CATWALK SUPERMODEL
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Published by Ragged Cover Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Keith Hoare
978-1-908090-09-6
http://www.catwalksupermodel.com
CHAPTER 1
I stood at the airport barrier and watched; after a final wave she was gone. Was she out of my life forever? Would she really return? How could I expect a girl twenty years younger, with the world at her feet, to keep her promise? I'd nothing to offer that she couldn't buy a hundred times over, except my love. Yes, I can hear you say, love conquers all; however, love sometimes has a nasty habit of turning against you. I slipped a signet ring from my finger and read the inscription. It had been something I'd done so many times before. 'In case you forget. Kelly'. Poignant words, but I didn't need a ring to remind me. Kelly would always be in my thoughts. Finally, after what seemed like hours, I turned away from the deserted barrier and made my way slowly towards the airport exit. I don't remember the long drive home. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a banging on the car window.
"Are you all right, Mr. Burrows?" a woman's voice shouted.
I glanced at the woman standing by the side of my car, turned off the engine and wind down the window. "Yes thank you, Mrs Carter, I was just thinking, that's all."
She grinned and sighed with relief. "I'm sorry I startled you. Burt and I saw the car arrive some ten minutes ago. To tell the truth you gave me a nasty turn. I said to Burt, I said, better check everything's all right with Mr Burrows, what with the engine running and you still sat there."
"Thank you again for your concern, Mrs Carter," I began, climbing out of the car. "It's just that…" I fell silent, not really wanting to enter into a long conversation. "It doesn't matter, I think I'll go inside. Please don't think I'm being rude. I'd like to be alone, that's all."
She nodded and then rejoined Burt, waiting a short distance away. She then watched silently as I walked slowly towards a set of stairs leading up into the flat complex. I paused for a moment on the first step, out of sight of the Carters but able to hear their conversation. I assumed that because I was out of sight they thought I couldn't hear them.
"Well! He wasn't dead then." Burt mumbled dryly.
"Shush, Burt, he may hear. Anyway, I never said he was dead, but there's something wrong, you mark my words, and I bet that Kelly's involved. Little gold-digger, that girl, he's never been the same since she came onto the scene. If you ask me, he's better off without her."
Bert didn't answer. However, his wife continued. "And it's no good you looking like that, Bert. That girl was trouble the first day she came. God knows what possessed him to take her in the first place. It wasn't as if he was short of pretty girls, or desperate for company. That flat of his attracted them like magnets. But a girl like that, I ask you?"
Not waiting to listen further to her analysis of my private life, I started up the short flight of steps leading to the lifts. Besides, in her eyes it seemed to sum up my position completely. However, she was wrong. Kelly was no gold-digger, and yes, perhaps I wasn't the same, but are you ever, when your world's been turned upside down?
Later, I stood in the lounge and gazed around me. Now it seemed cold and uninviting, yet nothing had changed, even the gentle lingering smell of perfume, that was distinctly Kelly.
I lived on the top floor of a purpose-built complex in Southport, a holiday resort in the north of England. Each level had one and two bedroom flats; however, my floor was different. Planning and fire regulations hadn't allowed for a similar arrangement of flats on this floor, so the builders had tried to be innovative and built a penthouse type apartment with its own private lift access from the complex reception and underground car park.
You would enter my apartment through double doors that opened out into an impressive square hall bathed in daylight from a domed roof light above. The three bedrooms, all en-suite, with guest toilet, kitchen and lounge led from this hall. Passing through more double doors into the lounge often took visitors' breath away. Forty-five feet long, with carpets that you sank into, the entire far wall made of glass. Much of the glass could slide back giving access to an extensive balcony, covered in a synthetic green lawn with large tubs containing flowers and shrubs. Looking out across the estuary towards Blackpool, another popular coastal holiday centre of the North, with its distinct tower rising hundreds of feet above the town, alongside towering white-knuckle rides of the leisure park, competing for dominance of the skyline, gave the spectator the impression of a truly luxurious and desirable location.
Settling down into my favourite chair with a whisky I'd poured minutes earlier – indifferent to the fact that it was still only eleven o' clock in the morning – I could hear nothing in the room except for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft hum of air-conditioning. I gazed out of the windows, and absentmindedly watched a small cargo ship ploughing its way slowly down the estuary towards the open sea. Then I closed my eyes and my thoughts returned to that day, some two and a half years earlier when the doorbell had rung unexpectedly…
My first impressions of the girl were extremely negative. She was standing there in an old trench coat and teapot hat. I thought she was a down-and-out. Half expecting her to hold out a hand for some coppers, I said nothing, and waited for her to speak.
