All That Glitters (23 page)

‘Like who?’

‘Well, he can hardly put them up on the wall of the local bookshop. Most of them are sold around pubs.’

‘For anyone to buy?’ Jane was alarmed at the thought of Eddie, William, Evan and especially Haydn seeing hers.

‘I wouldn’t think many people in Pontypridd have a pound to spare so the chances are this lot will end up in Cardiff. Come on, finish your coffee, if we don’t make a move we’re going to be late.’

‘I was expecting you to call in yesterday.’

‘Charlie kept me busy all day, then I had to train in the evening. Didn’t get home until two. Exhibition fight tomorrow in the Palais de Danse,’ Eddie explained, his spirits soaring. Jenny was behaving as though she was already his girlfriend.

‘I saw your Haydn.’

‘That’s more than anyone in the family’s done since he’s been home.’

Jenny leaned on the counter as an energy-sapping tide of relief swept through her veins. She’d been terrified that Eddie had stayed away because Haydn had told him about Sunday night. As Eddie obviously had no idea what had happened between her and his brother, she still had a chance to carry out her threat. She smiled at him. ‘If there’s a big fight tomorrow, I suppose you’re training tonight?’

‘I can take a couple of hours off to take you somewhere,’ he offered, his pulse racing at the thought.

‘If you come here straight from work, we could go for a walk. I’ll make us something to eat, then you can go directly to the gym afterwards, that way you don’t have to go home for tea.’ All she could think of was that the closer she kept Eddie to her, the less time he’d have to spend with his brother.

‘If you’re sure about the tea.’ Joey Rees, his trainer, would play hell if he didn’t get to the gym at all the night before a fight. But if he ran up the hill after finishing in the shop he could be with Jenny by half-past six; if he’d stayed until half-past nine that would give them three hours together, and him a couple of hours’ sparring practice before Joey left the gym. The old man rarely went home much before midnight.

‘I’m sure.’

He felt as though he were drowning in her limpid blue eyes. ‘In that case, the sooner I make the rest of my deliveries the sooner I’ll be through for the day.’ He went outside and pulled his butcher’s bicycle away from the wall beneath the window. She left the counter, and followed him to the door. ‘Then you didn’t call in the shop for anything in particular?’

‘Only to see you,’ he admitted sheepishly.

‘In that case, you’d better have this to be going on with until tonight.’ She bent forward and kissed him full on the lips, much to the horror of her mother, who chose that moment to walk down the stairs and into the shop.

Jane’s heart beat more and more erratically as she climbed the steep flight of narrow stairs. Mandy ran confidently ahead as though she hadn’t a care in the world, and Judy brought up the rear, effectively sealing off her escape should she change her mind, making Jane feel like a prisoner flanked by two guards. At the top of the stairs facing them was a door bearing a dog-eared, handwritten cardboard plaque that announced ‘Studio’ in rickety letters. Mandy pushed it open without knocking. Not quite knowing what to expect, Jane found herself in a large, rather grubby room, with two doors leading off, one marked W.C. the other DARKROOM. A tattered papered screen stood in the corner, shawls and dressing gowns draped in multi-coloured confusion over the top.

‘Yoo-hoo, Merv!’ Mandy shouted. ‘It’s us.’

‘Nice and early like good girls should be,’ Merv beamed as they trooped in, one after the other. He was short, fat, round, looked young but could have been any age between twenty-five and forty-five, and had a high-pitched, squeaky voice. Jane wasn’t at all sure what an exotic photographer should look like, but if she’d been asked to describe one she wouldn’t have come up with Merv. He waddled from behind his camera to kiss first Mandy, then Judy on the cheek. ‘And this is?’ He looked Jane up and down, and any warm feelings she might have felt towards him dissipated as she sensed him mentally undressing her.

‘You did say you wanted someone new?’ Judy explained.

‘Someone – yes ducky, but this one hasn’t got very much on the top storey, has she?’

‘I thought you wanted someone young.’

‘Of course,’ he slapped himself lightly on the forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘For the older man who likes young girls. But she is really young, isn’t she?’

‘I’m eighteen.’ Jane asserted.

‘And I suppose you think that’s old enough to be kissed, and know your own mind?’ He walked around Jane assessing and appraising every inch of her diminutive figure. ‘I can see it now: young and waiflike. Just right for the market I had in mind. You’re a clever girl.’ He tweaked Judy’s cheek. ‘She might do. Her figure’s right, but her hair. Oh ducky, the hair.’ He pulled off Jane’s beret and tugged at the cropped strands that much to Jane’s despair hadn’t grown an inch in the nine days since she’d left the workhouse.

