I Love You Billy Langley, page 17
Netta sighed, ‘Hello, Mr Langley.’
‘How was he?’ Billy asked Rita over Albert’s head.
‘Like I said, no trouble.’
‘Course I was no trouble. I’m not a bleeding kid, am I?
‘Well, I don’t know about that—’
‘If you’re not going to shut up, go in the kitchen and talk. I’m trying to watch this.’
‘Ooh, charming,’ Rita laughed. ‘He’s probably just missing Doe. Couldn’t keep their hands off each other those two.’
‘Piss off!’ Albert spat.
Rita was delighted by this reaction and scampered into the kitchen with the cake, followed by Billy.
Netta thought that this was the perfect opportunity to give Billy’s father the present she’d bought him from Dortmund. She reasoned that since he was so annoyed by Rita and Billy, she was in a position to gather numerous Brownie points by being the only person who’d done something nice for him since their arrival. ‘Mr Langley, I’ve brought a present for you.’
Albert looked at her with a kind of disgusted surprise as she crouched next to him and handed him the box. He hesitated for a moment, then ripped it open and pulled out a snow globe in which stood a beautiful old house surrounded by pine trees all covered in a layer of snow.
‘Look,’ she said gently taking it from him and shaking it so the snow began to swirl around the rural scene. She watched as his eyes flashed momentarily with something. Joy? Anger? Grief? A memory?
‘I don’t want it,’ he said pushing her hand away and boring his eyes into the TV screen.
‘Netta! Netta!’ Rita hissed from the kitchen, beckoning her over.
She was glad to have an excuse to leave and left the snow globe on the mantelpiece as she did so.
‘Did he like his present?’ Billy said absently, his mind on making cups of tea.
Rita didn’t give Netta a chance to respond to him anyway. ‘’Ere, I was having a sherry or three with my auntie Jeanie over Christmas and she was telling me all sorts about what her husband Buster and Albert here got up to during the war.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yeah. They’d both survived Dunkirk, you see and after that they were both sent to Germany. Apparently, Jeanie said, when they rolled into Hamburg – I think it was Hamburg, but it could have been somewhere else, anyway Hamburg rings a bell, so let’s say that – when they rolled into Hamburg the troops demanded that they were put up in some of the nice boarding houses that had survived the bombing and Buster and Albert ended up sharing a room in this little place run by two sisters. German of course, don’t ask me their names, I can’t remember now – I was already three sheets in the wind after all that sherry – but I remember this: Turns out Albert had a soft spot for one of these sisters. Buster did too, for the other one, but she wasn’t interested apparently – or that may have just been Jeanie making herself feel better. I don’t know, anyway – Albert only goes and falls for this other one. Buster told Jeanie he hardly saw Albert after that. He even made Buster get another room so he could have his wicked way with her every night. She lived in the same room as her sister, see, so they weren’t likely to have a bit of how’s your father in there, were they? Anyway the war’s over eventually and the time comes for the troops to move out. And as they’re packing up Albert only goes and asks the German girl to come with him, dunnee.’
‘To England?’ Netta said.
Rita nodded, ‘Mmmm – like that was going to happen then just after the war! Anyway, she refused. They’d declared their undying love for each other and that, but she said she couldn’t leave her sister, but he was welcome to come back after and be with her there.’
‘So why didn’t he go back. Or why didn’t he just stay?’
‘Well, that’s what I asked Jeanie. And she said that was what she asked Buster. And he said that was what he asked Albert.’
‘And what did Albert say?’ Netta was hooked.
‘Albert wouldn’t say. It’s a mystery. But Jeanie reckons he was too scared to go and live over in Germany, even if the love of his life was there.’
‘Oi, she weren’t the love of his life,’ Billy said handing Rita a mug of tea. ‘My mum was.’
‘All right, his first love then. But anyway as she’s telling me all this it all becomes clear, dunnit?’
Netta was speechless trying to envisage that grumpy old git festering in the dingy living room as a young virile lover tumbling about on starched white sheets in a sunny room in a Hamburg boarding house.
