The Last Girl (6 page)

I wish I
could describe the effect. She takes one look, turns a brighter shade of red
even than before - and stretches out a hand. And that first puff - you could
watch as it visibly hit the spot. Took all the fight out of her, it did. Calmed
her right down. She's a smoker all right, just like Larry. Another thing we've
got in common.

After that,
all I had to do was steer her towards the lounge and the settee, not forgetting
the cigarettes. They went straight down on the coffee table in front of her,
within easy reach. No arguments, no nonsense about having to be somewhere else.
She sits down, starts hugging her knees, and goes on taking drag after drag.

Finally, she
looks up, and you can see at once she's back to normal, got back her lovely
pale colour. 'It's Ethel, isn't it, Larry? Doing all those things?'

'I'm afraid
so, Mandy love.'

'Does she do
it all the time?'

'I'm afraid
so, Mandy love.' I push the packet a little closer.

'Would it
make any difference if I asked for the keys again?' She's asked the question,
but you can see she already knows the answer. She's learning, is our Mandy. One
shake of the head, and that's the last we hear of Ethel. Half a minute later,
she breathes one last whoosh of smoke and stubs out the cigarette.

'I shouldn't
have smoked that, really, you know.'

'Oh get away
with you,' I tell her. 'A little bit of what you fancy does you good.'

'It's not my
health I'm worried about. I'd smoke myself silly if I could afford it. But they
kept on getting more and more expensive, so I gave up, quite a long time ago
actually. Now it's a case of trying not to go round smoking other people's. You
know what they think of you otherwise.'

In other
words, what she was telling me was, she actually cared what I thought of her.
Tell that to the likes of Doreen.

'Now you look
here, Mandy love,' I said, all seriousness. 'There's always a cigarette or
several for you up here. Any time you want one. You just remember that. Quick
visit, that's all it will take. And remember, Larry isn't counting.'

'Oh dear,
Larry.' She was sighing, Lord knows why, and shaking her head again. All the
same, I noticed she was trying not to look at the packet that was there level
with her knees.

What's more,
it was interesting, finding out that not only was she so hard-up she would put
up with Ethel and her funny little ways, but she couldn't even afford to treat
herself to a pack of twenty every now and then. You'd have thought with a brain
surgeon for a dad, she would never be that badly off. I was about to ask her
about it when all of a sudden it was too late.

'Larry,
you've been so terribly kind. I  haven't thanked you properly at all. Believe
me though, I'm so grateful ...'

Well, if that
wasn't music to my ears. No wonder I forgot what it was I was going to ask her.
Anyway, I didn't want to butt in, not if she hadn't finished. So I didn't utter
a word, just waited for her to say something else, about peaches perhaps. Only
that was no use, because all it left was a silence between us, but by then I
was beginning not to mind. It just showed I had been right about Mandy. She
really is that rare creature - a girl of few words.

'You know
what Mand? 'I said, not just to fill the gap, but because I genuinely wanted
her to know. 'It's going to be a real treat having someone like you coming here
to live. You won't believe this, being so nice yourself, but there have been
folk staying here who wild horses couldn’t have made sociable.'

I stopped
there, to see if she was listening. And she was. She didn't have to say a word.
Her not speaking was just a way of telling me to go on.

'They never
think of the old folk, the ones who would give their right arms for a bit of
company now and then. You know the sort of folk I'm talking about, don't you,
Mandy love?'

And that's
where I stopped. Not because I was expecting an answer, at least not in so many
words. But I was waiting for something, a particular kind of something, and all
of a sudden, there it is: the exact sound I'd been waiting for. Not a word, not
even a sigh, but that one tiny unmistakable little sound I'd heard before. Some
people might not even have noticed it, it was that quiet, but I heard it all
right, and I knew straightaway what it was. The sound of sympathy.

There, what
did I tell you? She's a girl in a million. And that noise, that squeak, that
cough, call it what you like - it was an invitation, and a promise. It was
letting me know that she is the sort of girl who will understand, the sort of
girl you could trust with your whole life's story. In other words, or rather in
no words at all, that little tiny sound was a signal, and Larry has received it,
loud and clear.

Well I
couldn't let the conversation lapse, not after that. It would have been an
insult. 'Of course,' I said, 'it was different before I retired. I used to meet
all sorts then. Too many for comfort really. Locker attendant I was, up at
Camden baths. What's more, I can't say that I miss most of the people I was
working with either, not the way they used to talk, telling folk they were
lifeguards when most of them couldn't swim a stroke. No, locker attendants we
all were, in charge of towels and general hygiene. Still, they were company,
even if half of them don't so much as pass the time of day when you go up there
now. They take a bloke like me for granted, knowing I'll be there regular as
clockwork every Thursday for my own bath ...'

