The Way Out by Vicki Jarrett Read Free Book Online Page B

loved it though, got all giggly and excited. She busied herself rummaging in her handbag. Colin went off to look for a more receptive audience and the shutters rattled up.
    Up in the balcony, the usual crew were installed at their table. Dora laid down the tray with their order of drinks and crisps.
    â€˜Nice one, Dora,’ said Jim, taking a deep pull on his pint and sitting back in his chair. He’d get himself a sly whisky at the bar later when it was his round and Mary would pretend to be none the wiser. Mary and Jim were good at being married. They had a natural ability, the way some folk were good at singing or dancing. It was a gift. The way they accommodated each other reminded Dora of a kind of old-fashioned waltz, each of them anticipating the other’s moves. There was a grace about them that couldn’t be hidden by any amount of brown cardigans or puffy ankles.
    Alec was there too. Mary and Jim’s grown-up son wasn’t quite all there in the head. Poor soul. His lips were always wet and his clothes, although clean, looked like they’d been corkscrewed onto his body. Sometimes he would get agitated and start shouting and Mary had to miss her game to take him out of the hall until he calmed down. A lot of folk tutted at her for even bringing him. But what was she supposed to do? He might be a grown man, but she couldn’t leave him on his own at home.
    Dora handed Alec his lemonade and watched as he settled to sucking on his straw, eyes slightly out of focus, completely contented, like a baby with a bottle.
    â€˜Has she phoned then?’ asked Mary, through a mouthful of cheese & onion crisps.
    â€˜No, not this week. She’ll be busy. The time difference, and her working shifts, it’s hard for her to find a good time. Doesn’t want to wake me up in the wee hours just for a chat.’ Angela was a nurse and worked hard at it. She’d always been a caring girl, always wanted to help others. Dora pictured her cycling to work in the Australian sunshine, barbecuing dinner on thebeach, poised on a surfboard at the crest of a wave, her black hair streaming out behind her like a banner. No wonder she didn’t have time to phone. Dora understood. Like the song said, if you loved someone, set them free.
    She poured half of her bottle of stout into a glass, arranged her books on the table and tested her dabber on a scrap of paper, making a trail of red dots.
    The first games of the night passed without so much as a line for any of them. Dora waved away Jim’s protestations that it was his round and hurried back down to the bar, eager to beat the break-time rush. She felt restless this evening and wanted to be doing something. She passed Jim in the press of the crowd streaming down the stairs on her way back up, no doubt using a pretend trip to the toilet as cover for his quick whisky. At the table, Mary was trying to pacify Alec who’d got himself in a bit of a state. He was hunched over, making a mournful keening sound that made something clench and twist in Dora’s chest.
    â€˜I’ll just take him for a walk around the bandits,’ said Mary. She chivvied Alec, who was a good foot taller than her, out from his seat and led him by the elbow towards the stairs.
    Dora sat on her own and looked out over what had once been a dance floor, back before everyone had televisions and computers to keep them busy. There had been a revolving stage on a massive turntable at the far end. When one band finished their set, the whole thing would revolve, and a fresh band would strike up the next number as they swung into view. Non-stop dancing. That was the Palais’ claim to fame and a lot of folk took to it like it was an order, staying on the floor for hours, sweating and spinning till they couldn’t walk or think in a straight line.
    The polished boards were now covered by a greasy carpet with a geometric design, the space filled with rows ofFormica tables and