Georgia (28 page)

‘Come and dance?’ he said later, holding out a hand.

‘I hope Miriam doesn’t mind,’ Georgia said as he scooped her into his arms. She felt uncomfortably aware of his big hard body against hers and she could see his wife watching them.

‘She’s delighted to have a chat with Andreous and Ruth’, he smiled down at her, his big hand lightly touching the naked skin on her back, sending shivers down her spine. ‘They all gabble away in Greek the moment I’m out of earshot. Anyway you’re the star tonight.’

‘I like Miriam,’ she said weakly.

‘And so do I,’ he smiled, showing flashing white teeth. ‘We’ve been married for twenty years. She doesn’t have to worry when I dance with a beautiful girl.’

‘Do you think the songs I picked were right for me?’ she asked. She was very aware of the touch of his hand, his chin brushing her hair. She didn’t want to be so aware of him, she wanted him to talk about her future.

‘I’d like to hear you sing some good soul music,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘More up-to-date stuff. But only you know the sort of music that inspires you. You are the artist, not me.’

It was after four when Georgia finally got home.

As she unzipped the red dress and hung it up she felt a sudden pang of fear. Supposing nothing did come of tonight? How could she spend another year making dresses?

Then there was Max. He’d been watching her with more than just passing interest. What she couldn’t gauge was if that interest was professional, or personal.

She knew now with utter certainty that she was born to sing. If only her feelings about Max were as clean cut!

‘It’s Miriam Menzies on the phone,’ Pop shouted out into the workroom. ‘Come and take it in my office.’

Two weeks had passed since the night at the Acropolis. A small photograph of her in a music paper and then nothing. Night after night spent alone in her room staring at the red spangly dress, watching her dream fade.

Georgia came back into the workshop looking stunned.

‘What did she want?’ Janet switched off her machine and the others all followed suit.

‘She’s invited me to go shopping with her on Saturday and lunch afterwards.’

‘Beats the casting couch routine,’ Sally sniggered, leaning forward to listen.

‘But why?’ Georgia turned puzzled eyes on Janet. ‘Does this mean something?’

Janet shrugged.

‘She’s softening you up,’ Sally smirked.

‘For Max?’ Janet looked round sharply at her friend. ‘I’d think ’e was capable of doing that ’imself. I’d be his for a gin and tonic.’

‘Did she mention him?’ Sally asked.

Georgia shook her head.

‘Well girl,’ Janet smiled. ‘At least you’ll get a free lunch. I bet that Miriam don’t eat in Wimpy bars!’

Chapter 10

‘Almost Millionaires Row,’ Georgia whispered to herself as she hurried along the tree-lined Hampstead avenue. Big detached houses set in neat gardens, gleaming cars on gravel drives. Images of au pairs, tennis clubs and holidays abroad. ‘Max must be stinking rich.’

The Menzies’s house was mock Georgian. Double-fronted with a glossy, navy blue door and brass coach lamps.

Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the front door, the gravel scrunching under her feet, intensely aware of her shabby navy suit and run-down shoes.

A girl opened the door, smiling welcomingly.

‘You must be Georgia?’ she said. ‘Come on in, Mrs Menzies won’t be a moment.’

She was only a little older than Georgia, fair, with polished skin and an accent that suggested she could be Dutch or German. The plain black dress wasn’t a uniform, but it had the same effect.

‘Take a seat,’ she said, ushering Georgia into the sitting room, then disappeared down the hall to the back of the house.

The room was huge. The morning sun bathed the baby grand piano in the front window, glass doors led on to the garden at the back. The sort of room her mother would have described as ‘More money than taste’, but Georgia was impressed.

A shaggy carpet curled round her feet. She looked around at luxurious fat couches with matching footstools, and huge exotic flower arrangements. Paintings with heavy gilt frames. A mahogany wall unit displaying family photographs encased in silver, along with a collection of porcelain figurines.

The house was silent, just the tick of a clock from the hall and birdsong from the garden. Georgia perched on the edge of a chair, taking careful note of everything, from the heavy curtains with tasselled pelmets to the imitation twin chandeliers.

Miriam swept into the room wearing a blue silk dress, she looked pretty despite her bulk, and she smelled as exotic as her choice of flowers.

‘Hallo, dear,’ she said, sitting down for a minute as she checked her bag, and patted her elaborate hairstyle. Georgia was pretty sure it wasn’t her real colour, for the dark, burnished auburn didn’t go with her dark eyes or eyebrows. It was swept up on to the top of her head, a mass of carefully arranged curls.

