Christmas Past (27 page)

Una joined about a dozen other girls, suddenly wishing she had chosen to wear lower heels as she towered over the girl in front. They were each given a number and asked to parade around the
dance floor twice, before ascending the steps to the stage.

The girl in front stumbled nervously but Una’s acting experience came to the fore and she smiled confidently, held her head high and revelled in the admiring glances that followed her as
she circled the floor.

She could see her mother and father, accompanied by Auntie Mary and Uncle Jack. She could make out the pregnant shape of Auntie Margaret, and Uncle Harry saluted her as she glanced his way. She
was glad they had all made the effort to come. Even Auntie Sally had found a babysitter.

The girls lined up on the stage where the judges were seated at either end, mostly councillors and local tradespeople. The MC began to interview each girl in turn, asking questions relating to
their jobs, hobbies and ambitions. Una cringed as the high-pitched voice of the second contestant came over the microphone. ‘My ambition is to get married and have at least four
children,’ she squeaked.

‘Well,’ said the MC, ‘I’m sure number two will have no problem achieving her aim.’

Una remembered the drama teacher’s advice when she had played Juliet last year, and she lowered her voice as she answered the questions.

‘I work as a receptionist at present, but I would really like to take up acting, dancing or singing.’

‘Well, I’m sure we all wish number six good luck in the future; in the meantime I wouldn’t mind having her as my receptionist.’ The crowd applauded loudly, and the man
beamed as though he had made an extremely amusing remark, before moving on to number seven.

The time had come for the judges to decide, and the voting slips were handed to the MC.

‘I will announce the winners in reverse order,’ he said, with the air of a vicar from the pulpit. ‘In third place, number nine.’ The crowd applauded and a section of them
broke into cheers. ‘In second place, number seven.’ Una’s heart skipped a beat as she thought he was about to say six, and then she felt deflated. The girl in black was sure to
win.

‘And in first place, Miss Millington 1954, contestant number six, Miss Una Bacon.’

The crowd went wild. The judges rose to their feet to congratulate the winner, and the MC took advantage of his position by drawing Una towards him and kissing her far more intimately than was
necessary.

‘There’s a dirty old man if ever I saw one,’ Bill whispered to Marjory.

A female councillor then placed a satin sash over Una’s head. ‘Here is a cheque for ten pounds, my dear.’ She handed an envelope to Una. ‘And good luck with your
ambitions.’ Una glowed as she thanked the woman, who then proceeded to present the other prizes.

Bill Bacon was proud as a homing pigeon as one person after another congratulated Marjory and himself. His wife turned to him with a smile. ‘I suppose she’s your
daughter tonight,’ she said.

‘No, love, she’s ours. You’ve made a right grand job of bringing her up, I must admit. Mind you, I’m glad about one thing.’

‘What?’

‘I’m glad Big Bessie opened her mouth and frightened the living daylights out of that Shaunessy bloke.’

‘So am L’ Marjory pulled her husband on to the dance floor. ‘Listen, they’re playing our song. Come on, let’s dance.’

Bill wasn’t much of a dancer but it provided a good excuse to snuggle up to Marjory and that was an opportunity not to turn down.

The band leader came down to congratulate Una. ‘What’s this about you wanting to be a singer, love?’ he enquired.

‘Oh, I don’t suppose I ever shall,’ she said, embarrassed now by all the attention she was receiving.

‘Well, can you sing? That’s the main thing.’

‘A bit. I’ve sung solo at school sometimes.’

‘How about giving us a song tonight? The audience’d love it, and the press would have a ball. Think of the headlines in the
Star:
Miss Millington 1954 sings with the Tony
Tanner Sound.’

Una laughed. ‘I knew there was a catch in it. You’re just after some free publicity.’

‘No, really, will you give us a song? Please.’

‘Well, I don’t know. I mean, what will I have to sing?’ Her heart was already pounding with excitement.

‘What do you know?’

‘“Too Young”, I could sing that. I’ve sung it to the record.’

