Dolly stood outside her old house in Totteridge. She stared at the new curtains, the fresh paint. It no longer was or had any part in her life but for the twenty years of her marriage that was where she lived. She had always been house proud, and it had been a show palace. Harry entertained regularly and she had always set a nice table with good, home-cooked food. She had thought she was happy, had believed he was, too, but nothing had prepared her for his betrayal and, as she stood there, she clenched her hands, not wanting to break down, refusing to after all these years. He had forced her into a grief-driven fury — she had even buried him when all the time he had been alive. Alive and cheating on her. It was so bizarre, so insane what she had done, what she had become. She had confronted him, and even when he faced her, knowing that she knew everything, he had still been so sure of her love for him that he had opened his arms and said, ‘I love you, Doll.’
She had pulled the trigger then, almost nine years ago, and she had served the sentence for his murder. She was free now. She walked back to the waiting chauffeur and he opened the car door for her.
‘That was my home,’ she said softly.
He helped her inside the car.
‘Now it’s someone else’s.’ She seemed so sad and lost he felt sorry for her, but she suddenly gave him a sweet smile.
‘Can I use this portable phone, then?’
Ester grabbed the phone after two rings, knew it had to be Dolly. Only she knew the new number: she’d got it when the phone had been reconnected. She was right. Dolly was on her way. Ester sighed with relief and then hurried into the dining room.
The table was almost ready but Gloria and Kathleen were having a go at each other. ‘She’s drinking, Ester. I keep telling her not to get pissed.’
Ester snatched up one of the bottles as Kathleen shouted that all she was doing was getting them ready for the decanters, recorked the bottle and banged it on to the table. ‘She’s on her way, and as soon as those lads are finished we’d all better have a talk, get us all sorted. She’s not stupid so we got to make this look good. Where’s Connie?’
‘I’m here. I’ve been repairing my nails. I’ve chipped two already — they’re not supposed to be in too much water, you know.’
Gloria raised her eyes to heaven as Connie showed off her false-tipped nails. Ester told her to start bringing up extra chairs from the cellar. She had to show her the way and as they walked down the hall, Connie pulled her to one side. ‘What were they in prison for?’
Ester told her that Gloria had been in for a long stretch for fencing stolen guns and Kathleen was in for forgery and kiting.
‘And what about Julia? What was she in for?’
Gloria appeared, overhearing. The doc was in for sellin’ prescriptions. She was a junkie.’
Connie flushed with embarrassment.
‘I heard you, Ester. I wasn’t done for the guns, that was a total frame-up. I was stitched up.’
Ester sighed, already sick and tired of Gloria. She ushered Connie along to the cellar door, which led down to saunas, steam rooms and the old laundry. There was also a gymnasium, showers and changing cubicles, all from the days when the manor had been a health farm.
Connie went down to inspect the chairs as most of the ones in the dining room were broken. Confronted by banks of mirrors, she couldn’t resist looking at herself and pouting, and jumped with nerves when the droll voice of Julia asked what she was doing. Connie squinted in the semi-darkness, looking over the stack of chairs. ‘I love to work out, I do it whenever I can — it’s like a fix.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I meant, you know, not fix fix but like... er...’
‘I know what you mean. You worked for Ester, right? What were you, then?’
‘I’m a model. I don’t do any of that kind of thing now, not any more.’
Julia smiled. ‘Well, I don’t use drugs, you’re not selling that lovely body, so we both seem to have improved our lives, don’t we?’
Julia banged out and Connie sighed. She hated it when anyone insinuated she was or had been a prostitute. But that was what she had been, like it or not. Then when Lennie, who she had trusted — believed had loved her — had tried to make her go back on the game it had hurt because she had dreamed of being a model, a proper one, one that kept her clothes on. She had written to agents and now, with all the work done on her face, she reckoned she might even get a TV commercial. She had big plans for herself: she would have a big-time photographer do a good contact sheet, send out a portfolio. She was sure she could have a chance. Lennie had laughed and told her she was too old, told her that was the reason he had paid for her surgery, so she could make money on her back, but she had refused. Connie sat down on one of the dusty chairs and started to cry. He didn’t touch her face, at least he didn’t ruin that, but her body was still covered in bruises and she had said she would do whatever he wanted, just for him to leave her alone. The following morning Ester had called, not to ask her to go on the game as she had first thought, but to give her a chance of cashing in on a lot of money. Connie had grabbed the chance, thrown a few things into a case and done a runner. She knew Lennie would be going crazy, knew he would be out looking for her: he’d want his money back for the surgery at the very least, but Ester had said that she’d have more money than she would know what to do with so she had packed up and run for it. Now she wasn’t so sure about all this big money. She’d never really met Dolly Rawlins.
‘What the hell are you doin’ down here?’ yelled Gloria.
Connie picked up the chair and walked out, past her.
‘You see any big trays around here? Ester said we need one.’
Connie hadn’t, so Gloria began to burrow around the odd bits and pieces of furniture in the gym. She was filthy and she sighed when she caught her reflection. Then she inspected the black roots of her hair. She needed a tint badly, had to have it done before she went to see Eddie.
Eddie Radford was serving eighteen years for arms dealing and armed robbery. He was going to be away for so long that sometimes Gloria wondered if it was worth going back and forth to the prisons. He’d spent most of their marriage in one or another. They were two bad pennies, as she had been in and out for this and that since she was a teenager. Eddie was trouble — she’d known it when she first met him. He was even worse than her first husband. Now he’d got a stash of weapons hidden at their old house with two of his bastard friends trying to get them. She had no money and Eddie kept telling her he’d arrange a deal, that she just had to sit tight and wait until he’d made the contact. Gloria was behind in the rent, and the council had told her to leave. It seemed like everyone was always telling her what to do and it always ended up a mess. She was scared of handling such a big stash of guns, scared of his so-called contacts and she was sick to death of always being on the move, always looking over her shoulder in case one of Eddie’s bastards tracked her down. When Ester called, it was like a breath of fresh air. The thought of getting away from that pressure, away from Eddie’s bloody heavies, was like a God-given present. And with the promise of big money tied in with it, who could refuse? Not Gloria Radford.
Ester checked the table. It was looking good. As it grew darker it was harder to see the dilapidation, and she had bought boxes of candles and incense sticks, plus room sprays, so gradually the stench of mildew was disappearing. Gloria said it smelt like someone had farted in a pine forest but it wasn’t that bad.