Bobby's Girl (17 page)

‘People must be destitute to tear their homes apart.'

‘As they're rented they don't regard them as “homes”, only a temporary place to doss before moving on.' Bobby sprinkled salt on his fries.

‘What I can't understand is why you two are so accepting,' Kate raged. ‘You've seen much more than us. When we were driving here from the airport we passed dozens of posters of slums and cute American
Black children looking plaintive under the slogan “Give a Damn”. You said you'd lived in New York. Both of you …'

‘Not for a long time. And we do “give a damn”,' Bobby said quietly.

‘We're little more than kids ourselves,' Sandy reminded her. ‘This country's not perfect. It needs to change but we've come a long way since black people were enslaved.'

‘And you've a long way to go,' Kate snapped.

‘Have you seen the slums in London, Kate?' Bobby asked.

‘Not close up. But I lived in one in Pontypridd until it was pulled down and we were rehoused on a council estate when I was eleven years old.'

‘What's a council estate?' Bobby asked.

‘Houses built by the council and rented out to poor people who can't afford to buy their own,' Kate replied.

‘Social housing,' Sandy murmured.

‘You have a problem with that?' Ever sensitive about her background, Kate stared belligerently at him.

‘Hey, my mother is his grandmother's housekeeper. All I've ever had to call home are rooms in servants' quarters.'

‘That's only true in New York,' Bobby interposed. ‘You and your mother have the use of a guest house in most of my grandmother's houses.'

‘Your grandmother has more than one house?' Kate asked.

‘She has so many I've lost count.' Sandy opened his burger and spread a thick layer of mustard over the meat.

‘Some were rented,' Bobby demurred.

‘But she does have more than one house?' Kate checked.

Sensing Bobby didn't want to talk about his grandmother – or her wealth – and knowing how Kate loved a political argument Penny changed the subject. ‘Given your benefit of two years' lectures in social studies, Kate, how would you reform Harlem?'

Kate plunged headlong into designing a strategy. ‘The first thing is to improve the housing stock and rebuild the entire area. Put in parks and public spaces people can take ownership of and pride in …'

As Sandy argued with Kate that more public spaces would only mean more places for drug dealers and prostitutes to ply their trade, Penny exchanged glances with Bobby. There was gratitude and another expression in his eyes. Something she couldn't quite decipher.

‘Quite the firebrand, your Kate,' Bobby commented when they returned to his room.

‘That's amusing coming from the man who was arrested by the Metropolitan Police for protesting in Grosvenor Square.'

‘I'm young, idealistic, and want to change the world.'

‘According to my father it needs changing, but not too quickly or we'll destroy the good along with the bad.'

‘He has a point.' Bobby looked at his watch. ‘Ten minutes before Sandy and I have to pick up the Bishop. That trip to Harlem and the meal took longer than I intended. See you tomorrow?'

‘You'll be picking us up from the train station?'

‘If I can wangle it but I might not be able to. You going to the orientation party?'

‘I told Kate and Anne I would.'

Bobby rammed his laundry bag into his rucksack and fastened it. ‘See you tomorrow, my sweet Penny.' He kissed her and opened the door. ‘I'll dream of you tonight. I just have one problem to solve before tomorrow evening.'

‘What?'

‘How to move your tent and bed as close as I can to mine in Resonance, without anyone suspecting my motive. Keep cool, until tomorrow.' He walked down the corridor. Remembering Sandy's visit the day before, she locked the door, flung herself on the bed and breathed in Bobby's pine scent.

Ridiculous. He hadn't even left the building and she was already missing him.

The following morning she dressed with care in a new lime-green Mary Quant mini-skirted suit she'd bought with the money her uncle had given her. The fitted zipped jacket had a ‘stand-up' Chairman Mao collar. Given the heat and humidity, she slipped on a sleeveless white polo neck beneath it. White tights, patent green bar shoes with chunky heels, and chunky green and red plastic earrings; rings and bracelet completed her outfit.

