Dancing the Charleston Read online

  ‘She used to smack me sometimes, but it didn’t really hurt. And she doesn’t do it any more – I’m too big.’

  ‘Barbara’s never, ever smacked us. My father wouldn’t have laid a finger on us, but Stanley once beat me because I smeared his paints all over the wall,’ said Roland.

  ‘Deliberately?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Goodness!’ I said. I was pretty sure that Aunty would beat me if I ever took it into my head to do something similar.

  ‘He wanted to make me cry but I didn’t. My mother cried a great deal, though she didn’t stop him. So that night I ran away and I wasn’t found till the next day. Barbara vowed then that I would never be beaten again, no matter what I did,’ said Roland. ‘So I won in the end.’

  It didn’t sound to me as if he’d won at all, but I didn’t argue.

  ‘I know where you can get cigarettes,’ I said. ‘Mr Berner sells them in his toyshop. And he sells sweets and all sorts. Do you really smoke, Roland?’

  ‘No, I want to buy a present for each of the four workmen building the swimming pool. They’ve been awfully decent to me, showing me how to do things, and we rag each other. It’s so jolly,’ said Roland. ‘They’re not a bit like the workmen in France, who call me Petit Choux.’

  ‘That’s little something,’ I said.

  Roland looked faintly impressed. ‘Do you speak French then?’

  ‘Not really, but I’d like to. They have all the best words. So what does choux mean? Is it very rude?’

  ‘It means “cabbage”. It’s actually a term of endearment, but they mean it in a nasty way. They tease me because of my hair and my clothes and the way I talk French. But I don’t care a jot,’ said Roland, though he clearly did.

  ‘I get teased at the village school, but I’m going to the Girls’ High School in Hailbury in September,’ I said, hoping he would be more impressed than his sister.

  He was barely listening. ‘So where’s this shop then?’

  ‘It’s over the road,’ I explained, pointing. I went with him, because he didn’t seem comfortable with shopping. Maybe he’d never had to do it before.

  He didn’t give the toys a second glance, and he wasn’t even interested in the sweet jars. He went straight up to the counter and said in his posh voice, ‘I say, do you have any cigarettes?’

  Mr Berner folded his arms over his brown overall. He shook his head. ‘You’re too young for cigarettes, laddie – unless you fancy the sweetie sort,’ he said, chuckling at his suggestion.

  Roland glared at him.

  ‘He’s buying them as a present for some workmen up at the manor,’ I said quickly.

  ‘He could say he’s buying them for the Queen of Sheba – he’s still too young, Mona,’ said Mr Berner, but I could tell he was wavering. He was the nicest of the shopkeepers, and he was always very polite to Aunty. In fact, one Sunday we met him out in the street, and he took his hat off to Aunty and she went pink. When he’d gone past I’d teased her, saying that Mr Berner was sweet on her.

  ‘I don’t think there’s a Mrs Berner, is there? Maybe you two should start courting,’ I’d suggested. I was only joking, but I rather liked the idea because Mr Berner was a nice, mild man and I’d have an endless supply of sweets.

  However, Aunty had sniffed disdainfully. ‘I’m not having anyone courting me – especially Mr Berner,’ she said firmly.

  ‘My aunty will vouch for Roland, Mr Berner. He’s from the manor,’ I said now, because he still seemed keen on Aunty, even if she didn’t return his regard.

  ‘I know very well who he is,’ said Mr Berner, but he had his head on one side, staring at Roland appraisingly. ‘What brand of cigarettes were you looking for, laddie?’

  Roland looked nonplussed, but after a few seconds he said, ‘The ones with the sailor on the front. I’ve seen them smoking that sort.’

  ‘Very well then. A packet of twenty is it, young sir?’

  ‘No, I think one each. Five packets then – a hundred cigarettes,’ said Roland.

  Mr Berner raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure you’ve got enough bunce, lad?’

  ‘“Bunce” means money,’ I hissed, because Roland looked baffled.

  He took a pound note out of his pocket with a grand gesture. ‘This should cover it,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’

  Mr Berner blinked. He looked tempted, but after he’d put five packets of cigarettes in a bag and rung up the money on his till, he insisted on giving Roland his change. ‘Don’t want your grandmother to haunt me, now, do I?’ he said.

  ‘You knew my grandmother?’ said Roland, looking surprised. ‘Did she come here to buy sweets?’

  ‘I didn’t know her, lad, but I knew of her. The whole village knows the Somersets. So think on,’ he said.

  When we were outside I looked at Roland. ‘You said there were four workmen. And yet you’ve bought five packets of Players.’

  ‘You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself,’ he said. ‘That’s what Nanny says.’

  ‘You have a nanny?’ I asked.

  ‘Not any more. I miss her dreadfully. We all do. Bruno’s got far worse since she went. She was the only one who could make him do as he was told. Well, most of the time.’

  ‘So who looks after him now? Your mother?’

  ‘Barbara’s hopeless. She says she wants us to run wild and enjoy our childhood – but she just can’t be bothered with us now that she’s taken up with that awful Stanley,’ said Roland. ‘The other packet is for me, silly. I’ll give you a cigarette if you like.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, though I knew that Aunty would faint if she thought I’d smoked a cigarette.

  ‘Where can we go that’s private then?’ Roland asked. ‘Doubtless some busybody will stop us if we light up in the street.’

  ‘I know the perfect place,’ I told him.

  I took him to the graveyard. I steered him away from his grandmother and Mother. It would be disrespectful to smoke anywhere near them. We went right to the back, by the old brick wall, and squatted down in a clear patch amongst the nettles and ivy. I hoped Roland would suddenly realize that we didn’t have any matches – I was a bit scared of smoking in case I couldn’t do it properly. However, he brought out a box of Bryant & May’s.

  ‘I filched them from the kitchen,’ he said, shaking them.

  ‘Why didn’t you filch Mr Benjamin’s cigarettes too? I’ve seen Ambrose helping himself from that silver box,’ I said as he opened one of the packets.

  ‘He would,’ he replied scornfully. ‘As if I’d ever steal from my uncle!’

  I nodded and accepted the cigarette he offered me, pouting my lips in readiness.

  ‘Not like that – you’re not supposed to get the end wet,’ he said. ‘Now, when I light it, suck hard.’

  I did my best. The hot smoke tasted horrid and I choked. Smoking was worse than I’d feared.

  ‘It’s all right, everyone coughs a bit at first,’ said Roland. ‘Try again.’

  He smoked with style, assuming the right appreciative expression. He didn’t hold his cigarette aloft like Desiree. He held it cupped in his hand.

  ‘This is the way all the workmen smoke,’ he said. ‘They’re such decent chaps – they have such a laugh together. They call me their apprentice. I wish I could be a workman.’

  ‘Can’t you be anything you want?’ I asked, taking a cautious puff. It still tasted as bad and burned the back of my throat, but I managed not to choke this time.

  ‘I suppose I could command the workmen to let me join in if I was paying their wages, but it would be very strange. I don’t think they’d like it then. It would be as if we were all play-acting,’ said Roland. He looked at me. ‘Are you getting the hang of it now?’

  ‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I don’t like it much. Does Esmeralda smoke?’

  ‘She’s tried with Desiree. She says she likes the idea of women smoking, but she just doesn’t personally care for it. She smoked in front of Barbara, rather hoping she’d be