‘Smashing.’ He took the steps two at a time, and waved the band to silence.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve a young lady here tonight, the most beautiful young lady here tonight without a doubt, who’s given us all an enormous amount of pleasure. Now in
return we’re going to make her dream come true. Ladies and gentlemen, the Tony Tanner Sound with Miss Millington 1954, Miss Una Bacon.’

The band struck up the introduction and then the clear melodious voice joined in with the popular love song. The dancers took to the floor, swaying together to the romantic melody, entranced as
the young girl made her first appearance with a live band.

Una Bacon’s dream was becoming reality, she was Miss Millington 1954. But much more important, she was on her way to becoming a singer.

Jacqueline hated London, finding it difficult to breathe in the thick city air. Nor did she like the way college was changing her individual style, but most of all she was
missing her family. She realised the variations in her practical work were a necessary discipline, but thought most of it, for her at least, was a waste of time. The modern abstract designs meant
nothing to her and were rumoured to be drug-induced by the beatnik element amongst her colleagues. Gradually she learned to steer clear of the dubious characters and made a small number of friends
with whom she had at least a few interests in common, such as a love of nature, music and the galleries. These were a source of quiet solitude where she could browse, or sit alone, contented with
her thoughts and her books.

It was on one of these visits that she met Barney Ross, a rather shabby young man, with hair about the colour of her mother’s and a beard to match. She had been
enthralled in a painting by Camille Pissaro, one of the Impressionists on whom she was writing a thesis. She was endeavouring to fathom out why he should spoil the beautiful
View From My
Window
by adding the crude red, instead of toning down the roof.

‘What do you think of it?’ he asked over her shoulder.

She shrugged. ‘Mixed feelings, but I do admire his work.’

‘I prefer his
Hoar Frost
myself.’

‘I haven’t seen it, except in a book, and it’s not the same.’

‘You should visit Paris.’

Jacqueline smiled. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

‘It’s a must for a student of art.’

‘How do you know I’m a student?’ Jacqueline queried.

‘I was sitting behind you at the lecture on the history on the Arts and Craft movement.’

‘Did you find it a waste of time too?’

Barney laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I quite agree with the revolt against the pettiness of academic art.’

‘I’m beginning to see what you mean. All I want to do is teach kids to create works of art, and I fail to see how William Morris’s medievalism or John Ruskin’s
eccentricities enter into it.’

‘Perhaps a cup of coffee would help us see things more clearly.’

Jacqueline knew she should carry on with her work but the blue eyes seemed to challenge her into acceptance. She gathered her books together and he held her bag while she packed them away, then
slung it over his shoulder.

‘There’s a cafe round the corner, and it’s cheap,’ he stressed.

Jacqueline wondered if she should offer to pay. He certainly looked rather poverty-stricken in his faded cords and washed-up jumper. There was something about him, though, that attracted her.
His eyes. He had beautiful eyes. She smiled to herself as she wondered what her mother would make of him.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, ‘I’ll let you buy the coffee if you let me buy the beans on toast.’

He looked uncertain and then nodded. ‘OK.’

He held out a chair for her and as they waited for their order he questioned her about her studies. ‘Well, how are you finding it? College, I mean?’

‘Not at all what I expected.’ Jacqueline frowned.

‘Well, what did you expect?’

‘I don’t really know. I don’t suppose I’d really thought about it, I was just so pleased at being accepted. How about you?’

‘Well for a start it’s a great opportunity to meet pretty chicks like yourself, and secondly I didn’t dig the idea of following on in the family firm.’

‘Oh? What type of business is that?’ Jacqueline had never been likened to a chick before.

‘Footwear. Now could you just bear to manufacture shoes for the rest of your existence?’

Jacqueline giggled. ‘Sounds like my mother. All she ever discusses these days is the quality of dress material, or the price of cotton to sew it up with.’

‘It makes you wonder what it is they have between their ears. I mean, who needs shoes anyway? Or clothes, come to that?’

As she didn’t relish the idea of going barefoot, or starkers, Jacqueline didn’t answer, and took a mouthful of beans instead.

‘So I thought, get out of the rat race at the first opportunity, man. Make your mark on the world by all means, but at your own pace. So I’m here to create, do my own thing, not
imitate the work of the normal run of the mill artist.’