She was brushing her hair when Kate knocked on the door.

‘Nice suit, hate the hair. You look like one of the models in the Pre-Raphaelite paintings of damsels at death's door.' Kate hauled her bag into the room and dropped it beside the bed.

‘Wish it was tight curly like yours instead of wavy. Then I could cut it short and it would always look tidy.'

‘Tidy and boring.'

‘I'd settle for boring and neat right now. Nice suit to you too,' she complimented. Kate was wearing a similar Quant suit to hers in cut. But the fabric was patterned. White daisies on a blue background.

‘This is hopeless.' She exchanged the brush for a comb. ‘I need an iron.'

Kate opened the wardrobe. ‘Can't see one. There's a note in the hotel information folder that says you can get one if you ring housekeeping. Anne almost did until she realised she was running late. She told me to say goodbye to you.'

‘She went to Scarsdale?' she guessed.

‘She wanted a job. I offered it to her. Mrs “Scarsdale” is picking her up at the train station. Be interesting to see how she gets on. I promised to phone her if there's one we can use in the camp.'

‘Do me a favour, ring housekeeping for that iron.' She struggled to run a comb through her tangled hair.

‘There's no point in ironing your hair. It'll be wavy again the moment you step outside. It's the humidity. Tie it back or go for the Pre-Raphaelite look.'

‘More like the “dragged through a bramble hedge backwards” look.' She tugged at a knot and ripped a clump of hair out by the roots.

‘There's always your hat. I intend to wear mine.' Kate indicated the straw hat she'd dumped on top of her bag and haggis.

‘I'll dig mine out when I've finished combing this mess.'

‘Just as well we don't have to be at the station for
two hours.' Kate lay back on the bed. ‘Looking forward to seeing Bobby again?'

‘Looking forward to seeing Sandy?' She turned the question back on Kate.

‘He's rather dishy. Pity I won't be in the same area of the camp as you three.'

‘According to Bobby you'll only be across the lake.' She continued to wrestle with her hair.

‘You suggesting I swim across every time I feel like a kiss and cuddle – or …' she lifted her eyebrows suggestively ‘… something more?'

‘Depends on how much you want the something more.'

‘So what's with you and Bobby? Making plans for an engagement yet?' Kate fished.

‘Don't be silly, we've only just met.'

‘Met again. Sandy told me Bobby paid a detective to find out when you'd be arriving in the States.'

‘That's ridiculous. Bobby didn't even know my second name.'

‘But he did know you were Penelope, you were a student at Swansea College and you were coming over on an exchange. Must have been love at first sight. Or,' Kate raised her eyebrows, ‘lust.'

She couldn't help smiling but she could hold her tongue.

‘Lust, then. But it could turn into more. Bobby's returning to Oxford next term.'

‘Oxford is a hundred and fifty miles from Swansea and we've barely talked about summer camp, let alone next term.'

‘I wouldn't say no to a rich boyfriend for a summer. But yet again I've drawn the short straw. You get the prince, I get the serving boy.'

‘Bobby's grandmother might be rich but Bobby isn't. He's a student …'

‘A student with a trust fund. Sandy told me his grandmother's as rich as Croesus. Bobby has an enormous monthly allowance.'

‘Really?' She was sceptical.

‘Really,' Kate confirmed.

‘If he's that rich, maybe he'll pay for Sandy to go to Oxford next term with him. That way you and Sandy will also be in the same country.'

‘Sandy's already received his draft papers. He's going to Vietnam.'

She left the comb stuck in her hair and looked at Kate.

‘Like thousands of others he has no choice.' Kate shrugged but it was obvious she was upset.

‘When did Sandy tell you this?'

‘When we were waiting for you and Bobby before going to Harlem yesterday.'

‘If Bobby's grandmother is rich enough to pull strings and she's done it for Bobby, surely she can do it for Sandy?'

