‘Hamilton,’ I said, ‘do you know a Bathurst boy called Whispers?’
‘That Billy? Who doesn’t know of him? Now heaven help that poor GI if Dorothy take him home.’
‘Is that Billy Whispers’ racket?’
‘One that he has, with robbery and violence, assisted by Ronson Lighter and by Jimmy Cannibal.’
‘Why they call that boxer that? He eat his mother?’
‘I expect not yet. But he tell his Jumble victims he was fed up on boiled missionary in his village. This news impress them, see, and wins their unlucky trust.’
‘Hamilton, hold my cigarette, I’m going to dance with her.’
‘Look after yourself then, Johnny, and don’t lose me from your view.’
Dorothy’s GI was not a bit pleased to see me, but she cut all the ground out under his long feet by saying to me, with her English idea of the speech of a tough Brooklyn chick, ‘Why, hullo, feller. Never thought I’d see you again so soon.’
‘I’m like that bad penny, Dorothy. I always keep turning myself up.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?’
‘Come on, then, I’ll spin you round a while.’
But soon we circled far off to the quiet corner where the partners were wedged up close.
‘Does Billy know you’re here?’ she asked me.
‘Can’t say. Why? You belong to that man?’
‘I don’t belong to nobody, see?’ (This came out in her natural Brixton language – no more Brooklyn.) ‘I live with Billy Whispers, yes. But only so long as I want to. Me, I walk out just when I like.’
‘That’s not what I thought from how he acted to you there this afternoon. It seemed like he had you all wrapped up.’
‘Oh, did it!’
‘I’m glad it’s not so, Dorothy. Because Muriel and your mother’s getting worried about the influence of Billy on you.’
She stopped dancing.
‘Oh, is she! My mother – that old cow: yes, I said “cow”! And Muriel, my good little sister! Do you know why she’s so good, Johnny? Because she’s deformed! She can’t do any better for herself. Didn’t you see her hand?’
‘I saw she had the glove on it …’
‘She’s only got three fingers on that hand.’
‘She had some accident?’
‘No. She was deformed from birth.’
‘Which fingers has she missing?’
‘The end ones. I tell her it means she’ll never get married, if she can’t wear a wedding ring …’
‘Fingers aren’t everything on a body, Dorothy.’
‘No, but they come in handy, don’t they?’
‘She’s got a pretty figure, and a happier smile than you.’
‘Muriel? She’s never been known to smile since she was born.’
She put her arms round my neck and hung on me.
‘What about your brother Arthur, Dorothy? When is he coming out?’
‘It was six months he got, so it should be any time now, with the remission. But me, I don’t have anything to do with him. I don’t like these half white, half Africans.’
‘You might have one yourself, the way you’re living.’
‘Are you kidding? I’d get rid of it. Anyway, I’m going to have my ovaries removed.’
‘That’ll be nice and comfortable.’
We circled round a bit, and I held her off from taking any too great liberty. But she pressed up close and said to me, ‘Why don’t you ask me out to tea one day, Johnny?’
‘Oh, I drink coffee.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Don’t rush me off my feet, now, Dorothy. Why you not wait until I make the offer?’
‘Oh, if that’s how you feel …’ And she walked straight out of my arms. I watched her fine figure, which certainly gave you the appetite, as she vanished from my view.
As I was strolling back to look for Hamilton, who should I see, sitting at a table, but this unusual couple: a rough-looking jungle boy, who I thought by his cheek-marks might be of the Munshi tribe, and with him who else but the Welfare Office gentleman, Mr Montgomery Pew. Oh-ho! I thought. What can this be?
His long body was wrapped all round the table legs, his hungry face held up by both his hands, and his sad eyes were shooting round the room like trying to find something they could rest on with any comfort.
‘Why, Mr Pew!’ I said to him. ‘You visiting this wicked spot to see if I obey your wise advice to me?’
‘Why, Mr Fortune!’ he cried back, ‘do come and have a glass of this disgusting lemonade. Here is a friend of mine – Mr Bushman, I much regret I don’t know your full name.’
I said a few words to this Bushman in his own Munshi tongue, which is one of the four African