by Joanna Rees
Leila thought of Rasa. Did he think about sex all the time? And if so, with whom? With her?
She inhaled the cigarette smoke. ‘Do you think it will hurt?’ Leila asked. ‘You know. The first time?’
Judith shrugged. ‘Don’t care. I just want it done. Then I can be in the club.’
Leila nodded, admiring how pragmatic she was, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to embrace Judith’s approach. Surely sex was supposed to be magical and amazing? She thought back to the very old book of Kama Sutra engravings in the mahogany sideboard in the dining room back at Lace Island and how she and Rasa had giggled over them as children. But that seemed a very long time ago now.
The memory of Rasa’s face filled Leila’s mind. What would he say, she wondered, if he could hear this conversation? She’d always known he’d hungered for experience, but did he know she hungered for experience now too? What would happen, she wondered, if she told him how she really felt?
CHAPTER TWELVE
London, present day
In the kick-boxing gym, Tony held the red leather cylinder as Jess punched it with all her might.
‘So what did you do?’ he asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing together.
‘I did what you trained me to do. Gave him a hefty.’ She smacked the cylinder hard. ‘In the bollocks. He won’t be accosting too many more cabin crew anytime soon.’
‘And they fired you for that?’
‘No. I didn’t mention it. They’ – she punched again, thinking of the letter from the airline in her bag – ‘fired me’ – she felt her muscles screaming – ‘for assaulting a passenger.’
‘OK, that’s enough,’ Tony said. ‘Take a breather.’
Tony gripped Jess’s shoulder as she stood up, her chest heaving. She ripped the Velcro on her boxing glove with her teeth and set her hand free. Tony undid the other glove for her. She’d hoped a good session in the gym would make her feel better and release some of the anger, but it hadn’t. She felt wrung out and exhausted but just as bitter.
‘Here,’ Tony said, lifting up the water bottle and squirting some into Jess’s mouth. She gulped at it greedily.
‘I don’t know. Maybe I should have had sex with him. Saved my job.’
‘No. You did the right thing. He’s a scumbag. You should report him.’
‘And who’s going to believe me? Not after the passenger incident. And my training record. It’s just not fair.’
Tony laughed wryly. ‘When did you think life was ever fair? Who told you it would be?’ he countered in a familiar mantra. ‘You make your own way, kid. That’s it.’
‘But after everything. All that work. I’m fired. I hardly got going. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not cut out for—’
‘Listen to me and listen good,’ Tony interrupted, his brow furrowing again. ‘You don’t give up. You’ve hit a setback, but think. There must be a way.’
Jess wiped her face and told Tony about the guy who’d given her his card.
‘But he was posh. I mean seriously posh.’
‘So? You can scrub up with the best of them. Call him,’ Tony said, fixing her with one of his firm stares. ‘Take a risk. It may just pay off.’
‘He was only being nice. He’s a stranger.’
‘Stop being so suspicious of everyone. He’s a businessman. He wouldn’t have given you his card if he hadn’t meant it.’
‘But—’
‘Have a little faith in yourself, Jess. You know what you want. Where you’re headed. Make it happen.’
‘OK. You’re right.’ She nodded and Tony squeezed the top of her arm.
‘That’s my girl.’
The next morning, Jess jolted on the Tube as it came to a stop, hating the feeling of the hostile passengers around her. She stared at the playlist she was listening to on the phone in her hand, but the light-hearted hip hop filling her head through the buds in her ears couldn’t stop her feeling anxious. After Tony’s pep talk yesterday, she’d called Andrew Browning’s office and they’d given her an appointment for first thing today.
She tried to ignore everyone around her as the Tube stopped and more passengers boarded, cramming her in even more tightly. She got out at Oxford Circus, finding herself trapped in the crowd pushing up the stairs. She hated this feeling – of being an ant in such a big city.
What if Andrew Browning couldn’t help her? What then? What if she was only an ant? Destined to be anonymous. Or, worse . . . crushed.
No. She had to stay positive, she counselled herself. That’s what Angel once would have told her.
