‘She’s what?’ said Cable.
‘In Islington.’
‘You’ve come on your own, then?’
‘In a word, no,’ said Gilmore.
‘You haven’t brought someone else?’ said Cable suspiciously.
‘In a word, yes,’ said Gilmore.
The stunned silence was interrupted by a gasp of amazement from James. An incredible blonde in silver platform heels, a silver space suit, with long blonde hair was causing considerable excitement as she wended her way along the front.
‘There she is,’ said Gilmore, going slightly pink under his suntan. ‘Over here, my cherub.’
‘She looks just like Bardot. She isn’t, is she?’ said James in excited tones.
‘Not quite,’ said Gilmore. ‘I call her Brigitte Barmaid actually.’
‘Jesus, look at those tits,’ said Nicky, smoothing his hair.
Matt was torn between laughter and disapproval.
‘Where on earth did you find her?’ he said.
‘She came to us as a temporary,’ said Larry. ‘I kept bumping into her in the lift.’
‘There was room for you both in the lift?’ asked Matt.
‘I thought she’d have a nice soothing influence on Cable,’ said Gilmore. ‘I know how she likes as many pretty girls around her as possible.’
Cable was looking like the inevitable thundercloud.
‘This is Tracey,’ went on Gilmore, as the blonde sat down between him and Imogen, with a flurry of ‘pleased-to-meet-yous’. ‘And she never drinks anything else but sweet Cinzano, because she’s hung up on sweet sin, aren’t you, my precious?’
‘Do you mind?’ said Tracey. ‘You’re lovely and brown,’ she added, beaming at Imogen. ‘I always think a tan does more for a blonde than anyone else. Thank God I brown very quickly.’
‘Don’t you burn?’ said Imogen, looking at the platinum hair.
‘Never,’ said Tracey. ‘This colour’s out of a bottle. Normally it’s dark brown.’
Imogen blinked, unused to such frankness. ‘Larry’s a wonderful colour already,’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s Man Tan,’ said Tracey. ‘It didn’t work on his legs. They’re all striped like a tiger.’
Imogen giggled, and suddenly felt more cheerful.
At that moment Yvonne arrived, weighed down with paper bags and postcards.
‘I got this for our Daily,’ she said, producing a lady in a crinoline made entirely of shells. ‘Isn’t it original? Oh hullo,’ she added to Gilmore. ‘You must be Larry. We’ve never met, but I so admire your work. And you must be Bambi?’ she said turning to Tracey. ‘I’ve heard so much about you. May I call you Bambi?’
‘Well I keep doing it all the time,’ said Gilmore in his lazy drawl, ‘but she doesn’t like it very much.’
Yvonne sat down between James and Matt.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked.
‘At the Plaza,’ said Tracey. ‘The rooms are awfully pokey.’
Yvonne looked put out. ‘You should see our little hellholes,’ she said, glaring at Matt.
Tracey turned back to Imogen. ‘Isn’t it awful? Every time you turn on the bath in an hotel you get absolutely drenched from the shower. I got soaked tonight.’
She can’t be much older than I am, thought Imogen. Cable and Yvonne were both glaring at her as though she was a particularly nasty maggot who’d appeared in their salad. Looking at her more closely, Imogen realised that underneath the heavy make-up she had a round face, huge brown eyes and a very sweet smile.
‘Ta very much,’ she said, taking her Cinzano from Matt. ‘Who belongs to who round here?’ she added to Imogen. ‘Who’s the little one with the pink face who looks like Ronnie Corbett?’
‘That’s James. He’s married to Yvonne, the one with red hair. She’s a model.’
‘And the lovely brown one next to you? Goodness, he’s handsome. He must be a coastguard or a swimming instructor or something.’
Imogen stifled a giggle. ‘He’s called Nicky Beresford.’
At the mention of his name Nicky looked up. ‘I was just wondering what you do for a living,’ said Tracey, smiling at him with luscious simplicity.
‘He plays tennis,’ snapped Cable, then after a pause, ‘extremely successfully.’
‘Oh, how lovely! I love tennis. Perhaps we could have a game tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps we could,’ said Nicky, smiling into her eyes. ‘It doesn’t have to be tennis.’
‘Encore de whisky,’ shouted Gilmore, glancing round at the girls sitting at nearby tables and walking along the front. ‘Christ, the standard of talent is fantastic here. Just like the King’s Road used to be on a Saturday afternoon. Can’t think why I brought you, Tracey darling. Rather like carrying electric logs to Newcastle.’
‘You’d have to speak French to them, I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Tracey placidly, ‘and you know how that tires you. I’m hungry. I hope the food’s better than it was in Paris. We went to Maxim’s last night. It was disgusting. I wanted a steak, and they gave me this charred rectangle of beef; when you put your fork in all the blood ran out. I love a nice scampi and chips.’
‘I expect it can be arranged,’ said Gilmore.
Yvonne was looking at Tracey in a puzzled way. ‘I can’t believe you’re forty,’ she said.
‘She is round the bust,’ said Cable spitefully.
‘That’s clever,’ said Tracey, quite oblivious of either girl’s animosity. ‘How did you guess? I hear you’re a model,’ she added to Yvonne. ‘I do a bit too in my spare time.’
‘What kind?’ said Yvonne coldly.
‘Oh, nude stuff mostly. I was Penthouse Pet of the Month last July.’
‘Were you indeed?’ said Nicky, shamelessly undressing her with his eyes.
‘They told the most terrible lies,’ said Tracey. ‘They photographed me cycling against a backdrop of some old university, with some pictures in these lovely silk undies and some in nothing at all.’
‘Really,’ said James, his eyes out on stalks.
‘Then they wrote all this stuff in the paper about me being an intellectual and my father being a don. But they let me keep the undies, and they paid very well.’
‘Is your father a don?’ said Yvonne.
‘No, he’s an undertaker,’ said Tracey.
Yvonne looked taken aback. ‘Well, I suppose they do fill a need.’
‘And an awful lot of holes,’ said Matt drily.
‘Do you do any nude work?’ Tracey asked Yvonne.
‘I couldn’t do that sort of thing,’ said Yvonne in a shocked voice.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t be discouraged,’ said Tracey kindly. ‘I used to be as flat as a board like you too. Then my manager said, “Tracey, why don’t you get some decent tits?” He’s got this doctor friend who can give you boobs like Sophia Loren. So I went and saw him. The operation was a bit of a drag, but the after-effect was terrific. These are just silicone,’ she said, patting her jutting bosom fondly. ‘But I’ve never looked back since. I’ll give you the address of the doctor if you like. Pity not to be able to take your clothes off when it’s so lucrative.’
For once Yvonne was completely at a loss for words.
Glancing across, Imogen saw that Matt was crying with laughter.
‘Where did you really find her?’ he said to Gilmore, wiping his eyes.
‘Came to me as a temp. Types 30 words a minute and spells Laurence with a W all the time, but any girl with a body like that deserves to make it in life.’
‘Can’t think what she’s doing with you.’
‘She obviously wants to marry her grandfather.’
Yvonne leant across to Cable. ‘I don’t think that girl’s married to Larry Gilmore at all,’ she hissed.
‘We ought to eat soon,’ said Larry, lifting up one of Tracey’s silver breasts which was hanging over his watch. ‘It’s nearly half past nine.’