Kate shook her head. ‘Sandy says he feels he should take his chances along with everyone else who's been drafted. His mother came to America from Mexico as an illegal immigrant when she was twelve. He says he feels obligated to pay something back for the life the country's given them.' Kate left the bed and went to the window.

‘You like Sandy, don't you?' she ventured.

‘I've always been careful to lock my heart away from boys. At most this will be a summer romance. Nothing more.'

‘
A summer romance – nothing more
.' Kate was wise beyond her years. It was a sensible attitude and one she knew she should apply to her and Bobby.

But even as she considered Kate's words, she realised it was too late. She was head over heels in love. Her only problem would be to keep the depth and strength of her feelings from Bobby.

The train crawled down the track at slower than walking pace. Kate glanced at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

‘It's half past four. We were supposed to reach our stop at three.'

‘It's always late,' a middle-aged woman sitting within earshot commented. ‘The company that runs this line is losing money. They tried to close it but the government wouldn't let them.'

‘Terrific,' Kate said caustically. ‘Especially as we're being met. What happens if they don't wait for the train to come in?'

‘Are you being met by locals?' the woman asked.

‘People from Camp Resonance,' she answered.

‘Don't worry; they'll know about this line. Probably will have called ahead to check what time this train's expected in.' Their fellow passenger glanced out of the window. ‘Ten minutes and you'll be there.'

The train juddered to a halt. Kate left her seat and
opened the door expecting a platform. She managed to steady herself and avoid falling four feet. A frail elderly man in uniform, who looked as though he'd topple in a strong wind, tottered towards them and held out his arms.

‘I'll lift you down, miss.'

‘There's no need, I can manage.' Kate dropped her bag and haggis and jumped, landing awkwardly and twisting her ankle.

Penny followed. ‘I don't see anyone.'

‘You expecting someone to meet you, girls?' the old man asked.

She concealed her disappointment at Bobby's absence. ‘We're going to Camp Resonance. They said they'd send someone to pick us up.'

‘Payphone on the side of the ticket office. You can call them from there.'

She hauled her bag over to the office – a ramshackle shack – opened her shoulder bag and fished around in it for the contact details while Kate limped over with her own bag and haggis.

Although late in the afternoon, the heat and humidity were as unbearable as they had been in the city. While she phoned, Kate looked for somewhere in the shade where they could wait. There were no seats, so she dragged their bags beneath a tree beside the dirt road.

‘That was a long phone call,' Kate commented when she joined her.

‘It rang for ages before someone answered and gave me an offhand, “Oh, the train's in, someone will be along to pick you up. Thanks for calling, have a nice day.”'

‘This “have a nice day” is beginning to get me down,' Kate retorted. ‘Barely one in a hundred people say it as if they mean it.'

‘I could murder a cold drink.'

‘How about a warm one.' Kate handed her a bottle of Coca-Cola.

‘That's disgusting,' she complained after taking a sip.

‘I didn't say it was good.' Exhausted by the heat and still suffering from jet lag, Kate perched on her bag, leant against the tree and pulled her hat down over her eyes. ‘Wake me when the boys get here.'

They waited in silence for an hour, by which time the sun had begun to sink in the sky and, although still hot, the temperature had cooled to a more bearable level.

An open-topped truck pulled up alongside them. She and Kate rose to their feet and looked at the boys inside. Both were wearing filthy, sleeveless, khaki vests and khaki Bermuda shorts.

‘Camp Resonance?' Kate asked.

They laughed.

‘What's funny?' Kate, ever on the defensive, demanded.

‘The thought of you two chicks in Resonance,' the driver answered.

‘Why?' Kate snapped.

‘Dressed like that.'

‘You are disgustingly dirty.' Kate wrinkled her nose at their filthy hands, arms and faces.

‘That's because we work in a summer camp. Camp as in tents, woods, outdoor faucets, muddy water, the great outdoors …'

‘Do you intend to stay here for the remainder of the day laughing at us, or are you going to help us with our luggage?' She picked up her bag.