She came out of the Tube station now onto Oxford Street and breathed in a lungful of familiar London air, glad to be back at street level.
Jess stared at the buildings, remembering how they’d come here as kids to try and pickpocket, but had been distracted by all the shop windows instead, awed by the clothes and the people. They’d spent hours in the big Top Shop trying on clothes they could only dream about buying, and Jess had stopped Angel shoplifting. But then, like a celestial reward, Angel had found a ten-pound note in the gutter and they’d gorged on McDonald’s.
Jess looked at her phone again. Still nothing from Angel. It hurt that they still weren’t speaking. The last time she’d seen Angel, nearly ten days ago now, she’d looked like hell – her skin grey, her hair greasy – but Jess had felt unable to say anything. She’d sensed that Angel had been defensive and had wanted a fight, as if Jess were the enemy. And so Jess had stayed quiet, keeping their conversation to a minimum. She hadn’t told her that she’d been fired. She hadn’t been able to bear the fact that Angel would so clearly relish telling Weasel and laughing at Jess behind her back.
But it still hurt. It hurt that she had no one to wish her luck today or hold her hand, when she was in so much trouble. When this felt like the last roll of the dice. Her only chance to get back on track.
She stared at a woman with her daughter next to her, excitedly deciding on the direction they’d start shopping, and her heart ached with a familiar longing. Where was her own mother? Where was her mother when she needed her most?
Jess stood with the crowds rushing around her and composed a text to Angel. She was cabin crew, even if she didn’t have an actual job to prove it right now. She had to look out for her friends. That was the first rule. To be compassionate and treat everyone as an individual. Which is why she swallowed her pride now and typed, Call me, babe. Am worried. Love you. Xx
Then, steeling her nerves and tugging at her smart jacket, she set off for Andrew Browning’s offices.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Surrey, 1990
‘She hates me,’ Leila said, staring at Judith, not able to express how hopeless she felt. ‘She says my parents don’t see the point in me going home for Easter and I can stay in school. But it’s a lie. She wants to torture me.’
They were in the changing rooms after PE, the steam from the showers making the air sticky. Leila could hear the other girls laughing and joking in the communal showers, but despite being muddy and cold, she knew that there was no way she was going in there. Not to be taunted and ridiculed.
Judith and a few others were also getting dressed, not leaving their clothes for a minute, in case one of Edwina’s disciples stole them and threw them outside on the muddy pitch.
‘I know you’re upset,’ Judith said, ‘but maybe old G-S is right. By the time you get there, it’ll be time to come back again.’
‘But that’s the point. I won’t be coming back. I hate it here. I can’t bear it,’ Leila said, tears coming now. ‘I’ve never been away from home for this long before.’
Judith put her arms around Leila sympathetically. ‘Don’t say that. It’s not so bad here. Listen, I’ll call my mum. See if she’ll let you come home to ours.’
‘You would?’ Leila said, pulling away and wiping her eyes, embarrassed at her outpouring of emotion.
Judith nodded; then her look changed. ‘Oh God. Watch out. Here comes Sussman,’ she said, turning h
er back and ducking her head.
Leila busied herself, desperate to get into her clothes, but she was only half dressed by the time Sussman had stridden towards them.
‘Leila, is everything OK?’ Miss Sussman asked. She was wearing a bottle-green tracksuit, the silver whistle on the shelf of her breasts. Her breath stank of instant coffee, and Leila saw the wart on her cheek had sprouted even more hairs.
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Then hurry up and get dressed.’
‘Sorry, miss.’
‘I haven’t seen you at lac practice.’
Leila cast her eyes down. How could she go to lacrosse when Edwina and Georgina ruled the team? Besides, lacrosse, or lac, as everyone called it, made absolutely no sense to Leila. It appeared to be a wild game to her, with no boundaries or sidelines, and rules that made absolutely no sense.
‘Make sure you join up after Easter. I’m determined to discover your potential.’
She stared at Leila, then she turned and, putting her hands behind her back, strutted towards the showers.
