‘I’m going nowhere,’ I said. He scoffed at me. ‘No? All right.’ I reached into my purse and pulled out a bundle of notes – some of my winnings from the previous night. His eyes widened at the amount of money I was holding in front of him and he wiped his mouth, as if thinking something over. ‘How much for an exit visa? Will he do it for a hundred? I’ve got more if needs be.’
He was struggling with the decision. His hands seemed to itch for the notes, edging towards mine and flitting back. That told me all I needed to know.
‘Jane!’ It was Stephanie. I looked outside to see three men walking rapidly up the street towards us. ‘Police!’ she shouted.
I froze. I couldn’t afford to have them asking questions and reporting on my movements.
‘Christ, get in the back!’ barked the man. He didn’t want the police speaking to me any more than I did. He lifted the counter and I pressed through into a murky room. It had a paper-strewn desk along one wall, with big windows above; a white-painted stage in one corner was surrounded by photographic lights, and a camera on a tripod pointed at a stool in the centre. In the opposite corner, paint was peeling off what appeared to be an exit to the street.
I heard the shop door open, the bell above it clanking wildly. ‘All right, Toby?’ a gruff voice asked. I pressed myself to the wall beside the doorway. ‘How’s business?’
‘Not been good this month.’
‘I wasn’t actually asking. I don’t care. Come on.’ The cash register opened. I bent my neck around to catch a glimpse. All I could see was the shopkeeper’s back.
I tried moving across the doorway to see from a different angle, but didn’t check where my feet were going and my left shoe connected with something hard. There was a metallic ring. I looked down to see I had kicked a pail a few centimetres. It wasn’t a loud sound and I prayed no one had heard it, but everything had gone quiet out in the shop. ‘I can get you more next month,’ Toby said.
‘Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?’ the gruff voice demanded. ‘What was that?’
‘Just some tart. The usual.’
‘Is it, now? I haven’t actually seen that before. Could be nice. You stay here.’ I ran to the other side of the room, behind the desk. A bear-like man with a heavy brown beard entered, followed by one of the other policemen. ‘All right, love?’ he said in a thick voice. I didn’t reply. He appraised me and smirked to his mate. ‘Don’t know why you’re here. You could do better. Magazines. Proper stuff.’ The one behind him chuckled. ‘Or for your old man, is it?’ I didn’t reply. ‘Come on, speak up. I said speak up.’
My mouth was dry. ‘My old man.’
‘Bit of a game for him?’ He walked slowly behind me. His breath had the tang of beer. ‘He likes that sort of thing.’
I had to say something. ‘Yes. A game.’
‘Lucky him.’ He moved out in front of me again. ‘Well, don’t let us stop you.’ I stood there unmoving; the air seemed to smell of them. ‘Come on. Been a crap day for us, so cheer us up.’
‘How?’
‘“How?” she says. Over there. In the light.’ He pointed and waited. Terrified, I walked slowly over to the squalid stage and stood, blinking in the weak sun. ‘Now show us something.’
‘No, it’s–’
‘Don’t annoy me, love. Show us something.’
There was silence as they stood stock still. I would have done anything to get out of there. I lifted the hem of my skirt. ‘Come on, you’re not a fucking nun.’ His voice was sharper now. ‘Show us something or maybe we’ll make this more official.’ I lifted the hem higher so that it reached my underwear. ‘Not enough, love. We’ll have to take you in, won’t we?’ The officer behind him nodded.
‘What… do you want?’ I stammered. He pointed to my blouse.
I was terrified of what they could do to me there, without anyone around to care, let alone stop them. I lifted my fingers to the top button but couldn’t make them work – they felt stiff and numb.
‘Go on!’ His voice was rasping and brutal.
I tried to control my fingers. Slowly, I pressed the button through, letting the material of my blouse spread apart. Then the next fastening. The chill air made the skin on my chest prickle. ‘More like it,’ he said. I stood with it open. ‘Not bad. Like I said, magazines.’ I stood there, ashamed. ‘Keep going.’
There was a crash from out in the shop and I could hear Toby saying, ‘Told you not to do that.’ The officer looked at his mate and jerked his head. They went out to investigate, and as soon as their backs were turned I rushed over to the rear door. It was locked, with no key in sight. I ran to the desk to look for it. I hunted through, shoving aside a toothbrush in a smeared mug, a box of tooth powder, envelopes full of negatives and a magnifying glass, but found no key. The panic was rising as I tried to think where this man might keep it – somewhere close in case he needed to leave quickly, just as I did. I dashed back to the door and felt along the top of the frame. It was there, cold in my hand, and I shoved it into the lock. The hinges were thankfully well-oiled and I slipped out, closing the door and locking it from the outside. I threw the key aside and hurried away, holding my blouse closed.
34
The house was quiet when I got home. Without taking off my heavy coat, I entered the parlour and was taken aback to see a woman a few years older than me sitting serenely in one of the pair of Queen Anne chairs that Nick had picked up somewhere. She was dressed in black with a pill-box hat that had a veil hanging across her forehead. But the veil didn’t – couldn’t – disguise the fact that she had a very pretty face. It was round, the type you saw in eighteenth-century paintings of nymphs and satyrs, expertly powdered. Beside her, Nick was in the other chair, his legs crossed. They were both silent, as if they had been waiting for me.
‘Darling, this is Bella Singent,’ said Nick.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t expect you until seven.’ In fact, it had entirely slipped my mind that people were coming to dinner. Bella smiled sweetly and rose. She had long dark hair that shone in the sunlight. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’ I had been somewhat on edge about meeting these old friends of Nick and Lorelei. Bella and Lorelei had trained as actresses together decades earlier; but Bella had soon married someone steadfast and comfortably off and never set foot on a stage again.
‘And you too,’ she said, kissing my cheeks.
Nick went to the drinks cabinet. ‘Would you like something?’ he asked. I noticed that there were three glasses on the side table with a little white wine in each.
‘Thank you,’ I said. He poured out another half-glass from a bottle. They sat and watched as I drank.
‘The soot really is terrible right now, isn’t it?’ said Bella.
I looked at my reflection in the wine glass. ‘Oh, no,’ I said, seeing a film of grime on my face. ‘I had no idea.’ I scrabbled about in my handbag for a handkerchief.
‘Take mine,’ she said, holding out a square of linen.
‘Oh, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to make it filthy.’ She shrugged and smiled again. I took it and dabbed at my face, making little difference.
‘So you’re going to be a new mother to dear little Hazel,’ said Bella.