‘I can't wait to see the guys' faces when you two turn up. Name's Ray.' He pointed at his companion. ‘Gene.'

‘Kate Burgess. And I'm not shaking either of your hands. Not until they've seen soap and water.' Kate lifted her bag into the back of the van.

‘Want a leg up?' Ray asked.

‘You expect us to get in the back?' she asked.

‘Please yourself, but the cab's muddy. We didn't have time to shower after washing down the sailing dinghies.' Gene pulled a dirty scrap of scrunched paper from his pocket. ‘If you're Kate, you must be Penny John?'

‘I am.' She dropped her tartan bag over the side of the van next to Kate's.

‘You're going to the Pioneer camp.' The boy opened the cab, walked round to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. ‘Kate Burgess is going to the Woodsmen. Sorry the back of the truck's not too clean either. Hold on to your hats. It'll get windy when we start driving.'

Any doubts she had that the boys were exaggerating faded when they drove off a narrow tarmac road on to a dirt lane. After four or five jolting miles that played havoc with her back they halted in a churned-up muddy area adjoining a jetty that jutted into a lake. The sound of children singing came from the woods to their right and smoke rose lazily in the distance, hanging above the treetops.

‘This is where we drop you off, Penny John,' Gene announced.

‘And me?' Kate asked.

‘The Woodsmen's camp is a five-minute drive away.'

They both peered through the trees.

‘All I can see is woods.' Kate complained.

‘The huts are hidden but the kids are noisy enough.' Ray left the truck and walked on to the jetty. He lifted a tin whistle to his lips. The shrill sound was answered by another whistle across the water. ‘They'll be along to pick you up, Penny, as soon as they can paddle across.'

‘Paddle?' she asked faintly, conscious of her heels, Quant suit and the hat.

‘We dressed for a Buck House garden party to join Robin Hood's merry men,' Kate quipped.

The boys laughed again. ‘This is not Sherwood Forest, and whatever else the Woodsmen are, they're not merry.'

‘Miserable most of the time.' Ray offloaded her tartan bag. ‘Someone's set out to fetch you.' He pointed across the lake where she could just about make out a canoe.

‘See you around, Penny John.'

She turned to Kate and realised that, for all her bravado, Kate had as many misgivings about their situation as she did.

‘You did understand you were going to a summer camp, not Ascot?' Bobby steered the canoe alongside the jetty.

‘I thought it would be like a British holiday camp with wooden buildings and proper paths,' she explained.

‘If you look across the lake you'll see tents among the trees.'

‘Bathrooms … kitchens …'

‘We have campfires to cook on and plenty of wood to feed them. There are half a dozen cold-water faucets serviced by pipes that come through the lake from this side. And a twenty-gallon water tank fitted with hoses and sprinklers that make a reasonable shower. It's screened off and large enough to accommodate two. With eight counsellors and thirty-two kids you shouldn't have to wait too long to use it provided you pick an unpopular time. And we have hurricane gas lamps for the night.'

‘You really did dig latrines?'

‘There are toilet seats on the stands above the holes, and huts for privacy.' He tied the canoe to the jetty and joined her. ‘You really weren't expecting a camp, were you?'

‘Not as primitive as this one, no.'

‘I thought everyone liked getting close to nature.' He tied up the canoe, stepped out on to the jetty and picked up her bag.

‘I hate camping.'

‘You're joking.'

‘My idea of getting close to nature is sitting at the table in my parents' garden and watching the birds, squirrels and sheep in the surrounding fields. I wouldn't even go to Brownie camp when I was small, and that was in a church hall with hot and cold running water and plumbed-in toilets.'

‘I wasn't around to help you settle in then. Meet the other counsellors and give the place a chance. You'll have a tent to yourself, and tomorrow we have a treat. A trip
to Stratford, Connecticut to see Shakespeare's
Androcles and the Lion
.'