created a warm tropical ambience as we danced to the live band. The male vocalist, who many years on became world famous, sang the popular songs of that time adding to the dreamy atmosphere. A huge mirrored ball hung from the ceiling and twirled around as we danced.
The dance finished at midnight, then my friends and I walked home together, picking up fish and chips to eat on the way. As we walked to our respective homes we laughed, recalling the events of the evening. Then one by one we would disappear down our streets shouting out our ‘goodbyes’. Years later I came across couples who’d met at these dances and had gone on to ‘wedded bliss’. That dance hall holds a lot of happy memories.
My overprotective stepdad, Stan, always wanted me to catch the last bus at eleven o’clock. Mum wasn’t too bothered, but Stan always carried on and made a huge fuss over it, spoiling my night. I tried to explain that if I was to go home early I would miss out on reminiscing about the wonderful night with my friends. I also pointed out that I was safer with my friends than on a bus with the drunks. I didn’t care what Stan said, the walk home with my friends was always worth it, no matter how much trouble I was in the next day. I had no intention of doing anything different. He didn’t have a good enough reason for me not to come home with my friends. He seemed to simply enjoy controlling me. Perhaps it was jealousy. All I remember is that I seemed to irritate him somehow and he never liked me. The feeling was mutual.
Every Monday night was cinema night. There was always a huge queue because it was the premiere night for the upcoming film. Most times some people would miss half the film because it took so long to get inside. If there was a film I really wanted to see I waited until the end of the week to see it. I would go straight from work, catching the bus into town. On the way I ate the sandwiches I’d made the night before. They kept me going until I got home later that night. After the movie I hurried across to the other side of town where the last bus was waiting to go.
The films were always fantastic. The movies starring Doris Day, Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and the beautiful Elizabeth Taylor were always very entertaining. I also enjoyed the many drama films starring Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwick, and of course the musicals.
The cinema’s decor was exquisite. All the seating was dark red crushed velvet. Floor length satin curtains on each side of the screen were lit up by floodlighting which changed the curtains’ colour. An organ rose up from a pit below stage level and the organist would entertain the audience while we waited for the movie to begin, often playing melodies that related in some way to the movie that was coming up. While the music played and the lights changed from one colour to another, people would still be entering the cinema. Everyone was shown to their seats by an usherette with a large torch to lead you down the steps. All the courting couples sat in the back row where they could have a kiss and cuddle. I was always more interested in the film. At last the curtains opened, the lights went down and the film started.
Wednesday evenings, I went dancing at the local Working Men’s Club with some of the girls from work. It was nearer to home and finished at eleven, and we could walk home in less than ten minutes. I enjoyed dancing but was restricted to how many times I went because of my controlling stepfather. I stopped going to the Palais because of the rows at home. I then started going to the Working Men’s Club on Saturdays with my mum and Stan, at their request. Older men stared at me after they’d had too much to drink. I felt degraded. Then one night a young man asked me to dance and we ended up dancing all night. He seemed okay compared to some of the other men in the club. He was twenty-one and I was only sixteen and a half.
Once my parents saw that this lad was interested in me, they stopped coming every week and I seemed to be stuck with him. He eventually asked me out on a date. My parents thought it was great, but all I thought about was the Palais de Dance and how much I was missing my friends. To keep my parents happy I kept going out with him and eventually he became my regular boyfriend. As time went on, I met his mum and the rest of his family. They lived in the same estate, not too far away from us. His name was Ben.
Chapter 7
Ben’s family seemed friendly but there was something about them that I just didn’t feel comfortable with. I believe I simply didn’t trust them. They were just too friendly, too soon. Of course, my family liked Ben. He could not do wrong in their eyes.
‘You should be grateful to be going out with such a nice young man’, I was told constantly.
Our relationship was getting to the stage where Ben was calling around to my house a great deal. He would visit on Sunday afternoons, chatting away to Mum and Stan, and would often stay for tea. It felt like Ben was always around.
After six months of seeing one another, Ben started dropping me off at my gate. I tried to keep talking so as to avoid the goodnight kiss. I was not at all keen about having a boyfriend because I knew boys liked to kiss. I felt like that’s what I was supposed to do, but I could not understand why I didn’t like the kissing. I just didn’t feel ready. Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid the inevitable and as we kissed I felt Stan watching from inside the house. He wanted me out and was hoping to marry me off as soon as he possibly could. Mum was also happy about me being in a relationship. I just felt very awkward on top of feeling very cold standing outside. Finally, I would manage to get indoors to the warm fire leaving Ben to walk home. The coming home and saying goodnight at the gate became serious. His kissing was getting heavy and I really did not like it. Having a boyfriend was supposed to be a part of growing up and the other girls I knew enjoyed kissing. All I knew is that I did not. And I didn’t particularly like Ben as a person, but I thought that perhaps in time my attitude may change. I was not aware of what was to come.
As time went on I began to feel more uncomfortable with Ben and noticed he became moody and awkward. So to keep him in a pleasant mood I agreed with him on most things but I felt very confused. Incidentally, I never saw my girlfriends anymore. I missed my dancing at the Palais and my cinema nights. All Ben and I did was go to the Working Men’s Club with his friends and drink beer. I did not like Ben’s friends at all. They were loud-mouthed and whispered things about me to him. I felt hurt that Ben would never stick up for me. He just laughed along with them. I lost all of my confidence and felt very insecure. Ben and his friends all had motorbikes and on the odd nights he did not see me, he went out with them. I stayed at home feeling very lonely.
We didn’t go to Ben’s house very often. I had always tried to make excuses not to visit them, but on one occasion all the family were there and I actually had a lovely time. I felt guilty afterwards for feeling like I had in the past. It must have been my imagination. Yes, maybe they were a nice family after all.
One night shortly after this, we went back early to Ben’s house for a change instead of mine. I was looking forward to seeing his family again but they had all gone out and left a note saying, ‘Will be back later’. Much to my dismay I had no desire to be alone with Ben nor did I want to encourage him. Of course, he seized the opportunity and started kissing me. I tried to stop him by changing the subject. I talked about the photographs around the room.
‘Who is that?’ I asked, and ‘When was this one taken?’
‘What a lovely picture. Where are you in this one?’ But he was not listening. He just forced his unwanted kisses on me. I pleaded with him to stop, but to no avail. The situation got out of hand very quickly. I tried fighting him off but my efforts were useless. There was no way I could stop him...
The rest of my frightening ordeal is still a chaos of blurred memories. I’m not sure how long it really went on for but thankfully for me now it seems it was only seconds before I managed to break free. Embarrassed and distraught, I left the house without a word and walked the short distance home. Thankfully, my parents had gone to bed so there were no questions to answer. I had a bath, went to bed and cried myself to sleep. There was no way I could face him again. I stayed at home except to go to work.
A couple of months went by and I began feeling unwell, plus my period was late. I made excuses to myself but my gut was telling me something else. I searched desperately for any reason rather than