When Daddy Comes Home. Toni Maguire
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and poured herself a generous helping.
Fuelled by a double-vodka-induced confidence, she put on her American tan stockings, pinning them to her pink suspender belt. Then she slithered into a dress so tight that it nearly bound her knees together and forced her feet into high white stilettos. She teased her hair as high as it would go, then sprayed it with a coloured lacquer, turning it into a bright orange halo. As she applied her make-up, her face lost its glow and became deadly pale. Two black-rimmed eyes, more panda than doe-like, looked into the mirror one more time and she was delighted with what she saw. Now she was ready to hobble the short distance from the gate lodge to the marquee.
As she went downstairs and into the sitting room, Antoinette gave scant thought to what her mother’s reaction would be when she was face to face with her daughter’s transformation. But she heard the shocked intake of breath as she entered, and quickly averted her eyes from Ruth’s horrified face as she made her way towards the front door. She didn’t care what her mother thought. At last she was going to swing her tightly encased hips on the dance floor and that evening that was all that mattered to her.
For once Ruth was speechless and before she could regain her voice, Antoinette made her hasty exit.
‘I’m off now!’ she called unnecessarily as she closed the door firmly behind her.
A pack of girls, all dressed in similar attire to Antoinette, was waiting for her in the queue that had already formed outside the marquee. Once admitted, they made their way to the ladies’ toilets where, giggling and chattering, they preened in front of the mirrors. Handbags snapped open for the teenage ritual of repairing make-up. They did not give a thought to the fact that a ten-minute walk from their homes to the tent was hardly likely to have disturbed their hours of work. Hair was once again tweaked and teased then sprayed liberally, filling the air with a cloud of cheap perfume. The tail end of a comb was inserted into the construction, lifting it even higher, and only then were they satisfied there was nothing more that could be done to it.
The girls carefully inspected their faces to make sure that enough make-up had been applied to mask their young complexions, and slicked on another coating of lipstick. Then, once content with the apparition in the mirror, the girls turned their attention to pinning, helping each other insert strategically placed safety pins into the long zipper of their dresses.
‘Come on,’ said one pert blue-eyed blonde to Antoinette. ‘I’ll fix you. Where are your pins?’
‘I’ve not got any,’ she replied. ‘What are they for?’
There was a peal of girlish laughter at her naivety.
‘Well, if you don’t want to end up with your dress down to your waist, you have to pin. The boys will have been drinking at the pub and you know what that does,’ said the girl, and she exchanged knowing smiles with her more experienced friends.
Until that moment, Antoinette had been completely unaware that zippers presented such irresistible temptation to the youths at the dance hall. She had only thought as far ahead as dancing and hadn’t given any consideration to what the boys might expect. She gulped as a picture came into her mind of a horde of drunken youths with sweaty hands and ‘one thing only on their minds’.
Sally, the blonde-haired girl who was the oldest in the group, saw the look of fear that had crossed her new friend’s face.
‘Don’t look so scared,’ she said, trying to reassure her. ‘Most of the boys are just here for the crack. Oh, they won’t say no to a chance but you’ll be all right. Anyhow those pins put them off and stop their sweaty hands from climbing. I’ll lend you a couple.’
Antoinette obediently turned round and Sally carefully inserted the safety pins on the inside of her dress, placing them along the zipper until the last one was pinned at the top of the dress. Once their dresses tugged back into shape, the girls made their way into the main part of the marquee where the band was already playing a fast number.
Antoinette found her feet were tapping to the music and felt her nervousness evaporate as she saw groups of youngsters all around her sitting, chatting or swinging their bodies on the dance floor.
The girls bought soft drinks and then talked nineteen to the dozen to each other while their eyes scanned every male present. The group took their seats. Boys dressed in sports jackets and trousers with firmly pressed centre creases walked in front of them before approaching to ask for a dance. When they were asked, the girls would look up, smile an acceptance and then, holding their dance partner’s hand, allow him to lead her on to the dance floor.
Suddenly, Antoinette heard a voice ask, ‘Would you like to dance?’
Looking up, she saw the smiling round face of a boy not much older than she was. She took his outstretched hand and did as she had seen her friends do, following him to the floor. She tried to remember the steps she had practised at home; then the rhythm of the band took over and she felt herself being swung into a jive.
It was a wonderful feeling and she was so happy that she remembered the moves of the new dances which she had only tried before in front of the mirror, with Judy as her only audience.
After the first dance, her partner requested a second and then a third. Then the band took a break and, buoyed up with confidence after her dances, she thanked her partner and rejoined her friends. Their group was a popular one, for they were vivacious girls out for a night of fun and their heavy make-up had not succeeded in masking their natural prettiness. Dance after dance was asked for, smuggled vodka spiked their drinks and Antoinette felt her confidence grow as, with flushed cheeks, she swung in time to the beat of the band.
Her first dance partner reclaimed her for the final dance. As the lights were dimmed, the slow music of the last waltz was the only sound she could hear. Alcohol made her body relax and she gave herself up to the pleasurable feel of being held, laying her head against his shoulder as they circled the floor. She raised her head while the music still played and felt a damp cheek with its light fuzz pressing against hers. Hands climbed uncertainly above her waist until they rested only a fraction below her breasts. Antoinette instinctively arched her back to avoid body contact. She removed one hand from around his shoulders as she covered his hand lightly, smiling as she gave a slight shake of her head. With that, she established that she liked him but was not easy.
She knew that if she wanted to be accepted by her group of new friends, she had to learn the games played by the sexes and the unspoken codes they communicated with.
Her dance partner was not ready to recognize defeat. Even with her hand still keeping his in place, he lowered his face to hers and she felt his lips searching for her mouth while the other hand tried in vain to mould her body to his.
Antoinette threw back her head, looked him in the eye and gave a light laugh while her body tensed against his manoeuvres. Seeing that she was a nice girl even if her appearance belied that fact, he slackened his hold and smiled back sheepishly. Boys of that age, as she was to learn, dreamt about finding easy girls but they very seldom succeeded.
Then the band played the last notes and the lights came on again. Happy and tired, Antoinette said goodbye to her girlfriends and returned home, the smell of cigarettes still clinging to her hair and the tang of alcohol still on her breath.
The smell lingered until the following morning when she came down to find her mother sitting in her armchair, waiting for her. She saw the look of disapproval on her mother’s face as she recognized the familiar odour of stale alcohol and tobacco.
‘Well, did you enjoy yourself last night?’ asked Ruth, in tones that said she hoped for the contrary.
Her daughter, still wrapped in the glow of happiness from her first dance, refused to rise to the bait. ‘Yes, thank you, Mummy,’ she replied calmly.
‘You know you looked a complete spectacle last night. Of course I can’t stop you spending your money on what you like. But you’re never to come out with me like that. I don’t want to be embarrassed.’ Ruth stood up and went to leave the room, but before she did, she delivered her parting shot. ‘I don’t know what your father will say about