‘She’s such a perv,’ Judith whispered with a giggle. ‘I think she’s got the hots for you. You should watch out.’
Leila closed her eyes, feeling sick. She had to get out of here.
Judith’s parents’ home was a ramshackle, noisy townhouse in Notting Hill and was full of guests when Judith and Leila arrived. Judith showed Leila up the wooden stairs, with their threadbare orange carpet, to her draughty room in the attic, where it was so cold she could see her breath. But she adored the house, which was full of books and dogs and framed theatre posters for the shows Judith’s father had produced.
Over supper, Mrs Hobson seemed intrigued about Lace Island and all the guests that came, and when Leila dropped a few names, including Christopher Barber, there was a sudden collective hush. She saw Mrs Hobson’s wine glass freeze halfway to her lips, and she threw a surprised look at her husband. Leila felt all eyes on her.
‘You met Christopher?’ Judith’s father said. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Maybe it was a different Christopher,’ Leila said shyly, worried by the attention she’d garnered. She felt her cheeks burning in the hot kitchen, the coq au vin Judith’s mother had served sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. ‘But he definitely said he was in the theatre.’
‘Well, we’re all off to his play tomorrow night,’ Judith’s mother announced. ‘Your father’s latest enterprise,’ she added to Judith, sounding sceptical, but one of the other guests raised a toast and declared it would be ‘splendid’, and more wine went round the table.
As the dinner went on, the adults talked about people they knew, but Leila was distracted by Judith’s brother, Toby, who stared at her whenever she talked, and his friend Harry.
‘My brother fancies you,’ Judith informed Leila in a whisper, as they cleared the cheese plates onto the side by the sink. ‘He wants to get off with you.’
‘But he doesn’t know me.’
‘So? This is your chance.’
‘He’s your brother.’
‘I don’t care. I’m going to Harry’s room tomorrow night.’
Leila had never been to the West End of London before, so she was entranced as she got out of the black cab on Shaftesbury Avenue. It was just like it was on the postcards, she thought. The bright lights of the theatre, the red London buses, the crowds of people on the street. She wished Rasa could be with her to see this too.
Inside the theatre, on the red seats in the front row of the balcony, she could sense the rising excitement of the audience, and she flicked through her programme, reading about The Importance of Being Earnest. But when the play started, she hardly understood it, and she was baffled by the audience, who seemed to hoot with laughter.
Judith nudged her. ‘This is the famous bit,’ she said, miming along with Lady Bracknell. ‘To lose one parent, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. Hilarious,’ she added, laughing raucously with the rest of the audience. Leila smiled, but she felt lost. She’d already lost one parent. If she lost Bibi, it wouldn’t be ‘careless’; it would break her heart.
After the performance, Leila, Judith, Toby and Harry sipped lemonades at the theatre bar while waiting for Judith’s father, who was backstage.
And that’s when Leila saw Christopher Barber across the room. Christopher Barber from Lace Island. It was definitely him. Leaving the others, she confidently strode towards him.
‘Hi, Christopher,’ she said, interrupting his conversation with a woman in a blue trouser suit. ‘It is you.’ She beamed at him, delighted to see a familiar face, the memories of Bibi’s moonlit terrace coming back in a sudden rush: Chan playing clarinet, Christopher dancing with Vanessa so romantically . . . how relaxed and happy everyone had been.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, clearly astonished that she’d spoken to him. She saw something flash in his eyes. Was it fear? Confusion? He must remember her, mustn’t he? It was impossible that he didn’t recognize her.
‘Christopher. You remember, surely? It’s me. Leila from Lace Island.’
‘Where? I don’t know where you mean. Sorry. You must be confused.’
Leila stared at him, her mouth falling open. ‘I’m not confused. You were there last year. With the girl. You remember. Vanessa. She gave me her sarong and straw hat. The girl with the long blonde hair and—’ Leila stopped, seeing the thunderous face of the woman next to Christopher. Saliva flooded her mouth. Christopher’s eyes blazed at Leila, who felt blood rushing to her cheeks. She’d clearly put her foot in it.
