The others were all between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four. One of them had a car so on Sundays in the summer we all headed up to Foxton Locks, a quaint little village outside Leicester. We also enjoyed visiting the castles and abbeys, enjoying cream teas on the patio of the little cafe outside the grounds.
Before long, I befriended a young married woman from work, Evelyn. She sometimes invited me to her home where she made me brown sauce on toast—my favourite snack at the time. Evelyn and her husband Don were into bike riding and often rode to Bradgate Park. I had recently bought a bike for work to save on bus fare, so sometimes they invited me to join them.
My bike was a semi-racer and my pride and joy so I loved going along with them. But I was not seeing my other work friends as often as I liked. They frequently ventured to London for the weekend. Of course, they were older and earning more money than me. In those days no one received a full wage until the age of twenty-one. I simply couldn’t afford to go with them.
A couple of years earlier when I was fourteen Mum had married a Polish man, Stan. I hated my stepfather. He never liked to see me enjoying myself. On one occasion, the firm arranged a daytrip for the workers via bus to Battersea Fair London and I desperately wanted to go. Mum would have let me go, but my stepfather wouldn’t allow it. He wanted me home when his boring cronies came over for one of their booze-up parties. He hoped one of his friend’s sons would like me enough to want to marry me. But I didn’t like any of them. Everyone except me went on the trip. I was furious.
Over a period of time, my group of work friends slowly broke apart. One couple got married and others left the firm for new jobs. I also drifted into new friendships with other people at work. I started ballroom dancing, which I loved. I was a quick learner and seemed to intuitively pick up the steps. Before too long, dancing had become my life.
Fridays and Saturdays were my big nights out at the Leicester Palais de Dance. The first time I entered the ballroom I was overcome with its beauty. It was just how I imagined Buckingham Palace would be like. The stage was draped with pink satin curtains. Patterned pink carpet covered the floor, with pink satin brocade settees adorning the dance hall. The dance floor itself was a beautiful sprung polished wooden floor, with a brick fountain right in the centre. Coloured lights inside the fountain turned it into a cascading rainbow. Palm trees and soft lighting created a warm tropical ambience as we danced to the live band. The male vocalist, who many years on became world famous, sang the popular songs of that time adding to the dreamy atmosphere. A huge mirrored ball hung from the ceiling and twirled around as we danced.
The dance finished at midnight, then my friends and I walked home together, picking up fish and chips to eat on the way. As we walked to our respective homes we laughed, recalling the events of the evening. Then one by one we would disappear down our streets shouting out our ‘goodbyes’. Years later I came across couples who’d met at these dances and had gone on to ‘wedded bliss’. That dance hall holds a lot of happy memories.
My overprotective stepdad, Stan, always wanted me to catch the last bus at eleven o’clock. Mum wasn’t too bothered, but Stan always carried on and made a huge fuss over it, spoiling my night. I tried to explain that if I was to go home early I would miss out on reminiscing about the wonderful night with my friends. I also pointed out that I was safer with my friends than on a bus with the drunks. I didn’t care what Stan said, the walk home with my friends was always worth it, no matter how much trouble I was in the next day. I had no intention of doing anything different. He didn’t have a good enough reason for me not to come home with my friends. He seemed to simply enjoy controlling me. Perhaps it was jealousy. All I remember is that I seemed to irritate him somehow and he never liked me. The feeling was mutual.
Every Monday night was cinema night. There was always a huge queue because it was the premiere night for the upcoming film. Most times some people would miss half the film because it took so long to get inside. If there was a film I really wanted to see I waited until the end of the week to see it. I would go straight from work, catching the bus into town. On the way I ate the sandwiches I’d made the night before. They kept me going until I got home later that night. After the movie I hurried across to the other side of town where the last bus was waiting to go.
The films were always fantastic. The movies starring Doris Day, Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and the beautiful Elizabeth Taylor were always very entertaining. I also enjoyed the many drama films starring Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwick, and of course the musicals.
The cinema’s decor was exquisite. All the seating was dark red crushed velvet. Floor length satin curtains on each side of the screen were lit up by floodlighting which changed the curtains’ colour. An organ rose up from a pit below stage level and the organist would entertain the audience while we waited for the movie to begin, often playing melodies that related in some way to the movie that was coming up. While the music played and the lights changed from one colour to another, people would still be entering the cinema. Everyone was shown to their seats by an usherette with a large torch to lead you down the steps. All the courting couples sat in the back row where they could have a kiss and cuddle. I was always more interested in the film. At last the curtains opened, the lights went down and the film started.
Wednesday evenings, I went dancing at the local Working Men’s Club with some of the girls from work. It was nearer to home and finished at eleven, and we could walk home in less than ten minutes. I enjoyed dancing but was restricted to how many times I went because of my controlling stepfather. I stopped going to the Palais because of the rows at home. I then started going to the Working Men’s Club on Saturdays with my mum and Stan, at their request. Older men stared at me after they’d had too much to drink. I felt degraded. Then one night a young man asked me to dance and we ended up dancing all night. He seemed okay compared to some of the other men in the club. He was twenty-one and I was only sixteen and a half.
Once my parents saw that this lad was interested in me, they stopped coming every week and I seemed to be stuck with him. He eventually asked me out on a date. My parents thought it was great, but all I thought about was the Palais de Dance and how much I was missing my friends. To keep my parents happy I kept going out with him and eventually he became my regular boyfriend. As time went on, I met his mum and the rest of his family. They lived in the same estate, not too far away from us. His name was Ben.
Chapter 7
Ben’s family seemed friendly but there was something about them that I just didn’t feel comfortable with. I believe I simply didn’t trust them. They were just too friendly, too soon. Of course, my family liked Ben. He could not do wrong in their eyes.
‘You should be grateful to be going out with such a nice young man’, I was told constantly.
Our relationship was getting to the stage where Ben was calling around to my house a great deal. He would visit on Sunday afternoons, chatting away to Mum and Stan, and would often stay for tea. It felt like Ben was always around.
After six months of seeing one another, Ben started dropping me off at my gate. I tried to keep talking so as to avoid the goodnight kiss. I was not at all keen about having a boyfriend because I knew boys liked to kiss. I felt like that’s what I was supposed to do, but I could not understand why I didn’t like the kissing. I just didn’t feel ready. Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid the inevitable and as we kissed I felt Stan watching from inside the house. He wanted me out and was hoping to marry me off as soon as he possibly could. Mum was also happy about me being in a relationship. I just felt very awkward on top of feeling very cold standing outside. Finally, I would manage to get indoors to the warm fire leaving Ben to walk home. The coming home and saying goodnight at the gate became serious. His kissing was getting heavy and I really did not like it. Having a boyfriend was supposed to be a part of growing up
