the bar might be too busy. This way.’ She led her friend around the tables crowded on the edge of the dance floor and across to the bar. The floor was already a little slippery from spilt drinks but she didn’t care. ‘Oh baby, please don’t go …’ she sang to the song under her breath, as she headed for a gap in the press of people attempting to catch the bar staff’s eyes. She had a rule: to buy her own drink to begin with, and not to rush into accepting one from the first man who offered. She didn’t want to risk getting stuck with a total moron for half the evening. She’d mentioned this technique to Penny on the way here on the bus. They’d sat at the back on the top deck, smoking and getting themselves in the mood for a proper night out. Penny had been slightly unsure of her new top but Rhona had assured her it was exactly right, and not too low-cut at all.
Penny had clearly forgotten the plan as when Rhona turned around to check what she wanted, her friend was already chatting to someone, their heads pressed close together. Rhona sighed in annoyance. This was no good. Their eyes hadn’t had time to get accustomed to the dim lights of the bar, and the man could be anybody. She stared at Penny’s bright blonde hair, willing her to look up, concentrating hard.
Something in her attitude must have got through because Penny glanced up and saw her, and then turned to the man in the shadows and pointed at Rhona. She moved away, giving him a little wave.
Good, thought Rhona. She didn’t recognise the bloke but she didn’t think much of his dress sense. He wasn’t sharp enough to be a Mod, looked too conservative to be a rocker and he didn’t have any of that cool air of the jazz fans. So he was ruled out on every count. ‘What are you drinking?’ she shouted at her friend when she was close enough to hear.
‘What are you having?’ Penny shouted back. She wasn’t sure what to choose. She didn’t want to look a fool by asking for the wrong thing.
‘Babycham,’ shouted Rhona. ‘Have you ever had it? The bubbles go up your nose, you’d like it.’
There was a brief pause as one track came to an end before Wayne Fontana’s ‘Game of Love’ began to play. Penny swayed around to it, teetering a little as her knee-high boots had higher heels than she was used to. ‘Lovely. I’ll try that.’
‘You stay here, and remember what we agreed,’ Rhona said, before turning and expertly wriggling her way to the bar. The vivid pattern of her minidress stood out against the dark jackets of the men – and Penny noted that it was mostly men doing the buying the drinks, with most of the women sipping from glasses. Some seemed to have halves of beer, which Penny didn’t fancy. Too bitter for her. She didn’t mind shandy but thought it would be much more sophisticated to have Babycham like her friend – if Rhona was having it, it must be all right. She tapped her foot to the rhythm of the music and, bearing in mind their agreement on the bus, tried not to catch the eye of any of the men. The man who’d first approached her had been OK but she was sure she could do better.
The song was over by the time Rhona reappeared with two glasses of the sparkling drink. ‘Here you go. A filthy sod at the bar tried to pinch my bum. I told him what he could do.’ Rhona knocked back a gulp. ‘Right, let’s find a good spot and check out who’s here. This way.’
Penny once again allowed herself to be led through the crowd, smiling at the people whose gaze she met but not stopping, taking her cue from her more experienced friend. Finally Rhona found somewhere acceptable. They stood with their backs to one of the walls, a little behind a row of tables, and from there they could see all of the dance floor and most of the people sitting around it.
Something by the Kinks came on. Rhona nodded in approval. She didn’t like clubs where they played anything as long as it was in the charts – she preferred music that sounded new, as if it had been written for her generation. She found herself singing along again, lost in the sounds, but then reminded herself to concentrate. She was here for a purpose, and if she didn’t watch out Penny would wander off and get picked up by any old idiot. It was fine to appear to be lost in the music – some men liked that – but you had to be fully alert behind the mask.
‘What about them?’ Penny nodded to a table where two young men were sitting, both in sharp suits, deep in conversation.
‘Hmm, let’s wait. No, they’re no good.’ Rhona pointed to two young women weaving their way to the same table, both in tiny miniskirts. ‘They’ve just got back from the cloakroom over there. Nothing doing for us in that direction.’
Penny scanned the dance floor. ‘Him? I like the way he dances … oh no, maybe not. Look, he thinks he’s on the telly, look at him go.’ The two girls stared at the strange dance and then burst into laughter. The man carried on oblivious, clearly convinced he was God’s gift to women everywhere.
The song ended and another one started up, with some dancers returning to their seats and other people taking their places. The floor grew more crowded and the spotlights moved around, illuminating geometric patterns on the dresses and shirts, light catching the more bouffant hairdos, or picking out the glossiness of the hair gel favoured by some of the men. Penny finished her drink and clutched the empty glass.
‘Fancy another?’ A slim-hipped young man approached them, smiling broadly.
Rhona met his gaze and cocked her head. ‘You asking her, me, or both of us?’
The man’s grin grew even wider. ‘Oh, both of you. Definitely both. How could I choose between you two lovely ladies?’
Rhona assessed him even as she continued flirting. ‘That’s cheesy, that is. You got to do better than that.’
‘I’m wounded,’ said the man. ‘I meant every word from the bottom of my heart. What’ll it be?’
Penny giggled but said nothing, waiting to see if Rhona would allow him to buy them their next drinks.
Rhona made her decision. The shirt was good, the trousers were the right shape and hugged his body quite promisingly, and the hair was almost but not quite like Brian