The Ladykiller (21 page)

She breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Well, if you’re sure?’

George smiled wanly. ‘You go and have a good time. I’ve got a good book, a flask of soup and my tablets.’

She kissed him on the cheek.

‘See you then. I might be late.’ She giggled.

George nodded. In her new dress, a fitted emerald green sparkly affair with huge padded shoulders, George thought she looked like a cross between a Christmas tree and an American footballer. ‘You look lovely, Elaine. You’ll have all the men wanting to dance with you.’

‘Oh, George. You old silly!’ Elaine giggled again, a schoolgirl going on her first date. She dropped her clutch bag and George frowned as she strained to pick it up. Not an American footballer - a sumo wrestler. God, she was bad enough in her shell suits.

A taxi hooted outside and Elaine rushed from the room, leaving a scent of Estée Lauder and face powder.

‘’Bye, George.’

He listened to the thud of her feet on the stairs and the satisfying slam of the front door as it crashed behind her.

She was gone.

He was alone.

Hallelujah!

George lay with bated breath until he heard the taxi turn at the end of the street, then jumped from the bed.

‘Look, Mr Kelly, it’s New Year’s Eve. We always get lots of punters in on New Year’s Eve. She’s a good kid . . .’

Kelly stared hard at the woman in front of him. Violet Mapping had been running this massage parlour for five years. She was one of the hardest Toms he had ever met in his life, and he had met a few, but she had one vice: she was a dyke and liked the young girls. But this young girl was not working in his massage parlour until she was qualified.

‘Listen, Vi, get the girl a certificate and she can work here till the cows come home. Till then, no way.’

‘Oh, Mr Kelly, you know and I know that that piece of paper is a bloody con.’

‘I don’t care what you know, Violet. Once she’s done a course in massage and has her certificate she can work here. Until then, no.’

Violet saw the man’s face harden and decided it was better to give way on this occasion. Everyone knew about Mandy, it was common knowledge on the streets. It was best not to annoy him now.

She sighed.

‘If you say so, Mr Kelly.’

‘Good girl, Vi, you know it makes sense. Now then, if you get any weird ones in I want you to cop the names and addresses - the lot. Then I want you to pass them on to me.’

Violet snorted with laughter.

‘They’re all fucking weird, that’s why they come here!’ Kelly shook his head in annoyance.

‘You know what I mean. If one wants something a bit outlandish like, or gets violent with the girls, I want to know. OK? You’re one of the best “lifters” in the game, Vi. You can lift a wallet better than anyone I’ve ever known. Only after you’ve lifted it, Violet, you put it back, comprenez?’

She narrowed her hard blue eyes.

‘I give up lifting years ago, Mr Kelly, you should know that.’

The two eyed each other for a few seconds.

‘Just make sure the wallet goes back into the pocket, Vi, or there’ll be hell to pay. Now get back on reception. By the way, before I forget, how old is that little black bird out there?’

Violet pulled her mouth down at the corners and shrugged her skinny shoulders.

‘I dunno.’

Patrick Kelly stood up.

‘You don’t know? Well, judging by the looks of her I’d put her at about fifteen, Vi, so get rid of her. Fuck me, I pay you to run this gaff. I might as well run the bastard place meself!’

‘All right, all right, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I’ll sort it, OK?’

‘Good.’

‘I’m sorry about your Mandy, Pat, heart sorry. We all are.’ Her voice was soft now. She had been working for, and fighting with, Patrick Kelly for years. He was a good boss. Fair but hard. His daughter had been his life. Everyone knew that.

He dropped his eyes.

‘Thanks, Vi.’

‘Right then, face ache, I’d better go and give my little friend the bad news.’ Her voice was once more loud and aggressive.

‘You do that, girl, and once she’s got her certificate, she can work her little arse off.’

‘I’ll get her a bent one off Vinny Marcenello.’

‘You get it where you like, love, but she don’t work till she’s got it. I mean that, Vi.’

‘I know that, don’t I!’ Her voice was shrill again. She walked from the office.

Kelly carried on looking over the books but his heart wasn’t in it. Finally he got up from his desk and walked out into the foyer of the massage parlour. All around the walls were plushly upholstered seats. Girls and women of every colour, creed, shape and size were sprawled all over them. They all sat up straight as Patrick walked among them.

