WINGED YOUTH

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20503, 3 January 1935, Page 14

WINGED YOUTH

Author of “The Haven of

By

CAPT. FRANK. H. SHAW.

CHAPTER XVI. Back to Dancing. Peter and Betty were facing another nisis. It was as if all his father’s pro>hccies were coining true with a rush, thanks to that last crash, Peter’s flying .lerve had gone completely. Actualjy, a doctor called in when Peter got a little delirious after an embryo attack of pneurflonia, had forbidden him to take to the air again for a while. There was not, he averred, anything physical in the change—not precisely physical. It was mental. And if Peter persisted in flying he might prove to be not only a danger to himself, but also to others. And though Peter jeered to Betty, inwardly he knew the verdict was just. He had had, he told himself, a nasty shake-up. It was not that his liking for the air was lessened; it was simply that h© was scared. It wouldn’t continue—it couldn’t. Why, the entire future depended on his ability to keep in the air. He’d never given a thought to any other way of earning a living —he was a one-job man. He had a purely superficial knowledge of aeronautical engineering; but any of the mechanics at the Zurto works could run rings round him when it came to a practical test. His value in the general work market was little; though in the flying market he had always considered himself very much a magnate. The continued existence of all hands depended on him. He was entirely responsible for food, clothing, housing—life. That was a hefty thought. And he had nothing but a shaken nerve to contribute to the puzzle of living! The managers of the flying field were quite decent. They made Peter an allowance during his indisposition, and what they considered generous terms. Actually this allowance barely sufficed to pay the rent of the furnished cottage. It seemed to Peter that the time was about ripe for an appeal to his father. The allowance made to him prior to his marriage hadn’t been riches; but it was enough to worry along on —with a struggle. “No; don’t,” implored Betty when he mooted the question to her, after a committee of ways and means. “We aren’t failures—not yet. I’ll be blamed for everything, and knowing I am being blamed will spoil everything nice between “It looks to me,” Peter said, grown queerly older and more sober, “that niv pride is going to stand between food and you and the kids!” Betty wondered exactly what he meant. She said: “If you make up with your folks you admit you’ve made a mistake —and I’m the mistake. And you did say that it was all on account of me that you made your big flight and got famous, and —well, we were pretty well off at the start, weren’t we ? I’m not going to make a quarrel, but I’m all for standirig on our own feet.” Peter adored her for that. Betty, spirited, was exquisite. During these present bleak times, too, she had developed a fund of self-reliance and commonsense; she was in reality a remarkable girl, having been moulded by circumstances. She was in no way prepared to remain a parasitical nonentity. “So’m I,” Peter agreed. “The only trouble is—-how?” He picked up Betty’s hand, and muzzled it against his lips before placing it comfortingly around his neck. “I’m out of a job; and I’m like a reader who has gone blind. Or a sailor — a blind sailor hasn't much chance of going to sea.” “You can surely make yourself handy on the flying field,” suggested Betty. “That is, unless you’re too proud to do it no, I didn’t moan that; it was catty!” She was swiftly and delightfully contrite. “Jf they’ll have me. I’ll have a stab at it,” Peter agreed seriously, “And being in amongst the machines might rid me of this scare a bit quicker. I needn’t let on about my nerve going; and I’ll bet it will come back. It’s got to come back, if you sec what I mean.” “I can help, too,” offered Betty. “They’ll give me a chance at the Palais de Dance here. It’s going to be kept open all winter. They’re trying to make this place popular all the year round, so people won’t spend their money going abroad. I’ve been making inquiries. I saw the manageress; and she said that it might be worked.” “I’d hate to think of you being a partner again,” objected the boy, fidgetting. His personal pride was involved, he felt. His jealousy was also tip in arms. He got that jealousy about Betty quite often. She was attractive —much older men than himself found her so. He hated to see other men dancing with her, and when Betty laughed up at them Peter felt savage—really savage. You'd only to remember what some of those who. frequented the Hot Spot said about the hostesses. If Betty went back to dancing, she’d be open to temptations by men who could offer her all lie himself had given her at the start. And she was young, fond of enjoyment—he might lose her. She read his fears as if he were an open book: “You seem to forget I care a lot for you, Peter.” “Even when I’m such a failure?” he growled, self-pity surging up within him in a bilious flood. “More, perhaps, now that you are a bit sunk . . . You see, we can't afford to be on top of ourselves,” Betty said. “Standoffish ness won’t buy milk for Michael. We’ve got to get jobs where we can get them.” “Lord, if I’d only thought, when we had all that cash!” moaned Peter “I’ve been a prize idiot, Betsy.” “Well, we bad a good time while it lasted,” was her apt consolation. “But I'm sorry for you. Of course, if you think you would be happier making it up with your folks —!” But that way, his own altered circumstances seemed paltry; hardly worth considering. “We’ll have a mighty hard try at standing on our own feet,” he promised. “You don't mind if I do take on at the Palais de Dance, then?” “I might get some sort of a job rightaway from flying, since I’m useless for that,” Peter offered, not very convincingly. “You might, only what could you do? To earn anything decent, I mean? Here in Scalforth ?” It seemed wise that they should remain here. The furnished house was comparatively cheap, and there were not many temptations to spend money. “I don't seem to be a lot of good, do [?” sighed Peter. “But it’s rotten to iShink of living off you, Betsy.” “J’d love to pull my weight in the boat, Peter. Other men don’t mind if their wives work. You think of Dick Shrieval—his wife didn’t make any bones about running that dress-shop'; she made more odt of it than he did out of flying. He wasn’t ashamed—pretty proud, if you ask me anything.”

