The Girls from See Saw Lane Read online

  ‘Why did they have to go and shoot him right before my special day?’ said Rita.

  ‘I don’t suppose they knew it was your special day,’ said Dad.

  I thought that was quite a sensible comment but Mum said: ‘Nelson Perks, get out of this kitchen before I say something I’ll regret.’

  Dad left and Mum pressed the cup of wet sugar into Rita’s hands.

  ‘Now dry those tears,’ she said, smoothing Rita’s hair like she was a little girl, ‘And see how lovely Dottie and Carol look in their dresses.’

  Rita looked at me and Carol and she actually smiled.

  ‘They do look nice,’ she said. ‘Thanks ever so, Aunty Brenda.’

  ‘That’s all right, Rita,’ said Aunty Brenda, but you could tell she was touched. It wasn’t often our Rita said thank you to anyone.

  Dad poked his head back round the kitchen door. ‘Well, am I walking her down the aisle or not?’

  ‘Out!’ said Mum. ‘Men, eh? We’d be better off without them.’

  I glanced up at Ralph but he hadn’t taken offence.

  ‘But my Nigel’s not like that,’ Rita sniffed, wiping her eyes with the corner of a tea towel.

  ‘Of course he’s not, dear,’ said Mum. ‘He’s cut from a different type of cloth altogether.’

  ‘Is it all right if I go upstairs and get changed now?’ I asked.

  ‘I wish you would,’ said Rita. ‘I wish you’d change into someone normal.’

  ‘If I had feelings I’d be hurt,’ I said.

  ‘Who’s President Kennedy?’ asked Carol.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning of the wedding found Mum, Aunty Brenda, Rita, Carol and me in the Flick ’n’ Curl having our hair done. We took up the whole row of chairs in front of the mirrors. Three people worked there. The owner was called Mrs Mustoe and she was a bit of a scary woman with a big bosom and tall hair piled up on her head in a beehive. She wore high heels and she had big calves and lots of jewellery and smoked all the time. I knew she was sophisticated because she smoked menthol cigarettes through a pink cigarette-holder. She always had a slight sneer on her face and Mum said she ran the place with a rod of iron.

  As well as Mrs Mustoe, there were two girls, Louise and Wendy. They were both very pretty and wore pink gingham nylon over-dresses. Mum and Rita had already had a long talk with Mrs Mustoe, so everyone knew what they were doing. Mum and Aunty Brenda were having a wash and set and the rest of us were having our hair put up with great big curls on the top. Rita said it was the height of fashion. I wasn’t convinced.

  ‘It will look lovely,’ said Mum. ‘You wait and see.’

  She had been right about the dress so I decided just to let them get on with it. I wanted to look my best though. I wanted Ralph to be proud of me when I walked up the aisle behind my sister. I was still buzzing from the previous evening and remembering the way he’d looked at me when he’d seen me in the dress.

  ‘Your sister’s wedding, is it?’ Wendy asked, winding my hair into big pink rollers. She pinned each roller so tight to my scalp that it hurt.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I was staring at myself in the mirror. Behind, I could see Mum and Aunty Brenda’s legs sticking out from beneath their pink gowns as they lay back with their heads in two neighbouring basins. I could see the shape of the sherry bottle in Aunty Brenda’s handbag. Mrs Mustoe’s cigarette smoke was already creating a sort of haze at head-height.

  ‘I love weddings,’ Wendy said, taking a couple of kirby grips out of her mouth and fastening another roller. I winced. ‘I can’t wait to get married.’

  ‘Are you engaged then?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve been seeing a feller for nearly three and a half weeks, so it’s getting pretty serious.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, the longest I’d been out with anyone before him was seven days, and that was on holiday at Butlins. I never heard from the lad again. They can be like that, men, you know. They say women are flighty, but in my experience it’s the men who are the worst.’

  ‘But your new one is nice…? And you’ve been seeing him for nearly a month…’ I prompted in an encouraging tone of voice.

  Wendy stepped back to look at my hair and picked up a bottle full of spray. She began to squirt my hair from all different angles. The spray smelled of petrol and stung my eyes.

