Memoirs of a Dance Hall Romeo by Jack Higgins Page A

unexpectedly, and moved across to the table to the first aid box. ‘I could do a better job on myself with my middle finger than the lot of you put together.’
    Which was about as dampening a remark as I had ever heard in that area of things. I stood up and she smiled. ‘Oh, poor Oliver. It is Oliver, isn’t it? Have I upset him? Tell you what, I’ll let you take me for a drink tonight if you like.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a date.’
    ‘And you so active with your hands? Shame on you.’ She smiled beautifully and ran the tip of her tongue between her teeth. ‘Some other time, perhaps? When the great romance is over.’
    I retreated in confusion. I loved Helen, and a man in love shouldn’t feel this kind of physical attraction for another woman, or so I told myself.
    Life at school settled into an uneasy kind of guerrilla warfare. I made them work, therefore I was despised. I was rocking what had been a pretty comfortable boat. But I had reached the state where I couldn’t care less, even about the very real hatred that Varley and his friends obviously felt for me. I had my writing to keep me sane, with its hope of something better than this, and I had Helen.
    And then, suddenly, Helen was gone. For a week or two I was in a state of abject misery that even kept me from the Trocadero. I was like the before man in the advert for some wonder tonic. Listless, no energy, lacking interest in life.
    Things started to slide in the class again. It became noisier, the hostility, barely veiled at the best of times, became more open.
    One afternoon, just before the Christmas holidays, I cut my finger wrestling with a jammed door on one of my stock cupboards and was reminded of Imogene. It was as good an excuse as any. I wrapped a handkerchief around the finger and went in search of her. She was taking some girls for netball in the yard. I stood at the door watching the game for a while, admiring the way Imogene’s shirt tightened against her breasts when she demonstrated how to throw the ball.
    ‘Hello, stranger, looking for me?’ she said as she hurried in, followed by the girls at the end of the game. I held up my finger and she smiled. What does that need? Sticking plaster?’ I followed her into her office and sat down. She got the first aid box and unwrapped the handkerchief. ‘Watching the girls’ knickers again, Oliver?’
    ‘Only one girl’s knickers I was watching out there,’ I said boldly.
    She stared down at me, the slanting green eyes changing colour constantly. And then she smiled. ‘All right. If you want it you can have it.’
    ‘When?’ I said.
    ‘Why now, of course. We’ve got the rest of break, haven’t we?’
    She went to the door and shot the bolt, then pulled one of the gym mats out of the corner and unrolled it. I was absolutely petrified, and stood staring at her as she unhooked her shorts and pulled them off.
    ‘Have you got anything with you?’ she demanded. I shook my head and she reached for her handbag and produced a contraceptive. ‘Service with a smile, that’s us. Now hurry up, there’s a lovely boy. We’ve only got ten minutes.’
    In the circumstances, I couldn’t be expected to give of my best, was not really able to savour to the full the delights she had to offer. I worked away manfully, covering her with kisses as I warmed to my work.
    At one point, gazing up beyond my shoulder, she said calmly, ‘That bloody ceiling’s going to fall in one of these days. I really must have a word with Carter about it.’ A remark which was hardly calculated to help one give of one’s best.
    As I finished, she kissed me fiercely and started to stimulate herself quite vigorously with the middle finger of her right hand, reaching a climax with remarkable speed.
    ‘Oh, that was lovely.’ She gave a great, shuddering sigh and smiled up at me. ‘Don’t be downhearted, Oliver. You might bring me off yet, though you’ll be the first bloke to manage it if you do.’
    I