“Oh, Shrieval was a wash-out. anyhow,” retorted Peter, still childishly struggling to retain the remnants of his. poor pride. “I can quit as soon as your nerve comes back, and you pick up a decent job again—as you will. It’s only keep ing our heads above water meantime.” They found they could not carry on without Betty’s aid. The managers of the flying field did not see why they should pay Peter a compassionate allowance and a salary for looking ornamental around the field. If Peter liked to earn his pay, so much the better —he couUl be groundsman, arranging programmes and flights, and making himself attractive. He could boost the flying business—and he would get his pay; but not extra pay. And since he was no loafer, he accepted this alternative, at a surprisingly few pounds a week. “So, you see,” said Betty. “Ye-es, I see,” he grunted. “One of us’ll have to stay at home at night to keep house, because of Michael,’’ Betty mentioned. In this way they retained their selfrespect, proving their ability to stand alone. Betty’s stock of evening frocks came in handy and she could carry evening dress with an air that made her popular amongst the dancing crowd at the Palais. She suffered bearlike embraces, and danced herself to a standstill, because the harder she danced the more comforts there were possible in that furnished cottage. She was not a drag on the wheels of Peter’s somewhat damaged chariot; she was a real aid. She was, indeed, the stronger half of the combination. So that the ignominy should not sink too deeply into Peter’s soul, she never hugged the bed of mornings, as she surely had every excuse to do, considering that her work lasted, without a break, from tea-time to close on midnight. Hard dancing all the time! And it was dancing; for the clientele of the Palais differed largely from that of the Hot Spot; these were holidaymakers, full of zest and vim, and thoroughly determined to have full value for their outlay. Few of them were extravagant in the matter of tips, and most of those seemed to expect additional favours in return for boxes of chocolates—returnable to the management at a discount on purchase price—or actual cash. Betty disarmed them craftily when their amorousness began to get the upper hand. She was using feminine weapons in self-defence, and using them unscrupulously, at that. But if men were out to destroy, surely women were entitled to use all means to deter them! refer hated it. Left At home to keep house and tend Michael, who was developing a temper of his own, hi? slightly warped mind filled with curdled imaginings as he let his thoughts travel to the meretricious Palais. He knew the crowd patronising the hall —phew! Bounders—who tucked half-smoked cigarettes behind their cars when they invited a girl to take the floor with them; blokes who cuddled their partners! Peter, thinking these things, often found it a strain to prevent himself from rushing to the Palais. One night, indeed, with jealousy tearing at his vitals like a fire, he did chance his arm and race along. He felt seven kinds of a fool for doing it; but, that last crash seemed to have quickened his imagination and made it infinitely more morbid, somehow; and he was sure—certain that Betty was having a rattling good time on her own. At the entrance he hesitated, ashamed of his suspicions. Any man who could doubt Betty was a swine—that was it a swine! One only had to think of her as she was at home; rising uncomplainingly to prepare the family breakfast so that the kiddies* could get off to school in time—they had to attend school, Peter found, or a person called an attendance officer came nosing around, asking impertinent questions —and allow Peter to reach the flying field according to schedule. For being now a working man he had to conform to rules. (To be continued daily.)