You can tell
how nicely I'd got into the swim of things from the way I nearly didn't hear
her interrupt. Had to beg her pardon and request that she repeat what she had
said. Which, fair play, she did, without complaint.

'I said,
there's a bath here, Larry. Why ever do you go out for one?'

'Habit,' I
told her. 'Though I should say that none of the other girls ever fancied using
the bath that Ethel's got here. They couldn't seem to get on with the boiler.
It scared the living daylights out of them. I suppose what it is, you turn on
the tap and nothing happens, then WHOOMF the whole thing goes up in flames.
Nothing wrong with it after that, mind. So long as you remember to keep the
window open for the fumes. The water's beautifully hot.'

She must like
her baths an awful lot because all of a sudden she was looking gloomy again. I
was just about to try and cheer her up by offering to turn on the TV when she
put paid to that by getting to her feet.

'What's
this?' I said. 'You're never leaving already?'

Well, I
couldn't help it if I sounded a bit hurt, could I? After all I'd said and done
to help, as well as the bit about the old folk, you'd have thought she'd have
had a little more time to spare. And she noticed. You should have seen the way
she blushed. When I saw it, I was sure she was going to sit down again, but she
didn't.

'Oh Larry,
I'm sorry. But you can see it's getting late. I haven't even had my supper yet,
and after that I've got to get down to work.'

'What?' I
said, scarcely able to believe my ears. I took a quick look at the clock on top
of the fire. Five to nine it said. 'You can't be going off to work at this time
of night. What sort of job have you got, Mandy love? Night watchman or
something?'

She didn't
have to laugh quite so loud at that, as if it was me that was funny and not the
joke. 'No of course not. Didn't Ethel say? I'm at college. Which means I have
to study. You know - book work.'

'Oh, I'm with
you,' I said. But I wasn't, not really. Of all the surprising things to have
happened in the last couple of days, this just about took the biscuit. I mean,
Ethel, letting a student within a mile of her house. It beggared belief. I
notice now she didn't say anything about that when she found the kitchen in the
state it was. And I can't even say I blamed her. It would have looked too much
as if she was only getting what was coming to her. And that's not all. If I put
my hand on my heart, I'd have to say I was none too keen on the idea myself. If
nothing else, it made you look at Mandy in a new light, when you think what
most of them are like with their banners and their foul language, drugs and who
knows what else besides. It was an unexpected blow, that's all I can say. And
it explained her clothes.

Finally I
came up with a reply, one last attempt to look on the bright side. 'You sure
you're not having me on, Mandy girl? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying
you're old, far from it, it's just I wouldn't have put you down as an
eighteen-year-old. That's the age they go, isn't it, these student types. It's
only their beards that make them look older.'

And there she
was, laughing again. 'I know what you mean. But it's my second time around. I
did start a couple of years ago, up in Edinburgh. Then I had to stop, you see.
So now I'm starting again, down here. Hardly any grant though, that's the
problem.'

And she looks
at me, as if that explains everything.

'Well go on
then,' I said, when I realized she wasn't saying any more. 'Don't stop there,
Mandy love. Aren't you going to tell your old Larry why?'

'Why what?'
For some reason, a funny, guarded little look creeps all over her face.

'Why you left
your last college. I mean, you must have passed all sorts of exams to get
there. So, natural question - why did you stop?'

Well, you
wouldn't believe her face then. It's as if I'd asked her what she was doing on
the night of the fourteenth. What did she get up to in Edinburgh - rob a bank?

'Larry, I
don't...'Then her voice just peters out.

Well, you can
imagine. You ask a simple question and suddenly it's like you're not talking to
the same girl. One moment the old kid is laughing when by rights she shouldn't,
and the next she's twitching like a nervous rabbit. There's no logic in it,
It's what makes me say, 'Oh come on, Mandy love, don't leave your old pal in
suspense. Once and for all, why did you stop?'

And that
seems to do the trick because she tosses back some of that hair of hers and
says, all in a rush: 'If you must know, something happened. I had a sort of
breakdown. A little one. Not even a breakdown. More like a blip. It happens to
lots of people. All the time. They get a bit depressed and then they get
better. Does that answer your question?'