‘What did your family have to say about that?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, they consoled themselves by believing I’m here to get it all out of my system. Besides, they reckon I’ll go back with new ideas for the designer’s
department.’

‘Well, it should help. I’ve designed quite a few patterns for my mother.’

‘But I’m not going back. Now I have my own pad I can do what I like. There’s no way I’m joining those squares again. Anyway, that’s enough about them. Let’s
talk about you.’

Jacqueline wondered where the money was coming from to pay for the pad, suspecting that the squares he held in such contempt were probably the benefactors.

‘What’s your title?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Your name?’

‘Jacqueline Holmes. What’s yours?’

‘Barney Ross.’

‘You’ve a slight accent similar to my grandparents’. Are you from the north?’

‘Scotland originally, we’ve still a factory up there, but we moved down to Derby when I was so high.’ He indicated a height of about three feet with his hand. ‘Started up
a second firm there.’

Jacqueline thought they must be a very wealthy family.

‘What do your folks do apart from make useless garments.’

‘My father’s a miner,’ Jacqueline said.

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘How can a man follow such an incredible path?’

‘I don’t think he had any option. He needed a job,’ Jacqueline pointed out.

Barney didn’t seem to have an answer to that, and they finished their lunch.

‘I’ll have to go,’ she said. ‘I’ve a class at two.’

He rose and picked up her bag, taking her arm as they walked round the corner in the direction of the college annexe. ‘What do you do Saturdays?’ he asked.

‘Not a lot. Go to the park if it’s fine, do some studying.’

‘I’ll go with you. Meet me here at eleven,’ he demanded. ‘So long, chick, I’ll see you.’

She wouldn’t go, she told herself. Nobody was going to tell Jacqueline Holmes what to do. But she knew she would. The blue eyes seemed to be still piercing deep into hers, even though the
man himself had already disappeared from view, and she knew she would be unable to resist the chance of seeing Barney Ross again.

Jacqueline did see Barney Ross again, and the more she saw of him the more he fascinated her. It was only after a couple of months that the doubts set in, although Avril, her
room-mate, mistrusted him from the start.

‘There’s something about him I can’t fathom, and he’s definitely not your type,’ she said on first meeting Barney Ross. Jacqueline knew deep down her friend was
right. He wasn’t her type, but that didn’t prevent her from becoming infatuated by him. The situation was made more difficult by Jacqueline’s lack of experience, and the man
wasted no time in taking advantage of her naivety.

She had been back to his flat on a number of occasions and, unable to stand the mess, had given the place a thorough going over. It was during the cleaning that she came across a white powder in
a small transparent packet, and though she had never seen anything like it before she was suspicious. However, she said nothing and kept the knowledge of its whereabouts to herself. That was
Jacqueline’s first mistake. She should have forgotten about Barney there and then.

Her second mistake was to fall in love. Barney was charming most of the time, but on other occasions he seemed to care nothing for anything or anybody. Jacqueline brooded on the problem and
believed she had only to offer Barney her undying love in order to bring out the best in him. Avril had no such illusions and tried to warn her friend against becoming further involved, but it was
already too late.

Barney Ross knew nothing about love. His main aim was to pleasure himself with as many conquests as possible, and Jacqueline Holmes, although a pretty little thing, was just another challenge.
True, she was not as easy as the rest of them, but that just increased his determination to add her to the list.

Jacqueline knew she could not resist Barney for much longer. When he slipped off her clothes and ran his hands over her smooth young body the desire was almost too much to bear, and she had
decided Saturday was to be the day, the red-letter day when she would give Barney the precious gift of her virginity. It seemed to Jacqueline she was always giving something to Barney, but never
receiving anything in return. It was she who gave up her evenings to launder his shirts and cook him a hot meal, with groceries bought from her meagre allowance, sent each month by her father and
Grandad Roberts. It was supposed to be for nylons and other essentials like sanitary pads and books, and it was proving difficult to make ends meet. But Barney never seemed to pay for anything
whilst in her company.