Bobby's Girl (16 page)

‘Your boss listens to you two?' Kate queried.

‘He's idle. He'll be grateful we've done the work for him.' Bobby assured her.

‘We haven't had an interview yet,' Kate pointed out.

‘Yes, you have, I've been interviewing both of you since you arrived,' Bobby countered. ‘You're healthy and have stamina. If you hadn't, you wouldn't have survived the horrors of the plane trip your fellow passengers can't stop talking about. So is it “yes”?' He looked at Penny. But it was Kate who answered.

‘Yes,' she said decisively.

Penny glared at Kate. ‘What about the museums and galleries …?'

‘What about sleeping in the street?' Kate retorted.

‘How about you leave the camp early at the end of the summer, return to New York with me and I'll show you around,' Bobby coaxed. ‘We'll have earned enough to pay for a good hotel room for a week or two by then.'

She thought it odd that Bobby hadn't suggested they stay at his grandmother's apartment, but happy at the prospect of spending time sightseeing with him, she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came to mind.

The lecture that afternoon was on America, its history, government and customs. Not the best topic to deliver to jet-lagged students. She didn't take in a word after the first five minutes and woke with a start when the students around her started moving to the door of the side room where coffee was being served.

Kate stared wide-eyed at her and she realised she wasn't the only one who'd been sleeping. Bobby and
Sandy entered the room by the main door and spotted them.

‘Enjoy your nap?' Sandy asked Kate.

‘No, because this irritating American droned on and on about the history of the country. After doing the American War of Independence for A level, I knew more than him.'

‘Do you want the good news or the bad?' Bobby asked.

‘Penny and I are sleeping in the streets after tonight?' Kate guessed.

‘No, you both have jobs, starting tomorrow. As there's no time to buy your train tickets in advance you'll have to fund them yourselves. Keep the receipt and you'll be reimbursed when you reach Camp Resonance.'

‘There's bad news?' Kate looked at him in surprise.

‘The Bishop's ordered us back to camp. Apparently the staff shortage is “acute” and I'm driving him and Sandy. We're leaving at ten tonight which means we can't stay till the end of the orientation farewell party with you guys.'

‘Odd time to drive,' Penny commented.

‘My car's a convertible and I pointed out that in this heat and humidity we'd turn into jelly if we travelled any earlier. So,' Bobby glanced at his watch, ‘you – me – seven free hours. What do you want to do, Penny?'

‘Go to Harlem,' Kate answered.

‘Harlem?' Bobby repeated.

‘What the hell do you want to do there?' Sandy demanded. ‘It's dangerous even for brown people like me. Lethal for whites.'

‘That's why I want to go there. To see why it's lethal.'

‘Got medical insurance?' Sandy enquired.

‘The best.' Kate left her chair. ‘Give us twenty minutes to transform ourselves into stunning dolly birds and we'll meet you in the foyer.'

‘“Dolly birds”?' Sandy repeated.

‘You'll like them when you see them.' Kate looked at her. ‘Bags I the bathroom first.'

‘“Bags”?' Bobby asked her quizzically.

‘I can see we're going to need an interpreter. British expression that means Kate intends to commandeer the bathroom for eighteen minutes and leave me two.'

‘Use mine. The room's paid up until tomorrow morning.'

‘Thanks, I will.'

‘I'll get your bag from your room.' He winked at Kate. ‘Take Sandy with you and make it forty not twenty minutes before we meet in the foyer.'

Bobby had barely slammed the door on his hotel room before they began tearing the clothes off one another. Naked they tumbled headlong onto the bed. His mouth sought hers as she guided his erection deep inside her. And for a while nothing existed for either of them outside of one another.

When he finally withdrew, they lay back, exhausted, her head pillowed on his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

‘We're going to have to watch ourselves in the camp,' he warned. ‘If we don't, the Bishop and Pill Face will throw us out for corrupting the kids.'

‘And then Kate's prophesy of us having to sleep in the streets will come true.' She traced a line down his breastbone with her forefinger.

‘It wouldn't be the streets, not in the wilds of Connecticut. But it could be my car and that's not
comfortable for one. It would be impossible for two.'

‘The voice of experience.' She looked up at him. His blue eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief.

‘I confess I've had my homeless moments,' he admitted, ‘but rarely more than one night in succession and every one of them down to my own stupidity after drinking more than was good for me.'

‘It would be four if Kate and Sandy joined us.'

‘They'd have to sleep under the car like pioneers did under wagons in the old West.' He frowned. ‘I mean it, about us having to be careful. The Bishop's one of my grandmother's snoops.'

‘Your grandmother has snoops?' She buried her fingers in the thick black curly hair on his chest.

‘Dozens of them who watch every move I make.'

‘You're paranoid.'

‘During my boarding school days at least one master if not two used to make weekly and occasionally daily reports to her about me. I cottoned on to what was happening when she knew what punishments I'd received for my misdemeanours when I hadn't mentioned them. I thought I'd get more freedom when I went to junior college. But it was worse. I only had to look at a girl for my grandmother to contact me and tell she was “unsuitable”.'

