Stop! In the Name of Love Read online

  Stop! In the Name of Love

  By

  Shiralyn J. Lee

  A Retro 60’s drama

  Copyright © Shiralyn J. Lee. Created July 17th 2014.

  Book cover created by: Elle J. Rossi.

  Author’s Notes:

  This lesbian love story is written with the sole purpose of using dialogue spelled in the way that it was spoken in the UK during the 1960’s.

  Retro ‘Swinging Sixties’ love story, when Mods and music ruled.

  In the days when fish and chips were wrapped in yesterday’s newspapers, chewing pink bubble-gum was thought to be sexy and Mary Quant produced the NEXT MUST HAVE fashions with her iconic miniskirts. The 60’s were a revolution. Introducing the contraceptive pill may have helped in the prevention of some unwanted pregnancies but realistically, it only encouraged horny teenage boys to approach sexual intercourse with a new excuse.

  This era, known as, ‘The Swinging Sixties,’ was the turning point for music, TV, Cinema and England winning the World Cup!

  Mods and Rockers were traditionally at war with each other and the Austin Mini was the car of the decade.

  Introduction

  Cheryl Carter is about to experience her first taste of true love when Carry Ann Portman casually enters her life.

  Living with her parents in their council flat, Cheryl is determined to better her life now that she has seen how Carry Ann lives in her upmarket pad.

  Her best friend Jeannie, who is unmarried, has found out that she’s pregnant and Jimmy Potter who fancies his chances of having a bit of hanky panky with Cheryl, takes a few knock backs before he gets the hint.

  This is a fun light hearted story that is established in London during the 60’s and uses dialogue true to the era.

  Chapter One

  Cheryl Carter, a slightly gobby seventeen year old Mod, is getting ready for a night out on the town. Unravelling the large pink rollers from her brunette hair and shaping her bob with a round brush and half a can of hairspray, she yells out at her mother from her bedroom. “Oi, mum, is my skirt ironed yet?”

  Her mother yells back, “Heaven give me bleedin’ strength, give me half a chance. I ‘aven’t even finished my fag yet.”

  “Bleedin’ hell, it’s not like I’ve asked ya to do much,” Cheryl muttered to herself.

  “Oi, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing in there, young lady. Or should I say trollop, more like?” She carried on ironing the tiny black and white skirt. Her fag hung out of her mouth with the ash just about to fall from it. She coughed and rubbed her sniffley nose. “‘Ere, Cheryl, get ya bleedin’ arse in ‘ere.”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes and slammed the hairbrush down on the dressing table. Huffing, she went to fetch her skirt. “Well ya could’ve brung it to me!”

  “Less of your gob, my girl. I’ve a right mind to throw this in the dust bin. Just look at it, go on! I’ve got a right mind not to let you go out in this.” She held up the skirt, checking it over for any creases. “In my day, you wouldn’t ‘ave caught me dead in summat like this.”

  “In your day, they wore collars buttoned up to the neck and skirts down to the ankles.” Cheryl giggled.

  “You cheeky cow. ‘Ere, take it, and make sure you wear a long coat when you go out. Don’t want no pregnant daughter bringing her troubles back ‘ere.”

  “Mum! For your information, I ‘aven’t had sex with no bugger yet.” She snatched the skirt from her mother’s hands and opening her dusky pink quilted robe, she stepped into the skirt, pulling it up her legs and squeezing her skinny body into it. “Do us a favour, mum, and zip me up.”

  “I ought to slap that mouth right off of your face, the amount of swearing that comes from it. Where on earth do hear such words? And what sort of boy wants to be married to a girl with a gob like yours?” She unplugged the iron and wrapped the cord around the end of it, then folded the ironing board and rested it against the wall.

  “Married! Me? Not bleedin’ likely.” She hurried back to her room to escape any further lecture about boys and to finish getting ready.

  Looking into her dresser mirror, she lined her lower eyelid with black liner, then lined the upper lid, winging it at the sides, then after two coats of mascara, she gave them a doll like image. She applied a coat of pale lilac lipstick, blotted it on a piece of tissue and then applied a second coat.

  “London, eat ya fuckin’ heart out, luv,” she said to her reflection, pouting her lips and batting her thick beautiful eyelashes.