Well yes, I
suppose it did. But the thing that leaps out at you is the way that she went
about it. I may not know her all that well, but I can tell you now it was
completely unMandy-like. Defiant, as if she expected to be told off about
something. And hardly what you'd call friendly.

Needless to
say, I kept my hair on, and was careful to stay pleasant. 'All right Mandy love,
only asking. And if you're still upset with me, just-remember this - the first
fifty years are the worst.'

Now Lord
knows why anyone should think that was funny, but suddenly the girl is laughing
like a drain again. Talk about changeable, you hardly knew where you were with
her tonight. 'Yes, Larry' she says. 'I expect you’re right.'

Which was all
very well, but there was still no call for speaking the way she did. And I was
on the verge of saying just that, then suddenly everything’s all right again.
She’s almost out the door, when she turns around for the last time.

'I really am
sorry about having to go, Larry. Especially when you've been so kind. I was in
such a state when I came in. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't
been there. Thank you again.'

'Wait on a
sec,' I said. 'There was something I meant to tell you.' But it was too late.
She was gone, and blow me if I could remember what that something was.

But her words
were still there. Blooming well imprinted on the wall they were. Didn't know
what she would have done without her old Larry. What nicer thing could there be
to say to a chap? And you can tell me again it was a student that said them,
Larry doesn't care.

But seeing
she was a student, and she had all that work to do, nothing was more important
now than she should be able to get on with it. So I switched the TV back on,
but so low only a lip reader could have heard it. Tiptoed to the kettle and
back again. But I didn't mind, not for a second, because all the time I was thinking
of her words, and what a lot they said for the person who spoke them.

Only what, I
ask you, is a blip when it's at home?

What a way to wake up though. I was dreaming happily that I
was having a bath. It's one I have quite often - don't ask me why. There I'll
be, up to my neck in water, no need for soap or anything, just lying there
soaking, then the next thing you know is an awful great knocking at the door.
It's Doreen of course, up to her old tricks, ruining everything. At one time I
thought I had stopped that knocking for good, but she keeps on rearing her ugly
head. After that, there's nothing for it but to wake up, unless you want to go
on and dream about bad language.

It's always a
warning, though, that dream. It means that you've got to start· looking out for
something Doreen-like, i.e. unpleasant, cropping up in the day. So that's how I
knew, the moment I woke up - something was wrong.

Then it hit
me. Dishes not washed, crumbs all over the table. Mess. That's what I should
have been telling her about.

'Oh Lord.' I actually
shouted this aloud. And jumped out of bed. All that chat with Mandy, all those
careful words to make her want to stay, forgetting that Ethel was on the
warpath. If Ethel found the place in the same state today, Mandy would be out
on her ear anyway.

I must have
stood a full five minutes, rooted to the spot, before I remembered. All was not
lost. Mandy's a late riser. The thing to do was catch her before she went out.
Then I could tell her what she needed to hear and even help her tidy up a bit.
Simple. As if on cue, there came the sound of her kitchen door.

I was down
those stairs faster than a fireman on his pole.

'Mandy,' I
said, scrabbling at the glass, and peering through the frost. 'Mandy love, open
up. I've got something to tell you. It's ever so important.'

Through the
blur I saw a shape hurrying towards me, and that was a relief in itself. You
never know, she might not have wanted to open up to anyone this early on. Then
the door was flung open.

'Mrs Duck!'
It's more than a shout than anything. Because there, where Mandy should have
been, was Ethel, and, so far as I could see without actually shouldering my way
past her, not another soul in the room.

'Why Mr
Mann,' she says. 'Whatever is the matter?' The answer was - everything. I could
see Mandy's little life flashing before my eyes. Yet all I could do now was try
not to let on.

'Nothing,' I
said. 'Why should anything be the matter? I just thought it would be nice to
have a small chat with Mandy.'

At this
point, Ethel, catching me trying to look over her shoulder, yanks the door
closer behind her, and prepares to come out with her worst.

'But you're
too late, Mr Mann. She's been gone this long time.'

'What? Oh,
Mrs D. When?'

For an
answer, she gives me one of her looks, and says 'Like I said, a long time.'
Then, because she's Ethel, and can't resist rubbing it in, 'Actually I did tell
her I was sure she didn't have to leave right that minute. She could have
stopped a bit longer.'

But of course
the poor kid would want to leave. After what Ethel would have put her through.
Oh Mandy.

'...But she
would insist. Said it was absolutely vital to be there early. And what's more,
that she'd be there till late and all. I never knew those youngsters had to
work so hard, I was just saying to Mr Duck ...'

