The Back of Beyond (5 page)

When they simmered down, he said, ruefully, ‘I tell you one thing, Ally, after this, I'll ask how auld a lassie is afore I ask her oot.'

When Manny was told the next morning, he thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. ‘What a card that friend of yours must be,' he gasped, holding his aching sides. ‘I wish I could have been there.'

‘That's what I said, and all,' giggled Alistair, ‘but it hasn't taught him a lesson. If it had been me, now, I'd never want to go out with another girl, but he's different.'

Manny nodded. ‘Yes, you are as different as chalk and cheese from what you say. He is such an extrovert with the opposite sex and you seem to be timid with all females. But I can tell that you have hidden depths, my boy. There is passion lurking inside you, and when you eventually meet the right girl, love will strike you with the impact of a sledgehammer. You were born to be a one-girl man, and you will derive more happiness from that one girl, Alistair, than Dougal will from a dozen of his kind.'

Thinking about this later, Alistair decided that if everybody saw him as Manny did, they would think he didn't have much go in him. One girl? What red-blooded male stuck to one girl? If Dougal asked him again to make up a foursome, he'd damn well jump at it. How would he ever recognize the right girl if he never met any?

After this fiasco, Dougal was noncommittal about the girls he went out with … for at least three weeks. With his natural effervescence, he couldn't keep it up for long, so things returned to what they had been before Amy, and both Alistair and Manny, at second hand, were constantly diverted by his descriptions of what had happened on his dates.

‘Fay's nice enough,' he said one night, ‘if she'd just keep her trap shut. She's got a voice that would clip clouts. Like a blinking foghorn … and she never stops.'

‘I didna ken foghorns could clip clouts,' Alistair said, trying not to laugh.

Dougal tutted his exasperation. ‘Ach, you ken fine what I mean.'

After another night out, he flopped down on the bed beside Alistair. ‘God, Ally,' he sighed, ‘it was like pulling teeth getting anything out of Ella. The only thing she was interested in was kissing.'

‘That should've pleased you,' Alistair grunted. ‘That's what you want, isn't it?'

‘I'd like a breather sometimes.'

Dougal's first opinion of Gladys was ‘Nae bad', something of a compliment coming from him, but after their second encounter he had changed his mind. ‘Why do girls aye have to go and spoil things?' he asked bitterly when he came home. ‘As soon as I get my hands above their knees, they carry on like I was sex mad.'

‘So you are,' laughed Alistair. ‘It's all you ever think about.'

‘Oh, be fair! I dinna jump on them the minute I meet them. I build up to it.'

‘Well, all I can say is – you're nae a very good builder.'

‘D'you think so?'

Alistair gave a serious nod, then smiled expansively. ‘I'm nae expert, but to my mind you should take things as they come. Warm them up, or whatever you want to call it, and when they're ready, they'll tell you.'

‘Oh, aye!' Dougal was heavily sarcastic. ‘They'll say, “Please Dougal, I'm ready for it now.” For God's sake, Ally, ha'e some common sense.'

‘I said I wasna an expert.'

This was the pattern for several weeks until, once again, Dougal seemed to draw a veil over his activities. ‘I think he's had another setback,' Alistair told Manny one morning. ‘He hasn't said a word about his nights out for … oh, it must be a month now. Something must have upset him. Something really bad.'

‘He will not keep it from you for long, Alistair. I know you are worried about him, but he is a survivor. He will get over it, whatever it is.'

Studying Dougal closely each time he came home from presumably seeing a girl, Alistair thought that he didn't look at all downcast and came to the conclusion that he had got over it, as Manny had predicted. It was strange, though, that he didn't want to discuss it. Letting another two weeks pass to see if Dougal would confide in him, give him a name and all the lurid details, Alistair finally summoned up the courage to ask.

‘You're awful quiet about things these days,' he observed, as Dougal was putting on his sports jacket. ‘Did you come up against another Amy, or somebody like that?'

Dougal turned and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I've turned over a new leaf.'

