Honour of the Line (8 page)

The following night I rushed to the hut to meet Angela and tell her my news. She was so excited but also showed a slight tinge of sadness as I could be moving way up the country. We then got down to snogging and she told me at certain times of the month parts of her body were out of bounds. I put two and two together and came up with five. Nobody ever told us anything. Sex education did not exist. Teenagers learnt by their mistakes. She then told me how one of her Dad’s Army colleagues had made her do things when he once visited. Angela hated him so much, she had never told anyone except Jill, with whom he had also tried his luck but Jill was older and wiser than her little sister and stopped his advances. This horrible man had been accidentally killed during exercises in the Army. Good riddance I thought. Angela said she had never kissed a boy before and she was finding these new times fun, exciting, very special and a bit naughty.

On one particular Saturday our Town’s football team were playing away from home against their most distant rivals, and although I had no County or District match, Grandad and I decided not to go as it would mean returning home very late. So, instead, we decided to go and watch the 2
nd
team play, which meant Angela and I could go to the pictures. Angela and I were starting to feel more confident by the day and would sit together on the buses and trains wherever we travelled. We also held hands when in our neighbouring town and would only let go should we think somebody we knew was approaching. Week by week this presented a bigger risk as more and more families were suddenly getting cars and less and less men were working on Saturday mornings as wages and standards of living started to rapidly improve.

On this particular day we even sneaked a goodbye kiss behind some shop in town before going our separate ways. I could see Angela fade into the distance as she headed for the Arches before I made an about turn and headed for the record shop, which was splendidly named Rhythms. Insufficient funds in my pocket meant that I couldn’t afford a single from the Hit Parade but luckily they always had a selection of deleted singles for two shillings and sixpence. That’s twelve and a half pence in today’s money. I felt a tap on my shoulder and when I turned round I was astounded to see it was the lass from Woollies who asked jokingly if the records she sold weren’t good enough. Smiling I said “no offence” and fortunately she agreed that the proper ones were somewhat superior which was also the reason for her being in a proper record shop. Her dinner hour had just started so she suggested we share a cup of tea in the town cafe. This cafe was nowhere near as grand as the Remo where I had been taken by the football Manager, no waitress service here, you just ordered at the counter and were given a cloakroom ticket with a number on it. When your number was called out you made a sign or said yes and you were served by the tea lady. One of the major problems with a system such as this was that you always got some idiot who would call out when it wasn’t his number just to try and impress the girl. Needless to say it rarely worked. Two stuck up pompous idiots from the posh side of town were trying to impress everybody, bragging out loud and messing the tea girl about. They impressed nobody at all. We sat there making light conversation and she asked me what work I intended to do once my schooling was over. Trying to play things down I said “I may move away as I have the chance of a job elsewhere”, but I was shy and didn’t want to elaborate. As we got up to leave one of the posh gits tugged her handbag and proceeded to threaten me as we passed their table, but neither of us took the bait. They were pathetic individuals who were under the illusion their parents wealth made them better than us. They may have been better off but, in reality, as humans, they were way down the ladder. In fact, only a rung or two from the bottom. Realistically they were so inconsequential we didn’t even give them a mention. Sadly I still didn’t know this girl cum young lady’s name but it was now blatantly obvious that despite our massive age gap we were getting along and slowly becoming really good friends. She returned to work and said she hoped I would pop in whenever I was in town.

Called off football matches were becoming common place. One heavy shower and the unloved football pitches became unplayable, which meant that Angela and I got more and more time to meet up. Her brother Peter probably didn’t even know that our school had a football team as he hated the game so the chances of him telling tales were really quite slim. Thank goodness!