The woman made a small, sob-like noise. ‘I knew it,’ she yelled; then she turned and started running away from Christopher towards the door.
‘Carol. Carol, wait,’ Christopher called, setting off after the woman. ‘It’s not like you think . . .’
Leila stared after them, biting her lip. She felt Harry stand next to her.
‘Oh God, that was so awesome. You totally dumped him in it,’ he said. ‘You know that’s his wife, right?’
Leila felt tears pricking her eyes as his laughter rang in her ears.
Later, back at Judith’s parents’ house, Leila knew that she was in the doghouse, the whole evening having ended on a sour note. Judith’s father was clearly furious and had made them all come back in cabs early while he tried to ‘firefight’, as he put it, staring at Leila.
Now, Leila sat upstairs in the snug with Harry, waiting for Judith, who had gone off with Toby to steal some cigarettes from the grown-ups. She stared at the chat show on the TV, but she was too miserable to watch it.
How was she supposed to have known that Christopher was married? Or that Vanessa was a secret? She tried to justify what she’d done, but she could only see Bibi’s face in her mind’s eye, who would be furious with her too. Lace Island was somewhere that people cherished for its discretion, and Leila knew that she had broken all the rules and put her foot in it. She saw now that she’d wanted to cash in on her status with Christopher in front of Judith’s family. How wonderful it would have been if he’d told Judith’s parents about Lace Island and confirmed everything Leila had told them, but instead she’d made a fool of him. Oh, it was just too awful, Leila thought miserably to herself. There was no way to make it any better.
‘This Lace Island place,’ Harry said. ‘Can anyone go?’
‘No,’ Leila said, feeling uncomfortable. He was sitting right next to her on the sofa. She noticed that he was wearing aftershave. Was that for Judith’s benefit? she wondered. Were they really going to do it later on? How could Judith want to? With him? He was covered in pimples, and now, as his arm snaked along the back of the low sofa towards her, she could smell the body odour from the armpit of his pink shirt. ‘You have to be invited.’
‘Would you invite me?’
‘I guess. I suppose I could.’
‘I’d like that,’ he said, moving closer. He leant in towards her, trying to kiss her.
‘What are you doing?�
�� Leila said, struggling, but she only succeeded in pressing closer to him, and in a second he was on top of her on the sofa. At that moment, the door opened and Judith came in.
Harry sat up and Leila struggled up too. Judith’s expression turned from a smile to utter horror in under a second.
‘Leila and I were just having a chat,’ he said, pretending nothing had happened, but he sounded ineffectual and weak. ‘I’ll go and see what Toby is up to.’ He left the sofa and scooted past Judith in the doorway. ‘See you later,’ he said, with a little wave.
Judith watched him go. There was silence, apart from the low burble of the TV and his footsteps thundering down the stairs.
‘I thought you were my friend,’ Judith said, her voice shaking. ‘But you’re just a snake in the grass.’
‘I’m not. I didn’t do anything,’ Leila protested.
‘You led him on.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You did! All that Lace Island bullshit.’
‘It’s not bullshit.’
‘It is. You totally humiliated yourself and my family at the theatre with that poor guy.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘I should never have trusted you. Never been your friend. Edwina was right about you all along. You’re just a liar.’
‘Judith, please . . .’
‘I want you to leave and go back to school. Tomorrow. Because this friendship is officially over.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
London, present day
In the fuggy atmosphere of Mo’s launderette, Jess sat flicking through a copy of the Metro, her knee jogging with nervous energy. It was late, the rain spattering against the steamed-up glass behind her, and despite the buds in her ears, she could still hear the thump and whir of the yellow machines around her.
She hated coming to the launderette, but the washing machine had broken in the flat, and she needed some time to process the interview this afternoon. She hoped she’d made the right impression, but it was impossible to tell. She’d never been in offices that posh, and Andrew himself had been immaculate in a pinstriped suit with a pink handkerchief sticking out of his pocket, like he was a member of the royal family or something. She replayed the whole thing now in her head, once more.