‘What becomes clear?’ Billy said handing another mug to Netta.
‘Well, I says to Jeanie she must have been a looker, this German girl, to make Albert fall so hard. And she says Buster showed her a photo once of the four of them – or she found it when she was going through his things and made her tell him who the girls were. And she says this German girl was about so high, mousey blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses.’ Rita’s eyes sparkled like a found glass slipper and she said to Netta, ‘He’s not nasty to you coz you’re German. He’s nasty to you coz you remind him of the one that got away.’
Rita grinned through the steam rising from her mug waiting for some kind of adulation for her detective work.
‘Silly old sod,’ was all Billy offered.
Netta didn’t know why she was blushing but she blushed nevertheless and whispered, ‘Poor Albert.’ Then she poked her head around the kitchen door to see Albert’s eyes not glued to the TV any longer, but staring longingly at the snow globe and the German boarding house locked inside.
19
The smoky air of the staffroom was rippling with nervous gossip. Netta felt it the moment she walked in. Since she had returned to the school she had still been tense whenever she walked into this room especially, but now each time she did, she channelled her inner Gerhard – that part of her that was so near the surface in Germany but seemed to sink just out of reach in England – and so she was able to walk tall and worried less about the frostiness of most of the teachers in there. Knowing Billy was not far away helped enormously too. But today, she realised very quickly, the tension in the room had nothing to do with her.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked a particularly harried looking Mrs Turner.
‘No it’s bloody not.’
‘Why?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘I just arrived.’
‘Bloody inspectors are in.’
‘Oh,’ Netta said.
‘Yes. Oh indeed! And I’ve got Eddie Carstairs in my class doing his best to make me look incompetent every five minutes.’
Not surprisingly, Netta could barely muster an ounce of sympathy for Mrs Turner on this issue, so she allowed herself to be distracted by other colleagues chattering around her.
‘Why didn’t Johnson tell us?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t know.’
‘Of course he knew. How could he not know?’
‘Why would he not tell us? He’s told us in the past. If we all look like idiots today it only reflects badly on him.’
‘Well, they’re not coming in my class,’ Mr Thorpe said. ‘I don’t need bloody inspecting. I should be the one doing the inspecting.’
Netta glanced at Mr Moxley, who was chewing on the fingers of one hand furiously as he scribbled marks in a pile of exercise books with the other, then she slipped out of the staffroom. She hurried to her class. Although she didn’t have the same fears most of the other teachers appeared to have about the imminent unannounced inspection, she knew that her unorthodox methods were not condoned by the headmaster, who was ignorant in fact that Netta was still practising them, so she hid in the store room all the dresses and balls and tools and various other items with which the children had presented their interests and dreams to the rest of the class as they filed in.
‘What are you doing, Miss?’
‘I thought I was doing my bit on films today?’
‘It’s well cold in here Miss, can we do some more football again to warm up?’
‘There’s a slight change of plan today, everyone,’ Netta said. ‘Today there are inspectors in the school.’ Netta expected the immediate murmuring and chattering which greeted her news and she gave it time to settle before she went on. ‘And that’s nothing to worry about for us. We will just carry on as normal. However…’ She thought quickly how she could explain the hiding away of all the props and equipment to them. ‘… today we are going to be talking about something different. Today we are going to discuss travel. Because next term we are going to go on a trip. To Germany.’
The class erupted into a melee of hissed yeses and groaned nos.
‘OK, quieten down!’ Netta called out over the noise. ‘Some of you are clearly happy about that. Some of you not so happy. I want to hear why.’
A few hands shot up in the air.
‘But, as always, I want to hear in German.’
Some of those hands were whipped back into laps.