  She put on a white turtle neck top that was crocheted around the neckline and had long lace sleeves with a frilled cuff and a matching crocheted headband that she tied at the nape of her neck.

  “Mum! I can’t find my boots,” she yelled out of the bedroom doorway and not really looking that hard for them.

  Moments later, her mother came striding in holding a white pair of PVC calf length boots. The heels were 2inch squares and the zips ran from the ankle all the way up the inside leg. “They were right where you kicked ‘em off the last time you wore ‘em,” she said, slinging them onto the floor in front of her daughter.

  Cheryl slipped them on, zipped them up and then finished off her look with her new black and white chequered coat that was just a little longer than the length of her skirt. Spraying Topaz on her neck, arms, inner thighs and knees, she was now ready to party.

  “Cheryl! Jeannie’s ‘ere,” her mother called from the front room.

  “Coming, Jeannie,” Cheryl yelled back, spraying her neck and wrists again.

  •••

  Walking down the street at just after 7.30pm the two girls chatted about the latest gossip and rumours that were flying around about anyone and everyone they knew.

  Jeannie was a tall attractive girl, slender with long mousey brown hair, back brushed for height and thickness. She was wearing a turquoise paisley patterned dress with long puffy sleeves that ruffled at the wrists. She had paired it with tan brown calf length boots and accessorised with plastic turquoise beads and a small tan leather handbag.

  “Fuckin’ hell, nice tits luv,” a lad yelled out as he passed them on his bicycle.

  “Piss off!” Cheryl shouted at him.

  “Well, you do ‘ave nice knockers,” Jeannie said to her.

  “I know that. But he didn’t have to take the piss.”

  The lad stopped at the corner of the street and called back to them, “I was just being friendly.”

  Cheryl stuck her two fingers up at him, then the two girls laughed at him before turning round and carrying on with their walk.

  It was dark, even with the street lights on, the damp evening air and the thick gloomy clouds had made it feel even later than it was. Before entering the pub the two girls lit their cigarettes, shoved pink bubble-gum in their gobs and unbuttoned their coats. They both looked older than they were, so getting served at the bar was never a problem.

  The pub was filled with cigarette smoke, Baby it’s You, was playing on the jukebox and good old Harry, a work friend of Cheryl’s dad was sitting on his usual stool at the end of the bar. He never let on to her dad that she was in the pub drinking, he liked Cheryl, the cheeky banter that she gave out and he would also buy her a drink or two when he had a few extra shillings in his pocket after a win at the bookies.

  “Alright, then, Harry,” Cheryl said, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

  “Well look at the pair of you all dolled up. You’ll be catching yourselves a fella in no time. Reggie, a drink for the ladies,” he said.

  “Coming right up,” Reggie replied. “What’ll it be, ladies?”

  “Half a Cider for me,” Cheryl answered, checking out her reflection in the bar mirror and touching her hair ge
ntly to place it back into its pristine position.

  “I’ll have a Vimto, please,” Jeannie said quietly.

  “A bloody Vimto?” Cheryl asked loudly, looking at her slightly puzzled. “What’s wrong with a half a Cider?”

  “I can’t,” Jeannie whispered, looking around so no one could hear her.

  “Why can’t ya?” Cheryl protested even louder.

  “I’ll have a Vimto and I’ll hear no more about it!”

  “Give the girl a bloody Vimto,” Harry chuckled to the bar tender.

  Jeannie grabbed Cheryl by her arm and dragged her past Harry. “We’ll be back in a minute, Harry. Gotta go to the loo,” Jeannie informed him.

  She lugged Cheryl into the toilets and checking to see that they were alone, she made Cheryl swear on her life and to cross her heart and hope to die, to keep what she was going to tell her secret. Cheryl nodded yes and crossed her heart with her fingers.

  Jeannie leaned in close to Cheryl and covering her mouth with her hand, she whispered into Cheryl’s ear. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh bloody hell!” Cheryl whispered back. “What are ya gonna do? Your mother’s gonna kill ya, let alone what ya father’s gonna do to ya. Who is it, who got ya up the duff, then?”

