Widows

Andrews got back in his car, slammed the door and found a parking spot. He was hoping beyond hope that Dolly was simply in the hotel somewhere, so he decided to stay with her car. It’s all he could do.

Linda had arrived at the Liverpool Street railway arches fifteen minutes early. It was bitterly cold and she was freezing. She hadn’t realized the area would be so dark, and hadn’t brought a torch, so was having difficulty in finding lock-up number fifteen. She’d not been surprised when Dolly called; agreeing to meet up with her and Shirley again was an easy decision. What else did she have to get her heart racing these days? Since Joe’s death, Linda’s life had been horrible, truly horrible. The half-empty bed was impossible to get used to, the people who came into her arcade disgusted her and the police treated her like shit on their shoe. Above all, life was boring as hell — and Linda hated boring. Whatever Dolly thought she was doing, Linda was happy to tag along, catch up with Shirl every now and then, and maybe make a bit of money out of Dolly along the way.

She approached one of the premises and, peering through the crack between the large wooden doors, nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a huge Alsatian pounce toward her, snarling and barking. She quickly scurried one door along, raised her fist to knock and—

‘You’re early,’ Dolly said from behind her.

‘I wasn’t sure where it was and I don’t like being late.’

The cold had put Linda in a grumpy mood, which Dolly sensed immediately. Fortunately, Dolly was feeling cheerful after losing Andrews and her comfy cab ride over. She smiled at Linda as she unlocked the door. ‘It’s a good way to be.’

Inside the lock-up, Dolly calmly lit a cigarette as Linda stepped from foot to foot trying to warm up. She could murder a cuppa, but Dolly just sat on a packing case, got out her black leather diary and reviewed her notes while they waited for Shirley. Linda was no good at being silently irritated and, eventually, her under-the-breath mumblings made Dolly speak.

‘Kettle’s in the back, darlin’. Mine’s black coffee, no sugar. Keep yourself warm, eh.’

Linda pulled a face and went into the annex, where three brand-new mugs, a new kettle and a packet of unopened custard creams were waiting for her. ‘Come on then, tell me the plan,’ she called.

‘We wait for Shirl,’ Dolly said without looking up. ‘It’s her Miss Paddington thing tonight so she’ll be another twenty minutes.’

‘You might have told me!’ Linda shouted from her tea duties.

‘Why, what were you doing?’ This was hurtful. Dolly knew full well that Linda would have been doing nothing of any interest. ‘We’re a team, Linda. We wait for Shirley.’

Shirley could feel one of her false eyelashes coming loose as she sat in the taxi with her mum, but she didn’t have the strength to fix it. She was wearing a stunning black glittery evening gown, high heels, fake tan and enough hairspray to sink a ship. She also still wore her Miss Paddington number stuck to her shoulder. She looked a million dollars — apart from the make-up running down her tear-streaked face.

There was an awkward silence. Eventually Audrey decided to speak first.

‘I didn’t mean to imply you were turning tricks, darlin’,’ she whispered, hoping the cabbie wouldn’t hear. ‘I just wanted to know where you got the money for that dress.’ Shirley stared out of the side window of the taxi, trying not to cry again.

Shirley hadn’t been able to concentrate at all during the pageant, even though she was by far the most beautiful girl there and should easily have won. Audrey was so incredibly proud and just knew it was in the bag, but then, when Shirl took off her coat and revealed her brand-new dress, Audrey had made the clumsy comment about her daughter being a prostitute and things had gone downhill from there. Audrey had tried to redeem herself by giving Shirley a great big hug just as she was lining up to go on stage. ‘You go out there and steal the show, my girl. You’re beautiful and you’re lovely and you’re a winner.’ Then she said the second stupid thing of the night. ‘Terry and me will be front row center.’ She’d meant to say ‘Greg,’ but it had come out as ‘Terry.’ Audrey could have kicked herself as she watched Shirley’s eyes widen and her lower lip tremble. She’d wanted to apologize to her daughter, but didn’t have the opportunity as Freddie, the master of ceremonies, called Shirley’s name and the floor manager shoved her on stage.

As Shirley had stepped out into the spotlight her mind was so far away that, when Freddie asked her what her hobbies were, she’d mumbled something about liking vegetables and books.

Audrey had taken full responsibility for the whole fiasco. Shirley had let her, but in fact other things had been on Shirley’s mind. As the cab dropped Audrey off and continued on to Liverpool Street Station, Shirley began to pull herself together and thought back to a week ago.