1933 Dance.

two girls and the dance in 1933.

Winnie Clay walks across the yard from her house and leans against the wooden fence staring out at the fields beyond. She is a small built girl of fifteen, with mousey-coloured hair drawn back in an untidy bunch at the back. She rests her left foot on one of the wooden rails of the fence and leans her arms out across the top panel as if she were being crucified. Approaching her from across the field is her neighbour’s daughter, Cathy Brook. She is a tall thin girl aged fifteen, who has dark-brown hair cropped short and a squint look about her eyes. Winnie waits until Cathy is close enough to hear her and then says, “Thought you weren’t coming over today.”

“Had to get away, they’re driving me mad with their arguing and such,” Cathy says resting her body against the fence next to Winnie.

“What they arguing about?” Winnie asks.

“God knows, didn’t wait to find out,” Cathy replies looking back towards Winnie’s house. “How’d you get on? Did your daddy find out about you and Judd?”

Winnie searches in her dress pocket, takes out a small tin, and opens it up. “Guess he did,” she says, opening the tin and taking out a pinch of tobacco.

“Did he get mad?” Cathy asks, watching Winnie’s fingers move the tobacco in between a thin white cigarette paper and begin to roll it between her thin fingers.

“Guess he did,” Winnie says, her eyes on the paper in her fingers.

“Guess so? Don’t you know so?” Cathy asks.

Winnie licks the paper and puts away the tin of tobacco. She puts the cigarette between her lips and searches in her dress pocket for matches. “Damn, left the matches behind,” she mutters. “You got any matches?”

“What’d I do with matches? You’re the one with the tobacco,” Cathy says, searching in her dress pockets nonetheless, out of habit. “Hang on a minute,” she fiddles about for a second or two. “Got this.” She holds up and bent single red-headed match in her fingers.

Winnie takes it, dashes it against the wooden fence, and watches as the match flares up suddenly like a firework. She lights her cigarette quickly and takes a large intake of breath. She looks at Cathy or a few seconds taking in the tall frame and thin body with the bare outline of breasts.

“If I didn’t have this ciggie, I’d need something stronger to get me through the dammed day,” Winnie mutters after a long pull on the cigarette. “Want a pull on it?” She offers Cathy the cigarette who takes it and inhales timidly.

“What’d the daddy say?” Cathy asks handing back the cigarette.

“He wasn’t any too pleased,” Winnie says.

“I heard said he took a switch to ya,” Cathy says, looking at Winnie with her squinty eyes.

“Where’d ya hear that?” Winnie asks, holding the cigarette between her fingers.

“Ma. Heard it from your brother Jake.”

Winnie shrugs her shoulders. She looks back at the house and stares absent-mindedly for a few moments. “If he’d got hold of Judd he’d have battered him senseless,” Winnie states.

“Will yer see Judd again?” Cathy asks.

“If he wants to venture up here again, I will,” Winnie says looking at the cigarette in between her fingers.

“And will he?” Cathy asks. Her eyes squinting up at the sun.

“Not if he’s got any sense, he won’t.” Winnie takes a long drag on the cigarette.

“Are you going to the Dance on Saturday?” Cathy asks, lowering her eyes to Winnie.

“I’m pretty much grounded here.” Winnie states. “Daddy says I’m to stay put. Can’t go nowhere unless he says so.”

“Sure he’ll let you go to the Dance,” Cathy says, “we always go to the Dance.”

Winnie shrugs her shoulders. “Can’t say. Have to see what he says.”

“Bet your brother Jake goes. Him and that Mary Hood. They seem quite close these days,” Cathy states.

“Close as flies to dung they are,” Winnie says pinching the cigarette tight between her fingers.

“What’d yer Ma says about it all?” Cathy asks, watching Winnie squash the cigarette butt into a small ball and toss it in to the long grass.

“Says nothing. She never does say anything against Dad’s wishes. I’m wondering if she’s got a tongue of her own. Stands there staring like some damned statue in a museum.”

“Can’t yer sneak out after?” Cathy asks in a whisper as if there might be ears about them.

“Have to see,” Winnie says. “He might change his mind about it, but I doubt he will. He never changes his damned mind about anything. Takes courage to change your mind after you’ve made it up. He might take a switch to me. But he don’t argue none with men about town.”

“Maybe Judd’ll come for yer?” Cathy suggests.

“And maybe he won’t. More likely he won’t.”

“I’d come for yer. I’d come if you want me to,” Cathy says.

“People might tell Daddy and that’d be it. I’d be in real trouble then.”

“Maybe if you asked him real nicely he might,” Cathy says softly.

“He’d not notice if I asked him nicely or not. The man’s pig ignorant when he wants to be. I could go on bended knee and beg and he’d still say no,” Winnie says.

“Surely he’d let you go with me,” Cathy says. “If I asked him he might.”

“He don’t trust you anymore than he does me,” Winnie informs.

