It is February 1952. I am with friends at Jim's place when we hear the news that King George VI has died. Jim's mother who loves the Royal Family is in floods of tears. She brings us a plate of ham and pickle sandwiches then hurries off to mourn with her British neighbours. We listen to solemn BBC radio voices telling us how sad this is for everyone in the British Commonwealth.
Our lives have changed twice in a few weeks. Our school days ended before Christmas and now our King is dead. It seems our party is dead too. Jim and his friend Mervyn whisper seriously in a corner. A dark-haired boy I have not met before keeps looking across at me. We're all very subdued until my sister Phil leaps up and starts dancing around the room while singing in an opera singer voice:
A party's not a funeral
Just cos the King is dead
So let's get in a party mood
And have some fun instead.
It's like she's let off fireworks. Everyone starts laughing and kidding around. Jim gets a bottle of Pimms from the cocktail cabinet and mixes us drinks. He tunes the radio to music and we dance: Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene, I'll see you in my dreams.
Goodnight King George sings Phil and she slips off to be with Robert, her boyfriend who our parents have forbidden her to see. Dad says she's too young, Mum says he's not suitable. She thinks Jim is suitable for me as we are both in the church tennis club. I like being with Jim but sometimes wish I had a boyfriend who would cuddle and kiss me in the park, someone less harmless.
Woozy with Pimms I find myself in a dark corner with the dark-haired boy. He winds himself around me like a boa constrictor and puts his hand up my skirt. I hate being handled like this – there's nothing romantic about it. I manage to get away from him and then I stay close to Jim and Mervyn where I am safe.
Jim walks me home from the party. We walk apart –how I want to hold his hand – talking of safe things like exam results and study plans. I lean against the gate and he puts