The Ballroom on Magnolia Street Read online

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To have a request played for Kate Big Liar Winters.’ And she set off, at a quick marching pace.

  ‘Lou, don’t!’ But Louise was already halfway across the ballroom.

  Twenty minutes later, the DJ announced that he was playing a tune by popular band the Smiths, especially for Kate Winters, who was here tonight with her sister, Shirley.

  ‘And this request comes from a good friend of yours, Kate, and she says you will know who it is. So here it is, apparently this is your favourite song. I can’t say it’s one of mine. Well, it takes all sorts!’

  Kate’s mouth fell open, and Shirley was glad she was standing far away from Kate at the crowded bar, as the plaintive sound of ‘Bigmouth Strikes Again’ filled the ballroom. Standing Stone and his mate, Sunny Jim, were doubled over beside the foyer doors. Their laughter could be heard even over the sounds of the record. Kate tried to smile, as if she was enjoying the joke too, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She couldn’t believe Alex was laughing at her. How dare he! A common bouncer like him, having the barefaced cheek to laugh at a beautiful woman like herself? Suddenly, out of nowhere, Kate felt a most unpleasant sensation – as if she was falling down a very long slide. Her stomach lurched violently, and she felt very cold. More disturbing than that, was the realization that she wanted Shirley to be at her side, germ-ridden purse and all. Even though she usually treated Shirley as nothing more than her personal assistant, now she realized that she needed Shirley badly. She prayed fervently that her younger sister would hurry back with the double vodka that would surely calm her down. But there was quite a crowd at the bar and Shirley would never push her way to the front, as Kate would have done.

  A young man from the area, who was known to have psychiatric problems, ran on to the dance floor and began a frantic impersonation of the band’s lead singer, Morrissey. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a snow-white, hairless chest and he pulled his oily hair up into a high point. Jerking his head and shaking one leg in the air, he leapt around the floor like a tethered firework. He knew the words to the song and he roared them out with all his strength. Thunderous applause broke out from the delighted audience, and someone threw a plastic flower from the balcony. The young man knelt down and picked it up with his teeth and continued the dance on his knees, and everyone in the hall laughed until their drinks came back up through their noses. To end his performance, he lay down on his back, and pushed himself to the edge of the floor with his feet. Both shoes had holes in the soles. Kate could not believe that one song could last so long. The humiliation seemed to have gone on for hours. Inside, she wept, but the smile stayed firmly on her face. A couple of the barmaids helped the young man up and took him to the cafe for a complimentary plate of chips as the clapping died away.

  Kate was horrified to notice that her hands had suddenly become stone cold and were trembling slightly. She joined them together, very tightly, and, with every ounce of her remaining energy, willed Shirley to come back.

  Louise and Mary made a high-five as they sipped their glasses of house white. The dance floor had emptied, as the song proved too challenging for the dancers to deal with. The DJ was very concerned about this state of affairs.

  ‘Come on, Kate! Kate Winters and Shirley, where are you? Let’s have you on the floor. Come on, now! “Bigmouth Strikes Again” – your favourite song in the whole world. “Bigmouth Strikes Again”. It’s nearly over! Come on, now,’ coaxed the DJ.

  But Kate was frozen to her seat with fear, and Shirley was wiping the tears from her eyes, safely hidden in the mob at the bar. She hadn’t laughed so much in ages. Then, she caught the attention of one of the barmen. She dried her eyes, bought the drinks and hurried back to join Kate, feeling suddenly guilty about leaving her big sister all alone. As the song died away, the DJ took it off and replaced it with another one.

  ‘It seems Kate is too shy to dance tonight, ladies and gentlemen. So here is another disco smash, it’s Dollar and “Oh l’Amour”! Oh, I wouldn’t kick that Thereza what’s-her-name out of bed for passing wind! Come on!’ The floor was heaving in less than ten seconds.

  ‘You took your bloody time,’ snapped Kate, as she grabbed for her glass. ‘Why didn’t you come back here and support me? I cannot believe what has just happened.’

  ‘You told me not to come back without the vodka.’

  ‘Well, that was before I was publicly disgraced. Have you no common sense?’