“Well damn his backside to hell, then,” Cathy says angrily. Winnie sniggers. Cathy pulls a long face and looks back at the house. There are a few minutes of silence. Cathy walks away from the fence and kicks at the grass with her dull black shoes. Winnie watches her leaning against the fence lazily. “You’ve gotta come, Winnie. I hate it when you’re not there.”

“What you want me to be beat to death?” Winnie says. “If he finds I’ve been out without his permission I’m as good as dead.”

“Come on, you only live once,” Cathy says, stopping and staring at Winnie with her squint.

“And die once, too,” Winnie says.

“Better to have died for a good cause than die of old age smelling of pee,” Cathy drawls. “My gran smelt of pee all the damned time and nigh made me want to vomit all over her.”

“I can’t promise anything yet,” Winnie says. Stretching out her arms along the fence and giving Cathy along cool stare.

“If I was that Judd you’d promise.”

“I promise nothing to anyone. If I can get out, I will.” Winnie looks at Cathy’s torn dress and at the sight of her thigh through a hole. “I hope you’re going to wear something better than that there dress.”

“Sure I will. Gonna wear one of my sister’s dresses.”

“Won’t she mind?” Winnie says, looking at the sight of Cathy’s thigh through the hole.

“Not if she don’t know she won’t,” Cathy says with a smile.

“You gonna steal one of your sister’s dresses?” Winnie says with a frown.

“Borrow’s the word,” Cathy drawls squinting at Winnie. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“I ain’t got no sister to borrow from.” Winnie sighs and looks out across the field. “As you know my little sister died drowned when she was four years old. Ma never quite got over that. Kind of touched her mind a bit.”

“I remember that.” Cathy puts out a hand to Winnie’s arm and taps it.

“Daddy found her. She wandered off and fell in the stream back there.” Both girls look at each other.

“Ma said you were the one they blamed,” Cathy says.

“Yea. They blamed me, but I never knew she’d got out. Jake was older than I was and he was about the farm and ought to have seen her. However, they blamed me. Always me. Good old Winnie gets it in the neck all the time.”

“To hell, with them,” Cathy drawls. You’re gonna come to the Dance. You gonna have yourself a damned good time and live to remember it when you’re old and smell of pee.” Both girls laugh shyly. Winnie sighs and looks back at the house again.

“Who you gonna dance with?” Winnie asks after a few minutes.

“You, of course. Ain’t letting no fellar get his damned paws over me.”

“What about Ernie Harp, he seems to take a shine to yer?” Winnie asks.

“Ernie Sharp can go hang himself.”

“What about Clint Whiteman? He has a certain way with him.”

“So does a dogs with fleas.”

“Tom Hanker? He’s all right. Got that tall, slim build and that moustache he’s grown since Christmas,” Winnie suggests with a smile.

“If you think I’m gonna let that hairy moustache tickle my cheeks you can think again, Winnie Clay.” Cathy squints at Winnie leaning against the fence like a crucified Christ. “Won’t you dance with me?”

“Sure, if I go. Can’t say I will at the moment.” Winnie catches Cathy squint. “Just because your daddy lets you go places, don’t mean mine will. In fact, I’m sure he won’t. Not after Judd and me.”

“So what happened with you and Judd?” Cathy asks coolly.

“Nothing much. He tried things but I wouldn’t let him. He didn’t like it and got all moody about it. Then Jake saw us by the barn, put one and one together, and came up with four. Never could count the stupid git.”

“And he told on yer?”

“Must have. Daddy wouldn’t have known otherwise. And I was switched for nothing. Damned all happened, but he didn’t want to know. And I couldn’t very well get Judd to tell him that could I.” Winnie spits into the grass.

“You’re coming to the dance with or without your daddy’s permission, Winnie Clay, or I’ll never speak to yer again,” Cathy drawls.

“Then what do I do? Get myself in real trouble?” Winnie kicks at the grass.

“If you’re with me he can’t say much can he?”

“I can’t go if he don’t let me,” Winnie says weakly.

“Try. For me,” Cathy asks.

“I’ll try,” Winnie replies. Cathy nods and smiles.

“I’ll be waiting for yer. By the barn.” Cathy moves towards Winnie and kisses her cheek. Then she wanders back across the field and Winnie watches her go, her right hand touching her cheek as if she’d been blessed.

***********************************

Cathy and Winnie rest against the barn wall trying to catch their breath. They had been running to get back before the dark came too strong.

“Glad you came?” Cathy asks.

Winnie takes a deep breath. “Sure am. Never known such a night.”

“That Judd gave you the cold shoulder all through the dance. Guess he must have got the message," Cathy says. She squints at Winnie beside her.

“Damned if I care about him. More females than men anyway. That Mrs Glyde was dancing with what few men there were. Those that did turn up stood like corpses around the wall,” Winnie says putting her right hand to her neck.

Cathy squints up at the moon, then turns to Winnie, and stares at her in silence. Winnie moves her hand from her neck and moves it out to touch Cathy’s hair. They stand and stare at each other and hear nothing except their hearts beating close like two small drums beating in time with one another. Cathy leans towards Winnie and kisses her lips. Winnie doesn’t move. Her lips are sealed and she closes her eyes against the moon’s light and the night sky. After a few minutes, they move apart and stand looking at each other.