This was all
going a bit fast for me. 'Wait there, Mrs D.' I said. 'Where did she have to
be? I don't understand.'

'Well,
college, Mr Mann. Where else? And not coming back till late.'

'Coming back,
Mrs Duck.' To hear me, you wouldn't have thought it was my voice. It was more
like a croak than anything. 'Did you just say she was coming back?'

'Well, of
course I did. What else should she be doing?' Ethel for her part sounds just as
always - a bag of nails falling to the floor, clink after silvery clink.
'Really, Mr Mann, I don't know what's got into you this morning.' What happens
next is pure Ethel. Not taking her eyes off me, she sniffs the air between us.

As if.

But that
didn't stop my cheeks tingling. It was a whole combination of things -
distress, relief and Ethel not letting you know what to think. There's not many
folk would have been able to find the words then, but I did, and you've got to
give me credit for that. 'Mrs Duck,' I said. 'You can't deny you were having
second thoughts about her. You told me so yourself. You made me look at the
state of her kitchen, remember?'

She
remembered all right. And what's more she couldn't take it back. Which is why
she was so vicious pulling the door shut and pushing past me, just to make clear
that that was yesterday. If that was the score, then, I never would discover
what had changed her mind - if changed her mind she had.

'Mrs Duck.'
It was terrible to have to hear myself beg. 'Mrs Duck, are you really not going
to tell me what happened? Are you keeping her on or not?'

Thank the
Lord, she turned. Give the woman the slightest bit of knowledge and she simply
can't resist the chance to show off. 'If you must know, Amanda and I have had a
little chat about keeping the place as it should be. The young lady in question
was perfectly  understanding.'

'But Mrs D.'
had to interrupt. I couldn't stop myself. 'That was going to be my job ...'

'Mr Mann, if
you please.' Ethel snaps. 'There never was the slightest need for anybody
else's help. Again, if you must know, she came down to see us herself.'

'What? When?'
I cried. By now I was getting to be what you could almost describe as reckless.
It was just that I couldn't think when the old kid would have found the time.

Ethel narrows
her eyes, gives me another of her looks. But all the same, she answers. 'Just
before nine last night. Took us quite by surprise. As it turned out though, I
don't know when I've enjoyed an hour more. As for Mr Duck, in his element he
was, with all that talk about the Chinese and their funny little ways ...'

The rest of
what she had to say floated right past me into oblivion, while I fixed on that
one important fact: just before nine, she said. less than five minutes after
Mandy had left me, claiming she had to work, that she really couldn't stay.
That was what she said - that and about needing her tea.

And there was
me, tiptoeing around my own home so as not to disturb someone who wasn't even
within earshot

After that
there didn't seem to be much else to say. Except to ask, 'So how is the kitchen
this morning?' Not that I was really interested.                    

Which must
have been the only reason Ethel answers me. 'The kitchen is lovely, Mr Mann.
Just as I expected.'

What can I say? I spent the rest of the morning in a daze,
as would anyone else, having been told one thing, and found out another. I'm
not even sure that 'daze' is the proper name for it. What do you call a seeping
disappointment that won't let up for a minute? Hardly surprising that it wasn't
until nearly dinner time that I began to think straight again.

Mandy was
doing exactly the right thing, which is to say, rubbing up the Ducks the right
way. I would have suggested the self-same course if I'd only got the chance.
When it's a question of keeping the roof over your head, you do what you must,
even when that means wasting precious hours chewing the fat with the likes of
them downstairs. Anything less and it's my guess she would have found herself
out of here by now.

No, the truth
is, that girl is finding her feet like a good one, and with a little more help
from me, she'll keep on finding them. She might even end up thinking that this
place suits her like nowhere else, and decide she never wants to leave. Because
with Larry up above her for friendship and those below nicely under control,
she might see she's got everything she needs. All she wants in the meantime is
someone to lend a guiding hand.

And it was
with that in mind I laid my plans.

When she came home tonight, I was ready for her - relaxed
and waiting. First you know about it are her little footsteps on the landing,
no louder than a mouse. You know, it's the small things about the girl that
count - like the way she comes in as if she's doing her best not to be heard.
The old kid would die rather than disturb, I reckon.

Just for the
fun of it, I tried to imagine what was going through her head. Probably asking
herself what little treat would be waiting for her today. Answer forty
cigarettes. Four Oh. There on her kitchen table. And one thing she could be
sure of - it was never Ethel who put them there. So it was only a question of
time. And I was right.

