The Ballroom on Magnolia Street (9 page)

‘I’m sorry?’ Kevin leaned across the table, both to hear Kate, and to be closer to her magnificent cleavage. It was very hard for him to concentrate in the presence of such flawless beauty. He dabbed the perspiration off his forehead with a pink cuff.

‘Never mind my sister, Kevin. She’s had one too many vodkas, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, Shirley, I haven’t! You’re making me out to be an alcoholic! I’ve only had five or six drinks. That’s nothing!’

‘You’re looking absolutely beautiful tonight, Kate. I really like your hair. It’s very shiny.’ Kevin was on a roll, and didn’t want a sisterly row to get in the way.

‘I’ve just had it trimmed.’

‘It’s lovely.’

‘Thank you very much for the compliment, Kevin. You’re not looking too bad yourself! I love the suit.’

‘Really?’ Kevin was delighted. ‘I bought it in London.’

‘Did you? What were you doing there?’

‘I was taking my mother to get her veins done, privately.’

‘Lovely. They’ve great clinics in London. How’s the garage?’

‘Going great, yeah. I’m snowed under with work. I might even take on an apprentice or two. I haven’t bothered in the past – it’s easier to do things yourself than to show somebody else.’

‘I know what you mean,’ giggled Kate. Shirley rolled her eyes.

‘Would you like to dance, Kate?’ Kevin stood up, and offered his arm to Kate, in a gesture that wouldn’t have been out of place at a royal gala.

‘Ah, I’ve a dodgy knee, Kevin. I banged it on a filing cabinet at work.’

‘Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that.’ He sat down again and began to twiddle the blue silk handkerchief between his muscular fingers.

‘Shirley will dance with you. Won’t you, Shirley?’ Shirley choked on her drink and shook her head violently. She never danced until she was well oiled. Kate kicked her sister’s foot, under the table, and nodded towards the watching bouncers. ‘On you go, the pair of you. I’ll mind the drinks.’

Kevin stood up again, and Shirley had no choice but to get up as well and follow him out to the dance floor. The current song was dying away. She prayed that DJ Toni could find something halfway decent in his eclectic record collection. It took her a while to recognize the song: ‘The Land of Make Believe’ by Buck’s Fizz.

The DJ turned the volume down to make an announcement.

‘A great little tune. Buck’s Fizz. That’s the name of a drink, you know. Champagne and orange, if I’m not mistaken. Six years since this classic was in the charts, ladies and gentlemen. Six years! Where does the time go, I ask you?’ He turned up the music, then, even louder than before, and all hope of conversation was extinguished.

Kate drank her vodka, and Shirley’s too. She felt moved by the song, with its sugary sentiments, and felt a longing for someone or something that she could not explain. She realized with horror that she was beginning to doubt herself. She was falling prey to Shirley’s bad habit of thinking too much. What was she
doing
in this concrete ballroom, anyway? Did she like Alex enough to kiss him? To marry him? Was that a mild trembling she felt in her hands? Not again! She must get to a mirror. She reached for her bag and stood up too quickly, and the alcohol made her feel dizzy. She walked to the ladies’ room with as much dignity as she could muster, and drew some comfort from its draughty chill. She went into one of the cubicles and locked the door. A weird feeling passed over her, like she was not standing in the cubicle any more, but was actually hovering just above herself. She closed the lid and sat down. Her hands shook so much she could not even manage to tear off a piece of toilet paper to dab her face with. Just then, Louise Lowry and Mary came bursting into the room. Kate held her breath behind the wooden door as she heard the girls talking by the sinks.

‘It’ll never last, Louise. Mark my words.’

‘It might last. She’s a nasty piece of work. He’ll be like putty in her hands.’

‘No. He’ll be fed up with her in no time. Anyway, how do you know he asked her out? They were only talking for a few minutes.’

‘Because I saw the look on her face, that’s why. She’ll be gloating over this for fifty years. I’ll have to emigrate.’

‘Oh, let it go, Louise! For heaven’s sake! Look, I’ll tell you something for nothing: he’s just a boring, butch, body-building bouncer. He doesn’t know his own strength – he’d crush you in the bed! Let Kate Winters have the big lug, and consider yourself lucky. I can’t believe you, of all people, would be this pathetic.’

‘Mary!’