  “Tommy Perkins. It was just the once and we didn’t even do it for long. He did his business before I’d even pulled my knickers all the way down to my ankles. And the bloody bugger didn’t even walk me home after, said he had to meet his mates for a game of pool.”

  Cheryl leant against the wall and lit a cigarette. “The bloody nerve. What are ya gonna do?”

  “I’ll ‘ave to go through with it, I don’t want no doctor messing around down there. I’ve heard too many horror stories about girls getting rid of unwanted babies and then they can’t ‘ave babies no more.”

  “Are you sure? Bloody hell, Jeannie, I can’t imagine you being a mum an’ all.”

  The door swung open and a drunken girl walked in. She staggered to the toilet where she dropped to her knees and proceeded to throw up.

  “Oh bleedin’ hell, let’s get out of ‘ere,” Cheryl insisted, shoving Jeannie out through door.

  They went back to the bar where they collected their drinks from Harry.

  “Cheers, Harry, mate,” Cheryl said with a huge smile on her face.

  Their group of friends were seated over in the corner and one of them waved at Cheryl and Jeannie to join them. The girls pulled up some seats and immediately joined in with the conversation that was taking place.

  “I was just telling Shirley that I heard a rumour about Michael Greene. He’s a queer. He was caught with his trousers down around his ankles in an alley way behind the abandoned factory. Some bloke was giving him what for,” Iris happily shared with everyone at the table.

  “Michael a queer? Give over.” Jeannie said. “He don’t look like no queer.”

  “Well that’s a turn up for the books, I’d never ‘ave guessed it though, him with another fella and a bit of how’s ya father,” Cheryl laughed, encouraging the other’s to do the same.

  “What a waste. He’s such a nice looking bloke too,” Jeannie commented. “I know lots of girls who’d want to, well ya know, with him.”

  “Not any bleedin’ more they won’t. What ya drinking there, Jeannie?” Shirley asked her picking up Jeannie’s drink and sniffing it.

  “Vimto.” Jeannie said sheepishly.

  “Bloody Vimto,” Shirley sneered.

  “That’s exactly what I said,” Cheryl joined in.

  “Nothing wrong with wanting a Vimto, what’s it to you anyway? Don’t always ‘ave to drink Cider, do I?” Jeannie snapped at her.

  “You should tell ‘em the truth, Jeannie. They’ll only find out anyway and slag you off behind ya back,” Cheryl told her.

  “Oi, less of the slag talk,” Iris quickly butted in.

  Jeannie looked down at her drink. She held the bottle tightly with both hands, then without any more prompting she blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

  Iris’s gob fell open and Shirley spat her Cider out.

  “You, Jeannie? You’re pregnant? But you’ve always been such a good girl,” Iris said, still in shock.

  “Who’s the bugger that laid his filthy hands on ya, then?” Shirley asked her.

  “Tommy Perkins,” Cheryl informed them.

  Jeannie tapped Cheryl’s arm and tutted at her.

  “What? They’ll find out eventually anyway,” Cheryl protested.

  There was a moment of silence. All four girls were unsure of what to say next. Jeannie held tightly onto the Vimto bottle for security and sucked the pop up through the straw slowly, Cheryl sipped on her Cider and looked around at the punters in the pub. Iris drummed her fingers on the table and Shirley pulled out a compact mirror from her bag and checked her lipstick.

  “He was a shit shag if anyone wants to know,” Jeannie suddenly spoke out.

  All four girls burst out laughing.

  “Well my Aunt Gloria had a baby last year. I’m sure she’ll have some gear that she can give ya. Probably didn’t even use half of it knowing her. She’s a snobby cow,” Shirley informed Jeannie.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to offer,” Jeannie said, giving a huge sigh of relief.

  “Ay ya better make sure that bleedin’ little nipper doesn’t call me Aunty Cheryl. I ain’t old enough to be an Aunt.”

  “I’d make double sure now, Jeannie,” Iris said, winking at her.

  “‘Ere, my mum’s still got our pram from when we was babies’ an’ all. It’s in the attic. I’ll tell her to get it down. It’ll just need a little dusting,” Iris offered.

  “There ya go, Jeannie, everyone’s offerin’ a helping hand, bet ya never thought that would happen?” Cheryl said, nudging her arm.

