Folly's Child (12 page)

Sally left her bag in the cloakroom and met Edward in the balcony milk bar where he had a strawberry milk shake waiting for her. She sipped it through a straw looking around with interest. The place hadn't filled up yet but she noticed that the boys were congregating at the end of the hall beneath the balcony and on the left hand side while the girls were spread between the tables and chairs on the opposite wall, chatting and giggling and trying to pretend they were not waiting to be asked to dance. A few girls were dancing together as they did at the youth club hops and the dancing was of the proper ‘ballroom variety' – waltzes, quicksteps and foxtrots. When Edward suggested they dance Sally was grateful for the lessons she had endured in the school gymnasium with Miss Smart the games teacher yelling ‘slow, slow, quick quick, slow' in time to the music.

Edward danced well, guiding her with confidence, and soon he was holding her very close. Unlike Pete he smelled nice – Sally thought it was Old Spice – and when he pressed his hips against hers she was excited by the sensations it aroused, not revolted as she had been with the Teddy Boy at the youth club dance. Over his shoulder she glanced at the clock over the door – the hands seemed to be moving very fast and she was reluctant to say it was time she was going.

At last she could postpone it no longer – she had just ten minutes to get to her bus! She collected her bag and hand in hand they ran all the way – just in time to see the bus disappearing along the road.

‘Whatever will I do? Mum will kill me!' Sally wailed.

‘Don't worry, I'll get you a taxi,' he promised.

He'd never ask her out again now, Sally thought gloomily. But as they walked to the taxi rank he said: ‘Could you get into Bath in the week? We could go to the pictures,' and she agreed happily.

Edward paid the taxi driver in advance and all the way home she sat in a happy daze. The curtains twitched as the taxi pulled up outside her house and her mother was in the doorway.

‘What on earth are you doing coming home in a taxi?'

‘Edward got it for me.'

‘Edward is it? Well all I can say is he must have money to burn!'

‘He just wanted to make sure I got home safely,' Sally said smugly. For the first time in her life she felt she had outdone Paula, who had never, ever, arrived home in a taxi.

That summer was the most exciting Sally had ever known. Twice weekly she went to Bath to meet Edward, though ever afterwards he made sure she was on the last bus home. Sometimes they went to the cinema, sometimes they sat in coffee bars holding hands across the table, sometimes they walked in the park, and on Saturdays they almost always went to the dance.

Sally lived in a happy whirl marred only by worrying about
how far she should go
. After the first few dates when he had kissed and cuddled her and only touched her breasts through her blouse, he had started slipping his hand inside. Although she felt a little guilty about letting him do it Sally found she quite liked the feel of his fingers stroking her flesh and teasing her nipples but when he tried to put his hand up her skirt beneath her scratchy petticoats she tried to stop him.

‘Don't, please,' she begged, grabbing his hand.

‘Why?' he asked, creeping up further.

‘Because.'

But he refused to take no for an answer and after a few unseemly tussles Sally decided it was easier to give in and let him explore inside the leg of her panties. At first it wasn't too bad but soon his finger was prodding right inside her and that hurt, a sharp, squeaky sort of pain like someone drawing a fingernail across a sheet of plastic. As he prodded around all the dreamy romantic feelings she. experienced when he kissed her disappeared and all she could think of was when would he stop, and couldn't he please just hold her again, very close, with the firm bulge of his body against her, far more erotic through several layers of clothes than his scratching, poking finger.

The next thing was that he wanted her to hold the bulge. The first time was in the cinema. In the darkness, under cover of which they had been kissing cuddling so much (with his hand inside her blouse) that she had not the first idea what the film was about, he took her hand and guided it down to his lap. Sally almost jumped as she encountered the rigid roll. She took her hand away, but Edward only replaced it.

What was she supposed to do? Taking a deep breath she gripped the roll and held onto it, not moving. She simply couldn't bring herself to stroke or rub it. But Edward seemed satisfied. He kissed her fervently and they stayed that way until the lights went up and the usherettes began moving down the aisles with their trays of icecream.