The trip to Germany was in fact an idea Netta had been hatching for a while, though she had yet to run it past both Mrs Turner and Mr Johnson. She expected derision from both of them, but she was quite prepared to argue, with first-hand experience, how immersion in a country, no matter how briefly, is invaluable when learning the language. However, before she had chance to talk about this much further with the class, the students were all jumping to their feet and standing to attention as the headmaster opened the door and showed a tiny mess of a man with oil-slick hair and a small moustache, which had some of the students desperately suppressing giggles, into the room. Johnson was smiling excessively, obsequiously while the inspector seemed to be trying so hard to be stern that Netta imagined her Opi’s voice on Christmas Eve talking about his first interrogator in Siberia who ‘thought he was a martial arts hero, but actually he was an oily flannel.’
‘Miss Portner, this is Mr Spicer the inspector. Mr Spicer, Miss Portner is teaching German.’
‘Oh really?’ Spicer said with a twitch of his nose. ‘Guten Tag, Kinder.’
All the students looked to Netta momentarily in fear, but she gave them a reassuring nod and they slowly chorused, ‘Guten Tag, Herr…’ Their voices tailed off bashfully, unsure of the inspector’s name.
‘Spicer,’ Netta quickly reminded them.
And then as each child tried again from a different starting point the result was a cacophony of Spicers, Herr Spicers, Guten Tag Herr Spicers and Tags, as each child failed miserably to synchronise with the others.
Netta felt her face redden slightly, but she recovered by speaking directly to the inspector who was still looking quite cocky after his little greeting to the kids. She said, in German, ‘Ah, you speak German, Mr Spicer. That is wonderful because we only speak German in this lesson.’
Mr Spicer look horrified. He clearly had no idea what Netta had just said to him and so he nodded and twitched his nose again, which Netta was quickly learning was his approximation of a smile.
‘Mr Johnson,’ she continued in German, ‘perhaps you could explain to Mr Spicer that since we only speak German in this lesson we will continue to do so now with your permission.’
It was Mr Johnson’s turn to redden now. He laughed rather pathetically, throwing back his head and nodding as if he was in on a joke. ‘Very good, Miss Portner. Well, don’t mind us. You just carry on.’
‘OK,’ Netta clapped her hands and said in German, ‘Sit down, children!’
Johnson and Spicer exchanged a knowing look since they were both proud to have guessed what, ‘Setz dich, Kinder!’ meant, helped rather significantly of course by the fact that an entire class of students had just sat down in response to the words.
Netta was tingling with mischief now and announced, ‘Now I want one of you to come up to the front of the class and tell our guests, in German of course, exactly what you have been doing this term. Patricia, what about you?’
Patricia dutifully obeyed and proceeded to tell the inspector and headmaster all about the mannequin hiding in the store room and the way she had shown the class how to make a dress on it and how she was going to be the next Mary Quant.
‘Samuel?’
Samuel got up next and related how he had taken the class outside on the playing fields and how he had shown them how many keepie-uppies he could do, counting in German obviously, and how he had even managed to explain the off side rule to them, in German too, which was a mammoth enough task in English usually.
Then Richard. Then Rebecca, each student performing wonderfully and making Netta swell with pride, while Johnson looked increasingly uncomfortable and Spicer’s nose twitched epileptically.
‘Trudy?’ Netta said.
‘Well, well,’ Johnson cut in quickly before Trudy could regale them with stories of the hamster concealed in the store room. ‘We really have to be going. Many more classes to see. But it has been very, erm, enlightening, I think Mr Spicer would agree.’
‘Oh yes,’ the tiny inspector said as he hurried out of the door which the headmaster held open for him.
Netta turned to the blackboard and said, ‘The only thing he’d be good for inspecting is skirting boards.’ And the entire class erupted with laughter.
20
One whiff of spring air and the pier was teeming with people. The arcades were rarely closed but now the ice cream sellers were out alongside the deck chairs set up in front of the Punch and Judy show and the photographer who’d take a picture of you and a friend with your faces sticking out of a wooden cut-out of a mermaid and King Neptune for the price of a cornet – ‘Pick it up when it’s developed later from the stall next to the candy floss man!’
Netta and Billy were by the darts game; that was where they’d told Terry and Rita to meet them.