  ‘I knew this would end in tears. They were laughing at me, too. I saw them.’

  ‘You should have been here with me, Shirley.’

  ‘I told you she would find out. Just be grateful you didn’t get a fat lip to go with the request. You’re playing with fire, Kate. You don’t pick a fight with anyone in this town unless you’re prepared to go all the way.’

  ‘Oh, shut up! We’ll stay for half an hour, for appearances’ sake, and then we’re getting out of here. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Suits me. There’s no sign of Declan, anyway. Probably it’s too early for him.’

  ‘We’re not staying till the end of the night, Shirley! I don’t feel well.’

  ‘All right! All right! You’re the one who drags me in here every weekend, and now you want out again? Make your mind up, for heaven’s sake!’

  The two sisters sipped their drinks in stony silence – Shirley slumped in the seat like a half-full sack of potatoes, and Kate trying to stop herself from bursting into tears and wondering where her confidence had gone. Could she be developing some deadly illness that made her tremble like this? She must ring the doctor, first thing on Monday morning. If she was still alive by then. Her chest was almost hammering with tension. She held on to the table as a moment of dizziness came and went. The music seemed far too loud tonight. It made her jump. What was DJ Toni trying to do to them all, having the music so loud? Louise and Mary were out dancing now, laughing like crazy, the two of them. Kate watched them with a sense of mounting dread. Could it be nothing more than that silly Smiths song that had upset her, she wondered frantically. She looked at Shirley for reassurance, but Shirley was scanning the balcony for a sign of Declan Greenwood. Poor Shirley. Declan Greenwood was a middle-class medical student from a fancy house on the expensive side of the Lisburn Road. That road was full of mature trees and BMWs, and the people who lived there employed gardeners and cleaning ladies. That kind of boy, and that kind of life, was out of Shirley’s league, and that’s all there was to it. Kate patted her sister’s arm, in a sudden rush of affection. Shirley’s wide yellow headband and jet-black hair did make her look slightly anaemic, Kate thought, but she hadn’t the heart to say it.

  On the dance floor, Louise was having a great time. She even did a couple of twirls and one or two high-kicks. Lots of people were looking at them. Mary was mortified. She’d bet an entire vat of patchouli oil that this whole thing would end badly. Mary spied Kate’s face through the crowd; it was a picture of distress. But Louise was absolutely delighted. When they sat down again, Louise nudged Mary so hard that Mary threw her wine glass over the back of the seat.

  ‘Round Two to us, Mary!’ said Louise, with the light of triumph shining in her eyes. ‘I always knew that wimp Morrissey would be good for something.’

  6. Romance and Ribbons

  It was a sunny July morning. Marion smiled as she smoothed out the folds of a new gown in the window of the shop. It was incredibly expensive; much more expensive than the sort of gown she usually sold, but she just couldn’t resist it when the supplier showed it to her. A retro-style with a high collar, long sleeves, a tiny waist and billowing skirts; all in white velvet. There were thousands of pearls on the hem, and even tiny flowers embroidered on the inside of the bodice. The dress was so beautiful that Marion decided it would look perfect on its own, without the gilt chair and the vase of fresh flowers she normally kept in the window. She carried the chair to the dressing room and placed the flowers on the counter of the shop. She went outside to study her
work from the street. It really was a fabulous dress, but maybe she did need something to fill that space in the corner – something heavenly? Candles! She would buy a tall, heavy candlestick and some church candles this lunchtime. It really would be perfect, and very much in the style of understated elegance she was trying to promote.

  After that, it was down to the real work; the bread-and-butter work. Selling budget gowns to pregnant teenagers, and plain gowns to elegant women over forty, who were getting married for the second time. Marion hoped that someday soon a pretty girl would come through the door of the shop who was just born to wear the gorgeous velvet gown in the window.

  She vacuumed the white carpet until it was immaculate, polished the huge antique mirrors in the fitting rooms and ironed the gowns that were ready for collection, filling up the sleeves with tissue paper. She had two appointments for fittings that afternoon, so she brought several pairs of silk shoes from the store and left them in the dressing rooms, ready for the brides-to-be, who always seemed to turn up wearing black boots. Then, she checked that all the fabric-covered tissue boxes were well stocked. Most of the brides-to-be wept with joy when they found their perfect dress after weeks and even months of searching. She sometimes wondered if they gave as much thought to their choice of groom.

