Caroline

CAROLINE

I was feeling quite bored. I mean I had spent most of the day aimlessly
wandering around the shops and looking for some album by this band that
I had been told were really really good. But they didn't have the album
in stock, not that I cared because I was saving the forty quid I had
drawn out for the evening. About four pm I stopped into Prestos, slung
the leather around the back of the chair and got out my Rothmans and
the Ronson I had bought in 1978. The cafe was quite busy, and the girls
on the till wore a lot of makeup, like they were saving time for later,
probably going down the flicks with their mates, or the pub. I had a
couple of toasted slices and a mug of tea with two sugars, I must try
to cut down but what the hell. I lit a fag and blew smoke up. It was
quite noisy in Prestos. Dave appeared, carrying a holdall. He plunked
himself down in the seat opposite and took a fag from my packet of
Rothmans.

"You going to Tonya's party?" he asked, using a battered zippo to light
his fag.

"I maybe," I replied. "What's the news, Dave? I take it you're
going?"

Dave took another puff of his fag. "Pity there isn't a jukebox here,"
he said. "God I am fecked this afternoon. Spent all morning working on
the bike and in here (he said pointing to the holdall) is a new
exhaust. I don't think the old one is dead yet but it makes a noise
like a jet when I'm riding." Dave paused to flick ash onto the table.
There wasn't an ash tray. "Cost me eighty," he added.

"You should get a car like Joe has. That's nice, that is," I said,
finishing my cigarette. Joe has a Classic Capri that he drives to the
beach.

"Why the feck would I want a car?" Dave asked pointedly. "The bike's
good enough for me."

Dave's girlfriend, Sara joined us at the table. Dave had a frothy
coffee and Sara had a tea like me. "Hello Sara," I smiled. Sara grinned
like she does when she's spent the previous night shagging. She had a
sort of glow about her, or maybe it was because it was hot and she was
a bit sweaty. She wore a Banshees tshirt, tartan skirt and prostitute
boots with fishnets. She looked a bit wild what with the kohl eyes and
her dark hair tied back with a tartan head scarf. Dave was dressed in a
leather jacket a pair of Levis, a spiderman tshirt and his biker boots.
I make a note to get a new tshirt for the party, my God Save The Queen
tshirt is sticking to my back like it was glued there.

"You're going tonight, aren't you, Jack?" Sara asks. I nod. Surely she
must have heard my conversation with her boyfriend. "We're getting
there at eight, make sure that there is still plenty of drink before
the hippies get stuck in. I blame Tonya, she's never been the same
since she went to uni. Bloody hippies with their left wing politics and
stupid flares."

Dave grinned at that, although he voted Labour at the last election
just out of spite.

"I guess we could get a couple in at the Magpie and Stump before we get
there," I say. Sara flashes her eyes at me, and blinks. She takes up my
lighter and asks if she can have a fag. Dave yawns. "What about it
Dave?"

Dave nods. We seem to be bored teenagers with a total lack of energy
today.

*

Its now seven, we are sitting round a table in the Magpie and Stump,
with the jukebox blaring out Echo and the Bunnymen. I have a pint of
Truman Export, Dave has a Guinness and Sara has her usual Voddie. Sara
stands up. She has changed her tshirt for a stiped shirt with numbers
down the side, and straps across. She still has her fishnets and her
boots. I glance down at my chelsea boots, and unruffle the hem of my
Wranglers from the top of the boot. "I'm going for a piss," she says
matter of factly. An old boy dressed in a suit with the collar undone
looks at her then looks away, outraged. He's probably thinking kids
today are so crude.

There's like three groups of us in the pub. There's us, which is Dave,
Sara, Adam, Joe, Felicity, Mary and Caroline. And me. I am not their
leader. I am the group's conscience. My role is to make sure we all
have a good time, know what to do if there is a fight and make sure
that we get along. There's the druggies, who seem to spend all the time
smoking block, dropping shit and other stuff. We don't do drugs. The
druggies are all dressed in Casual gear. They are led by a guy called
Darren, who has no dress sense at all and the world's biggest nose. But
he's loaded and so is his girlfriend, they live down by the South Bay,
which is full of kids like him with rich parents. Sometimes they drink
in another pub but they like the beer here. And then there's the
hippies. They are led by Michael. Michael is the archetypal hippie.
Monstrous flares, ripped at the knee and a grandad shirt which
reputedly has never ever been washed. But he doesn't smell, he's Mr
Clean. I think he works in the city for the Post Office.

Felicity is blonde, into the Velvet Underground and looks like every
boys dream of a girl. I mean she's devestatingly pretty and we often
see other guys eyeing up as she goes to the bar to get another scotch
for her bloke Adam. Then there's Joe and Mary. Joes is a strange guy,
he likes to hang on to what everyone else is doing, and Mary is
besotted with him. Mary is dark like Sara. And Caroline. Well Caroline
is brunette and she wears a dress most times we are down here. She's
into the Beatles and I think she likes jazz too. Caroline sits down at
our table. She immediately lights a silk cut that she steals from her
bag. She never shares her fags. Ever.