You could
tell we were back to normal just from the way she knocked, a timid little tap,
like the first night. And to prove it, there was her face when she arrived at
the top - paler than pale and with that serious look of hers back again. When
we're even better friends than we are already, I'm going to warn her about
arriving places looking like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. But
for now, all I do is smile and let her know what a treat it is to see her.

'Ahoy there,'
I said. 'And how's my Mandy tonight?'

Ask a
question like that - just as a way of saying hello - and most people would
answer, 'Fine thank you and how's yourself?' But you've guessed it, not with
our Mandy .

Sure enough,
that forehead of hers folds up into one great mass of wrinkles - the very thing
I'd want to warn her against - and that serious look of hers turns into
something even worse. 'Larry,' is all she says, and brings the packets of cigs
out from behind her back, puts them on the draining board beside her. Apparently
no other words are necessary.

'What's all
this?'  I said. 'Why do you want to go bringing those back up here? They're for
you, love. Or don't you like them?'

'Larry,' she
says again in a voice hardly worthy of the name, it's that low-pitched. 'You're
very kind, but I just wish you wouldn't. Every time I come home, there's been
something ... And now these. It's too much, Larry.'

I was
beginning to see what the problem was. The poor girl was just trying to be
polite. That's why she was bringing back the cigarettes and looking so
miserable while she was about it. In which case, all she wanted was some common
or garden cheering-up, even if it meant being firm.

'None of your
nonsense,' I told her. 'There's no need for all this with old Larry. Those
cigarettes are just a friendly gesture. You take them and enjoy them. And after
that, don't give them another thought.'

'Larry, I
...'

'Larry,
nothing,' I said. I was beginning to realize that you could get no end of fun
making friends with someone who's too polite to breathe. Meanwhile she's
standing there, rubbing her hands together as if she was cold.

'Come on
through into the lounge,' I said. 'It's lovely and warm. The gas fire hasn't
been off all day.'

Immediately
she takes a step backwards, says in that quick, shy voice of hers, 'Oh Larry, I
can't. You know how much I'd like to stay. But as I told you the other night-
I've got to work, and have something to eat, so...' And she takes another step
back again. If she wasn't careful, she'd be falling down those stairs in a
minute. But that wasn't going to happen. Because when she says, 'You do
understand, don't you Larry?' I reply, like a flash:

'Of course I
do, Mandy love. That's why I've made you-this!'

And open the
fridge.

You see, I
was ready for her. It was all there, laid out on a plate in a way that would
have made Fanny Craddock proud: cold ham, cold tongue, hard-boiled eggs,
lashings of lettuce and cucumber and tomato. A proper feast for the eyes if I
say so myself. However, while she's looking at it I say, 'I would have cooked
you something hot, really I would, but I know how you young girls like to watch
your figures. Point is, it's all here, ready and waiting. Mandy love, you don't
have to go anywhere.'

You should
have seen her face. I only wish I'd had a camera. She'd go down a storm on one
of those game shows, the ones where they like you to look as if you've been hit
by a bus when the screen moves away and there's your long-lost brother from New
Zealand. Some of those folk look as if they don't know whether they want to
laugh or cry. Anyway that’s Mandy for you - thunderstruck. As for words - they
don't come into it. The poor girl is completely at a loss. But it doesn't
matter an ounce. Larry can do all the talking necessary. 'Maybe you could do
with some potatoes though, bulk it out a bit and blow the diet. I've got some
all cooked. Cold of course, but fine with salad cream.'

No prizes for
what comes next.

'Larry,
please. I don't think I can ....'

The thing to
do then is pretend to go a bit deaf. Otherwise we'd be standing here all
night.  It's the only way with Mandy. Rather than argue, I just pushed the
plate into her hand and gave her a little nudge towards the lounge. It was all
waiting for her - knife, fork, serviette, salt and pepper, even a glass of
squash to wash it down. And for that little extra touch, a couple of carnations
off the stall next to Harry's, in a vase. The old kid takes one look, and sits
down like she was in a dream, plate on the place mat, ready for the off.

Only trouble
was, she wasn't eating.

'Wake up,
Mandy girl,' I said to her. 'It's not just for looking at. It's your tea, not a
work of art.'

'But Larry. I
can't,' comes the faint reply.

'What’s the
matter? Don't tell me you're waiting for me. Larry had his ages ago, with the
six o'clock news like he always does. So dig in, love. Don't stand on
ceremony.'

'No Larry, I
really can't eat this.' At last I noticed there was a funny note in her voice,
and to tell the truth, she did look a touch green.