Watching him fold his handkerchief and place it meticulously so that only a corner was peeping out of his breast pocket, it occurred to Alistair that his chum might be speaking the truth. ‘I wondered why you were keeping quiet about your conquests, but that's the third night you've gone out this week, and you've made such a fuss about shaving, and brushing your hair with brilliantine, and taking ages to make up your mind what tie to wear. Have you met somebody special?'

Dougal made sure that his Woolworth's tiepin was straight before murmuring, rather bashfully, ‘Aye, this one's special.'

‘Come on, then, spit it out. What's her name?'

‘Marjory Jenkins, but she likes to be called Marge. She'll be seventeen in September, and we've been seeing each other for a couple of months now.'

‘So she's only sixteen? I thought you'd learned a lesson about dating them so young.'

‘She'll soon be seventeen and I'm nae eighteen till October, so that's just about eleven month between us. That's nae such a difference, is it? Anyway, I couldna help myself, Ally. She's perfect! She's got darker hair than mine, nearly black, and curlier, her eyes are a deeper brown, and her mouth … it's a Cupid's bow, perfect for kissing.' Now that he'd started, Dougal couldn't stop detailing the girl's charms. ‘She's a perfect figure, and all, though I haven't laid a finger on her.' He turned to look seriously at his chum. ‘Honest, Ally, I havena touched her. Oh, I've kissed her, hundreds of times, but … well, I think I love her. No, I
do
love her, and I'm not going to do anything to upset her.'

Alistair was on the point of saying he'd got it bad when he realized that Dougal
had
got it bad, and it wasn't fair to tease him. Instead, he said, meaning every word, ‘I hope it turns out OK for you this time.'

‘Thanks, Ally, but I'll have to hurry. Mustn't keep her waiting.'

‘Dougal's fallen for this one,' Alistair told Ivy when they were on their own. He had survived dozens of evenings with her by this time, and although she sometimes came out with suggestive remarks, she hadn't actually done anything he could object to and he could usually laugh off what she said. ‘Her name's Marge Jenkins, and she's a bit young, to my idea. She's not seventeen till September.'

‘So there's not even a year between them? My Len's four years older than me, and I was seventeen when he first asked me out.'

‘According to what Dougal said, Marge isn't like you. I don't mean any disrespect, Ivy, but he says he hasn't tried anything with her, so I think she's a bit prim and proper.'

‘Prim and proper?' Ivy threw back her head with a loud burst of laughter. ‘You're dead right there, Al! Nobody could ever have accused me of being prim or proper, and I wouldn't have thought a girl like that would appeal to Dougal, though they do say opposites attract, don't they?'

When Dougal came in, much later, Alistair said, ‘Everything OK?' Not that he needed to ask. His friend's blissful expression said it all.

‘Everything's perfect.'

Alistair let this pass, although ‘perfect' was the only word Dougal seemed to be able to come up with as far as Marge was concerned. ‘Does she work with you?'

‘Oh, no, she works in her father's hotel in Guilford Street, off Russell Square.'

This meant nothing to Alistair, who knew very little of the rest of London. ‘How did you meet her, then?'

‘I'd to deliver an account to her father, by hand because it was overdue for payment. It was Marge who opened the door, and I was bowled over. Just like that. Any road, she took the account to her father and came back to say he was busy and could I wait? She was standing so near me I could've reached out and pulled her against me, but I didn't dare. Do you get that, Ally? I couldn't. Anyway, there we were, looking at each other, and I thought, you've got the chance, ask her out before her father comes and throws a spanner in the works. So I blurted out, in my best English, “Would you care to come out with me some evening?” And that was it.'

‘She agreed?'

‘Well, her young sister came in with a signed cheque – Mr Jenkins does all the cooking and he was in the middle of doing something he couldn't leave – and Marge told Peggy to go away, and then she said, “Tomorrow at seven? At the end of the street?” I've never felt like this about any other girl, Ally. Marge is definitely the one for me.'

‘I can't understand why you didn't tell me before.'

‘I thought you'd torment the life out o' me, love at first sight and that sort of thing.'

‘I'd like to meet her sometime, to see what she's like.'

‘To give your approval? That's OK. I'll ask her tomorrow to bring her sister with her on Saturday … she's got two. The youngest's still at school, that's Peggy, Marge is the middle one, and I think she said the oldest, Gwen, was eighteen.'