  Jeannie shook her head. She was feeling extremely grateful at this moment.

  ‘Moon River’ song came on the jukebox.

  The girls began to sing along with it until Jimmy Potter came sniffing around their table. He pulled up a chair alongside Cheryl, turning it backwards, he sat quite close to her.

  “Evening, ladies,” he said. His grin was charismatic and many girls would be fighting just to get a kiss from him. He liked to wear the latest trends and had chosen light grey pleatless trousers, a lavender shirt and soft Italian leather shoes to charm the ladies with, or more like, get Cheryl’s attention. “Alright, then, Cheryl,” he said, then winked at Iris.

  “Don’t be tryin’ on that charm with me, Jimmy Potter. I ain’t daft enough to fall for it,” she said.

  “You look nice, Cheryl, all dolled up. Meeting anyone I know?” he asked.

  “Dunno,” she said, nonchalantly.

  “What, you don’t know if you’re meeting anyone?” he asked coolly.

  “Might be, might not be, what’s it to you?” she answered, nonchalantly looking at her fingernails.

  “I might want to ask you out, you know, on a proper date an’ all.”

  “A proper date?” she leered at him, her eyes huge.

  “Yes. I was thinking about going to the pictures, maybe see that spy film that’s just come out.”

  Iris, Shirley and Jeannie smirked amongst themselves. They knew that Cheryl had no interest in him because she had told them that she had always liked his brother Dave. Not that anyone had ever seen or even heard Jimmy mention a brother named Dave. But Jimmy constantly tried his luck with her.

  “You can buy me and my mates another drink if ya like and a packet of crisps. Girls, ya wanna pack of crisps?” she said cheekily.

  Jimmy got up and ordered their drinks at the bar. He returned with a tray consisting 3 half’s of Cider a Vimto, a pint of Guiness and four packets of crisps which he threw down on the table.

  “Thanks for the drinks, Jimmy. So we’ll be seeing you around, then,” Cheryl giggled, passing the crisps to the girls and not being very discreet at dismissing him.

  “But I just bought you all a drink,” he said, taking the tray
back to the bar.

  “You heard the girl, Jimmy. Beat it!” Iris said, waving him away.

  “That’s right, scarper,” Shirley laughed, opening her crisps and searching for the blue packet of salt. “Oh look, I got two packets,” she announced happily.

  Jimmy was a little put out. He turned and began to walk away with his shoulders dropped and his head hung low.

  Cheryl felt bad for crushing him in front of her friends like that. “Jimmy!” she called after him.

  He turned around and lifted his head to look at her.

  “I’ll meet ya tomorrow night outside the picture house. That spy film might just turn me on,” she said smiling at him.

  “Okay, sure,” he replied. He walked away with a huge grin on his face.

  Jeannie was surprised that her friend had agreed to go out on a date with him. She had only ever heard Cheryl say that he was an annoying pest.

  Cheryl just looked at her fingernails again and then took a sip of her Cider knowing that the others were staring at her. “What?” she asked looking at the disapproving faces around the table.

  “Ooh nothing,” Jeannie answered her and then picked up her handbag. “I need to go to the loo.” She got up and headed for the toilets.

  Cheryl watched her disappear into the loos, then turned to look at the other two. “Don’t you dare be spreadin’ any rumours about her bein’ pregnant, d’ya hear me?”

  The girls nodded their heads in agreement and then lifted their glasses to their mouths, taking long sips of their drinks, their eyes darting everywhere to avoid direct contact with Cheryl.

  ‘Baby Love’ came on the jukebox.

  When Jeannie walked out of the toilets, she sang along with the music. Placing her bag on the table, she danced around the girls, purposely bumping her bum into their shoulders.

  “Blimey, you better take more care with that backside of yours. You could do some real damage there,” Shirley laughed.

  “Hey, less of ya cheek, you,” Jeannie laughed back.

  Chapter Two

  Smoking his cigarette vigorously, Jimmy edgily paced up and down outside the picture house. He impatiently looked at his watch, then out into the street. The film was just about to start and Cheryl still hadn’t turned up. Just when he was about to go in by himself, he heard the sound of heels tapping down on the pavement, then his name being called out. Cheryl was running like the clappers towards him.