The Child(75)

Joe sprinted into view, running up the street to show he realized he was late. “You look like Donny Osmond in that shirt,” she said as he stood panting by the car.

“Bus got stuck in traffic and I got called an effing poofter by a drunk.”

“Never mind. I’ve had a bit of an evening, too, but let’s get in there and chat everyone up. Ready?”

He nodded and squared his shoulders.

? ? ?

The music almost blew her hat off as they walked through the door. Gloria Gaynor was belting out “Never Can Say Goodbye” and the Boys’ Brigade hall was heaving with sequined tube tops and unsuitable legs in short skirts. Oxfam has had a good week, she thought.

Kate looked at Joe’s stricken face and laughed. “Mum heaven,” she shouted in his ear. “You go to the bar and talk to the women there. I’ll take the dance floor.”

She sashayed into the crowd, arms raised in mock tribute to the opening bars of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” as Toni lurched towards her and enveloped her in a hug.

“This is brilliant,” Kate shouted. “Fantastic job, Toni.”

Toni gave her a double thumbs-up and screamed in her ear to follow her.

They wove their way through the dancers, avoiding flailing arms, to a table near the emergency exit.

Toni did the introductions, pointing and shouting the names: “This is Jill and Gemma.” The two brunettes bobbed their heads at her, smiling warmly. “And Sarah B. and Sarah S. and Harry.”

Kate mouthed hello to all of them. Harry raised one startled eyebrow in recognition.

“Kate’s the reason we’re all here,” Toni screeched. “She gave me the idea in the first place. Come on, it’s my favorite record. I want to dance all night.”

Four of the women jumped up to join her and Kate stayed put with Harry.

They tried to talk, but it was impossible so Harry shouted, “Ladies’ toilet?” and they trooped off.

“Meanwhile back at the youth club,” Kate said when they reached the traditional teenage sanctuary and closed the door on the music.

Harry eyed her up and down. “Why are you here?” she hissed.

“Toni invited me. You know why I’m here.”

At that moment, the cubicle door swung open, banging noisily on its hinges in time-honored fashion. A woman in a beautiful blue dress emerged and Kate looked at her closely.





SIXTY


    Emma


SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 2012

Harry and I met at Woolwich Dockyard station and got a taxi to the venue. The Boys’ Brigade hall had stopped being new a long time ago. It looked as if it was leaning drunkenly to the left, the asbestos roof was mossy, and the paintwork was peeling.

“Can’t believe it’s still standing,” Harry said, paying the driver and leaping out. She’d gone for the glam-rock look and I’d opted for New Romantic, after looking through a box of old clothes in the loft. I found one of Jude’s old dresses with a thousand buttons—it hung off me, way too big, but I could’ve sworn I’d worn it before. I got Paul to help me. He kissed me when he’d finished and said: “You look fantastic, Em. Go and have a lovely time with the other ravers.”

“Thanks for the buttons,” I said, slipping my coat on and picking up my keys. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

“Okay, bye,” he called, switching on the television.

? ? ?

The disco is in full swing and the music hits me like a brick to the head so that I can’t see or hear anything for a few seconds. Harry pinches my arm to get my attention, her eyes shining. “It’s like stepping back in time,” she shouts. “But we’re legal this time. Bacardi and Coke?”

“No, Dubonnet and bitter lemon or that horrible sweet cider. I want to be able to taste it on the way back up.” We are both lighter than we have been for years, kidding around like teenagers.

Toni and her gang gather around us immediately, eager to hear where we’ve been all these years.

I’d decided beforehand what I’ll say about my life story. Keep it short and sweet, Emma, I told myself. Let’s keep the grime and degradation to a minimum. We don’t want pity. Or judgment.

And it all seems to go well. I let Harry do the talking—well, she tries, but it’s hard to make herself heard over the thunderous clamor of a hundred voices singing along to Wham!—and the girls are rapt. They keep touching us, as if we are aliens. Hilarious, really, but if I’d stayed, I might be doing the same thing. Might have been one of them. A middle-aged, restless mother with a little job at Tesco and kids who don’t ring.

Finally, we get our drinks, and when some of the others get up to dance, I try to talk to Harry but it’s hopeless and in the end I head off to the loos. I’ve often wondered why so much of my adolescence was spent in stinking public lavatories, but it all becomes clear when I get in and shut the door. It was the only place we could hear.

I go into one of the cubicles, crouching on the child-sized loo and reading the obscene messages scrawled at head height. Apparently, a girl called Maz is working her way through the ranks of the Boys’ Brigade, marking them off on the wall as if she’s a con doing time. Perhaps she is.

I store the info to tell Harry, but when I come out of the cubicle, she’s there. She’s talking to a woman I’ve never seen before. Our age, but I don’t think she’s from our school. So I decide to save Maz for later.