became deafening. They drowned out the jukebox in the corner, which seemed to be fairly jumping off the floor with ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’
Harriet knew something must be expected of her. She forced herself to look around. There were about a dozen boys in the room and six or seven girls. A couple had been jiving in the corner. As Harriet looked around they stopped; the whistles died down.
The boys wore stovepipe trousers, and their hair was slicked back with grease. Some of the girls wore the huge circular skirts she had noticed before, others were in tight skirts that showed their bottoms. In spite of the warmth of the evening, most of them were wearing cardigans back to front, buttoned down their backs, sleeves pushed back to their elbows.
‘Hi, everyone,’ said Julie. ‘This is Harriet.’
‘G’day, Harriet. What’re you having?’ asked one of the boys at last.
‘Er … a milkshake, please,’ said Harriet, wondering if she was meant to pay for it. ‘Chocolate.’
‘Choc-o-late for the little lady,’ said the boy, with an imitation of what Harriet imagined was meant to be an American accent. She started scrabbling round in her purse.
‘I’ll pay for it,’ she said anxiously.
‘Oh, Ay’ll pay for it, will Ay? Say, Julie, where’d you pick up this twanky doll from? She suck a plum for lunch?’
The kids had pimples and spots, and she noticed that none of them was particularly good-looking. She felt as she had in the days at school, and yet she’d had a chance to stop it being like that. Only a year before, she’d made a stand for herself. It hadn’t won her any friends amongst authority, but she supposed that this lot didn’t stand for authority, except maybe that of the group. That’s the way it had been at school, the last years, and things had been all right then. She took a deep breath.
‘I’m not a twanky doll,’ said Harriet firmly. ‘I come from up north because there was no work up where I lived. My family are English, but I’m not, I’m a Kiwi. I can’t help sounding like I do. There weren’t that many people living near us for me to talk to besides my parents,so it’s hardly any wonder if I talk more like them than anyone else. So either you like it or you lump it.’
The kids were listening intently.
‘And if you don’t like it okay, then I have been eating plums, but if you stand too close I might just spit the stones in your face.’
The boy who’d offered her the milkshake grinned.
‘All right, Twanky Doll. Wanta jive?’
The atmosphere had turned all right. He said ‘Twanky Doll’ in a friendly sort of way that suggested that if she wanted to stay it was as good a name for her as any, nothing malicious intended. She smiled back.
‘I can’t jive, but I don’t mind if you teach me.’
‘Well, what d’you know!’ The boy let out a whoop and a holler and grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, baby, let’s go. Hey, feed the machine, we got learning to do here this day.’
‘You going to dance with Noddy, then?’ asked one of the girls. Harriet glanced at Julie and back to the other girl.
‘Not if you don’t want me to. I only want to learn the dance.’
The girl lifted her shoulder and let it fall with a flounce. ‘Nobody’s stopping you doing that.’
The money in the jukebox fell into the slot with a jangle and the beat started. It was ‘Blueberry Hill’. Harriet felt the music in her head, her thighs, right down to her feet. Noddy took her hand, his feet slid apart, knees bending. He jerked her towards him and she half fell.
‘Not like that, Twanky Doll, lean back, that’s right, like you was fighting me, good, good, fight baby, fight, rock, that’s right, that’s right … follow me feet, beautiful …’ He let go her hand, she lurched into space and he caught her, as it seemed she must surely fall headlong into the seat beside them. ‘And around you go when I let go, twirl baby, again like this, and around, come on Larry an’ Jill, come
Harriet knew something must be expected of her. She forced herself to look around. There were about a dozen boys in the room and six or seven girls. A couple had been jiving in the corner. As Harriet looked around they stopped; the whistles died down.
The boys wore stovepipe trousers, and their hair was slicked back with grease. Some of the girls wore the huge circular skirts she had noticed before, others were in tight skirts that showed their bottoms. In spite of the warmth of the evening, most of them were wearing cardigans back to front, buttoned down their backs, sleeves pushed back to their elbows.
‘Hi, everyone,’ said Julie. ‘This is Harriet.’
‘G’day, Harriet. What’re you having?’ asked one of the boys at last.
‘Er … a milkshake, please,’ said Harriet, wondering if she was meant to pay for it. ‘Chocolate.’
‘Choc-o-late for the little lady,’ said the boy, with an imitation of what Harriet imagined was meant to be an American accent. She started scrabbling round in her purse.
‘I’ll pay for it,’ she said anxiously.
‘Oh, Ay’ll pay for it, will Ay? Say, Julie, where’d you pick up this twanky doll from? She suck a plum for lunch?’
The kids had pimples and spots, and she noticed that none of them was particularly good-looking. She felt as she had in the days at school, and yet she’d had a chance to stop it being like that. Only a year before, she’d made a stand for herself. It hadn’t won her any friends amongst authority, but she supposed that this lot didn’t stand for authority, except maybe that of the group. That’s the way it had been at school, the last years, and things had been all right then. She took a deep breath.
‘I’m not a twanky doll,’ said Harriet firmly. ‘I come from up north because there was no work up where I lived. My family are English, but I’m not, I’m a Kiwi. I can’t help sounding like I do. There weren’t that many people living near us for me to talk to besides my parents,so it’s hardly any wonder if I talk more like them than anyone else. So either you like it or you lump it.’
The kids were listening intently.
‘And if you don’t like it okay, then I have been eating plums, but if you stand too close I might just spit the stones in your face.’
The boy who’d offered her the milkshake grinned.
‘All right, Twanky Doll. Wanta jive?’
The atmosphere had turned all right. He said ‘Twanky Doll’ in a friendly sort of way that suggested that if she wanted to stay it was as good a name for her as any, nothing malicious intended. She smiled back.
‘I can’t jive, but I don’t mind if you teach me.’
‘Well, what d’you know!’ The boy let out a whoop and a holler and grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, baby, let’s go. Hey, feed the machine, we got learning to do here this day.’
‘You going to dance with Noddy, then?’ asked one of the girls. Harriet glanced at Julie and back to the other girl.
‘Not if you don’t want me to. I only want to learn the dance.’
The girl lifted her shoulder and let it fall with a flounce. ‘Nobody’s stopping you doing that.’
The money in the jukebox fell into the slot with a jangle and the beat started. It was ‘Blueberry Hill’. Harriet felt the music in her head, her thighs, right down to her feet. Noddy took her hand, his feet slid apart, knees bending. He jerked her towards him and she half fell.
‘Not like that, Twanky Doll, lean back, that’s right, like you was fighting me, good, good, fight baby, fight, rock, that’s right, that’s right … follow me feet, beautiful …’ He let go her hand, she lurched into space and he caught her, as it seemed she must surely fall headlong into the seat beside them. ‘And around you go when I let go, twirl baby, again like this, and around, come on Larry an’ Jill, come
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