‘Woo-oo,’ Rita sang as she waved and tottered over to them trying not to plant her heels between the gaps in the boardwalk.
‘Alright, Nets?’
‘Hello Rita.’
‘Alright Billy?’
‘Alright, Reet.’
‘Bill.’
‘Tel.’
‘Netta.’
‘Hello Terry.’
‘Going to win us a teddy bear, Tel?’ Rita said tugging on the sleeve of his parka like a child.
‘You’ve got to burst three balloons with three darts to win,’ Billy warned.
‘So?’ Terry strutted to the stall. ‘That’s flipping easy,’ and he slammed some coins on the counter and received his darts.
‘Has Billy had a go for you yet?’ Rita said to Netta.
‘No,’ Netta said trying to sound like she didn’t care – and she hadn’t cared until Rita had put it in those terms. ‘What do I need a big teddy bear for? I’ve got Billy to cuddle.’ Netta laughed and was pleased to have come up with the perfect parry – perhaps a bit too perfect, she thought, since it seemed to pierce Rita’s mood momentarily like Terry’s first dart popping a pink balloon. As ever, Rita was quick to recover herself and she put her arms around Terry.
‘He’s my teddy bear, aincha, Terr—’
Terry promptly shoved her away.
‘Get off, you sill moo.’
Netta saw Rita steal a glance at her as if to make sure she hadn’t noticed, which of course Netta had. Rita looked queasy, as if she might be sick at any moment, but she was not to be deterred and she went back for another cuddle.
Terry shoved her harder this time.
‘How can I aim straight if you’re pulling me about? Do you want me to win or what?’ And he raised his hand, aiming a dart at Rita who curled up and stumbled over towards the railings with a squeal as if she actually expected him to throw it at her.
‘That’s the way to do it,’ quacked Mr Punch as he struck Judy about the face with his stick and the children in the audience laughed riotously.
Netta looked on speechless as Terry turned back to the stall and popped a blue balloon this time. As he took his final throw, Netta went over to Rita who was studying, or perhaps pretending to study, the waves below.
‘Are you OK?’ Netta said gently.
‘Go on, Tel!’ Billy shouted. ‘Don’t mess it up now.’
‘I won’t if you keep it down.’
‘I’m fine,’ Rita smiled unconvincingly at Netta as the third dart thudded into the wood behind an exploding red balloon.
‘GET IN!’ Terry boomed and Netta noticed how Rita flinched at the sound of his voice before running over to congratulate him.
‘There you go, love,’ the stall owner said as he handed Rita a large blue and white teddy bear. ‘I assume it’s not for you,’ he winked at Terry.
‘No it bleeding aint,’ Terry replied. ‘Now, don’t say I never get you nothing,’ he said to Rita as the lights on the pier were turned on.
‘Ah, thanks, darling,’ Rita beamed and hugged the teddy.
Terry said, ‘Now are we going to get a beer or what?’
Netta looked at the evening sky, how much darker and colder it seemed since the lights had come on. Yet the strings of bulbs lining every structure on the pier at first comforted her with their white glow, then reminded her of the snow lining everything in that little scene in the snow globe she’d bought for Albert. This sent her stomach somersaulting like the kids on the trampolines nearby – now she wasn’t sure if she was elated or bereaved.
‘You coming, Nets?’ Billy called out, almost at the ballroom entrance.
‘Yes,’ Netta said and hurried to the door.
Terry brought the drinks over to their table on a tray. ‘Two bob for a pint? Are they taking the piss?’
Billy sighed, ‘Tourist price probably.’
‘Well, I ain’t no bleeding tourist, am I. I’m a local. I’ve a good mind to kick up a fuss.’
Rita urged him to sit down. ‘It’s not a tourist price. It’s the same price in London these days. Even more in some pubs up there.’
‘When do you go out to pubs in London?’ Terry moaned.
Rita went pale. ‘Sometimes after work with Henry and Zelda. Or when we take a new client out to lunch or something.’
