Audrey took the knife from Shirley. ‘Well, if Ursula Andress can do it...’
Shirley looked puzzled.
‘The blonde movie actress — you know!’
Shirley rolled her eyes and Audrey started cutting the cake. Shirley put a hand on her arm. ‘You know you needn’t bother coming to me for a handout when Ray hops it — because that’s what he’s going to do. That’s what Greg’s so-called father did, what mine did. I haven’t seen my big brother Mike for years. And when he does come home you get into a right old state because of our dad leaving to live on the military base in Germany. It’s no wonder Mike wanted to go there and be with him instead of living here in this shithole. Every man you’ve ever had has only hung round long enough to get what they wanted and then pissed off!’
Audrey’s hand shot out and slapped Shirley hard across the face.
There was a strange moment as the two women looked at each other. In all the years and all the troubles they’d been through, Audrey had never slapped her daughter before.
Shirley picked up her bag. ‘You’re making a big mistake, Mum. You know you could still—’
‘Get out!’ Audrey yelled. She sat at the kitchen table, looking at the cake. She picked up a piece, then let it drop. Gently she rubbed her hand over her tummy.
‘You just don’t understand, Shirley,’ she said to herself. ‘It’s gonna be different this time.’ She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Yeah, this time everything’s gonna be all right.’
A wave of guilt washed over her as Shirley opened her car door. For a moment she thought of going back and apologizing, but something stopped her.
She was just about to get into the car when she felt a slap on her behind. She turned round in a fury, expecting to see Greg, but it was Micky Tesco, standing there with a big grin on his face.
‘I can’t stand people who do that!’ she snapped.
He held the door open for her, still smiling. Shirley could smell his cologne.
‘You been to see our mum-to-be, eh, darlin’?’ he asked with a smirk.
Shirley could have hit him. She got into the car, but he still held onto the door.
‘You been doing any modeling lately?’
She opened her handbag and searched for her keys, wishing he’d shut up and go away.
He stuck his head in the car. ‘Friend of mine runs a modeling agency. I was talking about you.’
Shirley just laughed. ‘Oh, yeah?’ She couldn’t find her car keys.
‘Straight up! She wants to meet you. Marion Gordon.’
For a moment she stopped searching for her keys. Marion Gordon... she knew that name.
Micky straightened up. ‘You must have heard of her. I can fix you up an interview, no problem. You’re just the kind of girl she likes — you know, fresh, natural-looking.’ He paused, as if he was thinking. ‘What’re you doing right now?’
She looked at him, and he knew he’d got her, hook, line and sinker.
Shirley bit her lip. ‘What, meet her now? I’d have to change.’
He reached over and took the keys out of Shirley’s hand, then helped her out of the car.
‘Don’t forget your handbag, sweetheart.’ He reached into the car and handed her the bag.
Shirley knew he was manipulating her, but what rather disturbed her was that she didn’t seem to mind. She watched him shut the car door and lock it, before handing her back the keys. Then he gripped her elbow and led her across the street to his E-type Jaguar. He opened the passenger door, helped her in, shut the door — the perfect gentleman — and he was whistling when he got in next to her.
‘Well! Let’s go and see if I can get you a modeling job, yeah?’
‘What’s in it for you?’ Shirley asked, even though she knew the answer.
He smiled. ‘Well, one good turn deserves another, doesn’t it? So maybe you’ll have dinner with me one night. What do you say?’
Shirley didn’t reply, but he seemed to take that as a ‘yes.’ He revved the engine and they sped off.
‘Put your safety belt on, sweetheart. Don’t wanna lose you.’
Shirley did as he asked, but noticed he wasn’t wearing his. She glanced sidelong at him as he drove, and noticed a few other things. She liked the way he dressed: clean and sharp. And that cologne was rather nice. With his blond hair, piercing ice-blue eyes and perfect, even white teeth, she had to admit he was very striking. She settled back in her seat, liking the way he drove: fast, but always seeming to be in control.
‘Have you ever done any modeling?’ she asked after a while.
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Yeah, once. I did a knitting pattern for Marion. That’s how I know her.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I couldn’t stand all the woofters about.’
‘So what do you do now?’
‘I’m in property, sweetheart. Buying and selling.’
Well, he must be doing all right, Shirley thought to herself. These cars aren’t cheap.
Micky accelerated expertly through the gears.
Got her, he told himself. I’ve got her...
Dolly had been washing up in the kitchen, and now she turned her attention to the stove, which was covered in grease after one of Linda’s fry-ups. She’d been back and forth to the various rooms in the house collecting dirty cups and saucers, including a saucer full of cigarette ends. Just the smell of it made her glad she didn’t smoke anymore. She missed having something to do with her hands, but that was a small price to pay, especially now that she was watching her weight.
Dolly was miles away when Linda came in, carrying a few more cups and saucers. She took them to the sink and picked up a dishcloth.
‘D’you want me to give you a hand, Dolly?’
‘If you like, love.’
Dolly had noticed a change in Linda of late. She was still nervous and jumpy, but instead of running off at the mouth, she was usually quiet. Often when they were together, she’d look over to see Linda just staring into space.
They washed and dried the dishes together for a minute in companionable silence, and then Dolly saw that Linda was crying, silent tears running down her face.
‘Has Bella been having a go at you again?’
Linda nodded. Dolly usually kept her emotions to herself, and she didn’t give her affections lightly. But she felt drawn to Linda now, almost like a daughter. She carried on scrubbing at a plate.
‘Harry knocked the stuffing out of you, didn’t he, sweetheart?’
Linda was quiet for a moment. ‘I was so scared, Dolly. I thought I was dying. It was the water, I’ve always been terrified of water, ever since I was a kid.’
Seeing that Linda’s nose was running, Dolly held her hands up in their rubber gloves. ‘Here, there’s a tissue in my apron pocket.’
Linda pulled out the tissue and blew her nose. She started to tell Dolly a story about when she was at the orphanage. It was strange, really: these women had spent so much time together — had been through so much together — and yet they didn’t really know each other, what each of them was feeling deep down. Dolly was moved by Linda’s description of life at the orphanage; how she remembered her mother taking her there when she was three, three and a half. She remembered her smell, but she could no longer visualize her face. What she did remember was those endless days waiting for the mother who never came. And then the final realization that she never would.
‘Were you ever happy there?’ Dolly asked, as she carried on washing up. ‘Were they kind to you?’
‘Yeah, they were kind, but it could never make up for not having a mum. D’you know what I mean, Dolly?’ Linda’s drying up slowed to a stop with a plate still in her hand. ‘The only real home I ever had was the one with Joe. I’m not saying it was perfect, but he was always there for me.’