Anyone Who Had a Heart (28 page)

She watched in amazement as Sally peeled off her dress, sliding a strap down her arm, teasingly bringing it back up again before peeling it down her bare arm.
At
the same time she peeled the dress from her body then kicked it to one side.

Wearing only her underwear, she danced around the room, her hips swaying from side to side, her hands caressing her bare flesh.

She was wearing a lacy bra, scanty panties, a suspender belt and stockings rather than tights. Men preferred stockings. Roberto had told Marcie that in the days before he’d found out the truth about her.

The underwear was nothing like anything she’d ever seen; the colours vibrant, the materials lacy, silky and beautifully stitched.

She watched in amazement as Sally undulated to the music, acting coy one minute and wanton the next. Carefully, so as not to snag it with her long, lacquered fingernails, she slid one of her stockings down over her thigh, her knee then her calf until she finally pulled it over her painted toes.

Bump went one hip one way, and a second stocking was off. Hunching a shoulder, off came one bra strap. Hunching the other shoulder off came the other. Curving her hands over her breasts, fingers meeting, a quick flick, and her bra was off, twirled and went flying at the window.

Marcie gasped in amazement.

A silky tassel hung from each nipple.

‘Twirl them,’ shouted Allegra, clapping her hands in delight.

Sally did just that.

Marcie found herself shrieking with laughter. Like Allegra she began clapping in time with the music while Sally went on stripping.

Bump went her other hip in one direction and the strings holding her panties on that hip were untied. Bump went her hip in the other direction, and that set of strings was also undone.

Accompanied with a brazen shout of ‘They’re off,’ Sally whipped off the two small triangles that made up her underwear and danced with them over her head. Only a slender sheath of silk remained and covered very little.

‘Dah, dah, de dah dah, de dah, de dah, dah!’

They’d all joined in with the last line of the music, dancing around the room with her. They finally all fell into a heap on the settee, still laughing, enjoying the precious moment of being together again as much as they did the music.

It was Allegra, always the serious one, who caught her breath first.

‘So,’ she said, getting herself into a sitting position. ‘Do you think you can make outfits for exotic dancers?’

Sally butted in looking very serious and pointing at herself. ‘I should warn you beforehand that not all of us are as overdressed as this.’

Marcie knew when she was being wound up. ‘I don’t
do
birthday suits. I can never get the buttons to match – even though there’s only one of them.’

Their laughter just wouldn’t be held in.

At last they lay there, breathless and replete, warmly glad they were back in good company, three girls who’d been through difficult times together.

‘So what did you mean when you said I should go self-employed?’ Marcie asked.

Allegra sat up straight. ‘We’re basically talking theatrical costumes. They cost a fortune and a lot of work goes into them. I know it’s not the stuff you see on the catwalk, but getting to be a designer in a fashion house can take for ever. And you have to have done an art school course.’

Allegra maintained a serious expression as she laid it on the line. Marcie knew very well that what she was saying made good sense. Unless she had some kind of qualification from a college she hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance of making her way in the world of fashion.

‘This way, making the items that girls like Sally need, it means you would make money from the very start. They don’t give a damn what qualifications you’ve got as long as you can do the job.’

Marcie’s mind was racing. This was hardly the stuff she wanted to make, but if it meant that she and Joanna could live together what did it matter?

However, there were reservations. Nothing could be that easy.

‘How would I sell these things? I wouldn’t have to have a shop would I? I mean, stuff like that isn’t sold in shops, is it?’

Allegra bubbled with laughter and Sally guffawed like a trooper before attempting to explain.

‘No need to worry about that! No, you won’t need a shop. All you need are contacts, and we’ve got those. Isn’t that right, Allie?’

Allegra nodded. ‘Yes. We know an agent who acts for the girls and can give you the orders. You don’t even have to go out looking for them yourself. All you have to do is design and make. The dancers will be put in touch with you and will tell you what they want. How good is that?’