"Hello Caroline," I smile. She gives me a questioning look.

"Jack? I thought you were going straight there?"

"Change of plan," I say," met Dave and Sara in Prestos. Decided we'd
got to the pub first."

Michael bumbles past carrying two brimming real ales and some slops on
the floor. Caroline looks shocked. I think she thought that Michael was
trying to drop some on her new dress. Caroline is paranoid. I think
deep inside she is a lonely little girl. Felicity leans across from the
next table to Caroline.

"Michael fancies you. Robert told me." Robert is her hippie brother,
plays in a band called the Mushroom Tea. They're actually quite good,
but I prefer Feelgood or the Jam. Caroline freaks and storms off. In
doing so she bumps into Darren, who leers down her cleavage and licks
his lips. My heart races for a moment. I don't like Darren, and I may
have to sort him out. But Darren is pissed and he wanders back up the
steps to where the rest of the druggies are sitting. From the look on
Felicity's face I think she is joking. Robert is in his forties.

"Should I go after her?" I ask Dave. Dave looks at me and says no,
she's only going to the bog.

"Let her be," says Adam, who is in fact and in all the group leader.
His word is law. "I'm sure Michael was just a bit clumsy." Michael is
out of ear shot. I go over to the jukebox and put on a Jam song,
"Strange Town" it's called. It's good.

We have some more beers and then we get two cabs to cart us over to
Tonya's party.

***

The party is in full swing when we pull up in two Granadas with 242242
numbers painted in yellow on their side. They are Sun cabs the best
taxis to get, you never have to wait. There are two other cab firms,
Browns and Associated Radio Cars but they always seem to take ages to
arrive. I step over a drunken hippie lying on the pavement. He is still
alive, just but probaly wishing that Heinekein could fix the parts he
seems to have lost control of. We go inside. On the Hi Fi a Motown
album is playing. It is from the mid seventies, all Stevie Wonder and
stuff, I don't like it.

After a while we find ourselves in the garden drinking cans of
Carlsberg and bottles of Newcastle Brown which is good tonight, and I
know I shall probably be incoherent later, but happy. Felicity and Adam
share a kiss and then I see them wander off to the back of the garden.
I hope he has some johnnies. Last party I went to I had the awkward
task of selling him a couple for 50 pence each. I think he wanted two
for fifty pence.

Caroline is getting quite pissed as we sit on the wall that divides
Tonya's garden from the flats next door. Of course Tonya's Uncle and
Aunt have gone to Ibiza for the week. Pity. The weather this month has
been pretty good so far. The other week, Adam, Dave, Joe and I drove
round in Dave's mini with the windows wound up and the heater on
smoking fags just so that when we stopped and got out, even though it
was eighty in the shade it would feel cooler. Either that or we were
all slightly mad.

I light a cigarette and survey the garden. From the house I can hear
Dire Straits, more hippie rubbish, that seems to go on for ever and
ever and ever. In the garden apart from us are two hippies in smart
velvet pantaloons black Brewery tshirts and one of them has a white
Levis jacket, although if you asked him who the Who were he would
probably say "Tommy" or something, rather than "My Generation" which I
played full blast Thursday night while reading a Heinlein book. There
are also three soul girls, attached to thick set rugby players, christ
one of them is wearing an England rugby shirt. He looks at me and I
quickly look away. He looks like a skinhead.

The three soul girls have grouped their handbags and are standing
smoking Dunhill menthol and using matches. I can almost hear the ssss
from where I am sitting.

Caroline gags and then runs off, hand over her mouth. If I was going
out with her I would probably go after here and see she's all right,
but now Felicity is coming back and I like looking at her. Adam has a
cheesy grin on his face. Looks like he copped it all right the bugger.
Felicity has gone indoors, probably to put her knickers back on. Adam
wanders over to me.

"Good party Jack, innit?" He says, still smiling. "Felicity's knicker
elastic snapped, they won't stay up." I resist the temptation to add
"Is that a problem?" and say nothing. "I'm going to get some more
beers, give us a hand, will yous?"

In the kitchen Caroline is sitting on a stool by the end of the
breakfast bar that is formica and stretches for miles. There is a
selection of fine wines from Safeway and a pile of Carlsberg as well as
more Newkie Brown which I grab. I help Adam carry out the supplies and
then go back into the kitchen. Caroline sits there, the front of her
dress is damp, I don't want to think why this may be, but sort of nod
at her, she stares into space. I go through to the hall, which has a
huge mirror in it, which causes me to pause and glance at my
reflection. As I do so, another girl with longish dark hair wanders
past and stops so we can both see each other in the mirror. She smiles
at her reflection.