"Mr Burrows, I'm here in reply to this ad," the girl said as she pulled out from her pocket the advert I'd placed in the local store.
I glanced for a moment at the postcard she had thrust forward and it began to dawn on me that what she was holding was the actual advert I'd written. "That's my ad! Did you take it from the shop to stop competition?" I asked, meaning to make her laugh. Unfortunately, it came out wrong and I must have sounded abrasive.
Our eyes met for a moment. Hers, the most beautiful deep blue I'd ever seen. She seemed taken aback by my remark, unsure of what to say. When she finally replied, my question seemed forgotten. "You know you can't refuse to let me see the room. We have equal rights now, so you mustn't be sexist in your decision," she suddenly said with confidence.
For someone to make such an informed statement knocked me off balance. Or rather, I was unable to come up with any sort of non-sexist comment on the spur of the moment. I replied with the first thing that came into my head: "I never said I was going to refuse, I just made an observation, that's all. Anyway, now you're here, you may as well come in."
She looked away, her face reddening with embarrassment. Her comment amused me. Trying to bring equality into the conversation, I thought. At the same time I opened the door wider to allow her inside. What was there to lose? Here was me in my early forties, a girl obviously not even twenty, asking to see the room. Besides, it being a Saturday morning I'd been up for some time and already read a much reduced lack of content paper, over breakfast. So I'd been sitting there, before she rang the bell, contemplating how I should fill the rest of the day. Now, perhaps, even if she decided not to take it, we could pass the next hour or so in each other's company.
"Well, are you coming in or staying out there?" I demanded, grinning at the same time. She smiled before pushing past me through the entrance hall into the main lounge. I followed and watched her for a moment. She came to an abrupt halt and was gazing round the lounge in obvious awe.
Deciding to take the lead, and noisily shutting the lounge door, I glanced across at the girl. "Do you have a name?" I asked pointedly.
"Kelly... Kelly White," she replied. "I've never been in such a huge lounge, you must be able to see the whole of Southport from here?"
I laughed before walking through into the kitchen shouting back to her. "Not quite the whole of Southport, Kelly, just the seafront and on a good day, Blackpool. Anyway, my name's Keith. Would you like a drink?" There was no answer at first; I presumed she'd not heard. Then a voice came from behind: "Yes please. I'd love a coffee… no sugar."
I turned quickly to see Kelly standing in the doorway, no longer wearing her dark heavy coat and teapot hat. I can honestly say in all my life I had never seen such a beautiful girl. She was dressed in a short tartan skirt, black polo necked jumper with matching stockings, natural blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. The intense blue of her eyes sparkled in the glare of the kitchen spotlights. When I'd first seen her standing at the door, it was obvious she was tall. Now I could see her height was attributable mainly to her legs; long, slim, extenuated with heeled, black lace up shoes. I stood there looking at her, unable to tear my eyes away for a moment, lost for words.
"You have a very lovely home, Keith. May I see the room, please?"
"Of course," I replied, handing her a mug of coffee. She thanked me and we returned to the lounge.
As we walked back through, I found myself apologising. "I'm sorry, Kelly, I'd never really thought that a girl would want the room. I suppose I'd really been expecting a man, so there's no lock fitted, but I'll make sure it has one – if you decide to take it."
She placed her mug carefully on the coffee table and turned to me. I stupidly did the same and settled down on one of the settees.
"The room, Keith, we were going to look at the room," Kelly said quietly.
I stood quickly. "God, yes, sorry it's this way."
I watched as she walked round the room, touching the bed gently, running her hand along the dressing table edge before sliding a door open and stepping out onto a small balcony that looked across towards Lord Street, with its popular shops and kerbside cafés.
"I've a spare television in here if you want one," I began. "It goes without saying you'll have the run of the flat. We've cable and twenty stations I think, but to tell you the truth I don't watch it much."
She came back inside, from the balcony, shutting the door carefully, before making her way through the bedroom and into the en-suite. This was the second bedroom really, but it did have a well equipped en-suite with wet room. Mine, the master bedroom en-suite, contained the Jacuzzi.
