Lorraine pulled off her creased shirt. ‘Well, he wanted my phone number in case he has some more work, so I think I’ll go.’
Rosie bashed the pillow. ‘Put my earrings back in the box! And ask next time — they happen to be real pearls. About the only thing my ex-husband ever gave me...’
Lorraine made a show of removing them and replacing them. Rosie watched her every move, irritated yet again by Lorraine’s confidence. She seemed to be getting herself back together, but instead of feeling pleased, Rosie felt jealous.
‘Maybe I’ll come with you.’
Lorraine switched on the shower. ‘Don’t force yourself. What’s the matter with you?’
Rosie sat up. ‘Nothing — but didn’t you think I’d be worried? Jake was, too.’
Lorraine unzipped her skirt. ‘Did you send him out to look for me?’
‘Of course I did. I didn’t know where the fuck you were — no note, nothin’ to tell me what you were doing.’
Lorraine stepped out of her skirt, and Rosie turned away, not out of embarrassment but with the shock of seeing just how thin and scarred Lorraine was. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ she asked softly. ‘All those scars...’
Lorraine wrapped a towel around herself. ‘I got them when I was too drunk to feel I was getting them. Some of them are cigarette burns — maybe I did them myself...’
Rosie sighed as she heard the shower running. She’d meant to tell Lorraine, and Jake for that matter, that she’d lost her job at the hospital. It was nothing she’d done: they were cutting back on part-time staff.
By the time Lorraine emerged from the shower, however, Rosie was fast asleep. Lorraine turned off the light and went into the lounge to make up the sofa bed. She sat, still wrapped in her towel, with the TV turned down low, smoking a cigarette. Another day without a drink — and a day when she felt she had done something positive. But what did it all mean, anyway? She closed her eyes as she leaned back. Was every day going to be like this? Tramping from one place to another looking for work? She got to thinking of how much Art and his two helpers had achieved in one evening. They had transformed that shitty little place, not into anything fantastic, but he was going to be able to open a gallery — maybe even make some decent money. What was she cut out to do? She wondered what Nula and Didi did. Maybe they worked in another gallery or a night club. She’d liked them, Art, too, and the music — maybe things could get better... Maybe the key was to do as Rosie and Jake said and take each day as it came, not try to think of any long-term future, just another day — and one without a drink. She was so tired she fell asleep almost immediately before any pictures of her past had time to squeeze across her mind. She had no reason to think that her past would catch up with her the longer she remained sober. Old memories long forgotten would resurface to haunt her, like her dead brother’s face. She had been able to deal with Kit, but there would be more, much more and she was not ready for it. The closer the past inched towards the present, the sooner she would have to face what she had obliterated by drinking.
Nula met up with Curtis for breakfast. She hadn’t seen Didi for hours so presumed she had scored either a hotel john or an all-nighter. Curtis was edgy. He’d been looking for Holly and kept asking everyone who came and went if they’d seen her. Nula said she’d seen her score but not since. She could tell he was pretty coked up so she downed her coffee, paid what she owed him and took herself off. It was almost five thirty and she was feeling strung out, worried that Didi hadn’t turned up.
Didi was at home, lying prone with an ice pack on her head. Nula leaned over her, concerned. ‘You okay?’
Didi removed the ice pack to show a bruised eye. ‘What do you think? Look at me, I got a black fuckin’ eye and my foot, I twisted my ankle when I got out of the car, it’s all swollen up.’ Nula brought more ice and wrapped it in a tea towel to place on Didi’s foot. She was concerned: the bruised face could always be taken care of but if Didi couldn’t walk, that blew it for picking up customers and people would start asking questions.
Didi sighed, shifting the ice pack on her head. ‘Oh, I remembered where I saw that Lorraine...’
Nula was creaming her face. ‘Where?’
‘AA meeting, we were both there, few days back.’
‘So, that’s that, then.’ Nula wiped the tissue over her chin, looking at the blur of grease and make-up removed from her stubble-free face. She touched the soft skin lovingly. Odd that she hadn’t remembered Lorraine from the AA meeting. She was usually good with faces.
‘I’m gonna look terrible for the opening,’ Didi moaned. ‘Art won’t let me in, I’ll look so bad — you know the way he is.’
Nula looked at her. ‘I wondered where you’d got to. I was worried, then I thought you might have scored. Curtis was strung out, lookin’ everywhere for Holly.’
‘I couldn’t walk, could I? And my face, Jesus Christ, look at my face. Be hard pushed to score anything looking like this.’
‘You’ll be fine. I’ll cover those bruises and your foot’ll go down. I remember once I had a john punched me straight in the nose. I thought I was gonna die, two black eyes, but I got a real cute nose afterwards.’
Didi stared at her as if she was crazed and then eased the ice pack over her face. She started to cry but Nula said nothing. She put Didi’s discarded clothes in the wardrobe with distaste. They were stained, and would have to be laundered. Suddenly she saw the car keys on the dressing table and whipped round. She began to panic. Why had she brought the car keys back?
‘Where’s the car?’ she asked and Didi slowly removed the ice pack. ‘What did you do with the car?’
‘I just had to leave it outside, I couldn’t walk back.’
Nula swore. She could have slapped Didi but instead she snatched up the keys and walked out slamming the door. Didi flopped back onto the pillows. Sometimes Nula really freaked her — she had no feelings. She cuddled down under the sheets, feeling sorry for herself. Then she felt beneath the pillow for the big topaz ring and slipped it on her finger. It made her feel better, more secure. At least she’d kept that safe.
The morning was bright and clear with the sun bringing a deep low orange glow that seemed to pinpoint the beige, highly polished metal of the Lincoln. A police car drew alongside it, as the two officers noted it had been left in a no-parking zone. That was the only reason they stopped. One officer got out and looked at the front of the car: he noted down the licence plate and returned to his car. He glanced back, which was when he noticed the pink material sticking out from the trunk.
The car had not been reported stolen but both officers walked over to it. One tried the doors. They were unlocked. He peered inside as the second officer pressed open the trunk.
She lay curled up on her side. One glance was enough. Her face was grotesque, beaten so badly that hardly a feature remained intact, and there was a gaping wound at the back of her skull. No one could have recognized her easily, but the tiny anklet she wore with a name engraved in gold letters made them think she was possibly called Holly.
Chapter 4
Lorraine was up and cleaning the apartment before Rosie was awake. She put some coffee on to brew while she stacked and folded her sheets and bed linen. She had a plastic bag full of laundry ready to take to the laundromat, and was mentally compiling a list of groceries.
Rosie eventually surfaced, glowered and established her usual early-morning gloom. Lorraine’s hyperactivity served only to increase it.
‘You want any laundry done?’
‘Jesus! I don’t know at this hour, do I?’ Rosie banged open the cupboards as Lorraine started up the vacuum.