sUnwanted Truthst Read Online Free PDF Page A

had come down. Jenny hadn’t been able to stop staring at him. She had never seen a black man before, only pictures in the
The Peoples of
the World
section of her encyclopaedia. She was fascinated by his hair. She wanted to touch it, and wondered how he washed and combed it.
    Aunt Doris sighed, and looked out of the kitchen window at her husband who was digging a patch of earth at the end of the garden. She drew deeper on her cigarette. Alan bent down to pull up one of his socks, which lay like a concertina around his ankle. Doris stubbed her cigarette in an ashtray. ‘Leave the washing up, I’ll do it. Go and play in the garden – both of you.’

    *
    The sound of Frankie Laine bellowing “I Believe” from the radiogram drew Alan and Jenny downstairs.
    The sofa and armchairs had been moved back against the wall. Desmond was leaning on the mantelpiece, his left foot tapping to the rhythm. Another student was twirling Doris around the lounge. Jim leant back in an armchair, his eyes tightly shut and a pained expression on his face. An open newspaper lay across his lap, and a pair of glasses hung from a cord around his neck.
    â€˜Jenny, don’t stand in the doorway. Come in and let me show you how to dance.’ Desmond’s deep voice invited her in.
    â€˜Just follow me round, little one; put your hands on my shoulder and stand on my shoes, I’ll soon have you dancing like your aunt.’ He gripped Jenny under her armpits. She was enthralled. She stood on tiptoe on his shoes, her head against his chest and followed his movements, thinking that nothing like this ever happened at home.
    â€˜Why are your teeth so white Desmond?’ she ventured.
    â€˜I’ve brought this special twig all the way from Nigeria. It keeps them clean and bright. I’ll show it to you later.’
    â€˜I know the capital of Nigeria.’
    â€˜Do you?’
    â€˜Yes, it’s Lagos. Did you live there?’
    â€˜Fancy you knowing that now. No, my village is hundreds of miles to the north. But I studied there before coming to England.’ The record slowed on the turntable. ‘Shall we have another dance, little lady?’
    Jenny beamed up at him and nodded.

    *
    Doris poked her head around the bedroom door at eight o’ clock. ‘Goodnight you two,’ and with a flick on the light switch she disappeared. Five minutes later, Alan whispered across to Jenny.
    â€˜Come into my bed. I’ve got a torch; we can read my comic.’
    Jenny slipped out of the camp bed and squeezed in beside him. They read a page and then giggled as they tried to turn it with tangled arms. Alan lifted the blankets and shone the light under the bedclothes.
    â€˜Look,’ he said nodding downwards and opening his pyjama bottoms, ‘you can touch it if you like.’
    Jenny stared down and shook her head vigorously.
    â€˜It’s your turn now.’
    â€˜There’s nothing there,’ she said.
    â€˜There must be, come on show me.’
    â€˜No, I don’t want to.’
    â€˜You’ve got to. I’ve shown you mine.’
    She wriggled out of her pyjamas trousers. The beam illuminated a circle of white skin at the top of her legs. Alan peered hard and long.
    â€˜I told you, there’s nothing there,’ Jenny said, pulling up her pyjamas. ‘I’m going back to my bed now.’ She felt she had been tricked into revealing herself and it smarted, but she couldn’t have said no. He had done it first – so it was only fair. But she wouldn’t fall for it again.

    *
    â€˜Open wide.’ Doris thrust a large teaspoonful of malt into Jenny’s mouth. ‘I won’t be here when you get home. But Alan’s got a key, and Uncle Jim will do some tea for you.’ Screwing the lid back on the large black jar she returned it to the cupboard. Moving in front of a round mirror by the side of the sink, she started to remove a line of rollers from