the first name listed on anyone’s dance card. But I also knew I’d be a star on the dance floor if I could get the music away from the slow dances and into some jitterbug. So I taught a willing Ruth the basics and she was a natural. By the time the dance rolled around, she was eager to try out her newfound skills. I packed up my records and dance shoes and we slogged in our galoshes over to the cafeteria. I expected to see the dining tables moved out of the way but didn’t think I’d see any other changes. I was wrong – streamers and bunting were everywhere, brightening up the boring place considerably.
We abandoned our boots at the doorway, slipping into our party shoes. We stood on the sidelines for a while, observing other dancers. Then Ruth took the records up to the turntable where a surprised scientist from New York was delighted to learn that a Tennessee girl actually had a clue about the latest dance moves. He quickly put one on, grabbed Ruth’s hand and headed to the dance floor.
I wrapped my fingers around the nearest male hand I saw and took my place beside them. At first no one was paying much attention. I knew how to remedy that. I dropped into a split and a beat later was back on my feet. I heard a smattering of nearby applause and, in a short time, every imported Yankee male who knew the Lindy Hop or any one of its variations was standing in line for a turn to dance with me or Ruth. We wore them out one by one. I went to bed exhausted and exhilarated.
The next Monday morning in the lab, I saw the effect of that night out on the men in the lab; they were much friendlier. You wouldn’t believe the number of invitations I got for the next dance. But I wouldn’t commit to anyone. I told them all that I’d be there and be sure to save him a dance but was not about to spend a whole evening with one partner; variety was much more fun. It also minimized the possibility of anyone thinking that I had romance on my mind. Jitterbug was a true gender equalizer and a great way to blow off steam, make friends and get exercise. It’s hard to get serious about anything when you’re not standing still.
DECEMBER 26, 1943
‘Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry.
Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.’
William Saroyan
SIX
W ilson’s return jerked me from my pleasant memories and dropped me into the decidedly unpleasant present. He handed me a steaming, white coffee mug and offered a cigarette. I declined the latter and he lit one for himself, inhaling deeply and blowing smoke off to the side. ‘Are you sure you saw a body?’
My jaw dropped at his stupid question. ‘What do you mean by that? What could I possibly have seen that I thought was a body and wasn’t?’
‘Your eyes can play tricks on you, Miss Clark.’
‘Sir, I crawled under the bleachers until I was right beside her – closer than you and I are now.’
‘Could she have been asleep?’
‘Sir, I touched her body. It was cold. It was stiff. She was unresponsive. There was a scarf wrapped tight – too tight – around her neck.’
‘A deep sleep, perhaps. Maybe she’d been drinking too much.’
‘Her eyes were wide open, sir.’ I didn’t like the direction of this conversation one little bit.
There was a light tap on the door and Wilson rose, excusing himself again. Things were not going as they should. They’d had plenty of time to get to the bleachers and verify what I’d seen. What was the purpose of this line of inquiry? Was Wilson trying to confuse me for some reason? Did he think I had something to do with Irene’s death? Unless I was a suspect, his questions were a serious waste of time. It had to be a temporary tactic until Wilson received confirmation about the body. I just had to be patient enough to let them do their job and become satisfied that I had no role in Irene’s murder.
Wilson returned to
We abandoned our boots at the doorway, slipping into our party shoes. We stood on the sidelines for a while, observing other dancers. Then Ruth took the records up to the turntable where a surprised scientist from New York was delighted to learn that a Tennessee girl actually had a clue about the latest dance moves. He quickly put one on, grabbed Ruth’s hand and headed to the dance floor.
I wrapped my fingers around the nearest male hand I saw and took my place beside them. At first no one was paying much attention. I knew how to remedy that. I dropped into a split and a beat later was back on my feet. I heard a smattering of nearby applause and, in a short time, every imported Yankee male who knew the Lindy Hop or any one of its variations was standing in line for a turn to dance with me or Ruth. We wore them out one by one. I went to bed exhausted and exhilarated.
The next Monday morning in the lab, I saw the effect of that night out on the men in the lab; they were much friendlier. You wouldn’t believe the number of invitations I got for the next dance. But I wouldn’t commit to anyone. I told them all that I’d be there and be sure to save him a dance but was not about to spend a whole evening with one partner; variety was much more fun. It also minimized the possibility of anyone thinking that I had romance on my mind. Jitterbug was a true gender equalizer and a great way to blow off steam, make friends and get exercise. It’s hard to get serious about anything when you’re not standing still.
DECEMBER 26, 1943
‘Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry.
Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.’
William Saroyan
SIX
W ilson’s return jerked me from my pleasant memories and dropped me into the decidedly unpleasant present. He handed me a steaming, white coffee mug and offered a cigarette. I declined the latter and he lit one for himself, inhaling deeply and blowing smoke off to the side. ‘Are you sure you saw a body?’
My jaw dropped at his stupid question. ‘What do you mean by that? What could I possibly have seen that I thought was a body and wasn’t?’
‘Your eyes can play tricks on you, Miss Clark.’
‘Sir, I crawled under the bleachers until I was right beside her – closer than you and I are now.’
‘Could she have been asleep?’
‘Sir, I touched her body. It was cold. It was stiff. She was unresponsive. There was a scarf wrapped tight – too tight – around her neck.’
‘A deep sleep, perhaps. Maybe she’d been drinking too much.’
‘Her eyes were wide open, sir.’ I didn’t like the direction of this conversation one little bit.
There was a light tap on the door and Wilson rose, excusing himself again. Things were not going as they should. They’d had plenty of time to get to the bleachers and verify what I’d seen. What was the purpose of this line of inquiry? Was Wilson trying to confuse me for some reason? Did he think I had something to do with Irene’s death? Unless I was a suspect, his questions were a serious waste of time. It had to be a temporary tactic until Wilson received confirmation about the body. I just had to be patient enough to let them do their job and become satisfied that I had no role in Irene’s murder.
Wilson returned to
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