Read Online Love in the Years of Lunacy by Mandy Sayer - Free Book Online

you boys are starved for company and good food,’ she said. ‘And believe me, we certainly appreciate the fine job you’re doing here.’
    Aub salted his food, picked up a single pea and ate it, then shook more salt over his plate.
    â€˜I’m a song and dance girl!’ Clara announced unexpectedly. Pearl realised her mother was swaying now. Clara rarely drank, and the punch must have gone straight to her head.
    James glanced at Clara warily. His shoulders were taut as he leaned forward to spoon some cauliflower onto his plate.
    â€˜I also play the drums and cornet,’ she added.
    James straightened in his chair and held his glass up to her. ‘A renaissance woman,’ he said, his accent bending the vowels.
    â€˜No, I’m a Catholic!’ she chirped. ‘Father Jim here baptised me. And the kids, too.’
    The priest gave a little self-deprecating shrug of his shoulders as he sawed away at his dry chicken leg.
    â€˜I just hope he lives long enough to marry them,’ Clara said. ‘Not to each other, of course.’
    Aub cleared his throat and asked James where he hailed from.
    â€˜The South!’ Pearl volunteered eagerly.
    â€˜Not far from New Orleans,’ added James, pronouncing it Noo Awlins .
    â€˜Mother comes from New Orleans,’ chimed Clara.
    Lulu smiled back serenely, as if she had heard every word. It was difficult to be sure how much she could still understand. Sometimes she nodded at a question or shook her head when she possibly disagreed with somebody’s comment. However the doctor believed the head movements were coincidental rather than genuine responses to auditory stimuli.
    Soon the punch and the wine were having the desired effect: the chicken didn’t taste so burnt, the cabbage was not so soggy, and the peas didn’t seem as dry. The gramophone crackled with Aubrey’s favourite records from the vaudeville days.
    Everyone was more than tipsy by the time the table was cleared. While the women scraped plates and placed leftovers in the icebox, the men sat in the parlour, sampling the Javanese cigarettes that Martin had bought on the black market. The room was soon filled with aromatic plumes of smoke, redolent of cloves and other spices.
    Pearl, feeling that James was ignoring her, sashayed unsteadily across the room and dropped onto his lap. Father Jim, staring at them, began coughing. Aubrey let out a long whistle, pretending to be shocked.
    â€˜Enough of that!’ cried Clara.
    James nudged Pearl off his lap and she suddenly felt silly. She had been trying to act worldly and had looked childish instead.
    James picked up his gift from the sideboard and handed it to her. She pulled on the blue ribbon and unwrapped the plain brown paper. Pearl knew, of course, that it would be a record, but when she saw the label she was so thrilled she wanted to throw her arms around him, but merely squeezed his arm. It was a phonograph recording of Sonny Clay’s Colored Idea.
    She turned to her father. ‘Remember when you took us to see Sonny Clay at the Tiv?’
    Aub nodded.
    Martin took the record from Pearl. ‘That was a hot band. I mean, really hot.’ He turned to James. ‘And Aub reckons that when they came onstage, Pearl burst into tears. She was terrified.’
    â€˜Why?’ asked James.
    â€˜It was the first time we’d ever seen Negroes,’ said Martin.
    James shifted his gaze to Pearl, frowning.
    â€˜I was only a little kid,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Once they started playing, I stopped crying.’
    James shook his head briefly, but said nothing. ‘They even had tap dancers in the troupe,’ she added, to no one in particular.
    Martin slipped the record from its camel-coloured sleeve and dropped it on the turntable. ‘For weeks after that,’ she added, ‘Martin, Charlie Styles, and I nailed bottle tops to the soles of our shoes and tried to imitate them.