Never in her wildest dreams had Marcie ever considered making what Allegra was talking about. Theatrical costumes! Yes, she was a dedicated follower of fashion, but what her old friend had just said made sense. She had to make a living – fast. Still, she had to make sure.

‘Would I make enough to live on?’

‘You bet, sweet child!’ laughed Sally who was busily retrieving her clothes with gay abandon and unashamed nudity, the cheeks of her bottom tilted up and shiny.

Marcie felt a wave of excitement course through her veins.

‘Where would I live?’

‘We know just the premises. The shop on the ground floor is let out. You would have the workroom above that and the flat at the top of the building,’ said Allegra. ‘And Joanna wouldn’t be neglected. You wouldn’t be doing all the work yourself. You would employ some people. Besides, you have two willing nannies who would drop in when they could.’

She exchanged a bemused smile with Sally.

Bubbling with excitement Marcie shook her head in disbelief. She felt all warm and gooey inside. London had seemed a lonely place until she’d been reunited with these two – except for Roberto, but then that was at an end. It was just that Roberto wouldn’t accept it as fact. But he had to, he really had to.

‘If I didn’t know better I would think you two have been planning this for some time,’ she said brightly.

Their exchange of looks was surreptitious but undeniable.

‘We talked about it before you arrived,’ said Sally. ‘You don’t think I put on impromptu shows like that for just anybody do you?’

Marcie bit her lip as she thought of the most difficult task connected with their scheme. ‘The only thing I’m worried about is taking Joanna away from my grandmother.’

‘We didn’t say it would be easy,’ said Sally. ‘But hell’s bells, it’s your kid first and last, ain’t it?’

She had to concede that. Joanna came first and she wanted her child with her.

‘A mother should be with her child,’ she said softly and wondered if her mother would have stayed if things had been different, if she’d had good friends to help her out.

‘This workroom and this flat above it. You seem very familiar with it, as though you’ve set everything up ready for me.’

The two of them beamed at her like a pair of Cheshire cats.

‘Just say we’re your fairy godmothers,’ said Sally.

Everything seemed so wonderful and Marcie felt she was riding along to a better future – until an obvious question came to her.

‘Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Landlords want some kind of bond up front for a workshop
or
a flat. I’m going to need both. Now excuse me right now, but I don’t have that kind of money.’

‘I do,’ said Allegra.

‘And I can help out,’ added Sally. ‘So no more arguments. You pack your things and get out.’

Marcie was wise enough to know there was no point in giving the Camilleris notice that she was leaving. In any case, she had to avoid Roberto. He wasn’t taking no for an answer and he wouldn’t want
her
leaving without his express permission. If he caught up with her she could get worse treatment than last time.

‘OK,’ she said, her stomach knotting with nerves as she nodded her head. ‘Show me this place and we’ll take it from there.’

BABS HAD DUMPED
the kids on a neighbour and caught the morning train to London. She was livid. Never mind that her old man had sent her some dosh in the form of postal orders, she felt murderous. There was only one reason why he hadn’t come home as far as she was concerned. He had a bit of stuff on the side!

Well, she’d sort him out good and proper! And his bit of stuff too. Probably some blonde tart with sparrow-like legs and tits the size of barrage balloons, she thought, as she marched to the station, her wobbly bits held in place with an armour-plated corset.

Her dark thoughts stayed with her all the way to London and kept her company as she hurried along the station platform, fists stuffed into her reefer jacket pockets. A pink plastic bag with multicoloured polka dots smacked like a satchel against her side.

First she’d go round to his place and if he wasn’t there, she’d go round to see that bloke he was working for – Victor Camilleri. If she could get hold of his address that is.

The underground was packed but she put up with it, finally alighting in the heart of gangsterland.

The East End stunk of old bricks and stale beer with a touch of rotting vegetables thrown in. Oh, and the gas works. They were pretty grim too, but nothing, no smell, no hell and high water was going to prevent Mrs Barbara Brooks from giving her old man what for.

