Episode 13.
In Which Alice Takes to Religion and Pete
Takes to Drugs and Common Girls With Terrible Consequences.
Alice lay in bed, listening as her mother’s footsteps died away and were at last silenced behind a closed door. She then got out of bed and sat on the wide, white windowsill, looking out at the night. The sky was filled with scurrying clouds running before the moaning wind which had risen suddenly. The half moon broke free occasionally from behind the shadowed grey curtain; shedding its sad silver light over the sleeping world. She leaned her throbbing head against the wall and then suddenly her body racked with sobs until she bent over double trying to erase the pain in herself. She slid to the floor and lay there gasping for breath in between each sob, which seemed to be torn from her very soul. After a while she dragged herself to her knees with her elbows resting on the windowsill and her hands clenched together. She had to pray, it was all she could do. From habit she had gabbled quick words of prayer since a child, but these were hurried, unimportant words before she went to sleep.
"Please bless Pete and my family and keep peace in the world. Amen"
Now she knelt on the floor, barely able to speak for the huge lump in her throat, the tears big and wet splashing freely onto her hands. She looked up into the sky and the moon sailed from behind one of the malignant clouds.
"Jesus," she whispered brokenly. "I don’t know how ….. I don’t go to church ……….. I’m not good, but please, oh please help me, please, please." She put her head down to her hands, incoherently tumbling out the imploring words. "They can’t, oh Jesus help ….. I can’t bear it, please please help us, help us."
How long she stayed there she did not know – a minute? A century? When at last she returned to her lonely bed she longed for Pete with such intensity that she felt sure she would burst into flames. She folded her arms tightly around her body and squeezed to try and ease the fire but it was no good. She moaned gently into the pillow.
"Pete, my Pete how good it would be if you were here now," she murmured. Eventually sleep came to her restless young body bringing strange realistic dreams with it.
***
Pete had not been thrown out, although he had had a furious row with his father. His mother had stuck up for him and so in the end he was allowed to stay. He sat in his room moody and silent for over an hour. He could not lie on his bed. He would go mad with longing for Alice with her fresh eager body beside him, beneath him – "Oh God I must stop this" he thought wildly. He got up from the bed and silently left the house. He walked quickly through the streets until he reached The Ace, an all-night club which the Mods of Gloucester regularly haunted. He went inside and saw Miff, George and other friends."Hello you bloody prat," shouted Miff in a friendly way. Pete’s face set into a smile.
The night passed on. He briefly told them his story whilst they bought him drink after drink. Then George put his hand into his pocket and drew out a small insignificant looking bottle. He looked cautiously around him.
"Shilling each," he stated quietly.
"What are they – Blues?"
"Where d’yah get ‘em?"
"Yeah, French Blues, never mind where I got ‘em. Do you want them or not?"
"Yeah," they all chorused.
Pete looked at the little pills. He had taken some before, a long long time ago, before his time with Alice. They had made him feel great. Would it get rid of this terrible aching unhappiness. Impulsively he gave George a couple of shillings and took the pills.
****
Pete woke up. He felt sick and stupid. Where the bloody hell was he? He looked around in the dim morning light but the sight did not tell him anything. He was in bed in a small room, with damp, peeling wallpaper on the walls. A bare electric light bulb hung from the ceiling and around it a small cloud of flies were circling lazily. The floor was covered with old brown linoleum and a stale, greasy smell of fat hung in the air. The one window was small and high up, partially covered by a drooping piece of dingy lace. Suddenly to his horror he realised that there was someone in the bed beside him. He looked slowly down at the girl lying there. She was sleeping, snoring slightly with her mouth open revealing her yellowing teeth. Her hair was long and yellow, showing a couple of inches of dark roots. She appeared to be naked and clusters of love bites clung to her neck and large breasts. For a moment he was uncomprehending, his thoughts jumbled in his head. He couldn’t remember a thing since he had met his friends up the Ace. Drinks, yes he remembered lots of drinks, but there was something else. He racked his aching brain until suddenly it came to him – the pills, those horrible little round pills had done this to him. Somehow he had ended up in bed with this slut.
"God!" he muttered "Oh my God! Alice what have I done?"
He felt a movement beside him, her mascara smudged eyes slowly opened. She smiled at him.
"Sleep well babe?" she drawled in a common, cheap voice.
"Where are my clothes?" he demanded angrily. "How the fuck did I get here?"
"Hey, what you on about lover boy? You don’t need yer clothes. Come back here to your little sweetie pie." Her flabby white arms reached for him.
He instinctively hit out at her arms to keep her from touching him and she screamed and swore at him.
"You fucking whore!" he shouted. "Get your disgusting body away from me. Do you think you can compare with her? With my Alice? Christ, if I’ve caught anything off you, I’ll kill you, you dirty bitch. I was mad last night – completely insane to go with a thing like you…….."
She screamed back at him.
"You liked me enough last night you bastard, couldn’t get enough of me! Where d’ya think all these came from?" She gestured towards all the love bites. "You said you loved me, kept saying you…….."
"Loved you?" he broke in, laughing viciously. "Loved you? I was drunk, stoned out of my head on pills so I didn’t notice your ugly face, your flabby skin, your foul body. Christ forgive me! I love the sweetest girl in England – in the world. She’s a real blond, not out of a bottle and she saved her love for me. I was the first boy to have her and I’ll be the last. She’s not a fucking prostitute, a filthy, dirty whore. She’s beautiful and kind and gentle and I pray to God she will forgive me for this, for going near a slut like you." His voice broke. "Oh Christ Alice, please forgive me……" He turned to the girl beside him.
"Get my clothes together now you bitch, get them now."
She crawled hurriedly out of the grubby, stained sheets. Pete was almost physically sick as he watched her overweight body lumber heavily around the room gathering up his clothes. The pain he felt inside for doing this terrible thing to Alice was far worse than the pain in his aching, bewildered head.
Minutes later he staggered from the stale smelling room into the clean, fresh air, which slowly cleared his head. He went home and had a hot deep bath to try to wash the dirt away. He felt soiled and used like some victim of rape. But it was all his own doing he realised, the girl had not really been to blame. The guilt weighed heavily down upon him. Somehow he would have to tell Alice what had happened so that she could forgive him and clear this terrible feeling away. He got out of the bath, dressed in clean clothes and sat down to write to her.