‘There’s no need to worry about her hair, we’ve brought a wig.’

‘A long one that can be put in plaits for the schoolgirl look?’

‘Or left loose. She looks good with a layer of make-up. We practised last Saturday. And just wait until you see her legs. They’re long, slim, and perfect …’

Jane cringed in embarrassment. She felt like a bargain offer that Judy was trying to offload on to a reluctant customer. What was she doing in this room with this ghastly man? What would Phyllis say if she could see her now?

‘You girlies get ready. I’ll do you first, Mandy, then you, Judy. That way one of you can get her make-up on while I take the other’s pictures. Then I’ll give her a trial. But I’m warning you now,’ he looked Jane in the eye for the first time since she’d entered the room, ‘if I don’t like what I see, there’ll be no payment. If I do, it’ll be ten pounds, same as the other two.’

‘Don’t worry Merv, you’ll like what you see.’ Judy ran her fingers lightly along the check worsted that was stretched tighter than a second skin across his buttocks. ‘I promise you, you’ll love her.’

‘So,’ Babs wiggled her fingers inside Haydn’s collar. ‘When am I going to meet your family?’

‘Not this week,’ Haydn growled, very aware of Helen’s eyes focused on him as they stood in the wings waiting for Chuckles to call them.

‘But you promised,’ Babs whined. ‘You said …’

‘I didn’t promise you could meet my family.’ Leaving the chest he was sitting on, he paced closer to the stage. Shame seared, hot and suffocating in his throat. Despite the pouts and dramatics, he knew Babs was genuinely hurt, and it was his fault. Babs was what she was. Honest, if nothing else that he admired. He’d made use of her, or rather her body, and now, because of the talk he’d had with his father he could only see her through Evan’s eyes. And he didn’t like what he saw. The tawdry looks that might have aspired to prettiness if they hadn’t been submerged beneath layers of greasepaint both on and off stage. The transparently shallow emotions and conversational lines born in a scriptwriter’s mind, not any original thought.

What was he doing? To himself, to Babs – to Rusty, Mandy and all the other girls he’d courted for a night, occasionally a few weeks but never longer. What was he trying to prove by making love to every attractive woman who crossed his path? That he could have any female he wanted?

Could he still be subconsciously trying to hurt Jenny? Had there been anything left between them before last night? If there had, she was certainly out of his life now. Only there was Eddie. Hot-headed, irresponsible, reckless Eddie. His temper had been getting him into trouble since their cradle days. Always had to go at everything bull at a gate, even courting. But Jenny had been right about one thing: Eddie would be putty in the hands of a woman who gave him what he wanted. And after last night, he didn’t doubt that Jenny would do just that.

He pictured Eddie and Jenny making love as he had done so many times in Brighton. Did he still love her? How could he, when he had been only too happy to climb into bed with so many other woman? Perhaps that was the trouble. So many women, who’d been only to happy to strip and indulge in sexual athletics with him, and amongst all of them, not one he’d wanted to talk to afterwards, as he’d once talked to Jenny. Jenny – everything always came back to Jenny …

‘Haydn!’ Chuckles was leaning on the edge of the orchestra pit shouting up at him. ‘When you’ve woken up, perhaps you’d care to join us?’

‘Sorry, miles away,’ Haydn apologised, walking on to centre stage.

‘Rehearsing all day and doing two shows a night doesn’t make for a lively boy,’ Chuckles conceded. The lad did look tired. But then he was the one who wanted to make it in the toughest profession in the world. He should start taking better care of himself. Sleep at nights instead of rolling about with chorus girls.

‘Right, opening number from the top. Dabs stage left. Helen stage right.’

The orchestra struck. Haydn counted the beat – one – two – three – one – two – three – and sang the opening refrain. Dabs and Helen joined in the chorus, dancing in from the wings. Dabs was smiling like a trouper through the tears on her cheeks because she’d pushed her luck too often with Chuckles, and daren’t risk another shouting match. Haydn held out his arms, they took them. The three of them together, high-stepping, kicking and singing.

He had a vision of himself the way Pontypridd would see him now: centre stage with fine clothes on his back, money in his pocket, beautiful girls hanging on to his arms. If only they knew the sordid truth behind the illusion of glitter and glamour. Wine, women, song and the high life of variety were nothing like they were cracked up to be.

