She seems determined to change everything about her life and all at once!

As they reached the exit, Chrissie commented: “I think they feel sorry for us. That Betty Morrison’s a bit of a bruiser.”

“Sorry about that, girls,” said the doorman, pushing open the door for them to pass through. “I hope it doesn’t deter you from comin’ to the Palais de Dance in future?”

Maisie and Chrissie exchanged incredulous looks. It was doubtful if either of them would return at all and definitely not to the Monkey Parade.

Kenny Wilson and Rab finally caught up with them in the Nethergate. “Are you two OK?” Kenny asked, taking Maisie’s arm. “And you look beautiful, by the way, Maisie.”

“Is that your way of asking after our health?” Maisie countered, allowing her eyes to travel slowly from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, before settling on his face. There it was, the usual expression of fake concern and puppy eyes, but this time, Maisie wasn’t taken in.

“We saw what happened,” Rab interjected, “and we were worried for the both of you.” He turned his eyes to Chrissie.

Concern

“I’ll see you safely home, if you like, Chrissie,” Rab added tentatively, with what seemed like genuine concern.

“And leave my friend with him?” Chrissie said, pulling at Maisie’s sleeve. All eyes were now fixed on Kenny Wilson.

Once again, Kenny had been wrong-footed by a woman and he didn’t like it one bit. How could he be getting things so wrong?

Maisie Green was really bugging him now – from being ‘chased’ by women, he had become the ‘chaser’ but Maisie Green wasn’t for catching.

The girls moved off, without a backward glance, leaving a deflated Rab and silent Kenny in their wake.

“Do you think Betty Morrison will cause bother tomorrow?” Chrissie asked, once they were settled on the bus. Maisie shrugged. “Not if she wants to keep her job, she won’t.”

“What’s you next big plan?” Chrissie continued, changing the subject. “Keep fit,” Maisie said instantly, anticipating a return-match with Betty Morrison.

“All we seem to do is to go dancing and maybe it’s time to join a club or something.” “What kind of a club?” Maisie pondered this.

“A sort of sports club or place where there’s an ‘activity’, other than dancing.”

Both girls turned their minds to the problem. “How about swimming” suggested Chrissie. Maisie, pointing to her blonde locks, knocked that idea on the head.

“Athletics?” said Chrissie. “There’s a running club at Caird Park.” “In these shoes?” Maisie replied, raising her stilettos with their 3in heels to show Chrissie the impossibility of anything “athletic”.

No glamorous woman would be seen dead in running shoes. “I’ll sleep on it,” said Maisie, as they alighted at their stop. “And thank your mum again for helping me with the room. She’s one in a million.”

Chrissie beamed. She did have a lovely mum and dad and knew how lucky she was. Her mum was waiting up for her, as usual, when she returned home. She never made any fuss over it, but just couldn’t sleep until Chrissie was safely home.

Stories of Teddy boys and gangs of lads getting into fights were in the news every day and although, like Maisie, her daughter would soon be 17 years old, it still worried her.

Jealous

“Good fun on your Monkey Walk?” she asked, aware that it was only nine o’clock. “Not really,” said Chrissie, “Maisie’s got a new blonde hairdo and I think one of the girls from Keiller’s was a bit jealous, so we came home early.” She didn’t elaborate further.

“Maisie wants to join a sports club now,” Chrissie continued, following her mother into the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate.

“There’s no stopping her, is there?” said Grace Dalton, mixing the cocoa powder with a little cold milk and putting the rest in a saucepan to heat.

“She seems determined to change everything about her life and all at once! What does her mother say about it all?”

Chrissie shrugged. Maisie’s mother seemed happy to let her daughter find her own way in life. “By the way, Maisie says thanks again for the stuff. Her room’s great now.”

Grace poured the hot milk into the mugs and stirred gently. “Here,” she handed one of the mugs to her daughter.

“And what about you, Chrissie,” she said, “what’s changing in your life?” Was now the time to tell her mother about Tommy Murphy? Chrissie decided against it.

“I’m going to join a sports club,” she announced. “Well, me and Maisie, that is. We’ve decided to get fit.” Mrs Dalton tried not to smile. “Are you sure you need to get fit?” she asked. “You look pretty fit to me.”

Chrissie sipped her chocolate drink. “Well, we don’t want to get that fit, just something that’ll be a change from the dancing.”

“Well, in that case,” her mother said, “why don’t the pair of you take up badminton?”

Chrissie raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that for lads?” she said.

“Not at all,” said her mother. “It’s for everyone and there’s a badminton club at the church hall every Tuesday. They supply the rackets and things and you just turn up.”

Now this sounded like something that both of them could do. She’d speak to Maisie about it at work on Monday. Badminton, she thought, I think I’d like that.

She drained the last dregs of the hot chocolate and headed for bed.

Reality

“You know, Maisie thinks you’re one in a million,” she said sweetly, “and you know what?”

“What?” her mother asked. “I think she’s right.” Grace Dalton beamed. Her daughter was one in a million too, she decided, and she was glad she was going to join the badminton club. Too much dancing at such a young age had always worried her.

The idea of joining a badminton club appealed to Maisie greatly. She had seen the girls playing at the tennis club on Forfar Road as she’d passed on the bus.

All white skirts and tops with ankle socks and white tennis shoes. She could just picture herself all in white and now, with her short blonde hair keeping her cool, she wouldn’t even break sweat!

Reality, however, once again interrupted her reverie. She didn’t have any white clothes or tennis shoes, for that matter, and she certainly didn’t have any money to buy anything new. She broke the news to Chrissie at their tea break in the canteen.

“I’ll check with mum tonight,” Chrissie said, “but I don’t think it matters really. It’s not like a real badminton club – it’s only the Fintry church hall.”

More tomorrow.