  ‘Well I haven’t actually seen him for the whole of the three and a half weeks, because he lives in Eastbourne and he only comes across at weekends, so technically speaking I’ve only seen him for six days.’

  I didn’t know what to say about that, except don’t book the church.

  ‘There,’ said Wendy. ‘All done. Now we just have to dry it.’

  She put cotton wool over my ears, and fastened the whole lot with a hairnet and then pulled the pink dryer down and slid it over my head. There was a thrumming noise and I got very hot straight away.

  ‘Here’s the controls,’ she mouthed, pressing something into my hand. ‘If its gets too hot you can turn it down.’

  I couldn’t see the others now because if I turned sideways all I could see was the inside of the hairdryer. If I looked out of the corner of my left eye, I could see the cafe and I wondered if Ralph and Elton were there. I wasn’t going to have a chance to talk to Ralph until the reception in the Co-op hall. Mary had been invited because she was my friend and also because Rita needed her portable record player so that Clark could play records. I wasn’t allowed to invite anybody else because Dad said ‘guests cost money’ and money was limited, especially with Nigel having such a big family. Dad said it was bloody typical and he hoped when it was my turn I’d pick an orphan who didn’t have any bloody brothers or sisters, cousins, aunties or uncles.

  Clark, he said, could invite the whole street to his wedding if he so wished because Dad wouldn’t be footing the bill and Clark said no fear, he was never going to marry.

  An hour or so later, the inside of the Flick ’n’ Curl had all but disappeared in a fug of cigarette smoke and hairspray. All the windows and mirrors were steamed up. Mrs Mustoe inspected us all and said: ‘Hmmm,’ and got Louise and Wendy to hold hand mirrors up behind us so we could see what we looked like from the back. Mum gave them all a tip and they said: ‘Good luck!’ to Rita and ‘Hope it all goes well.’

  We trooped out with bright red faces and very itchy necks and it was really nice to breathe fresh air again, even though it was a freezing cold day and the wind coming off the sea was making my ears sting. Rita, me and Carol had pink plastic roses stuck in our hair, which were awfully uncomfortable, but I had to admit they looked pretty nice. Best of all, Rita looked really happy, which boded well for the rest of the day.

  When we got home, Dad and Clark were in front of the telly watching President Kennedy’s assassination. Rita’s face immediately fell. I think she’d forgotten about the tragedy in the excitement of being at the Flick ’n’ Curl.

  ‘Put that off, Nelson,’ said Mum. ‘It’s not fitting to be watching that on Rita’s wedding day.’

  ‘It’s history,’ said Dad. ‘You mark my words; people will still be talking about this fifty years from now,’ but he turned it off.

  ‘Thank you, Nelson,’ said Mum.

  ‘That’s all right, love,’ said Dad.

  We were all in our finery in good time to get to the church and we were all feeling quite cheerful and excited. Even Mum had had more than a nip of the sherry.

  As for Clark, well I’d never seen him look so clean. In fact I’d never seen Clark look like a proper person before.

  ‘I feel a right plonker in this get-up,’ said Dad, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

  ‘I think you all look very nice,’ said Aunty Brenda. She popped a mint into her mouth and offered one to Mum.

  Then we heard Rita’s footsteps on the stairs and a hush of anticipation fell across our living room.

  The door swung open and there was a rustle and swish of fabric as Rita came into the room.


  ‘What do you think of your daughter, Nelson!’ said Mum.

  Dad looked at Rita. We all looked at Rita, who was smiling fit to burst. She was wearing a long, white dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Her hair was tumbling around her face. She didn’t have a veil, instead a cloak was fastened around her shoulders and a big, fake-fur-lined hood slid between her shoulder blades. She was holding a posy of winter greenery.

  Rita blinked her false eyelashes several times and Aunty Brenda said: ‘Ahhh!’

  Dad swallowed. ‘She looks…’ he said and then he got all choked up and couldn’t carry on.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Dad!’ said Rita.

