‘You never let me forget it, Micky, do you?’
She felt his hands gripping her tighter. He was like a snake, squeezing the life out of her. Then suddenly he eased off, and his voice was gentler.
‘This is the last time, Marion. I swear, on my life, it’ll be the last favor I ever ask you. Just get that little girl on that job at Amanda’s.’ Then he pulled her head back and kissed her, a hard, vicious kiss, and however much she hated him, Marion could feel a surge of heat inside her. Even now he could still do it to her, just like he had when he was a kid of sixteen. She’d been a fool to pick him up, but then she’d always liked pretty, sixteen-year-old boys, and Micky Tesco was a classic. He’d grown up now, though, wasn’t a pretty little boy anymore. He was more like a monster, and that feeling in the pit of her stomach made her ashamed.
She pushed him away, but he wouldn’t let her go. He wasn’t finished with her yet. He pulled her head toward him again and she felt herself responding. And then it was just like it had always been. With one hand, Micky cleared all the diaries and notebooks from the desk. He lifted her up and laid her across the desk.
‘Well, Marion, here’s one for old times’ sake...’
Shirley had finished her coffee and smoked a second cigarette. Suzy was getting a little edgy, continually looking toward the door, then back to Shirley. Eventually the door opened and Micky stood there, smiling.
He grinned over at Shirley. ‘Won’t be a moment, sweetheart.’ Then he shut the door again.
Marion was sprawled on the desk with her jeans round her ankles and her silk shirt unbuttoned. Micky looked at her with disgust.
‘Tidy yourself up. Come on, pull your trousers up, for Christ’s sake!’
Marion hastily hitched up her jeans and buttoned her shirt. She had to search round for her glasses.
‘Smile, sweetheart.’ Micky held his hands together like a camera. ‘That’s a good girl.’
He opened the door wide, beckoning Shirley over, and Marion just had time to sit back down at her desk, trying to hold back the tears.
‘Marion, I’d like you to meet Shirley.’ Micky ushered Shirley in and closed the door behind her.
Marion’s hands were shaking as she motioned for Shirley to sit down in the director’s chair. She looked at the pretty, innocent-looking girl before her and wondered if she had any idea what sort of a man Micky Tesco was.
‘So,’ she said, with a deep sigh. ‘You want to be a model, do you?’
Bella was standing at the window, waiting. They’d already called Shirley’s mother, only to be told, in a rather abrupt tone, that Shirley had left hours ago. Bella closed the curtain again and turned back to Linda.
‘Where the hell is she?’
Linda was sitting on the sofa. ‘You remember that little gun?’
Bella switched on the TV. ‘What film is this?’
Linda got up and switched the TV off again. ‘Listen to me. At the lock-up. Dolly had a gun.’
‘What about it?’
Linda chose her words very carefully. ‘Well, if something was to go wrong, I’d feel a lot safer if I had it.’
Dolly walked into the lounge. ‘Had what?’
‘Your gun,’ said Bella. ‘Linda was saying she’d feel a lot safer if she had it.’
‘No. No guns,’ Dolly said.
Linda appealed to her. ‘Look, I just thought... for protection, you know — if something goes wrong.’
Dolly turned on her sharply. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? No guns!’ She sat on the sofa. ‘Right, I’ve been working out exactly what we’ll say...’ She looked at the sofa. ‘What in God’s name is that?’
It was the most extraordinary Guy Fawkes dummy: a pair of ratty jeans stuffed with old tights and bits of newspaper, a bulging sweater — and now Linda was stuffing the seat of a pair of tights with bits of old magazines.
She held the dummy up. ‘It’s great, isn’t it? When I’m parked, for cover, I’m going to put his arms round me like this. And then, you see, we’ll look as if we’re snogging. I mean, if Harry drives past and sees me sitting in the car, he might think it looks suspicious, right? But if he sees a couple snogging, he won’t pay any attention, right?’
Bella was sarcastic. ‘Brilliant. What sort of a feller has a head the size of a peanut, with a pair of knickers on top?’
Linda giggled. ‘It’s not finished yet. He hasn’t got his hat on.’
Dolly shook her head, watching the two girls. ‘You’re like a couple of kids!’
Linda was now dancing round the room with the ridiculous dummy, a pair of shoes dangling from the legs of its jeans.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ said Dolly. ‘Can’t you two concentrate on anything for more than two seconds? Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ve worked out what we say to Harry.’
Linda put the dummy down. ‘Sorry, Dolly. Which one of us is gonna make the call then?’
Dolly looked up. ‘Who the hell do you think?’
In a cozy corner in a little pub in Mayfair, Micky poured Shirley another glass of champagne, and she drained half of it in one go. She couldn’t believe her luck. The meeting with Marion Gordon had gone just the way she’d always dreamt it would. Marion had looked her up and down, asked her to walk the length of the room, and then sat back. She’d seemed a little bit edgy, but maybe they were always like that, these high-powered model agents. Quick as a flash, she’d said she’d fix up a photographic session, and might even have a job lined up for her.
Shirley was brimming over with happiness, and the words were tumbling out over each other.
‘Oh, Micky, the girls she’s got, they do Vogue, Elle, Tatler, all the really top jobs. I’ll never be able to thank you properly!’
Micky smiled and filled her glass again. ‘Oh, I’ll think of a way, darlin’.’ He took a quick look at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I’m gonna have to make a move.’
Shirley looked at her own watch and gasped when she realized the time. She stood up. ‘Oh, my God, I’d no idea it was so late!’
Micky picked up her bag. ‘I’ll drop you back at your car. Here you go, don’t forget your handbag.’
‘Oh, thanks, Micky.’
Micky stood close, but he didn’t reach out to touch her, he just smiled down into her eyes. ‘That’s all right, Shirley. Come on, let’s go.’
For a moment Shirley had thought he was going to kiss her, and even though part of her wanted him to, she was pleased he didn’t. It made her like him even more.
He opened the door and guided her toward the E-type. Still the perfect gentleman, he helped her in, then bent over the seat belt. This time she really wanted him to kiss her. She was intensely aware of his hands, his body, the smell of his cologne. Shirley was tall, at least five-eight, and Terry, her husband, had only been about five foot six. She’d never minded, never really thought about it, but suddenly it was nice to be with somebody so tall, so strong-looking.
As the car moved off, she seemed to be in a dream. Micky was looking at her.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘I can’t believe I’m gonna be a professional model now. It’s what I’ve always wanted.’
He smiled. He had a lovely smile, thought Shirley.
But Tesco was thinking: Shit, I’m gonna be late for Rawlins. He’ll hit the fucking roof.
Harry entered the lock-up and put down the cases he was carrying. Gordon Murphy had already made coffee and was sitting on one of the orange boxes, studying the layout of Amanda’s nightclub.
‘Not exactly a piece of cake, is it, Harry?’ he said.
Harry helped himself to coffee and sat down with a wry smile. ‘Never said it was, did I?’
Murphy grunted. ‘Well, the man we need to look over the place is Colin Soal. D’you know him? You’ll have to pay through the nose, but he’ll do a good job. He’ll scope out every inch of the place, down to the toilet paper. We’ve gotta have a good man inside there, Harry. There’s so many entrances and exits, and that kitchen’s a bastard.’