I said to Barbara, ‘and meet my friend Theodora.’
‘That fish-face woman? Isn’t she a copper?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Are you one, by the way?’
‘Heaven forfend.’
‘Eh?’
‘What difference does it make what I say, Barbara? Just think what you like about us. Time alone will show.’
‘Tell your friends to come to Billy’s table, then. I have to get back to him.’ She stepped across the floor, professionally swinging her magnificent bottom.
I said to Theodora as we followed, ‘Where did you learn to dance so well? You’re a perpetual revelation.’
Lowering her voice, she said, ‘I was at one time in the Wrens, and lived a rather rackety life. It’s a period I prefer to forget about, and I’ll thank you not to refer to it again.’
Billy waved us into his corner with a comprehensive smile. With him now there was an enormous coloured GI, and holding both the GI’s hands a lovely, harsh-faced white girl.
‘Is Dorothy,’ said Billy, ‘and her good friend Larry.’
‘Hi, man. You American or British?’ Larry asked me.
‘British.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’
‘Larry doesn’t like Americans,’ Dorothy explained.
‘But isn’t he one?’
‘Oh, yes, but not an American, if you see what I mean.’
She hugged him, then let out a sudden shriek. ‘Look there!’ she cried. ‘It’s my brother Arthur!’
A tall gold-skinned boy came gangling gracefully across the floor, grinning with imbecile guile, his lower lip pendent, his eyes flashing dubious charm. He kissed Dorothy, shook hands with everyone, sat down and put his arms round several shoulders.
‘I come out this morning,’ he told everybody. ‘An’ hitch-hiked up to town. An’ I called at back home and found Muriel. An’ she told me about our new brother Johnny. Have you seen him, Dorothy?’
‘Johnny? Yes, I seen him. He’s a fresh boy, just like you.’
‘Ma wouldn’t take me in, I’ve no place I can go, and I’d like to ask my new brother Johnny to help me with some loot until I can get settled. Unless you can help me, Billy, or you, Dorothy, or someone.’
He gazed lazily around, exuding animal magnetism and anxiety.
‘Larry,’ said Dorothy, ‘you won’t mind if I have this dance with my little brother?’
But Mr Cochrane, the resident manager, who’d been standing by like a janizary, stepped up. ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen, and ladies too,’ he said, ‘but I cannot permit your wife, Billy, to take the floor in slacks.’
Billy said nothing. Larry the GI took Mr Cochrane’s arm.
‘Listen man,’ he said. ‘Let me instruct you about clothing. All you West Indians go about dressed in zoot-suit styles we’ve thrown away ten years ago, and we don’t complain about you.’
‘It is not a question of styles, but of being costumed respectably for my club.’
‘This girl, man, is smart as any film star. They all of them wear slacks in their off-duty hours.’
‘Flim star or no flim star,’ said Mr Cochrane (and he did say ‘flim’), ‘she must please attire herself in a proper skirt.’
‘Oh, blow, man,’ said Ronson Lighter. ‘Twist now – you dig?’
Mr Cochrane stood his ground. ‘I refuse all permission. I shall stop the orchestra.’
Mr Bumper Woodman arrived with several companions. All the men stood up. I saw Theodora reaching for her handbag.
‘Why, oh why,’ said Mr Karl Marx Bo to Mr Cochrane, ‘do you stir up trouble with your African cousins? If you want to make some trouble, why you not go and fight with Dr Malan?’
‘Me tell you insults is quite ineffectual, Mr Student,’ said Mr Woodman.
‘Oh-ho! Listen to this veteran Caribbean pugilist!’
‘Listen to these Ras Tafaris, all long hair and dirty fingernails.’
‘These sugar-cane suckers! These calypso-singing slaves.’
‘Slave? My ancestor had the wisdom to leave your jungle country.’
‘You ancestor was so no good, my ancestor he go sell him to Jumble slave-ship.’
‘You ras-clot man – you’s wasted.’
‘These bumble-clot men – these pussy-clots.’
‘Come to your home in Africa, man, and we teach you some good behaviour.’
At this moment of clenched fists and hands slipping inside pockets, a very tall slim man, with a piece bitten out of one ear, approached. ‘Now come,’ he said. ‘Come, come, come, come, come.’
‘Mr Jasper!’ cried Dorothy. ‘Are you the boss here, or aren’t you? Tell your men to see reason!’
Mr Jasper listened to several explanations, then said in a high, smooth voice, ‘Miss Dorothy, I lend you a skirt from out of our cabaret costumes. I hope you will accept this solution, Mr Whispers.’
‘No.’
‘Yes, man.’
‘No, man, no.’
‘Come,’ I whispered to Theodora. ‘This is our cue to leave.’
12
Foo-foo in the small, late hours
When I arrived with Muriel outside this Moonbeam club (which every Spade