Margaret decided to take a lover.
Well, she didn't exactly decide. It just sort of happened. One thing followed another, inevitably, with the sort of logic that doesn't require pre-consideration. The basic desire, from one bit of flesh to rub up against another bit of flesh, has its own rules.
What Margaret had written.in her letter to Gordon was true. Joyce had been going seriously with young Gary Smythe for a couple of months. She was twenty-nine and he was ten years younger. He was crazy about her and she'd become very fond of him. She enjoyed being something other than a boy friend's bit of fluff on the side, or a holiday-maker's one-week stand.
Gary's was young love. Something inside her was flattered and grateful for that. His freshness and vigour gave her a new lease of life. She was rejuvenated. Her practised smiles and sometimes assumed exuberance became spontaneous again. He was good for her in every way.
And he was worth a few bob!
The Air Force was a great leveller. Public school educated, a place at Cambridge University waiting for him after the war, his father a prosperous lawyer and an officer in the First World War, it was assumed that Gary would be commissioned too. But he hadn't been. The selection board was fickle. He'd stayed in the lower ranks and, surprisingly, he was pleased with life there. He felt more free and happy with his Air Force mates than he had ever been at school. He was not really a studious type and he'd disliked the school's emphasis on performing well at organised games. He'd enjoyed escaping from the constraints and conventions of his middle-class upbringing.
He was a kind young man. Joyce liked that. He was like a half-grown dog, not a puppy, not a lap-dog, but an eager companion glad to follow her lead. They were having a good time together and that was the main thing.
Having a good time was all that mattered! Doing it while you had the chance! Not knowing what might be just round the corner.
It was a Thursday evening in her pub when Gary first encountered Joyce. She was behind the bar during the first part of the evening. Gary was immediately attracted to her. He leaned on the bar and kept on glancing at her. She recognised the symptoms and responded. After she had done her stint announcing the turns and done her own act, she went back to chat with Gary. It was the beginning of their romance.
Before the war, the large lounge in the pub had been used as a restaurant in the summer. It was the venue for a few small works dinner-dances during the off-season. There was room for twenty tables-for-four, a space for dancing and a bar.
Now, it was only used for her Talent Nights and for the occasional self-catering wedding party. Thursday night was Talent Night. Joyce was the star turn. On Thursdays, she gave free drinks to an Airman who played the piano and to another who bashed the drums.
The event attracted some local girls and a few married women whose husbands were away. In addition to the lads who were billeted with her, word had circulated amongst others in the Forces. Word soon got round that Thursday night was a good night-out at Joyce's. Apart from Saturday nights, it was the only time that the pub was really packed. Joyce stayed in for both of those evenings every week. One Thursday, she could find no-one to look after the bar. She begged Margaret to help her out. Margaret did not want to but Joyce was very insistent. "It's only for once. Can't you leave the children with someone?"
Margaret's sister-in-law agreed to have the children. Michael and Gwyn did not mind staying with their Aunty Belle because they would be able to play with Peter and Maud. Aunty Belle's spare bedrooms were accommodating Airmen but the two boys could sleep in one bed and the two girls in another. That came into the category of a good adventure in Michael's book and he looked forward to enjoying himself.
Joyce didn't need her help until seven o'clock so Margaret had plenty of time to sort herself, the cats and the children before going back to Morecambe. She left Michael and Gwyn with her sister-in-law, before heading for Joyce's. "Make sure you behave yourselves! I'll pick you up in the morning."
She left them and walked out into the drizzle which was blowing in from the Bay. It was already quite crowded in the pub. She made sure that she pulled the blackout curtain back across the doorway after she'd entered.
"Wow, am I glad to see you!" said Joyce. "They're coming in early tonight. It must be the rain driving them off the streets."
"Give me five minutes," Margaret pleaded. "I need to tidy myself up a bit. I'm nearly soaked to the skin."
"All right love," said Margaret. "I've put you in Room 7. But do hurry up, please!"