  ‘Leave your dad alone,’ said Mum. ‘He’s feeling moved by the occasion and

  it’s not often your dad gets moved. It’s a very proud moment for a father when his eldest daughter gets married.’

  Clark took a picture of Rita standing in between Mum and Dad, then Mum looked out of the window and squeaked and wafted her hand in front of her face a few times to cool herself down, even though the room was icy cold. She turned and said: ‘The cars are here! Come on everyone!’

  She turned to Rita, and stroked her cheek. ‘You look beautiful, Rita,’ she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

  ‘Don’t you start!’ said Rita.

  ‘She looks just as beautiful as you did on our wedding day,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’ll see you both at the church then,’ said Mum, sniffing.

  ‘For God’s sake, Mum,’ said Rita. ‘Stop it. You‘ll ruin your make-up.’

  ‘Sorry, love,’ said Mum, dabbing her eyes and spreading her mascara all

  over her face.

  ‘Come on, our Maureen,’ said Aunty Brenda, putting her arm through Mum’s. ‘Gird your loins, girl. We’ve got a wedding to go to.’

  * * *

  After we’d been shivering for half an hour in the church porch, Rita and Dad finally showed up in a big black car with white ribbons on the front. I smiled at Dad and said: ‘Your hat’s all wonky.’

  ‘Take it off, Dad,’ said Rita. ‘You’re not supposed to wear it in the church.’

  ‘What’s the point of it then?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t start,’ said Rita, sounding just like Mum.

  ‘I could murder a fag,’ he said.

  ‘And I’ll murder you if you have one,’ said Rita.

  Inside the church the music started. Me and Carol picked up the back of the dress and we all walked forward into the church.

  Nigel stood at the altar looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He’d had his hair cut and his ears looked bigger than normal. I wondered if Rita might change her mind. I glanced around this way and that. Everyone had turned to look at us and they were all smiling. In the middle of the aisle I caught Ralph’s eye and he grinned broadly and gave me the thumbs-up. He was looking very smart too. I thought he was the most handsome man in the church. I bit my lip and tried to stop smiling but I couldn’t. I was the happiest girl in the world. I couldn’t have been any happier if it had been my wedding day.

  Everything happened very quickly. The service only seemed to last about five minutes and then Mum was crying and Nigel’s mum was crying and suddenly it was all over and we were outside freezing cold again and having our photos taken by Clark.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Rita. ‘We need him for the family group.’

  ‘I’ll look for him,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Aunty Brenda.

  ‘He’s having a fag with the vicar around the side,’ I said.

  Mum and Aunty Brenda disappeared for a moment and returned with Dad. ‘Can’t you manage to behave halfway decent for one day?’ Mum was shouting.

  ‘I was only having a fag!’ said Dad. ‘I wasn’t fornicating among the gravestones. Anyway, I’ve paid for this bloody wedding and if I want a bloody fag, I’ll have a bloody fag.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ demanded Aunty Brenda, peering at him closely. I thought that was a bit rich given the amount of sherry she’d got through.

  ‘I might have had a tot of whisky before I left home,’ Dad said defensively.

  ‘Well, all I can say, Nelson Perks, is that it’s made you very brave, so now you can just shut up and behave yourself!’

  ‘Sorry, Brenda,’ said Dad.

  ‘Ok,’ said Mum. ‘Now put your hat on and make Rita proud of you.’

  ‘Right, love,’ he said.

  Mum always ends up forgiving Dad. She must love him, I suppose.

  The wedding reception was at the Co-op hall next to the church.

  ‘They’ve really done you proud, Maureen,’ said Aunty Brenda, gazing round the room at the ribbons tied to the chairs and the balloons bobbing about at every table. ‘Who would have thought that pink and purple would have gone so well together?’

  ‘Rita chose the colour scheme,’ said Mum with some pride.

  ‘I expect that comes from mixing with a higher class of people,’ said Aunty Brenda.

  ‘Probably,’ said Mum, winking at me.