On the Wednesday Georgina told me that Angela may be late meeting me at the hut but she was definitely coming, but she had to meet her sister Jill straight from school who would then drive her there so hopefully she shouldn’t be too late. As usual I popped home quickly, guzzled a cup of tea, changed and tore off to the hut but as I got there the railway workers were just leaving and so I gave it a good 5 minutes to make sure all was clear. My word they must have known we were coming, the fire was still going and they had the common decency to leave us half a pot of hot tea. Talk about five star hotels, they didn’t come close to this. I listened for a car to pull up which should have been quite easy as this area of the Arches was where the housing finished and the countryside began. The only vehicles during the day were delivery vehicles, such as coal men, bakers, milkmen and a converted coach which bought fresh fruit and vegetables. The majority of cars stayed parked and in general were only used for pleasure at weekends. Believe it or not, in these times, people walked to work and children walked to school. There was no sign of a car then suddenly Angela came in. A train must have passed as Jill pulled up, which meant the sound of the train deafened the car’s engine.

Jill had needed a chat with Angela and had popped in to her parents pub the previous evening to say a quick hello to her parents and to ask Angela to meet up. Jill was upset that the person she was falling for was getting further out of reach. She still had a steadyish boyfriend but her eyes were for another. Angela had listened but could do no more as Jill once again denied the person she was falling for was either engaged or married. For the first time ever sex wasn’t on the agenda, we just kissed, cuddled and talked.

Friday nights encounter at the hut was just the opposite. Angela was starkers within minutes and I felt very excited. Just as we were leaving she confided that this friend of her father’s had made her toss him off. I didn’t really know what this meant but she asked if I minded if she did it to me soon. “You bet” I replied and was looking forward to our next meeting at the hut. She said it was so unfair that I always saw her bits and she wanted some action as well. When I went to bed that night I was full of excitement but also very nervous. No girl had ever seen my willy and I thought she might laugh as it was quite big. Also Georgina would find out as Angela told her everything. She already knew how far we had gone. The only saving grace was that Georgina wouldn’t tell a soul. Strangely, because everything was so secretive, me knowing Georgina was like a problem shared although doing things with Angela could never be termed as a problem, but always a pleasure. Tossing off was an expression I had heard and vaguely knew what it meant but I must stress, only vaguely. I couldn’t wait for the Saturday morning flicks, they were always really special times in my week. Angela would be out of school clothes and her skirts were so short and she sometimes wore light make-up, which she really didn’t need. Before we went in, we often went to the bakers to get two doughnuts to eat whilst we were watching the first film. One day at the pictures Angela had sticky boobs from the sugar on my hands. Groping was the norm but not the same as seeing her naked in the hut. That was my golden jackpot and winning the pools all rolled into one. We always sat at the back of the balcony in the far corner, nobody ever sat near us, the view was poor so everybody congested around the central rows. Cinema’s by this time were losing popularity and were really quite run down, often with torn seats and quite regularly they smelt damp as, by now, many only opened on certain days, as other entertainments had arrived. The television was now the big craze. Sadly our own cinema was like this.

God Save The Queen played and everybody stood up. This was followed by a preview of the following weeks films and then the action began, in more ways than one. First we kissed and before long I was leaning towards Angela with my fingers inside her, she was wetter than ever. Gently Angela started unzipping my jeans and undoing my belt. It felt great. She didn’t have to get my willy out, it pushed straight out through the fly hole in my pants. She started rubbing it back and forth and a fantastic feeling that I had never experienced before came over me. It became so intense I put my hand on hers to stop her for a moment as I had no idea what was going on. When normality returned I urged her to continue and when I reached the same point again I decided to venture into the unknown and see what happened. Unusual feelings took over as I exploded into the air, it went all over Angela’s arm and over her skirt as well. We both shrieked with laughter and got the obligatory torch shine from the usherette, which was like a warning to behave. As the usherette’s torch flashed I pulled by jumper down to hide my family jewels from her. Handkerchiefs came to the rescue as we began the mopping up operation. Wow! This was heaven and would be another regular part of our education, although it wasn’t a lesson we could practice in the classroom. Roll on Monday I thought, we were now really getting in the swing of things.

