Street Kid Fights On: She thought the nightmare was over. Judy Westwater

started up.

      ‘Smile,’ the photographer said. ‘You’re going to be a pin-up girl!’

      The truth was that I had no notion of myself that way. I’d always avoided being the centre of attention so the thought of being a pin-up girl made me very uncomfortable.

      ‘Not me,’ I mumbled shyly, staring at the ground.

      At night I slept in the compound on my own because everyone else had homes to go to. I loved it there by myself in the dark. There were high walls all around and the gates were closed and locked. It seemed really quiet in contrast to the rest of the day, which was filled with hurdy-gurdy music and the chattering of the crowd, punctuated by the screams and gasps of the audience during performances. Once everyone had gone the only noise was the animals in their cages – marsupials, bears, horses, dogs – and that was about it. I sat out on the steps to look at the moon and drank a cup of cocoa as I listened to the odd growl or bark or whinny. I was at peace.

      One evening I was hovering in the shadows beside the bus, peeking at the last of the audience as they made their way out at closing time. The stalls were almost empty and it was late. I had done all my chores and everything was put away. I was still wearing one of my showgirl costumes with a big, brown coat pulled over the top because the nights had started to get chilly.

      Suddenly Roger appeared. He hesitated for a moment and then came to join me. I was always glad to have a chat with Roger. It was a nice time of night to have a chinwag about everything that had gone on during the day.

      ‘They’re in right high spirits tonight,’ he said, lighting up a Senior Service and flicking the match onto the ground. ‘There was a guy down in Paddock Wood last year got his timing wrong with a motorbike stunt. I heard he lost his leg.’

      ‘We took the Aces to Paddock Wood,’ I said. ‘A couple of months ago.’

      Roger took a deep draw on his cigarette. We waved to Bobby who was leaving with a couple of her friends. The public were almost completely gone.

      ‘Nice night,’ he said.

      Then a couple stopped only a few feet away from us. They couldn’t have noticed we were there. The girl was carrying a teddy bear, which they’d won on one of the stalls. Roger and I instinctively stayed hidden in the shadows. He turned his cigarette into the palm of his hand. Suddenly the man reached out and kissed his girlfriend passionately. She laughed and they walked off.

      Roger had a grin on his face. ‘Wonder where they’re off to?’

      I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t have any curiosity about those things at all. The couple might as well have come from another planet. I’d never had a boyfriend or felt any urge to get myself one. That was something other people did – not me.

      ‘Maybe they’re going dancing,’ Roger suggested. ‘Do you like dancing, Judy?’

      ‘Yeah. I suppose.’ I had never been to a proper dance.

      ‘Well, we should go some time,’ Roger stubbed out his cigarette. ‘It’d be a laugh.’ He walked off after the couple, in the direction of the gates. Then he turned.

      ‘Saturday night,’ he said. ‘I’ll come and get you.’

      I was pleased. I loved music and going dancing would be a first for me. It may sound strange but I was so naïve that it genuinely didn’t occur to me that Roger might see this as a date in a romantic sense. I felt like such an outsider that I was just surprised to find someone who actually wanted to spend time with me. Roger seemed nice – and, as he’d said, it was only a bit of fun.

       Chapter Three

      Speedy had never said that I shouldn’t go out on the town after hours – we’d never discussed it – but still, it felt mischievous. This would be my first time out in Manchester at night. On the Saturday of the dance, Roger borrowed a long ladder to get me out of the locked compound, as if I was escaping from prison. We arranged to meet at the wall beside the horseboxes at nine o’clock.

      ‘You there, Judy?’ he called over.

      ‘Yeah.’

      I heard him position the ladder against the wall and a few seconds later his face appeared at the top. Then he hauled himself up to a sitting position, pulled the ladder over and motioned for me to climb up towards him. ‘I’m a right minx now,’ I thought to myself, looking over my shoulder as if someone might be watching. But there was nobody there. I launched myself at the ladder, thinking, ‘This is going to be a laugh.’

      I scaled the wall and sat on top next to him.

      ‘Nice up here,’ he said and climbed down the other side ahead of me.

      We hid the ladder in the scrubland like escapees and headed off to the Belle Vue Ballroom.

      It was dark by the time we arrived and the dance hall was very busy. Everyone seemed so glamorous and in-the-know. I’d worn my only dress – a red and white check with scoop neck and a wide, red belt – and I had my hair tied back. Some of the women looked amazing with sparkling jewellery, high heels and beautiful make-up. I caught a whiff of perfume as they passed. Roger had dressed up too. He looked really smart in his shirt and trousers.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the dance floor.

      The band was playing the Twist and everyone was dancing full pelt, gyrating like crazy. We flung ourselves into the crowd and joined in. It was fantastic. I loved dancing like that, losing myself in the music without any of my normal self-consciousness. As a kid I had always loved classical music but the Twist was fun and it was an amazing feeling to be part of the crowd with everyone dancing together. Because of the way I’d grown up I always felt separate to other people as if I was a different species entirely. Dancing like this was an incredible experience for me because it was something normal that I could join in and feel part of.

      Up at the bar there was so much to look at – the rows of bottles and the waiters with their bow ties and all the people, chattering and excited and dressed up. Roger got me a tomato juice then we leaned against the bar and talked for ages. He told me he had lived in Manchester all his life and came from a big, close family – the eldest of ten kids. I lapped up his stories of an idyllic childhood playing in the street and going to the local school. Then he started talking about motorbikes. Like lots of young guys, Roger was fascinated by bikes. He was a great stunt rider though he said what he really liked best was driving on the open road. Fast.

      ‘I like it when we’re touring in the bus,’ I told him. ‘I sit on the steps and watch the road whiz past.’

      ‘Yeah,’ he said ‘that’s it exactly. Open to the road.’ He finished his pint.

      ‘Come on, Judy,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back to the floor.’

      I couldn’t wait and eagerly followed him so we could join the crowd once more. It wasn’t long before we were pink-cheeked and out of breath with the best of them. It was exhilarating, a real high for me.

      Walking away from the ballroom at the end of the night Roger lit a cigarette. The stars were out. I hummed a couple of the dance tunes and he caught my hand and twirled me round.

      ‘That was amazing!’ I exclaimed.

      Roger took a deep draw of his cigarette and regarded me closely. ‘You’re all right, Judy,’ he said.

      We ran the last hundred yards or so and grabbed the ladder from its hiding place, propping it up against the wall. I had had a good time, but I wasn’t sure what to say to Roger now we were on our own. I felt slightly awkward. Relating to other people was difficult for me because I had had no role models. Now the night was over I felt slightly out of my depth.

      ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled and scuttled up the ladder.

      ‘You want