A tight jumper, a short skirt, stockings with a black seam up the back and big earrings was her attire. Bright red lipstick applied lavishly, a pageboy hairstyle patted into place, a touch of mascara and she was ready. She looked at herself in the dressing-table mirror.
"Very sexy I'm sure! I'll have to do!"
She was soon very busy behind the bar helping Joyce who was also serving. Joyce's Gary came in and ordered drinks for himself and a friend. He introduced the friend to Margaret. His name was Dennis. He was in the RAF too - and young like Gary. He was a handsome guy with brown eyes and long eyelashes. He had big hands and long fingers. "Why am I noticing that?" Margaret thought.
The two men did not go and sit down or move away from the bar.
Occasionally, there were brief intervals, between serving customers. Gary spoke with Joyce and Dennis addressed himself to Margaret. "I'm being chatted up," she thought.
It was not the first time, since she'd been working for Joyce, but this time she was enjoying it. Meeting this young chap, who was giving her the eye, was different. It reminded her of the first time she'd met her Gordon at the Winter Gardens' dance. What a lifetime ago that seemed! She gave Dennis the come-on.
At nine o'clock, Joyce stopped serving and went over to the piano. The pianist crashed some discords and everyone quietened down and listened to Joyce. She announced the start of the Talent Competition and then introduced the volunteer acts
Various Airmen, urged on by their mates, went to the piano and sang popular songs, everyone joining in with the choruses:
I'LL NEVER SMILE AGAIN (UNTIL I SMILE AT YOU)
BLESS ‘EM ALL
THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS
A couple demonstrated their prowess at jitterbugging.
DON'T SIT UNDER THE APPLE TREE
There was a juggler who kept on dropping the ashtrays he was using. There was a corny comedian. The audience booed and hooted as much as they applauded. It was all good-natured fun.
The three judges awarded the jitterbuggers the prize. It should have been a one pound note. Because there were two of them Joyce gave them a pound each.
When the applause had subsided a chant started. The regulars were calling for Joyce. Three lifted her and she sat on the top of the piano. The pianist handed her a top hat, a long cigarette holder and a stick. She crossed her legs, pleasing the lads with an American smile, and did her usual, weekly Marlene Dietrich impersonation.
LILLI MARLENE
She was quite good at imitating a German accent and singing in a sultry voice. Encores were demanded:
YOU DO SOMETHING TO ME
THE BOYS IN THE BACK ROOM
Gary had moved away from the bar to have a good view of Joyce's performance. Dennis stayed where he was. Margaret was not busy during the acts and they spent the time talking very quietly together.
When Joyce had finished, there was a rush for fresh drinks and there was no more time for chatting.
There was no late-night extension. Joyce called time and stopped serving. Although she was entitled to, she had made a rule not to serve the resident Airmen after hours, so the bar emptied quickly. It was a dark night and still raining. The jolly crowd soon dispersed after they left the pub and headed for home in the blackout. They were helped finding their way in the pitch black by electric torches. These had hoods on, to stop them being seen from the air. The street lights were out and the shop windows all dark. Wartime Morecambe was a miserable place at night.
Most of Joyce's Airmen had gone to bed. Joyce was at the far end of the bar washing glasses. Gary was assisting her. Dennis helped Margaret collect from the tables.
"I'm leaving the rest ‘til the morning," Joyce called. "I'm off to bed. I've had enough for tonight."
"How are you getting home? Is there a taxi coming for you?" Dennis asked Margaret.
"No, I'm staying the night here."
"Oh," he said.
"Room Number Seven," she said, looking straight into his eyes.
"Right then!" he raised an eybrow, quizically.
"Right then!" Margaret responded. Then she called out, "Good-night all!" and ran up the stairs.
"Good-night! And thanks!" Joyce shouted after her.
Margaret closed the bedroom door behind her but she did not lock it. She undressed. She had no night-clothes with her so she left her petticoat on but took offer her knickers.
She put out the light and went to bed.
She lay on her back.
She did not try to go to sleep.
She was waiting for something to happen.
It happened!
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