The Green Years, Day Four

“There were nudges and winks from the other girls as they whispered that Maisie shouldn’t have come second in the competition, the wee cheat

Maisie turned to find Chrissie, but she’d already gone onto the dance floor with Rab. “I believe it is your dance,” said Maisie with a nod, allowing her escort to guide her on to the floor. Then, without a word, he pulled her in close to him and, just like in her dreams, they began to dance, cheek to cheek. Maisie was in heaven.

As the music faded and Maisie made to leave the floor, a smug Shug Riley tapped her on the shoulder. “I believe this is yours?” he said, holding up a large white shoulder pad. “It fell from underneath your frock a minute ago.”

Maisie froze, at the sight of her ‘falsie’ in Shug’s hand. All eyes, including Kenny’s were suddenly fixed on the front of Maisie’s frock and her lop-sided bustline.

Chrissie, who was watching the scene unfold from the side of the dance floor, came to the rescue. Snatching the shoulder pad from Shug’s hand, she guided Maisie away from the two men who were now sniggering and pointing at her distress.

“C’mon,” she said, “let’s get you to the Ladies.” Through a shimmer of tears, Maisie removed the remaining padding and watched as the front of her frock collapsed back to flat.

Support

There were nudges and winks from the other girls as they whispered that Maisie shouldn’t have come second in the Miss Keiller’s competition, the wee cheat.

“Let’s go home,” Maisie said in a shaky voice. “My life’s over,” she added dramatically, knowing that she could never face Kenny Wilson again.

The cold air helped to blow away the burning in Maisie’s cheeks, as the two girls walked to the bus stop, Chrissie’s arm linked into her friend’s in a show of support.

“He’s no’ worth the bother,” she said, stoutly, “if he’d been a real man, he would’ve belted Shug Reilly for embarrassing you like that.”

Maisie nodded, tight-lipped, wishing she’d never tried to be anything other than herself. “It wasn’t Shug’s fault,” she said, “it was my own daft fault for thinking that I could get away with fooling Kenny Wilson into thinking I was Diana Dors.”

The tempting smell of chips cooking wafted into the nostrils of Maisie and Chrissie, as they neared the mobile chip shop at the corner of the Overgate. It was doing a roaring trade as hunger won over the owners of the bellies full of beer.

“Mmmmmhhh,” murmured Chrissie, “I could murder a poke o’ chips right now,” she said, already tasting the Dundee delicacy.

“Well, we left before the pies were dished out,” said Maisie, also hungry “so I think a white pudding as well wouldn’t go amiss.”

The pals wormed their way to the front of the queue and shouted out their order. “Make that a double,” said a voice behind Maisie. Rab Skelly winked at Chrissie.

“You two left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, knowing exactly why they had made their quick exit. “Did you not enjoy yourselves?”

Maisie ignored him, but Chrissie didn’t. “What’s it to you whether we enjoyed ourselves. You and your mate didn’t exactly make our night.”

Rab suddenly found his blue suede shoes very interesting. “Sorry about that,” he coughed, turning to Maisie, “and Kenny’s sorry as well.”

At the mention of his name, Maisie instantly relived her fashion nightmare. “A puddin’ supper and a poke o’ chips,” said the cook, interrupting her unhappy thoughts, “that’ll be two bob.”

Composure

“Sorry,” Maisie muttered, producing a half crown from her purse and passing the hot food to Chrissie to hold. The girls nudged past Rab.

“Tell your mate,” said Maisie, regaining some of her composure, “he can keep his ‘sorry’ for some other mug and see this white pudding,” she added, holding up the battered sausage, “this is far more interesting than he’ll ever be.”

“But Chrissie” Rab called after them, “what about you and me?” Chrissie glanced over her shoulder. “There is no you and me,” she said, “and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

“There’s our bus,” yelled Maisie, as the Fintry bus turned up Reform Street, “Run.”

They jumped on the bus and scuttled up to the top deck, clutching their chips tightly till they sat down.

“Whew, that was close,” said Maisie, taking a bite out of her white pudding before offering a chunk to Chrissie.

“That’s to say thanks,” she said warmly, “for standing by me.” Chrissie beamed. “It’s what pals are for,” she said, wisely, “and Rab Skelly’s not much o’ a catch anyway.”

The bus lurched its way down Forfar Road to Fintry as the girls ate in comfortable silence. As they alighted, licking the last of the salt and vinegar flavoured grease from their fingers, Maisie said: “There’s a jive night at the Empress next Tuesday. Maybe there’ll be some half-decent lads there, if you fancy it.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Chrissie, “but don’t mention it to my mum. I’ve heard it’s full of old sailors looking for a ‘good time’ with Dundee lassies – if you get my drift.”

Maisie got her drift, but in her naivety, took no notice of the warning. “Don’t be daft,” she said, “old sailors can’t jive.” But Maisie hadn’t counted on young sailors, who could jive.

The Empress Ballroom was popular with Dundee’s rock and rollers, but this Tuesday there was a longer queue than usual at the door to get in. Maisie and Chrissie joined the line. “Is there something’ we don’t know?” asked Chrissie of the girl ahead of them.

Excitement

“A tropically-tanned face with heavily made up eyes turned around. “Merchant Navy’s out on strike,” she stated, cracking her chewing gum seductively.

“The boats are going nowhere till they get more money, so the boys are stuck in Dundee,” she added grinning and leaning out to look around the queue for a likely jiving partner.

Maisie and Chrissie locked eyes, all thoughts of sailors ‘on the make’ dismissed, as they neared the entrance.

Tonight could be the night that love sailed into their lives and Kenny and Rab could take a long walk off a short pier as far the girls were concerned. Tonight they had other fish to fry.

The ballroom was electric with excitement as the jiving got under way and the glitter ball above their heads spun and sparkled.

Maisie and Chrissie took to the floor, Chrissie led, as she was bigger, turning Maisie round and round, always careful not to knock the carefully coiffed beehive off its centre of balance, while the music swirled all around them. More tomorrow.