  Marion thought of her own wedding day in January 1968. Eddy waiting impatiently in the porch, with a tiny red rosebud pinned to the lapel of his new suit, terrified in case Hollywood Hogan would turn up and cause a scene. All through the ceremony, Eddy never took his eyes off her, his love for her almost overwhelming. As soon as the priest declared them man and wife, she felt so relieved. The stress of hanging on to Johnny Hogan was over at last, and it felt like a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She thought only once, during their quiet honeymoon in Galway, of Johnny Hogan in his white jacket. The man she had loved so desperately, the man she had once left her beloved Eddy for, the man who was Declan’s real father. But she had waited a long time for him to propose, and even when the pregnancy was confirmed by her doctor, and she grew paler and paler, he didn’t notice a thing. And if he’d loved her, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? Eddy knew she was unwell straight away, when she met him that morning in the street. He said she should eat something and he took her into Muldoon’s Tea Rooms for an early lunch, and she had cried over the chicken and chips and told him everything.

  ‘I love you, Marion,’ Eddy had said, suddenly. ‘I always have and I always will. Marry me and I promise you, you’ll never be sorry.’

  ‘I’d love to marry you, Eddy,’ she’d said at once, with her eyes full of fat silent tears.

  When the baby was born (thankfully with Marion’s blonde hair colour), Eddy doted on him. That was when Marion started loving Eddy again. Because he loved Declan just as much as he loved his own daughters when they came along, over the years that followed: Emily, Eve and Eloise. The girls had the same dark curly hair and bright green eyes as Eddy, and the same gentle nature. They were the perfect example of a happy family unit.

  Marion checked her make-up in the mirror. It was perfect. Eddy would be calling in soon to join her for lunch. They always spent Monday lunchtimes together. It was just one of the hundreds of little things Eddy did all the time to make her feel special. As soon as she thought of him, he was there, smiling and waving at her through the glass, carrying a huge bunch of white tulips in one hand and a small box of cream pastries in the other, tied neatly with string.

  She went to open the door, and he kissed her gently.

  ‘Hello, my darling, how are you?’ he said.

  ‘Fine, fine. What lovely flowers, Eddy!’

  ‘You deserve them. Oh, I’d love a cuppa! What a morning I’ve had, it never stopped in the bakery. We ran out of eclairs and cream horns, and the soup got spilt over the wheaten bread.’

  ‘Eddy, that’s not like you.’

  ‘We had a new girl starting with us, she’s still learning the ropes,’ laughed Eddy. ‘No real harm done.’

  ‘Was Declan in on time?’

  ‘Yes, indeed he was. He’s been serving behind the counter all morning.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want him lazing about this summer, even if he does deserve a rest after his exams.’

  ‘Marion, don’t worry about him,’ said Eddy. ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘Well, he told me that his degree is getting tougher by the day. He might drop out, or something, and settle for working in the family business.’

  ‘If he wants to do that, sweetheart, we’ll have to let him, okay?’

  ‘No, no. He’s going to be a doctor, definitely.’

  ‘It’s very hard work, Marion, to qualify in medicine. Would it be so bad if he worked for me? He could manage the restaurant section? A little bit of independence for him?’

  ‘Listen, Eddy. All medical students consider dropping out from time to time. His tutors assured me he’s got what it takes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t push him.’

  ‘Well, then. What’s the problem?’

  ‘You know what the problem is. He might… be like…’

  ‘His father?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Eddy.’ She put her arms around his waist, and kissed his cheek; then leaned her head against the warm tweed of his jacket. ‘I can’t help worrying about him. I wish he was your son.’

  ‘He is my son, pet. I’ve always thought of him as mine.’

  ‘I love you, Eddy. I love you so much.’

  ‘I know, darling, and I love you.’

  ‘Are you glad we got married, Eddy?’