‘All the gold watches and fancy jewellery in the world wouldn’t get me near that big oaf, Louise. You must have a screw loose, even thinking about it. He’s as thick as two short planks!’

‘Is that what you really think? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?’

‘It’s what I really think.’ There was a long pause as Louise considered Mary’s words. Maybe she should wait until Alex had inherited his uncle’s fortune, and
then
nab him. Miss out on the hungry years.

‘Aye, you’re right. C’mon, the night is still young. Let’s get out there and see if there’s any new talent in Hogan’s tonight!’ She sounded as if she meant it.

‘That’s the girl. First, we’re going to the food bar for a sausage supper, and a cup of tea. I missed my dinner, earlier.’

‘Okay. Sausages and tea it is.’

‘And don’t you dare be giving Alex the glad eye. I’m warning you: if a fight breaks out between you and Kate, you’re on your own.’

‘No, I’m finished with all that. Kate Winters can have him. I wonder if he’ll take his weights with him on the honeymoon?’

‘Aye, he will surely, and when the
lovemaking
is over, he’ll go and stand in the corner all night, with his arms folded.’

‘Ha, ha! Here, I’m taking this strapless bra off. It’s killing me. I’m cut to the bone with it.’

‘Shove it in your bag, Louise, and come on – there’s a jumbo sausage in there with my name on it.’

‘You’re a wild woman, Mary. I like your style.’

They went out, the sounds of their cackling laughter echoing round the tiled walls of the ladies’ loo. Kate was left alone in her cubicle, suddenly feeling that she had won the booby prize at the Christmas raffle. She had emerged victorious from the battle of the bosoms, and now she felt trapped. What if Shirley was right about Alex? Was he really a lying scrounger with no rich uncle at all? As if she wasn’t suffering enough already, another horrible little feeling started up in her chest. Like a little bird flapping its wings, just behind her heart. She began to breathe too quickly. Should she go and talk to Kevin, and ask him to take her outside for some air? And maybe hold his hand? She would like that. But would he take hand-holding as a sign they were going out together? There was only one thing to do: escape. Escape! She went to the public telephone in the foyer and dialled for a taxi to come at once. There was one right outside Hogan’s, the man in the depot told her. He’d reserve it for her. She thanked him and clattered the receiver back into its cradle and took a deep breath.

Shirley and Kevin were having a great time on the dance floor. Kevin was turning out to be a very decent dancer, and Shirley had loosened up a bit and was actually enjoying herself with him. It was very dark where they were dancing, so the crowd couldn’t really see them. And Kevin was the one they were all looking at, anyway. Not many men could wear a pink suit and get away with it. Alex Stone and Sunny Jim were having a heated debate about the suit. Jim thought Kevin must be a karate expert to be so brave. He could probably disable another man with a swift dig to the windpipe. That was Jim’s conclusion. Alex said Kevin was just a total airhead who was so desperate to impress the girls that he didn’t realize he was going to get a right kicking on the way home. From some
normal
local men wearing jeans and denim jackets. Hopefully. The DJ was playing ‘Bedsitter’ by Soft Cell, and Kevin and Shirley were giving a great performance. Shoulders going in and out. Hands up in the air. Shirley had temporarily forgotten about Declan Greenwood.

Even Kevin had forgotten that he was only dancing with the sister of the woman he adored. Not Kate herself. The huge glitter-ball, the coloured spotlights, and the hastily consumed alcohol had transported the two of them away to a magical place. The song faded seamlessly into ‘Say Hello Wave Goodbye’, and Kevin and Shirley danced on.

‘Ah, Soft Cell,’ said the DJ. ‘You couldn’t beat them with a big stick! I wouldn’t fancy Marc Almond’s chances in a game of hurley, but the same lad can carry a tune, and good luck to him. Live and let live, I say. Take it away, boys!’

Kate let her mechanic-suitor and her bizarrely dressed sister have their moment in the spotlight until the song was drawing to a close. Then, she hurried into the middle of the throng of dancers swaying to the beat like a school of fish, and grabbed Shirley by the elbow. She said goodnight to a very disappointed Kevin, and steered her sister outside to the taxi rank. It was cold on the street after the warmth of the ballroom. Shirley’s teeth began to chatter.

‘What are you doing, Kate? We’re only in the door an hour ago!’

‘I need to think. Here’s the cab. Quick, get in!’

‘But Declan was in there somewhere.’