‘Maybe you'll fall for her instead,' Alistair teased.

‘Never! But maybe you will.'

‘Not me. I've other things to think about; I've no time for girls.'

This was perfectly true, for only that morning, Manny had given him something of a surprise. ‘I have had this dream for years,' he had said while they were eating the sandwiches Ivy provided for her lodger and his boss. ‘I want to put aside the pawnbroker business some day, and open a watchmaker's shop which will also offer new and antique jewellery for sale. Of course, my dream will have to wait until I can afford to get better premises, but it might be a good thing if I did a little scouting around to find some little items to start me off. Even if it could be years before I am in a position to open such a shop, I could be building up a stock for it. You are more or less confident about dealing with customers on your own, so I could start going round the markets. I am told that one can often pick up a good bargain from the stalls. What do you think, hmm?'

‘You'd trust me?' Alistair gasped. ‘You'd leave me here on my own?'

‘Of course I trust you. Your face has been an open book to me since you first walked through that door … honesty, willingness to please, a wish to justify your wages by working as well as you can. In any case, I have nothing worth stealing at the moment – except the gold wrist watch Mrs Parker still brings in every Monday. But please do not think that I am taking advantage of you. I will increase your wages by five shillings because you will be in sole charge. I wish I could make it more, Alistair, but … perhaps some day soon, hmm?'

On Saturday evening, on the way to Guilford Street on the underground, Alistair's stomach was churning with anxiety at the thought of meeting Gwen Jenkins. If she was anything like Lexie Fraser had been, he'd be terrified of her, and if she was as prim and proper as her sister seemed to be, he wouldn't know what to say to her, and Dougal would be too taken up with Marge to pay any attention to him.

His heart sank when he saw them – one a short but beautiful brunette who must be Marge, and the other a tall, elegant, model-like redhead who looked as if she would wipe the floor with him if he stepped out of line. God, this was going to be an evening he'd never forget … but not for any of the right reasons.

Before Dougal could make the introductions, Marge said, ‘Gwen was sorry she couldn't come. She fell downstairs this morning and sprained her ankle. This is Petra, an old school friend I ran into yesterday, and she agreed to step in.'

The redhead inclined her head stiffly to Dougal, but when Marge said, ‘Petra, this is Alistair, your date,' she turned her heavily mascara'd eyes to him, then silently slid her arm through his. They walked to Hyde Park, and because there wasn't room to go four abreast on the pavements, they split up into couples, much to Alistair's embarrassment, although he consoled himself by thinking it would be different in the Park. It wasn't. Dougal and Marge were oblivious of anyone else, strolling hand-in-hand and looking into each other's eyes so often it amazed Alistair that they didn't bump into something … or somebody. With Petra – it had to be a fancy name – glued to his arm, he plodded on with a heavy heart.

They took the bus back, and about two stops before they were due to get off, Petra jumped up. ‘This is my stop!' She made a dive for the stairs and had jumped off the moving vehicle before Alistair took in what was happening. He turned round to Dougal in dismay. ‘She should have said … I didn't know … I thought we'd all get off together.'

Marge smiled. ‘Petra was always a queer fish. That's why I never kept in touch.'

‘She didn't enjoy herself, that's one thing sure.'

‘Don't worry about it. Gwen'll be able to come next time.'

‘I don't think we should arrange a next time,' he said, looking apologetic. ‘I'm not a great one for making conversation or anything like that. I'm not like Dougal.'

‘I felt awful,' he told Manny the following day, ‘but Petra scared the pants off me.'

The pawnbroker gave what was almost a snigger. ‘A rather inappropriate turn of phrase, don't you think?'

Alistair's spells on his own extended from mornings only in the first few weeks to whole days, at the end of which Manny would return happily exhausted to show his ‘manager' his latest acquisitions. Before putting them in his safe, he would spread them out on his counter and discuss each item with Alistair, asking his evaluation first and then pointing out good points or flaws in the precious stones, and soon the newly-eighteen-year-old was surprising himself as much as Manny by the accuracy of his assessments. He was also showing quite a talent for repairing even the oldest of the timepieces.