Memoirs of a Dance Hall Romeo by Jack Higgins Page B

was too astonished to reply. In the middle distance the bell started to ring. ‘Ah, well, back to the salt mines.’
    She stood up and wriggled into her shorts, the most maddeningly attractive woman I had ever known and the most untouchable.
    ‘Of course, I am rather taking it for granted that you do want more?’
    She moved very close and peered into my eyes as if she was trying to see what was going on inside, and then she smiled. ‘I wonder what the top class would think if they knew what we’ve been doing?’
    I turned and ran as if all the devils in hell were at my heels.
    Of course, it was easily explained in psychological terms. She had this enormous power over men and enjoyed taking advantage of it, and in a sense the enjoyment was enhanced because of her own invulnerability. Because none of them could actually get through to her.
    I took the whole problem to Jake, who didn’t seem to find it in any way surprising. ‘I don’t know what you’re grumbling about,’ he said. They’re all different, that’s what makes them so bloody marvellous. Variety, after all, is the spice of life.’
    ‘It’s all right for you to talk,’ I said, ‘but it’s damn frustrating, I can tell you, working away like a bloody great steam hammer with no apparent result.’
    ‘That’s the trouble with male ego. Hellbent on orgasm.’
    It was a fine, fresh evening, the first hint of a winter chill in the air, the moon caught in the branches of the trees on the far side of the park. Jake leaned on the sill of the open window and inhaled deeply, with obvious pleasure.
    ‘Come on,’ I said impatiently. What do I do?’
    ‘ She, while her lover pants upon her breast, Can mark the figures on an Indian chest. ’ He turned, grinning. ‘Alexander Pope. I think he summed the whole thing up admirably.’
    ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ I demanded.
    ‘It seems you either like it or lump it.’ Another fine old Yorkshire saying. ‘On the other hand, you can always look elsewhere. In that case, be sure to leave me her address!’
    But that, of course, was the last thing I intended to do.
    The following Tuesday, I persuaded Imogene to go to the Trocadero with me. She looked absolutely superb in a dark red dress of some kind of silk material, belted tightly at the waist, with a long, flowing multi-pleated skirt that swirled out in great undulating circles on the turns in the quicksteps.
    She was by far the best-looking girl in the room and attracted considerable attention. In the general excuse-me dances I lost her on several occasions, which hardly pleased me. However, one had to accept with as good a grace as possible.
    When she returned after one such dance, she kissed me carelessly on the cheek and slipped a hand through my arm. ‘I’ve had enough of this place, Oliver. Where can we go now?’
    I was surprised for it was only nine o’clock. ‘Are you sure?’
    She nodded. ‘I’ve never really cared for dancing. A little goes a long way with me.’
    It was cold outside, but not too cold, a touch of frost in the air, and Christmas not much more than a week away. I suggested a drink at The Tall Man, but she shook her head and we kept on walking in the general direction of Ladywood Park, for she lived no more than a mile from me.
    There was a full moon, and the playing fields, touched with hoar frost, seemed to stretch before us into infinity. On the far left of us my old school looked as if it had been cut out of black paper. Imogene tossed her handbag to me and executed two perfect cartwheels, one after the other. She turned, flinging her arms wide, an ecstatic smile on her face.
    ‘It’s a night for adventure, Oliver.’
    I nodded towards the old Alma Mater. ‘I know just what you mean. I’ve had a few over there myself on nights like this.’
    She glanced across the field at those dark buildings. ‘School? You’ve got to be joking.’
    I shook my head. ‘No, it’s true enough. When I was in my teens a crowd