‘Your grandmother vets your friends? What on earth will she think of me?'

‘If I take care, she won't find out about you.'

Bobby's admission hurt but she concealed her disappointment.

‘That's why we have to act cool in front of the Bishop
and Pill Face. He and my grandmother are closer than slices of apple in a pie. She supports his church with donations and he treats her like an empress whose wishes are his commands. One of her wishes was that Sandy and I be given jobs in Resonance. She believes clean outdoor summer living with plenty of sport will keep us out of trouble and away from women. I intend for her to keep right on believing that.'

‘She approves of Sandy?'

‘For two reasons. First guilt. Second practical considerations. My father seduced Sandy's mother, when she was thirteen. My mother was pregnant with me. My grandmother didn't want stories getting out about her newly wed stepson's feckless ways with under-age maids. She paid Sandy's mother to keep quiet and paid her medical bills. When Sandy was born three months after me, my grandmother decided he'd make a suitable companion for me. Sandy and I shared the nannies and the early boarding schools, which left Sandy's mother conveniently free to carry on working for my grandmother. Sandy and I stayed close, although unlike me, he did get to attend a more humane boarding school after the age of eleven. He was also allowed to study the subjects of his choice, music and drama, at an American college.'

‘So your childhood wasn't that lonely.'

‘Not when Sandy was around. But Grandmother insisted Sandy and I be housed in different dorms at our prep boarding school because she didn't want me getting “socially reliant” on his company.'

‘So you're half-brothers?'

‘My grandmother would have a fit if she heard you say that. No Brosna or Buttons would ever admit to it. My grandmother insists on maintaining the master-servant relationship. And, as Harriet's livelihood depends on the status quo, she's just as anxious as my grandmother to pretend that Sandy's father was a mysterious unidentified figure.'

‘I'm surprised your grandmother told you and Sandy about the relationship.'

‘She didn't. Before he left for Mexico, my father used to drink with the gardener at the Cape Cod Estate. He told George, and George told Sandy and me when we were fourteen, after first making us swear to secrecy. But given the similarities between us in height and looks, if not colour, I had wondered before then.'

‘Will Sandy go to Oxford with you next term?'

‘No,' he answered abruptly, so abruptly she was reminded they barely knew one another. ‘You won't forget? Careful around the Bishop and Pill Face.'

She reached up and kissed his lips. ‘You're not that irresistibly gorgeous. I can control myself.'

Bobby smiled. A smile that sent the blood coursing headily around her veins. ‘You've just proved that's a lie.'

‘I may tell little fibs but I never lie.'

‘I'll remind you of that next time we're alone together.' He glanced at his watch. ‘If we're going to Harlem we'd better dress. This trip is against my better judgement. It's a dangerous place for white people in quiet times. And it's been anything but since Martin Luther King's assassination in April. There were riots then and there've been riots since. The place is a powder keg. All it needs
is one spark to set it burning again. Why does Kate want to go there?'

‘I've no idea. She never said a word to me about it before she mentioned it just now.'

‘Do you want first shower?'

‘Yes, and while you're showering, I'll use the mirror above the desk to put on my warpaint.' She kissed him again before leaving the bed. She suddenly realised how easily she and Bobby had slipped into domesticity after only one night together. There was none of the constraints and tensions she'd experienced in her relationship with Rich. But neither were there any promises or plans for the future beyond Camp Resonance.

She remembered Kate's advice. It was the Sixties. The modern age. Women were liberated. No more dependent on men than men were dependent on women. Footloose and fancy-free to live for the day because tomorrow will take care of itself – provided there wasn't a nuclear holocaust.

She had to rid herself of Rich's way of thinking. The more she mulled over their relationship the more she realised just how much time they'd spent planning a future that would never happen.

Showered, dried, deodorant and perfume applied, she wrapped herself in a towel and returned to the bedroom. Bobby was still in bed but he'd switched on the television and was watching the news. Bobby Kennedy was on screen addressing a rally.

‘My namesake and our next president on the campaign trail.' Bobby adjusted the pillow beneath his head to a more comfortable position.

‘You think Bobby Kennedy will win?' She sat on the end of the bed and unzipped her bag.

‘He has a good chance.'

‘Because of his brother?'

‘Do you ask the same question about John F. Kennedy in the UK that we do in the States?'

‘Where were you when John F. Kennedy was shot?' she guessed.

‘I was playing basketball in school when a guy burst in with the news. That was the end of the game and everything for the day. None of us wanted to believe it.'

‘I was clearing out my wardrobe. My younger brother, Evan, shouted upstairs that
Bonanza
had been cancelled because the president had been shot. Like you, I didn't want to believe it. Even when I watched the news broadcasts I still had difficulty believing it. After the Cuban crisis and President Kennedy's “
Ich bin ein Berliner
” speech, I felt with him gone, the world would never be the same again.'

‘I thought that too for a long time. But,' Bobby looked at the screen, ‘with another Kennedy in the White House, Camelot could rise again.' He flung back the bedclothes and walked naked into the bathroom. He stopped by the door. ‘You have finished?'

‘Yes, thanks.'