I turn around and smile at her. She smiles back. I get the impression
that she may be single and looking for a bloke. She's quite pretty and
she is wearing a great little dress with nylons and black pointed shoes
like from 1964. She has a hair band on. I think she thinks of herself
as a modette. Maybe. Just as I am about to offer her a fag, Caroline
calls out something from the kitchen.

The girl looks at me and again there is the knowing smile, but I have
to see what Caroline wants.

"Jack, Jack," says Caroline, "I don't feel well. I want to go. Can you
get me a cab?"

"I can try, may take a while," I reply. She looks like she has been
crying. "Caroline?"

"Jack, I feel so stupid. I shouldn't have drunk so much. I threw
up."

"I know," I say. Somebody pushes past then some more people, one of
whom tips his pint slyly on my jacket. Fortunately he doesn't say
anything, although if he had called me a wanker I would have ignored
it. I didn't want any hassle right now. I help Caroline up from the
stool, and she staggers a bit. Her mascara has run. I offer her a clean
handkerchief that I have for this very purpose.

We go into the hall. Several people are crowded in the hall, drinking,
talking and making flapping noises with their mouths. I find the phone
and dial 242 242 but it is engaged. Shit. I try Browns, engaged then
ARC which is also engaged. Caroline looks at me almost pleading for me
to say, "the cab will be here in twenty minutes" but instead I say
"bollocks" and "they're all engaged".

"We'll have to walk," says Caroline. "You better say goodbye to the
rest and then we can go."

"Okay, but if we leave it five minutes I can try again."

"Go on. Say bye to them for me."

I look at Caroline who is now sitting on the stairs with her leather
coat grabbed around like she is cold even though it is still light and
quite warm out.

I go into the garden. The rugby types and their birds have buggered
off, Joe and Mary are kissing as usual and Adam and Felicity must have
gone to the back of the garden again because I can't see them. Dave is
rolling a Spliff and Sara is getting one ready for later. Dave looks
up.

"What's up, Jack, mate?"

"It's Caroline. I'm taking her home. She's been sick," I explain,
taking the opportunity to light a smoke. I puff the ciggie so it
catches properly. "I won't be back. She needs me to see her
home."

"All right, Jack," says Dave. The significance of these words escapes
me till the following day when I see a film of the same name, but thats
later.

Sara looks up and tilts her head to one side. She is pissed and making
a mess of the new spliff. "You know you look good tonight, Jack," she
says. I smile, a bit embarrassed. I am not sure if she fancies
me.

"Anyway, I'm going," I say.

Back to the kitchen and out to the hall, where Caroline is still
sitting. The Hi Fi is playing London Calling. Seems like the hippies
have called it a day and gone back done the pub. There are few punks
dancing to "London Calling", I have the album I can hear it anytime. I
try the cab companies again, this time ARC answer and I get a cab,
which is a result.

It arrives about ten minutes later, which is brilliant for ARC. I may
use them again. I help Caroline in and get in myself. I give the cab
driver her address. The cabbie is an old mod and starts telling me
about how he used to have a scooter in the sixties. I find it strange
that we like the same music but dress completely differently. Caroline
is close to me and I brush her hair with my hand. She doesn't
notice.

The cab pulls up outside her house. We get out. I pay the cabbie.

"Are you going to be all right, Caroline?" I ask. Caroline stares at
me.

"My parents are away. Do you want to come in for coffee?" She asks
me.

"Okay," I say. I lead her to the door and she fumbles for her keys. We
go inside and then we are in the kitchen again and she has got the
Nescafe out, and she is making two coffees, one in a Stingray mug and
the other in a pink Staffordshire pottery mug like you buy in Safeway
for ninety pence. We go into the lounge.

"Put something on," Caroline says, almost dreamily. I find a tape of
the Beatles and stick it on. It is the second album. I quickly turn
down "It Wont Be Long" as the Hi Fi is on loud, and then we sit down on
the settee and we are sipping the coffee. And I turns to her and after
another sip, I lean across and kiss her.

"Jack?" She asks.

"Yeah?"

"You want to go out with me, don't you?"

I try to think of some witty reply, but end up saying "Yes,
Caroline."

We sip some more coffee and then she says she is going to bed. She says
she'll be okay, and there is a sort of grin on her face. I listen to
the Beatles. Caroline goes off and about twenty minutes later, when I
have flipped the tape and had two ciggies she comes back wearing her
dressing gown, and I think a long t shirt underneath. Her legs are
bare. I notice she has painted her toe nails.

I have taken my leather off and Caroline sits down next to me. We
cuddle up close and listen to the Beatles sing their mad love songs of
love.