Sally sat with her hands folded in her lap, squinting down to make sure her blouse was done up properly and embarrassed to meet Edward's eyes. Presumably everybody else in the world did it she thought. But remembering still made her blush all over.

One thing she was quite certain of – she was in love with Edward and that meant she would have to continue to
let him
– or he would find someone else who would. Boys were like that – the girls at school said so. The trouble was that if you permitted intimacy you would be thought of as ‘cheap' and perhaps be talked about as the girls at the dance had talked about Paula, only by the boys, which was worse, but if you didn't no boy would be prepared to bother with you for long. The dilemma threatened to spoil Sally's happiness but one thing she was certain of – whatever it took she would do it because she couldn't bear to lose him.

‘Sally, I want you to do something for me,' Paula said. Her voice had that familiar note that was halfway between wheedling and autocracy and Sally's heart sank. When Paula used that tone it usually meant trouble.

‘What?' she asked, rather aggressively.

‘Sally!' Paula gave her a hurt glare. ‘I don't very often ask you to do anything for me – and I
did
lend you my ear-rings when you went out with that Edward last week.'

‘All right – what is it you want?'

‘Help me get out of going to Gran's on Sunday.'

Once a fortnight on a Sunday afternoon the girls went to tea with Gran Bristow in the little house that had once been their home. Sally quite enjoyed the visits but Paula had no patience for making conversation with Gran, who tended to have very old-fashioned, dyed-in-the-wool ideas and was easily shocked, and she hated having to eat her way through the ham salad and bread and butter, Victoria sponge and tinned fruit and cream which. Gran not only laid on but also piled high on her plate because she thought Paula much too thin.

‘Oh Paula!' Sally scolded. ‘You know how Gran looks forward to seeing us. And Mum and Dad are going off on holiday on Saturday, so they won't be popping in to visit for a couple of weeks.'

‘Exactly. That's why you can tell Gran a white lie and she won't know any different.'

‘What sort of a white lie?'

Paula's face took on a vixenish wickedness. ‘ I did think you could say I had a cold because you know how frightened Gran is of catching colds. But it's a bit boring and it is the middle of summer. So tell her I broke the heel on my shoe as we were walking over.'

‘Won't she expect you to come over once you've been home and changed your shoes?' Sally asked reasonably.

‘You can say I twisted my ankle when the heel broke,' Paula improvised.

‘But why don't you want to go to Gran's?' Sally asked.

‘It's a drag. All my friends will be at the coffee bar.'

‘I'm not telling lies for you just because you want to go to the coffee bar,' Sally objected. ‘In fact I don't like telling lies for you full stop. If you don't want to go you'll just have to say so.'

‘Well, if you're going to be like that …' Paula said slyly, ‘I might just tell Mum what you and Edward get up to in the pictures.'

‘What do you mean?' Sally demanded, but a scarlet flush was creeping up her neck at an alarming rate and flooding her cheeks.

Paula smiled, enjoying her sister's discomfort – and the feeling of power it gave her.

‘As if you didn't know! But if you really want me to go into details Valerie Mitchell was sitting not far from you last week. And she was pretty shocked, I can tell you.'

Valerie Mitchell lived in the next road and travelled to work on the same bus as Paula. What she had actually said was: ‘Your little sister has grown up, hasn't she? Well, enough to have a good time in the back row at the pictures anyway,' and she had certainly not elaborated. But Sally was not to know that and she was mortified.

Oh God, if
Valerie
had been shocked perhaps she
was
going too far! And if Paula should tell her mother she thought she would die of shame!

‘I shouldn't think Mum would let you go out with Edward again if she knew what you get up to,' Paula said carelessly. ‘But of course if you tell Gran about my broken shoe on Sunday there really won't be any need for her to know.'

‘Sometimes I hate you, Paula,' Sally said. ‘ Sometimes I wish you weren't my sister. You really aren't very nice at all.'

Paula shrugged, looking very smug.