  Mary was there with her mum, but I didn’t get much chance to talk to her because all the tables had been pushed together to make a big square with one side missing, and she was on the same side as me but there were quite a few people between us. Ralph was sitting next to me, and I was so proud of him. My aunties and uncles kept coming over and saying what a good-looking young man he was and he was charming with all of them, although I could tell he was finding all the attention a bit much. We ate cream of chicken soup, roast beef with all the trimmings and Arctic roll and then Clark played some records. Ralph and I danced to the song Moon River by Danny Williams and as we danced he sang the words into my hair. We were pressed up together very close and the feeling was so nice, so romantic and sexy that I could have stayed like that forever; for the rest of my life. I couldn’t help thinking about all the other dances Ralph and I would have. For the second time I allowed myself a little private fantasy about the two of us being married. I imagined us choosing a song and dancing together on our anniversary every year, just Ralph and me and the music. But I couldn’t dwell on this for anywhere near as long as I’d have liked to because I knew Mary was sitting at the back of the hall with her mum. After the dance, I kissed Ralph’s cheek and went to sit with Mary who was looking very pretty. While we were talking, Nigel’s brother came over and asked Mary to dance, and he was quite nice-looking, better than Nigel anyway, but she wouldn’t.

  ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you? What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘There's nothing wrong with him, he's just not Elton is he?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ I said. ‘I‘m sorry I couldn’t invite him, but Dad was having palpitations every time someone new was added to the list.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Mary, ‘it will give us something to talk about when I see him.’

  ‘Don’t you talk much then?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ said Mary, grinning.

  The day ended with all of us trooping down to the bus stop to see Rita and Nigel off on their honeymoon. They were staying in a chalet on the Isle of Wight for a week. Nigel’s parents were too tipsy to come with us and Aunty Brenda said they might live in a mock-Georgian house in Acacia Drive but that our family had made the better showing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke the next morning to a strangely quiet room. Even when Rita was asleep she made this kind of snorty sound and it was strange not to hear it. It made the room feel kind of empty. I got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. There had been a heavy frost overnight and the garden looked beautiful. Bright sunlight streaked across the lawn and dappled through the trees and shrubs, making everything sparkle and glisten. It was lovely. Dad’s new shed looked like a piece of art, covered in silvery spider’s webs. The shed had been there for at least eight years, but Mum still insisted on calling it new. Dad says it’s just to remind him that he burnt the old one down. I turned back into the room and loo
ked across at Rita’s empty bed. It was unmade, just as she had left it, the sheets and blankets tumbling onto the floor, the pillow smeared with Rita’s trademark black mascara. To my utter surprise I felt a lump forming in my throat. Rita and I had shared this little bedroom for as long as I could remember and I had looked forward to the day when I had it all to myself. So why was the empty bed making me feel sad?

  Just then Mum walked in holding a cup of tea. She saw the look on my face and said, ‘I thought you might be feeling a bit lost.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m feeling,’ I said. ‘It’s not as if we ever got on, is it?’

  ‘Feelings are funny old things,’ said Mum. ‘They catch us on the hop sometimes and they don’t always make any sense.’

  ‘Feeling sad about Rita’s empty bed certainly doesn’t make much sense.’

  ‘You may not have got on with her, but you were used to her, and if it makes you feel any better, your dad couldn’t eat his boiled egg this morning and it had something to do with not having to fight Rita for the bathroom.’

  ‘And how about you, Mum?’

  ‘Don’t start me off,’ she said and hurried out of the room.

  I smiled to myself as I picked Rita’s dressing gown off the floor and hung it on the back of the door. It seemed that Rita, with all her stroppy ways and her notions of grandeur, was going to be missed.

  In the afternoon, Mary and I were sitting having a coffee in the cafe. She had been unusually quiet on the way there, not looking in the shop windows as she usually did, and now she was sitting staring into space.

  ‘Penny for them,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not even sure they’re worth that,’ she said, sighing.

  ‘Talk to me.’ I said.

  ‘Do you know, Elton never asks me about myself,’ she said. ‘I bet Ralph knows everything about you.’

  ‘I don’t know about everything, but I suppose we do share most things.’

  ‘Elton doesn’t even care about my dream of going to study art in Paris.’