‘I thought we’d go to Kensington,’ she said as she applied a touch more lipstick. ‘How do you feel now after your debut?’

Her plump hands were covered in rings, so many that Georgia wondered how she bent her fingers. Her nails were very long, painted a vivid pink to match her lips.

‘I’m not sure,’ Georgia felt a little awkward. ‘I want something more to happen I guess.’

‘It will,’ Miriam stood up again, smoothing down her skirt, arranging a large, gold twisted chain round her plump neck. ‘Max’s meeting us for lunch, but let’s forget that now. I love shopping, nothing better for giving one a boost.’

Somehow Georgia had assumed they would go by bus or tube. She hadn’t considered Miriam could drive, much less whisk her into a sleek black Rover, with seats like armchairs.

Miriam attacked the shops like someone seeing food for the first time in weeks. She bought a cashmere sweater, stockings and a black cocktail dress without even checking the prices and all the time she chatted.

Greece, holidays abroad, her two teenage boys. Between bursts she fired questions at Georgia and pointed out her favourite shops.

‘I don’t want you to be offended,’ Miriam said briskly as she whisked Georgia into the younger woman’s department in Barkers, ‘but I’m going to buy you something nice as a present.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Georgia almost stammered. ‘But I hardly know you.’

‘Nonsense,’ Miriam’s eyes were already scanning the rails. ‘I have my motives. I want Max to offer to be your manager. Now we can hardly impress him with you wearing that suit can we?’

Georgia blushed scarlet.

‘Don’t look like that,’ Miriam wheedled, putting one plump bejewelled hand under Georgia’s chin and lifting it. ‘You look fine for an interview for an office job, but entertainers have to sparkle. You wouldn’t think twice if I was your mother.’

‘No, but –’

Miriam’s nose flared.

‘No buts. I’m good with clothes and I know exactly what you need.’ Her tone implied there was to be no further argument. ‘Now a nice dress with a jacket. Something snazzy.’

Georgia watched helplessly as Miriam pulled out garment after garment. Each one of these outfits cost more than she earned in six weeks.

‘We want something that won’t date,’ Miriam pushed aside all the dresses with billowing net underskirts. ‘And a jacket you can wear with other things.’

The assistant’s arms were piled high. Black, red, blue and pink, stripes, spots and plain colours.

‘We’ll try all these,’ she pushed Georgia into the changing room. ‘I think that black and white one is right for you, but we’ll see.’

To Georgia everything was perfect. The size, the colours, but she hated Miriam watching her as she stood in her greying white bra and pants.

‘Put that one on again,’ Miriam lifted down the one she’d mentioned earlier.

It was more sophisticated than the others. A silky low-necked dress in swirly black and white patterns, hugging Georgia’s slim figure as if it was made for her. A short white jacket went over it, turning a dress that was made for dancing, into an outfit suitable for anything from church to an office.

Mirian dug one pink-nailed finger into her plump cheek and looked thoughtful.

‘That’s it,’ she said turning to the assistant. ‘Would you mind cutting off the tags? She’ll wear it now.’

The embarrassment grew as Miriam whisked her down into the shoe department and insisted she had a pair of Charles Jourdan black court shoes with two inch heels.

‘They’re an investment,’ she waved away Georgia’s protest. ‘If I have my way you’ll be dancing all night soon. You can’t do that if your feet hurt. Besides, if Max takes you on you’ll soon be buying clothes much nicer than these things.’

Georgia’s eyes strayed to her image as they passed a huge mirror on the way back to the ground floor.

She could easily pass for a model now. Elegant and poised. Her brown skin set off the white jacket, her hair tumbling over her shoulders stopped the outfit looking too matronly.

‘What do you see?’ Miriam said softly at her elbow.

‘I look kind of glamorous,’ Georgia giggled.

‘No, you look beautiful,’ Miriam smiled. ‘The glamour bit we have to work on. Your nails need shaping properly, you need lessons in make-up and grooming, but if I’m right about you, one day there’ll be a million young girls copying you.’

Miriam stopped by the perfume counter and sprayed her with Chanel No 5.

‘The finishing touch,’ she explained. ‘Now let’s go and meet Max. Don’t tell him about the dress and shoes, this is our little secret.’