He nodded at them absentmindedly. Then turning to the left he walked through a door to the back of the parlour. That was where the cubicles were. He walked silently along the thickly carpeted floor until he came to the last cubicle. He listened.

A childish voice wafted from behind the thin curtain.

‘Do you require any extras, sir?’

‘How much will it rush me?’

‘Well, hand relief is fifteen quid, a blow job’s twenty, and the full bifta is forty-five quid.’

Patrick heard the man laugh.

‘Gis the full bifta, girl.’

Patrick shook his head and turned to walk back to the foyer. For some reason the childish voice had upset him. He knew the girl. She was only seventeen and looked about twelve. She was blonde, like his Mandy, except unlike Mandy she had never had a chance in life. He walked out of the tiny corridor, through the foyer and out to his car.

Don’t start getting soft now, boy, he told himself. Tomming is the oldest profession in the world. If they didn’t work for you they’d only work for someone else.

He climbed into the back of his Rolls and tapped on the window. Willy’s voice came over the intercom.

‘Where to, Pat?’

‘Forest Gate this time. I want to see how Juliet’s getting on.’

The car purred away and Kelly relaxed in his seat.

Yet the childish voice was still repeating in his head.

‘Stop the car!’

‘Do what?’ The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Patrick Kelly jumped out and ran back into the massage parlour.

‘Oi, Vi. In the office quick sharp.’

Violet followed him in.

‘Yeah? What?’ Her voice was belligerent once more.

‘That little blonde bird, what’s her name?’

‘Marlene?’

‘Yeah, Marlene. Well, she’s giving the punter the full bifta.’

‘So what?’

‘Well, I want it stopped. From now on there’s no full sex in here, right. The Old Bill can’t touch us if the girls don’t cock their legs over.’

Violet looked at Patrick as if he had gone mad.

‘You feeling all the bleeding ticket? We won’t get any girls working here if we do something like that. Gordon Bennett, if you had the choice between a mouthful of spunk or a pratfull, what would you rather have?’

Kelly’s face screwed up. ‘Don’t be so disgusting, Vi!’

She opened her arms wide.

‘I’m only stating facts, mate. We won’t get a Tom in here with them rules, and you know it. Our clientele will go down quicker than free beer on a beano!’

Kelly felt sick.

‘Why don’t you go home and have a nice rest, Pat? It’s all the worry you’ve had, it’s turned your head.’

He felt a fool.

‘Maybe you’re right, Vi.’

‘Listen.’ Violet’s voice was soft. ‘We ain’t social workers, mate, we’re in business. Them girls out there are gonna flash their clout no matter what anyone does. It’s the only thing they know how to do. So leave them to it.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Vi, there’s some fucking nonces about. Look what happened to my Mandy.’

‘Well, let me tell you something. Them perverts, they pick on the nice innocent girls. They don’t want no Tom. They like a struggle. Same as them posh blokes what come here - they all want to be caned. I’m telling you, Pat, we go out the back, into the garden and cut a swish from that bleeding forsythia bush, then come back in and beat the buggers’ arses black and blue. Now if they didn’t pay us they’d only pay the Paki down the road.’

Kelly nodded at her. He was very tired all of a sudden. ‘Maybe you’re right, Vi.’

As he walked back out into the foyer, the girls automatically straightened again as he passed them. Out on the pavement, an elderly woman with a small sausage dog gave him a filthy look. He sighed again.

That put the tin lid on it as far as Patrick Kelly was concerned. The old bird thought
he
was a nonce. The Rolls was parked outside once more and he climbed in.

‘Forest Gate, guv?’

‘No. Home, I think, Willy.’

‘Okey doke.’

Kelly watched the people in the cold grey streets. It was New Year’s Eve and he had arranged to spend it with Kate.

He settled into the seat once more. Sod the Toms. He had enough on his mind.

‘Oh, Mum! Why must I always have you and Dad on my back? All the girls in my class are going. I’ll be the only one who doesn’t! I’ll never live it down!’

Louise Butler stamped her foot.

Her mother Doreen grinned. She had a mind of her own did Louise. She glanced at her husband.

‘What do you think, Ron, shall we let her go?’

Louise breathed a sigh of relief. If her mum was asking her dad then she was going. Mum had more or less said yes. Before her father answered she had thrown herself into her mother’s arms.

‘Thanks, Mum. Oh, thanks.’

‘Hurry up and get changed then. I’ll run you over there.’ Ron’s voice was jovial.