  ‘Of course I am. I couldn’t live without you, Marion. We’ve had a wonderful twenty years together since then. What’s brought all this on? Have you seen Hogan?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Honestly. It’s just that I worry about Declan, he’s restless.’

  ‘All young lads are restless. It’s their hormones.’

  ‘I wish he’d settle down with a nice girl. The phone never stops ringing for him.’

  ‘So that’s it? You think he’s going to be a heart-breaker?’

  ‘Maybe. He’s far too good-looking. Even with those awful clothes he wears.’

  ‘Come on, darling,’ said Eddy, laughing. ‘He’ll grow out of it. And he’ll grow out of it a lot sooner if we pretend we aren’t bothered either way. Young people are only looking for a reaction, most of the time. Let’s put the kettle on. I’m gasping for a cuppa. Everything is going to be okay.’

  ‘Promise me?’

  ‘I promise,’ he said.

  Marion kissed him tenderly, then went to put the kettle on, her heart already feeling lighter.

  7. Fantasies are Free

  Shirley’s daydream was always the same, perfected over recent months to a crystal-clear picture. She could begin to spin the reel in her head whenever she was bored, which was most of the time, if she was honest.

  They would meet in the ballroom, in a dark corner, preferably. Yes, a dark, quiet corner; far away from the indignity of the plastic trees and the cigarette machine. He would be on his own, maybe on his way to the bar? Certainly not standing with a crowd of other boys. And she would have just come in with Kate. Her hair would be immaculately trimmed and wonderfully shiny, blow-dried poker-straight, and lightly waxed, the way the hairdresser always did it. Kate would be busy checking in the coats, or talking to Alex at the foyer doors.

  There they would be, Shirley and Declan. Together at last. She would be perfectly relaxed and confident. Yet still retaining an air of elegant mystery. He would smile shyly, pleased they had met. They would stand quite close to one another. He would admire her outfit, a beautiful gold and red brocade evening coat worn over black flared slacks, and an Art Nouveau bracelet with pewter fairies on it. And a fistful of silver rings set with semi-precious stones. A lock of her hair would fall into her eyes, and he would reach out, tenderly, and put it back. And then he would smile, because the huge gulf between them would have suddenly diminished. She would say something bright and breezy, something casual. ‘
Hello, there!’ But he would know instinctively that she really liked him; more than liked him. And he wouldn’t be worried that he was getting himself involved with a limpet-girl. He would be flattered and delighted that a lovely girl like Shirley Winters wanted to get to know him better. And of course, he would fancy her, too. He would have to close his eyes with the sheer strain of stopping himself from falling on her and tearing the brocade coat off her pale and tender shoulders, like a vampire seducing a willing virgin in a Hammer horror film.

  She would like him to do that, of course, but he would wait. He was a gentleman. He would savour this time before any intimacy took place, because afterwards there would be no going back. They would be a couple for life. The gods would make sure of it. For the moment, they would begin their courtship in the usual way; they would dance.

  What would they dance to? A selection of songs appeared in Shirley’s head; a romantic jukebox of the mind. Japan would be the band. There was nothing to match their mixture of bitter-sweet longing. ‘I Second That Emotion’ would be the song. He would hold her hand, and lead her onto the floor as if they were professional dancers. They would melt into each other’s arms and begin a smouldering dance together. Even the worldly Kate would be suddenly awestruck.

  They would sway beautifully, still without speaking, their fingertips buzzing with chemicals, their eyes maintaining contact all the time, moving around the floor, his arm firmly around her waist, or a hand placed gently on her back, sometimes touching her face. She would be graceful and dignified; not the opinionated daydreamer she usually was. (Saying too much, too soon, and then running out of steam.) Afterwards, Kate would applaud them, then they would say goodnight to the ballroom and collect their coats, and walk along the streets of Belfast, holding hands. And there would be no one else on the streets; no drunks, hooligans, layabouts, wasters, troublemakers, clowns or losers of any description. And the streets would be clean of chips and cigarette butts and political slogans and hungry dogs. The council sweepers would have washed all the dust away, just for them. Everyone in the city would be happy for them. It was a fantasy, after all.