THE H-BOMB GIRL, Stephen Baxter [ereader for android txt] 📗

fought with Teds, and the girls tried to get on to the stage, and other gangs and clans took the chance for a ruck. Laura watched amazed as a table flew through the air and smashed against a wall.

But on stage the Teds still worked at Nick, their firsts and boots flying into his body. They meant business, Laura realised.

“We’ve got to help him,” she yelled.

Joel held Bernadette’s arm. “Your baby!”

Bernadette shook him off. “He’ll survive. Come on!”

She pushed her way forward. Joel and Laura followed, shoving squabbling fans out of the way.

It wasn’t hard to get on the stage. Girls milled around, screaming. The other Woodbines, Bert, Paul and Mickey, were wrestling with the Teds. Only Billy stayed back.

Nick was a shapeless mass on the floor, surrounded by Teds.

Bernadette screamed. She leapt at one of the Teds, landing on his back. She dug her nails into his cheeks and pulled. She was a tall, heavy girl, and as her nails dragged through his flesh the Ted came off the heap over Nick, yelling and waving his fists.

As another Ted tried to join the assault on Nick, Joel went to get hold of his jacket. Bernadette yelled, “Not the lapels!” But it was too late.

When Joel grabbed the Ted’s lapels, he screamed. He couldn’t get free, his fingers somehow snagged. The Ted, a foot taller than Joel, grinned. “Have a mouthful of dandruff, soft lad.” He casually head-butted Joel. Joel went down, his hands torn away, and Laura saw his fingers had been ripped open.

Laura looked for Nick. He was still on the floor, curled over like a baby in the womb. Now a huge Ted was taking paces back, running up, and kicking Nick’s head like a footballer taking a free kick.

Nick’s mike stand lay beside him on the blood-stained stage. Laura grabbed it and felt its weight. It was only flimsy, but it had a heavy, weighted base.

She really didn’t want to kill anybody. But that Ted looked relentless.

As the Ted went to take another kick she swung the mike stand up between his legs, from behind. The heavy base slammed into his groin with a crunching sound. The Ted’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed his crotch. “Oh, me mutton dagger!” He fell over as if chopped down.

Laura ran forward to Nick. He lay motionless, in a pool of blood.

With a flash and a pop, the amps cut out. The crowd’s fighting stopped as if a switch had been pulled, and there was a collective groan.

Beatle John clambered back on to the stage, his hair a tangle from the ruck. But his voice, unamplified now, carried over the crowd. “Oh, well. What shall we do while we wait for Uncle Albert to change the fuse on the Vox? How about a singalong? She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes. Honk! Honk!…”

The crowd joined in, Mods and Rockers, bikers and schoolkids alike.

They’re all mad, Laura thought. I must be mad to be here.

“Come on,” said Bernadette. “We’ve got to get Nick out of here.”

Chapter 13

Pooling their money, they took a taxi to Broad Green Hospital, although Nick insisted he didn’t need a doctor.

At the hospital they had to wait, with mothers with sick children, and half-asleep drunks.

Laura and Bernadette had a couple of bruises, and Laura had ruined her school tights. Joel had had his fingertips ripped open by fish hooks embedded in that Ted’s lapels, put there to trap anybody who attacked. His hands were so swathed in bandages from the Cavern’s first-aid box it looked like he wore white gloves.

Of course Nick was the worst. His face was so battered it was purple and swollen, his lips cut, one eye closed. His body was a mass of bruises too.

They were all streaked with black, where they had fallen on the filthy floor of the Cavern.

Nick ran his tongue around his mouth. “I’ll need National Health choppers after this.”

“You’re going to need a new drummer too,” Bernadette said. “Once I get my hands on that coward Billy Waddle.”

“You should have stayed out of it, Bern. A lady in your fragile condition.”

“You’ll feel fragile with my fist in your gob.”

“So,” Joel said, his hands huge. “ ‘Bash the queer.’”

Nick said, “Funny how a bunch of head-the-balls can be so perceptive.” His eyes were closed, his voice a flat whisper, as if he was half asleep.

“You knew,” Laura said to Bernadette.

Bernadette shrugged. “It was Nick’s business.”

“It is the business of my group, though,” Nick said. “They’ve taken their share of queer-bashings on my behalf before. But they look after me.”

“Even Billy?” Bernadette asked sourly.

Nick looked away.

“So how did the Teds know?” Joel asked.

“They might just have seen me around town. There are places you can go. There’s a pub called the Magic Clock, behind the Royal Court theatre. And a hotel called the Stork, where they turn a blind eye.” He put on a Colonel Blimp voice. “Because what we deviants get up to is illegal, you know, by God and Her Majesty.

“Anyway I’ve had worse. National Service was tougher. Got my jaw broke in there. Stopped me singing for a month. That sarge was a music lover, probably. Or he might have fancied me. Some of the worst of them do.”

Bernadette teased him. “I always wondered if you liked a bit of rough.”

He grimaced. “Not that rough. I’m a romantic, me. I fall in love. Isn’t that stupid?” He looked at Laura through his one good eye. “So do you think less of me?”

“Why should I?”

“Have you met anyone like me before? A queer, a gay?”

She thought it over. “Probably.”

Nick said, “We’ve all got secrets, haven’t we, H-Bomb Girl? I’ll tell you the irony. I’ve never gone in for bashing myself. But I’ve stood aside and let others take it.” He looked at Joel as he said this. “Even queers. If you’re a target yourself it makes you feel better to see somebody else getting his head kicked in. Maybe I deserved this.”

At last