‘Who cares about being nice?' she asked. ‘Getting what you want is much more important. And I
am
going to get what I want, aren't I?'

Sally nodded. ‘Yes,' she said in a small, ashamed voice. ‘Yes, I suppose you are. You always do.'

In spite of all the worrying about it the next stage with Edward still took Sally by surprise when it actually happened. They were in a dark corner behind the bandstand in the park and had quickly gone through all the other stages, including the one Sally liked best, kissing and pressing the lower half of their bodies close together as if they were dancing. Tonight her skirt was rucked up almost to her waist and she found this was even better than usual because the bulge fitted neatly between her thighs and touched even deeper chords of excitement. So ecstatic was she that she did not notice Edward fumbling with his clothes until she became aware of moist clingy flesh, thrusting and rubbing. Her heart came into her mouth with a great choking leap.

‘Edward – stop it!' she gasped.

He did not seem to hear her. He was rocking and moaning, his breathing heavy and catchy.

‘Edward!' she protested, wriggling. She could feel the tip probing up the leg of her panties and she knew it should not be there. This was not just embarrassing, it was downright dangerous.

She put her hand down to push him away and he grabbed it, squeezing it around the erect penis and forcing her to rub it up and down. As she felt the muscular ridges pulsing and throbbing she almost sobbed aloud from a mixture of fear, curiosity and excitement, but at least the thing was no longer between her legs. Then she felt it jerk violently and Edward shuddered and bit her neck as warm sticky fluid spurted into her hand. She stood quite still not knowing what to do and after a moment he pulled away, reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped himself, his hand and hers. Then he threw his handkerchief into a bush.

‘Can't take that home,' he said with a shaky laugh.

Sally felt shaky too. She wriggled her skirt down over her thighs and when she risked a look she was relieved to discover Edward had done his trousers up again. Suddenly she longed to have him kiss her again and hold her close. That would somehow make everything all right. But he no longer seemed interested.

‘It's time for your bus,' he said.

Inexplicably Sally felt like crying. He held her hand as they walked through the streets but Sally could not feel any of the warmth she so desperately needed. It was a clear night and there was an enormous moon which was reflected in the dark waters of the river Avon – it should be so romantic, Sally thought, but somehow it wasn't. She felt sadder than ever.

‘I'll see you on Saturday, same time, same place,' Edward said giving her a quick peck and pushing her up the steps of the bus.

On the way home Sally could feel people looking at her and wondered why. It was only when she got home and looked in the hall mirror that she saw the enormous dark red love bite on her neck. Quickly she covered the bruise with her collar. Heaven knew how she would conceal it at school tomorrow, especially as she had games. Perhaps face powder or foundation?

Sally felt even more like crying. She loved Edward. But why did it all have to be so messy and complicated? Why did it have to make her feel so horrid and ashamed?

She was still looking in the mirror making sure there were no other tell-tale signs of the evening's activities when the living-room door was thrown open and her mother, looking very stern, appeared.

‘Sally – come in here this minute!' she ordered.

Sally quaked inwardly. Oh God, she must have been found out! But who could have seen her in the park and reported back this quickly? Nervously smoothing her skirt and praying there were no stains she had missed, she went along the hall and into the living room.

She knew at once it was serious because her father was still up. Having to get up very early in the mornings he tended to be in bed by the time she arrived home on the last bus from Bath. But here he was, still sitting in his chair (and looking as though he wished he weren't) whilst her mother stood on the hearth-rug, arms folded and wearing a furious expression. Sally began to tremble in earnest.

‘Well, madam!' her mother demanded. ‘What I would like to know is why you saw fit to tell barefaced lies to your grandmother while your Dad and I were on holiday.'

Sally was so surprised she could only stare.

‘And what a stupid lie too!' Grace went on furiously. ‘ Saying she'd broken the heel on her shoe! The minute your gran told me about it I knew it wasn't true – and so did she, or suspected as much, anyway. Why did you do it, Sally? You know I won't have you telling lies.'

‘I … well, Paula told me to,' Sally said miserably.