As it transpired the party was not too bad at all, plenty of food and stuff. Joan’s pal was there too but she seemed to be ignoring us. I lost sight of her amid the people who were bustling about dancing and the rest of it. Joan as well, eventually I lost sight of her. I went into a wee side room next to the kitchen, opened a can of beer and sat on a dining chair. A fellow came in who was involved with another of the girls from the hostel; he supported Charlton Athletic and we spoke about football for a time, then women. His girlfriend was older than him and it was causing problems with her parents or her roommates or something. His voice grated on me and it was as if he was just kidding on he was a Londoner. He kept on yapping. I began to wonder if maybe it was a plot of some sort to detain me.
*
Shortly before midnight a girl told me to go along to the end bedroom on the first floor. Joan was there. She nodded me inside but bypassed me, shutting the door behind me; and there was her pal, Renee was her name, she was sitting on the edge of the bed crying her eyes out. I took my tin out to roll a smoke then put it away again. She knew I was there. I stepped across and touched her shoulder. Okay? I said.
She shook the hand off. She had stopped crying but was trembling a little. I rolled a smoke now and offered her it but she didnt smoke. She dried her nose with a tissue. I laid my hand on her arm and asked if she was feeling any better. When she didnt answer I said: Will I tell Joan to come in?
No, she replied. She sniffed and dried her nose again. I stood smoking while she continued to sit there staring at the floor.
Do you want me to leave? I said.
Yes.
Joan had gone. Downstairs in the main dancing room I found her doing a slow one with this monkey dressed in a cravat and strange trousers. Over she came, she was frowning. Jock, she said, how’s Renee? is she alright?
I think so. What was up with her?
She paused a moment then shrugged briefly, glanced away from me. Look jock, she said, I better finish the dance with David.
Oh good. Ask him if he’s selling that cravat.
It wouldnt suit you, she muttered, and off she went. A loud dancing record started and other people got up onto the floor. I returned to the wee side room. The Charlton Athletic supporter was sitting on the floor with another guy; they both watched me enter. That was enough. Cheerio, I said.
It was time to get back to the Foodstore. I went into the kitchen first though and lifted a handful of cocktail sausages, wrapped them in a napkin and stuck them into my pocket and also as well a halfbottle of gin. Out in the hall I bumped into a couple at the foot of the stairs. I asked them if Renee was still in the end bedroom but they didnt seem to understand what I said.
Closing the front door after me I waited a moment in the porch, then I opened the gin and swigged a mouthful. It was really fucking horrible and didnt even taste like gin. I set off walking. Along the street and round from Basset Road I saw Renee away about fifty yards off, standing at an empty taxi rank. A man approached her and looked as if he was trying to chat her up. She stood stiffly, gazing directly to the front. He stepped towards her and she said something to him. Hey Renee! I shouted. Hey. . I trotted along the road and the man walked smartly off in the opposite direction.
Renee was frowning, and she looked at me. He thought I was a prostitute, she said, he asked me how much I charged. . She turned and stared after him but he had vanished.
Dont worry, I said, that kind of thing happens all the time. London. You waiting for a taxi?
Yes. She stepped back the way and continued speaking without looking at me. I shouldnt’ve come. I had a headache most of the day. I just shouldnt’ve come. I wasnt going to. I changed my mind at the last minute.
It was rubbish anyway, I said. Looked as if it was going to be good at the start and then it wasnt.
She nodded. Where’s Joan?
Joan. . I shrugged. I pressed the lid off the tobacco tin but put it back on and brought out the gin instead. She didnt want any of it. She rubbed her forehead. If you’ve got a sore head, I said, this night air’ll clear it. Eh, come on we’ll walk for a bit.
She continued to stand there.
It’s quite a nice night.
Jock, I just want to go home.
I know, but just. . a lot of queeries hang about here you know — we’ll probably pick up a taxi quite soon. Eh? hey. . I brought out the cocktail sausages, unwrapped the napkin, passed her a couple. Then we carried on, eating as we walked. I began telling her about some sort of nonsense connected to the Foodstore to which she made no comment though she was quite interested. Then she started talking about her life, just general stuff to do with her family back home in this southeastern tip of England which is apparently very green. Joan was her best pal and they had come up from there together. This was their first job and they were supposed to be sticking it out till something better turned up. Meantime they were supposed to be saving for this great flat they planned on acquiring. Has it got all mod cons? I said.
Pardon?
I shook my head but when she saw me smiling she started smiling as well. And she added, Sometimes you’re funny jock.
I am not always sure about women, about what exactly is going on with them. This was just such an occasion. But I knew it was okay to put my arm round her shoulders. She continued talking about the hostel then about the kitchen and the Portuguese women whom she liked working beside because they were always having a laugh. And then I knew about the blunder I had committed; it was Renee I was supposed to have asked out back at the beginning, not Joan. It was basic and simple and everything was explained. I was glad she wasnt looking straight at my face.
A taxi trundled past. We were walking quite the thing though and scarcely noticed till it was out of earshot. Beyond Marble Arch the wind had died and it was not a bad night considering it was still only March. We had the full length of Oxford Street ahead of us but it was fine, and the shop windows were there to be looked into. I took Renee’s hand and she smiled as if she had just remembered something funny; it had nothing to do with me.
When we arrived at the hostel she didnt want to go in. We moved into the space to the side of the entrance and started kissing immediately. And the way her eyes had closed as she turned her face to meet me, a harmony. I asked if it was definitely out of the question to smuggle me inside.
Honestly jock.
Are you sure?
There’s just no way.
I was breathing her perfume, the point behind her ear. She had her coat open and my jacket was open, our arms round each other’s waist. I had been hard since stepping into the space, and Renee was not backing away from it. We continued kissing. She definitely did not want to go in and up to her room, and it was because of Joan. She’ll be there in the morning, said Renee, and I wont bear to look at her. Not now.
That was that. I opened my tin and rolled a cigarette. She was waiting for me to make things happen. Eventually I said, Listen Renee, the trouble with the place I stay in, it’s 8 bloody beds to a room and that I mean you cant even get leaving a suitcase because somebody’ll knock it. No kidding.
She pulled away to look at me properly. I brought out the gin, offered her a swig, took one myself when she declined. There was an all-night snackbar across at the Square and I asked if she fancied a cup of coffee. She shrugged. The two of us came out onto the pavement, walked for a couple of minutes together without speaking. Then we had our arms round each other again and we walked that way that the bodies link, the thighs fast together, the feet keeping pace and so on. At last I said, Right: how would you like to find out where I really stay?
I didnt look at her. But when she made no answer I did, and I could see she was trying not to smile. What’s up? I asked.