‘There, that’s it.’

‘You sure this covers …’

‘It covers everything that needs to be covered. Jane, stop fussing, an inch higher and Merv won’t be able to sell a single photograph.’ Judy stood back and surveyed the triangle of flesh-coloured silk she’d stuck over Jane’s pubic hairs with spirit gum. She knew exactly how uncomfortable it was and, unlike Jane, how much hell it would be to pull off afterwards.

‘Merv’s right,’ she mused, staring disapprovingly at Jane’s small breasts. ‘You haven’t got much on the top storey. You’ll have to use whatever you’re holding to push up what little you do possess. But then, I’ve seen worse come out reasonably well in black and white.’ She picked up the wig. Holding it on her arm she swept Jane’s short fringe aside and pulled it on over her head. ‘Wonderful, Lady Godiva personified. Touch more lipstick -’ she dabbed another glossy application on to the bright red bow she had made of Jane’s mouth. ‘Bit more shading on your cheeks to highlight your cheekbones. I do envy you your arms and legs. They’re so thin; mine are beginning to turn flabby. I know they are, so don’t try telling me otherwise. A couple more years and I’m going to be out on my arse. But then a couple more years and hopefully I won’t have to worry where my next crust is coming from.’

‘When you’ve stopped gabbling in there, Judy I’ve got photographs to take.’

‘Coming, Merv. Here,’ she pushed Jane out from behind the screens ahead of her. ‘Let’s show him the swan we’ve made from the ugly duckling, shall we?’

Jane stumbled out into the studio. By holding her fan in front of her she succeeded in covering her breasts and all trace of the scrap of cloth glued between her thighs.

‘Mm, not bad. Not bad at all,’ Merv circled her again. ‘Good legs, good arms, good bum. Stand over there, and stop shaking if you can, ducky, or you’ll be nothing but a blur on the prints.’

‘Come on, love,’ Mandy, who was wearing the briefest of G strings, took Jane’s hands and guided her on to a raised dais set in front of a plain blue backcloth. Jane stood there trembling uncontrollably while Merv studied her for what seemed like for ever.

‘Schoolgirl,’ he announced.

‘Plaits,’ Judy groaned.

‘And hockey stick, and school shirt and tie. They’re in the chest in the changing room. Get them for me would you, ducky?’ he asked Judy. ‘And while you’re rummaging I’ll set up a Lady Godiva back shot. Turn your back to me – what’s your name again?’

‘Jane.’ Mandy supplied helpfully.

‘Think I’d remember plain Jane, wouldn’t you? Look over your shoulder and stare at the camera. Leave the fan out of it,’ he shouted in exasperation as Jane draped the ostrich feathers behind her to hide her exposed buttocks. ‘Take it off her, will you, Mandy. Turn your head again. Sweep her hair over her left shoulder, it’s hiding her back and that’s what the customers will want to see. That’s it,
hold
it
, and smile.’ There was a click and a whirr, then another and another, and another. ‘Smile, for pity’s sake, smile. And again, and again. Good. No! Move her head on to the other shoulder, Mandy. You’re still way too stiff and awkward, plain Jane.’

‘Look at that lens as though it’s the best-looking boy you’ve ever seen and he’s in love with you. Imagine him down on one knee proposing,’ Mandy hissed in her ear. ‘That’s what I do, and it hasn’t failed to work for me yet.’

Jane gazed at the lens and imagined Haydn. Not tired and grumpy as she’d seen him when he’d emerged from his room that morning badly in need of a shave, but handsome, carefree, debonair, as he was every night when he danced in the enchanted moonlit garden. She pictured him standing alongside her, singing to her the way he did to Rusty and Mandy.

‘Absolutely perfect! Spot on! You little love. Couldn’t be better. Hold it,
hold it
!’ More clicks and whirrs, clicks and whirrs. ‘And while you’re in the mood, ducky, let’s try the other shoulder again.’

‘All right, Merv,’ Judy grinned when he finally called a halt to the proceedings to change the films in his cameras.

‘She may not have much jutting out upstairs, but I’ll grant you she’s not bad for a beginner. You did say she hadn’t done this before?’ he glanced over to where Mandy was plaiting Jane’s wig.

‘Virgin fresh,’ Judy confirmed drily.

‘And she’s not with the show?’

‘Would you believe, an usherette?’

‘If she lives right here in Ponty, I might be able to put more work her way.’

‘And what about us?’

‘You’ll get your cut.’