He looked at her as she rummaged through her case. ‘No miniskirts, pretty dresses or jewellery for Harlem; jeans and a loose cotton shirt. It's hot out there in every sense of the word.'

It was Sandy, not Bobby, who took charge of the expedition and it was Sandy's idea to travel by bus.

‘That car of yours is a magnet for thieves, Bobby. We wouldn't be able to stop anywhere.'

‘We won't be stopping for long or walking any distance if we go by bus,' Bobby warned. He turned to Kate. ‘Just why do you want to go up there?'

‘Because we've heard so much about New York and Harlem in Britain. It's supposed to be dangerous.'

‘And instead of taking someone's word for it you want to see it for yourself?' Bobby questioned in amusement.

‘I can't imagine people carrying weapons on the streets and on the subway.'

‘They do.' Bobby led the way to the stop outside the hotel. ‘And forget the subway. That's out of bounds. The streets are bad enough. You want to see a shooting or a knifing?'

‘Of course not. But like Penny I'm a social studies student—'

‘I thought you were art?' Bobby frowned at her.

‘Kate and I are both studying two main subjects,' she explained. ‘I want to see what conditions are like there. From what little I've seen of America and the people I've met I can't believe you're an uncaring society.'

‘We're not.' Sandy jumped to the defence of his country.

‘But although I've only been here one night I've noticed homeless people living on the streets,' Kate continued. ‘And I've read articles that say New Yorkers will step over people who are ill and, in extreme cases, even corpses rather than lose time notifying the authorities.
They walk on knowing the city will clear away the bodies along with the rubbish in the morning.'

‘And bury them in unmarked pits on Hart Island,' Sandy murmured.

‘What?' Penny couldn't believe what Sandy had said.

‘It's an island off New York. They don't run ferries there but they do ship over all the unclaimed bodies. They're dropped into mass graves.'

‘Why so shocked, Penny?' Kate asked. ‘There are unmarked graves in Glyntaff cemetery where they buried people from the workhouse, along with those whose families couldn't afford a funeral.'

‘That was years ago.'

‘Not that many years,' Kate retorted.

‘Can't keep bodies hanging around—'

‘That's enough, Sandy.' Bobby saw Penny was upset. ‘Every society has its alcoholics and addicts who refuse to be helped. Here's the bus. I suggest we sit close to the door and keep our heads down.'

They sat on bench seats opposite one another, Bobby and her one side, facing Kate and Sandy on the other. As the bus headed north, more and more white faces left and more and more dark ones boarded.

She and Kate stared mesmerised out of the windows. The city was so different from any they had seen in Britain and, in her case, Europe.

She had to concede her uncle had been right. At ground level it was very different from the clean clear vista of gleaming skyscrapers she'd seen on so many films and photographs. The billboards her Uncle Haydn had mentioned blocked every vacant lot from view. The
streets were littered with rubbish and the deeper they headed into Harlem the more unfamiliar the sights and sounds.

Snatches of jazz and pop music emanated from tenement blocks and fire escapes. Doors hung off hinges and a third of the windows were either broken or boarded over. Signs to ‘Beauty Parlours' were pinned above impossibly glamorous posters of models promising ‘hair straightening' and ‘skin lightening'. Wig shops sported hairpieces of improbable colours and shapes. And overlaying everything was a heavy odour of chicken, potatoes and stale frying fats.

‘You white folk come slumming?'

‘No, man.' Sandy had given the others a warning look before answering the teenage boy who'd pushed his face dangerously close to Bobby's. His meaning was obvious. Brown skin wasn't the same as black but it was better than white in Harlem. He pointed to Penny and Kate. ‘English cousins want to meet family.'

Penny took Sandy's cue and held out her hand. ‘I'm very pleased to meet you.' She felt even the queen would have been proud of her cut-glass ‘BBC' accent.

‘Hey, dude. That right. White English cousins for Harlem folk.' The boy shook her hand, watched her through the next three stops and flicked a finger salute at her when he left the bus.

‘Can we go back to the hotel now?' Sandy asked Kate. No one else had spoken to them but they were collecting stares from their fellow passengers.

Kate nodded.

They climbed off at the next stop. Bobby hailed a
taxi and had it waiting at the kerbside before Kate and Sandy's feet touched the sidewalk.

‘Of course I expected poverty,' Kate protested in answer to Sandy's question. ‘What I didn't expect was kids wandering around in rags without proper shoes, and buildings without doors and windows marooned in a sea of rubbish.'

‘It's called trash here. Pass the salt, please?' Bobby held out his hand. The four of them were eating burgers, fries and salad in a fast-food restaurant around the corner from the hotel.

Bobby had wanted to treat them to silver service dinner in the hotel, but she and Kate wouldn't hear of it. They both knew – Haydn's mad money aside, which they were keeping for emergencies – finances would be tight until they received their first pay cheques. They were determined to pay their own way and keep themselves until it was time to fly home. As Kate had put it, ‘Our budget doesn't stretch to linen tablecloths and silverware.'

‘The scrap metal and rubbish is down to tenants stripping their apartments of anything they can sell,' Sandy explained.