‘Why?’

‘You know what men are like.’ Miriam wrinkled her nose. ‘He’ll think I’m spoiling you.’

‘Is Max interested in me?’ Georgia felt bold enough to ask as they crossed the busy High Street and made their way towards the parked car. Miriam puzzled her, it felt like a genuinely motherly act of kindness, yet she couldn’t help suspecting a hidden motive.

‘I’m not quite sure,’ Miriam frowned a little. ‘He was impressed by your voice, but that isn’t always enough.’ She paused to unlock the car boot, took Georgia’s bag and put it inside with her dress bag.

‘Let me tell you something about my Max,’ she looked up at Georgia as she relocked it, pausing with one plump hand on the shiny paintwork. ‘He’s got a reputation as a hard man. You’ll meet people that will tell you all sorts of bad things about him. They say he’s cruel, unscrupulous, that he’d kill his granny for ten shillings.’

‘Would he?’ Georgia’s eyes were as big as saucers.

‘Maybe for a hundred pounds,’ Miriam chuckled. ‘But what few people will admit is, that he is the best. Maybe not the fairest, or the gentlest, but he’s the best because he’s tough. And if he decides he is going to make you a star, you will be.’

Miriam stepped back on the pavement and linked her arm through Georgia’s.

‘You won’t be alone though,’ she squeezed Georgia’s arm. ‘I’ll be around too. Just remember I’m your friend. You can come to me if you have any problems.’

‘I like you,’ Georgia said impulsively. She could remember her mother conspiring with her about her father just like this. Somehow it made it all seem safe.

‘And I like you too,’ Miriam smiled.

Miriam was seething with contradictory emotions. She really did like Georgia, yet still she set her up. Soothing her with maternal advice, stimulating her greed for the ‘good life’. Now she was leading the girl into the final trap, and by tea-time she would be just another of her husband’s assets. Max would be pleased with her, but just this once she wished she hadn’t complied with his instructions.

Harvey’s in Church Street oozed quiet, expensive charm. Dark green paintwork with cream lace curtains on brass rails and windows as shiny as mirrors.

Miriam swept in leaving Georgia to follow nervously.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Menzies,’ the headwaiter, a thin, whey-faced man glided towards them, a napkin over one arm. ‘Mr Menzies is waiting for you.’

Georgia felt rather than saw the dark oak panelling, the cosy booths for intimate meals. All she could focus on was Max getting up from his table by the window, the width of his shoulders and a flash of white teeth.

She was out of her depth now. Foreign waiters, French menus. Even her new clothes couldn’t hide the fact she had never been anywhere so grand before.

‘Hullo,’ he said taking Georgia’s hand firmly and leading her to the table as if understanding her fears. ‘Has Miriam spent all my money?’

‘Only one little dress,’ Miriam simpered, kissing him on the cheek.

‘Do you like chicken?’ Max asked once the waiter had tucked in her chair.

‘Yes,’ Georgia’s voice was little more than a squeak. He looked even more handsome in his light grey suit and she was sure she couldn’t eat a thing, much less choose.

‘Shall I order for you?’ His big hand touched her briefly, like a secret message that he understood her fear. ‘When I was your age I’d never eaten anywhere except at home.’

Once the meal arrived Georgia forgot her nervousness. Max told her a funny story about their son David getting lost in Barker’s when he was small and how Miriam had wailed like a banshee until he was found, then amazed everyone by pulling down his trousers and smacking his bottom publicly.

‘David won’t ever go in there now,’ Miriam added. ‘He’s sure someone will remember him.’

There was something very reassuring in hearing such stories, soon both Max and Miriam were just another set of loving parents and Georgia found herself reciprocating with tales about Pop’s workroom.

‘Miriam tells me you’ve no parents.’ Max probed so gently she barely noticed it. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened to them?’

‘I don’t know anything about either of them,’ she said. ‘The records were lost, all I had was a name. Later on I was fostered.’

‘I wondered how you got to speak so nicely,’ Max’s thick lips spread into a wide flashing smile. ‘Do you keep in touch?’

‘No. They split up after I left, it’s not the same anymore.’

‘That’s sad,’ Max sighed. ‘A girl of your age should have a family.’

‘At least it leaves me free to do as I like,’ she said quickly.

‘And what is that?’ Max enquired.

‘Sing again as soon as possible,’ Georgia dug into an ice-cream sundae with childish relish.