“What’s happened to us?” Winnie asks leaning against the barn’s wooden wall.

“Don’t ask. Things happen which it is best not to ask questions over,” Cathy whispers to the night.

“Never kissed a girl before.”

“What’s the difference? A kiss is a kiss, no matter who gives it or receives it. It’s the reason for the kiss that matters,” Cathy says.

“And what’s the reason?” Winnie asks, looking at Cathy as if for the first time.

“Didn’t you want to?”

“Yea,” Winnie says, not thinking about her words, not caring what she’d said. “Guess it was good. Kind of felt nice.” After a few moments looking at Cathy, she kisses her nervously on the lips. The moon shines. The night air chills.

“What’s that?” Cathy asks, breaking from Winnie’s embrace.

Both girls stand apart and listen. A shadowy figure comes out from the barn. Winnie’s father stands there staring at the girls with a thin rod in his hand.

“Guessed you’d gone out with her,” he says, his voice rough as the barn wall. “Told yer you’d not to go. Told yer clear as daylight and you chose to disobey.” He moves closer to the girls and swings the rod through the night air. “You’d best get home, Cathy Brook and stay away from my daughter if you know what’s good for yer.”

“I’m going nowhere,” Cathy states coldly. She stands in front of Winnie like a protecting hound.

“I said get,” Winnie’s father says, pushing Cathy away from Winnie. Cathy falls to the ground and Winnie pushes herself against the barn’s wall. “You’ll learn someday, girl,” her father says. He raise the rod and is about to bring it down on Winnie when he suddenly stands still as if he’d remembered something and looks kind of vacant as if it had gone again. He clutches at his side and drops the rod. Blood drips from his head and over his face and into his eyes. He staggers for a moment or two as if he were undecided about his next move like a dancer learning new steps, then he falls to the ground with a soft thud.

Winnie watches as if it was all a dream. Her eyes stare at the dark shape of her father on the grass. Then Cathy stands before her holding a large piece of wood in her hands.

“What yer done?” Winnie asks, standing with her back against the wall.

“I couldn’t let him touch yer. I just grabbed something and hit him,” Cathy says. Both girls lean down by Winnie’s father on the ground.

“Is he dead?” Winnie asks clutching at Cathy’s arm.

Cathy touches the body of Mr Clay and feels for a pulse or heartbeat.

“Well? Is he dead?” Winnie asks urgently, squeezing Cathy’s arm even more.

“Yea,” Cathy drawls. “Dead as the proverbial Dodo.”

“What we gonna do?” Winnie asks tearfully.

“How far’s the ravine?” Cathy asks brooding by the body.

“Down over there beyond those trees,” Winnie says.

“Let’s move him over there and drop him over,” Cathy suggests quietly.

“Drop him over?” Winnie repeats tearfully.

“What do you suggest? We call the law and get me arrested for murder?” Cathy asks looking at Winnie.

“What’d Ma say?” Winnie asks herself.

“Come on, Winnie, we can’t hang around here all night wondering about it. We got make the move now,” Cathy says firmly.

Winnie looks at Cathy and then at her father’s body. “Can we lift him?”

“Sure we can if we try,” Cathy says. Winnie moves away from the wall and kneels down next to Cathy and the body.

Cathy puts her arms under Mr Clays’ arms and Winnie takes the legs. They lift carefully and stand unsteady, but the body is too heavy for them and they drop it to the ground.

“We’ll have to drag him over,” Cathy says.

“Right over there?” Winnie asks numbly.

“Well he can’t take himself,” Cathy says. She grabs a leg and offers the other to Winnie. “Come on. Together we can get him there.”

After a couple of minutes trying various holds, they begin to drag the body along the grass. The damp grass makes the movement easier than they had thought. The moon shines down on them and their shadowy movement seems like a strange dance in the night air.

“Nearly there,” Cathy whispers after five minutes of hauling the body across the grass.

“What do I tell Ma?” Winnie asks, pausing to look around her.

“Say nothing. Pretend you know nothing. It’s the only way," Cathy says. They walk on dragging Mr Clay behind them. After a pause to look over the edge of the ravine, they turn and look at each other.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Winnie whimpers. She stares at Cathy beside her. “When will he be found?” she asks.

“What’s it matter. They’ll think he fell over in the dark,” Cathy says.

“He’s my daddy.”

“He never cared for you, why care about him now?” Cathy says coldly.

“But just to drop him over the edge seems kind of cruel.”

“He won’t feel a thing.” Cathy squints at Winnie.

“Won’t they think he mighta been killed?” Winnie asks wiping her eyes.

“Oh, he’s been killed all right,” Cathy drawls slowly. “But none knows by who or why.” They lift the body the last few paces and drop the body over. They listen to the sound of thuds as the body hits now and again. Then all is silent. They look over but see nothing in the darkness below.

Slowly they walk back to the barn hand in hand. The moonlight is the dumb witness to the strange dance of death and the kissing lips of the dancing girls.