A couple of weeks later on the Monday, Angela told me she would not be able to come to the hut on the Friday evening. She was needed to help her Mum prepare sandwiches straight after school and then babysit for somebody associated with the brewery until around midnight. It was in a really nice house across the other side of town. She was told to be there by 7 p.m., and the two young boys would already be in bed. Joey was 2 and Jack 3, they always slept and would be no trouble to Angela. She was told she could bring a friend and would be taken home by taxi when the parents returned. We both decided it was a great chance to spend some time together instead of all the rushing, but I had to find an excuse to get my late pass signed. In town pop groups often played at the community hall so my excuse was that I wanted to go there and see one of my favourites. This was okay’d by Mum and Dad but I had to be home by 11.15 pm. or Dad would come looking for me. Mum told me to stay right away from people drinking beer but at that time of my life I didn’t really like it that much. It always seemed to leave a taste. Deep down inside I felt dreadful when Mum, Dad and Grandad paid for me to go. I felt totally worthless and I put the money away to top up their Christmas presents with. It was one way of giving it back. Sadly if you lie once you have to lie twice.

Boy oh boy was I looking forward to Friday night. I couldn’t take my eyes of Angela and got a couple of tickings off at school for not paying attention. 8 o’clock was the time I was to arrive and give a tap on the door and it couldn’t come quick enough. But the more I looked at the clock the more the time dragged. Grandad and I shared fish and chips, which he brought home from the coach that used to tour the streets of the Arches on Friday teatimes. It was an old wreck of a coach and the food wasn’t great, which was hardly surprising. I shouldn’t think the oil it was cooked in ever got changed. As you walked into the coach to get served you could peer into the fryer and the oil looked like it had come from the sump of the coach. Everything was wrapped firstly in grease proof paper and finally newspaper, ours was in the Daily Mirror racing page, but supposedly fish and chips always tasted better if wrapped in the News of the World.

After our tea I popped back home to get ready and Grandad said he hoped I had a nice time, which really churned me up inside. I hated myself for being deceitful but I dare not tell the truth, where would I begin? Georgina rushed out to wish me a great evening and she had the sauciest grin I had ever seen and I suspected she knew something that I didn’t. Appearance wise I made a real effort. After having a bath I put on my Sunday best, so as to speak. Mum had my best clothes all laid out on the bed, checked shirt, clean jeans, undies and socks. It was all playing into my hands and again I felt wretched.

As I left the Arches I had to go through the town and pass the Community Hall, where many teenagers were waiting for the doors to open but, by this time, my thoughts were only on spending a whole evening alone with Angela. Tapping lightly on the door I was hoping beyond all hope I had the correct address. Why I was worried, God knows, I’d checked it time and again. In fact, it seemed at this moment in time I knew this house better than Grandad’s or my own. The door opened and Angela took my breath away. Her hair was let down and flowing across her shoulders, her skirt was shorter than I had ever seen her wearing before, her legs were bare and she wore a white blouse with the top buttons undone. Wow! The people she was babysitting for had paid her in advance so she said, as it was a very special occasion, she would treat us to fish and chips. Oh hell, was my first thought, as I had suffered pretty awful fish and chips with Grandad only a couple of hours ago. But nothing was going to spoil our evening, so I smiled and said it would be really lovely.

I ran the errand of getting them whilst Angela got the kettle on. This area’s fish shop was a four to five minute walk away and it was a really nice area but sadly most of the spoilt kids looked down on the likes of myself. As I passed a couple of them they found it in their best interests to start taking the piss out of me. I recognised one of them from school football, his name was Roger Kent, although I can think of a similar sounding word to his surname that probably summed him up better in my eyes. His family were stinking rich, his father was a barrister and his mother was on the board of directors at a really high class school. She was also a Justice of the Peace and her picture appeared regularly in the local rag. Roger Kent knew my name and seemed to find it amusing by keep calling out ‘Billy McFirley is a Girlie’, as the pair of them tried to intimidate me, but their efforts failed miserably. Dad had always told me that the brave man walks away and I trusted his judgement. Inwardly I felt that for all these posh lads toffee nosed upbringing they didn’t have the first clue about life, manners or how to conduct themselves.