The swine hadn’t been home for weeks and she’d had enough of his excuses. If she couldn’t find him she’d find Marcie; yes, she thought to herself, me and Marcie are chums now, ain’t we? Marcie will tell me what he’s up to.

Her father wasn’t around to come to her rescue and move her out. There was no one at home in the basic bedsit he lived in and the woman downstairs said he didn’t always come home at night. It was no big surprise. Her father was easily led astray by lame dogs, blonde tarts and horses that never finished the Derby, let alone winning it.

She determined she’d do it alone and tell him when she caught up with him.

They say that lightning never strikes in the same place twice, but in her case it did. Once again she’d thought to sneak into her room and this time sneak out again with all her belongings. Once again there was Michael dealing with his father’s paperwork.

Brown suitcase at her side, she leaned against the wall and purposely looked away from him then back again.

‘Are you following me?’ Her expression accused him.

He gave her a surprised and slightly amused look. ‘Should I be?’

‘I thought you were leaving here to work for yourself.’

‘I am. I called into Daisy Chain to see you. I wanted to ask you to dinner. I didn’t know you were leaving.’

‘Don’t tell anyone. Please.’

He was standing with his hands in the pockets of his Levi Strauss jeans, white shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up exposing tanned skin, and his head held to one side. He looked insulted but also quizzical.

‘Of course I won’t. I think it’s the best thing you can do. I’ll give you a lift.’

He reached for her suitcase. She stared at him. She hadn’t really given Michael that much attention in the past, perhaps because on the first occasion she’d seen him he’d been dwarfed by his half-brother’s overpoweringly charming presence. On closer inspection she now saw there was gentleness in his eyes that his brother did not have. Neither did Michael show signs of Roberto’s macho arrogance.

‘Do you have a place to go to?’ he asked.

She nodded, her lips seeming to be glued together. Just fear of course. She didn’t want to jeopardise her plans.

‘Do you need a lift there? I’m still offering. If you want one.’

She had been planning to get the bus. Her funds didn’t stretch to a taxi. The plan was to move her things into the flat then catch the train to Sheppey to collect Joanna. She hadn’t allowed for anyone discovering her here and she certainly hadn’t intended leaving a forwarding address.

‘I won’t tell anyone where I dropped you,’ he added when she still couldn’t seem to find her tongue.

She raised fear-filled eyes to his face. ‘Do you promise?’

He took hold of her case. ‘You and me both. We’re both finished here, I think.’

‘Are you in a hurry to get there?’ Michael asked her on the way to Balham.

She looked at him for clarification, determined that no man was ever going to lead her up the garden path again. She was getting older. She was getting tougher.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I am
not
the Big Bad Wolf! I just thought we could have a coffee perhaps in lieu of dinner. Would you?’

Michael was
asking
her rather than telling her like
Roberto
would have done. She decided to accept his invitation.

‘Though I can’t stay long. I have to catch a train.’

They stopped in a small Italian coffee house where each cup of coffee was percolated in a hissing, steaming machine with gleaming chrome handles.

They took a table by the window. Michael spooned two sugars into his coffee. Marcie abstained. They both sipped before speaking.

‘Roberto is still phoning you?’

She nodded. ‘I keep telling him I don’t want to see him again, but he phones and when that doesn’t get him anywhere he comes round to see his parents. He brings me flowers and insists I go out with him. I keep telling him no and he keeps telling me that I’ll come round to his way of thinking. Just forget my daughter and everything will suit him fine. I tell him I cannot do that.’

Michael took another spoonful of sugar and stirred thoughtfully at his coffee. She wondered if he always took so much sugar, or was he thinking too deeply to notice he was repeating himself?

‘He thinks you are like the rest of the girls; you all want a good-looking boyfriend and lots of money. Most of the girls are quite happy with him and even happy to be passed on to someone else.’ His eyes flashed up from the coffee to her face. ‘I have to tell you right now that your father did not plan for this.
My
father took you in as a favour, not for the same reasons as the other girls who work for him at all. I thought you should know that. I think you would be quite safe from that career – unless you particularly want to go in that direction.’