‘So? Were you going to do anything about it?’

‘No.’

‘Well, then. Anyway, I feel absolutely terrible.’

Kate began to cry softly then. She sat back on the leather seat, and her glittery shoulders heaved with a loud sob. She was confused and drunk, and she didn’t feel beautiful any more. Louise Lowry was laughing at her new boyfriend. And Kevin McGovern was being so nice to her, and yet she didn’t fancy him at all. She fancied Alex, with his big muscles and his chain of jewellery shops. Didn’t she? It was all very upsetting. She must be going mad. Her parents were both half mad, so she must be carrying two sets of faulty genes that were just waiting to kick in when she turned thirty. She’d have a breakdown! They’d put her in the asylum and study her, and she would become a legend in the city.
The mad lady with all the handbags
. The fear washed over her like a bucket of cold water. A prickling sensation started up all over her scalp, and she clung to the door handle and gave herself up to a torrent of crying. The tears flowed down her face and washed all her lovely make-up away.

Shirley was alarmed. It was worrying when Kate was not her usual know-it-all self. Shirley usually disagreed with most of the daft things Kate said, but this display of vulnerability was much worse than Kate’s normally rock-solid arrogance. It must be the drink, giving her hallucinations. Kate would just have to dry out, and then she’d be okay again. She put her arms round her big sister, gave the driver their home address and told him to hurry.

‘It’s all right, Kate,’ she said. ‘We’ll be home in a minute, and I’ll tuck you up in bed with a nice cup of hot milk. You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll be absolutely fine.’

This warmth and kindness was just the last straw for Kate, who had always played the role of Big Sister with great enthusiasm. She wept until her sobs dissolved into silence. Shirley gave her a tissue, and prayed for a swift journey home.

The taxi-driver was the same one who had brought them to Hogan’s earlier. He wondered if he could risk a friendly comment. Something to make the girls laugh and ease the tension? Too many drinks was all that was wrong with the crying one. He had seen it all before. Too many strong drinks, and a crush on some unsuitable fella. But, no, there was no point in cracking a joke. She was too upset, and the other one was too worried about her to pay any attention to him. He decided to say nothing, and drove the girls home as fast as he could. When the car arrived at the sisters’ house, Shirley paid him and the two of them went in the front door with their arms wrapped round each other.

10. The Return of Eugene Lolly

Eugene Lolly was a desperate man. His latest spell in prison, for assaulting an Indian shopkeeper with a tennis racket, had cost him dearly. How many convictions had he now? He had lost track. Drink-driving, careless driving, driving without insurance, driving an illegal taxi, tax-evasion, fraud, robbery, burglary, selling stolen goods, not to mention possession of an illegally held firearm in 1967. (That old chestnut always bumped up the sentence a little bit. God knows, he had paid his debt to society for the Hogan’s Ballroom Fiasco: two missing fingers, and a nine-year stretch at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.) He sat now in a dimly lit back-street tavern on Maple Street and thought about the Bonbon Gang days again. The judge’s voice had seemed very far away, that day in court.

Eugene Lolly knew he was going to jail for a long time. Everybody knew it; even the cleaners knew it as they quietly dusted the benches in the foyer. His wife, Virginia, was pulling on her gloves long before the sentence was handed down, her face perfectly composed. He looked across at her, his old charmer smile at the ready.
Will you wait for me? Will you wait for your old jail-bird?
But she did not smile back. She was already making plans that involved lots of white emulsion paint, some fresh flowers and a
FOR SALE
sign. He had lost his driving licence and his taxi-business. He had lost his gun, his savings and his few remaining friends. His wife had sold their Ormeau Road home and travelled abroad with the proceeds, while he was still settling into his cell. Within six weeks of his imprisonment, she was gone for good. A couple of years later, he heard she was doing very well for herself in Spain. He thought of following her there, when he was released, and trying to recover the money, but the house had been in her name, after all. It was legally hers to sell. He had arranged it that way, so it would be harder for the tax boys to get at him. How was he to know his treacherous spouse would sell the house, and everything in it, and not give him one blessed penny? And the word was, she had bought a small pub on the coast. And moved her two brothers in as barmen and bodyguards. The three of them were as brown as chocolate, that’s what he was told. Out in the sun all day, wearing sunglasses and speaking the lingo as if they were real Spanish people. As happy as pigs in muck.