Louise looked at him with a mock stern expression.

‘I am ready, if you don’t mind!’

They all laughed. In her designer tracksuit of vivid mauve and gold, her Reebok bumpers and man’s leather flying jacket, she looked the complete opposite of her parents’ idea of dressed up. But she was a hardcore acid fan, from her backcombed sixties hairstyle to the sovereign earrings in her ears.

‘Well, I’ve been reading about these waves.’

‘It’s raves, Dad. Raves.’

‘Waves, raves . . . whatever. You be careful. Don’t take no drugs or anything now, will you?’

Louise rolled her violet eyes.

‘As if I would. I’m not stupid, you know.’

‘We worry about you, love, that’s all.’

‘I know that, Mum. Come on, Dad, or we’ll be late. Don’t take me right to the party, drop me off at Sam’s. We want to make our way there together, OK?’

‘Oh, all right then.’

After kissing her mother, Louise followed her father from the house. Five minutes later she was outside Sam’s.

‘Now where is this rave again?’

‘Just up the road from here at Woodham Woods. About seven miles away. Stop worrying, Dad, we’ll be fine.’

‘Well, you remember that I want you in by one at the latest.’

‘OK. See you later, Dad.’

She kissed her father and got out of the car. She watched him drive off before walking up the path to Sam’s house. She rang the bell.

‘Hello, Mrs Jensen, is Sam here?’

‘No, dear. She left about ten minutes ago. With Georgina, Tracey and Patricia. I think it was them, anyway, she’s got so many friends. Well, they came round for her in a blue car . . .’

‘Oh. All right then. Sorry to have bothered you.’

Louise walked up the path, her heart dragging in the dirt. That bloody bitch Sam had gone ahead knowing that Louise was coming round. The two-faced cow! Well, she would have to go home and get her dad to run her to the rave. But if he did he would see that it was in an old barn, and not at all legal, and then he would make her come home.

What was she going to do?

She smiled to herself. She would thumb a ride. Might even get a lift off some blokes. That would show Sam and her lot, wouldn’t it?

She pulled her long dark hair from inside her flying jacket and began to walk to the outskirts of Grantley.

She’d show them.

Lizzy was dressed and ready to go. She took one last look at herself in the wardrobe mirror before she pulled on the sheepskin that her father had bought her for Christmas. Licking her lips to gloss them, she walked to her mother’s bedroom.

‘Oh, Mum, you look scrumptious.’

Kate smoothed down the deep red pure new wool dress that hugged her figure, and smiled at her daughter.

‘Thanks, love.’ She looked at herself in the mirror, knowing that she looked good. Her hair had been washed in a coconut shampoo and gleamed under the light. She was sporting a pair of gold hoop earrings, and her face was skilfully made up.

‘Now what time will you be back from Joanie’s tomorrow?’

‘About lunchtime, I suppose. Don’t worry about me, you just enjoy yourself.’

‘I will.’ Kate looked into her daughter’s eyes. ‘You look beautiful you know, Liz. Show me what you’re wearing.’

‘Oh, I just shoved on my black suit. After all, the party is at Joanie’s house.’ She pouted her red-lipsticked lips and Kate laughed. Joanie’s family were what Lizzy would call ‘lame’.

‘I hope you enjoy yourself.’

‘Oh, I will, Mum. You just concentrate on yourself.’

Lizzy eyed her mother critically. ‘Wear the red lipstick, it will look better with that dress than the coral. You’re dark enough to get away with it.’

Kate laughed. ‘Okey doke.’ She began to tissue off her lipstick.

‘What’s Dad going to do tonight?’

Kate shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea, love. Gran’s off to Doris’s. I should imagine your father’s going out as well.’

‘Well, didn’t you even ask him?’

Kate stopped in her tracks as she applied red lipstick. ‘Why should I do that?’ She locked eyes with her daughter in the mirror. ‘We’re divorced, Lizzy, my life’s my own, and your father’s life is his own.’

Lizzy looked sad. ‘I wish you two could get it together.’

Kate turned and held her daughter’s face in her hands. ‘I wished that for a long time, Lizzy, but your father has a different approach to life.’ She was stumbling for the right words. She wanted to make Dan sound as good as possible and after some of the stunts he’d played on her in the past that was difficult.

‘Your father is his own man, he lives his own life. And so do I.’