I'd fallen silent until she came back into the bedroom. "There are one or two rules I have for someone sharing. No one's to stay overnight, unless they're just guests, then they use the third bedroom. You find so called visitors, especially the overnight ones, tend to have this nasty habit of moving in permanently, and that's not on. This is my home and maybe, if you decide to take it, yours, not a doss house. The second rule's logical, we respect each other's privacy, the bedrooms are out of bounds, unless invited to enter, that even includes cleaning. You do your own. Food we share, it's stupid to have separate cupboards. We'll take turns in the kitchen."
I held my breath in anticipation, waiting until she'd finished looking around and hoping she'd accept my terms.
She glanced at me, looking rather sad. "I'm afraid there's been some mistake. I couldn't possibly afford to stay here. Your heating bill alone must be more than the rent I already pay."
I didn't say anything immediately but sighed, turned, and left the room. It was a silly thought anyway. What girl in her right mind would share with a man, especially given the age difference? She was just saying that so as not to offend me.
She followed me into the lounge and gathered her coat. I watched her quietly, deep in thought. "How do you know?" I asked..
Kelly looked at me, frowning. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"How do you know you can't afford it? I never put a price in the ad."
She carried on fastening her coat and smiled wryly. "Nice try, Keith, but you only have to look around to realise how luxurious this place is. So it goes without saying the rent would be high. I'm just looking for somewhere I can call home not take every penny I earn to pay the rent."
Not wanting her to leave at that moment, I grabbed her half finished mug of coffee from the table and offered it to her. "You don't have to go, Kelly. If you don't want the room I'm not offended, but you could at least stay to finish your coffee."
Kelly took the mug from my hand and placed it back on the table, removed her coat and sat down. "I'm sorry, it was very rude of me, after you'd taken the trouble to make a drink," she said quietly.
I walked to the window and looked outside for a few minutes. The sun had appeared momentarily from behind clouds, bathing the balcony in long shadows from the safety railings. Something deep inside was telling me to speak to this girl. She seemed full of confidence yet somehow a little nervous. I turned and looked across at her, she was fiddling with her cup and watching me, her face giving nothing away.
"Can I show you something, Kelly?"
She placed the mug on the coffee table and joined me at the window. After sliding one of them open we walked over to the railings on the edge of the balcony.
"You know, some years ago I had nothing," I began. "I'd lost everything, you see, in a failed business. No one helped. I slept on park seats." I pointed down towards the park. "You can see them in the municipal gardens from here," I sighed. "I suppose it gave me a different perspective on life. The indifference of people to your plight, as they struggle to get on with their own lives. I could happily have laid down and died some of those nights. The future was bleak, without purpose. But I got through it, and, with help from my dad, I got my life together. I'll not bore you with the details; Dad had invented a simple handle. Nothing special, but it sold in its thousands and, well, it gave me enough to buy this flat, with the help of a hefty mortgage... But even this place has its own sad history. The previous owner had a commercial kitchen business that had also failed. It accounts really for the kitchen fittings; they're all built in hotel quality stainless steel. It's a bit cold looking, I know, but wooden units as an alternative… I can't imagine that. Anyway, the place was sold under sealed tenders and went for a fraction of its value. I think the agent had his eye on it for a friend and only advertised the place in London papers, hoping no one local would see the ad, I think. But I read it, on a return trip from London, and then came to see the flat. To tell you the truth I couldn't believe my luck when the letter arrived saying my bid had been successful. You see, what I didn't realise was that the furniture had been included in the sale.
Dad died some eight months ago… I used the inheritance to clear the mortgage."
I fell silent as I remembered, the emotion welling up inside me. In some ways I still missed dad. He was a friend, an adviser, as well as a father. No matter how bad things got, he always seemed to be able to pull something out the bag. Kelly never interrupted, even while I'd fallen silent, perhaps waiting for me to continue. I could sense her shaking in the cold of the day. "I'm sorry, Kelly, shall we go back inside? You look frozen."
We returned to the lounge and she took her coffee again cupping the mug tightly in her hands to warm them. I sat down opposite and after sipping my coffee looked across at her.
"The place only costs me the rates and service charge, but it's too big for one, and I've no real intention of leaving for something smaller. I'm asking fifty pounds a week including the electric, the food's extra. Take it or leave it, Kelly. It's no special price for you, believe me. It'll have the same price tag for the next person who asks to see it."
I looked at her watching me with her big blue eyes. She could, if things had gone better with my ex-wife, have been my daughter. I wondered why she wasn't living at home. I could never understand young people struggling just to feed themselves, for the sake of a little independence. I knew different. Living alone wasn't independence. It was loneliness, boredom, and not bothering to feed yourself properly. Never worth cooking, so you're ripped off by expensive inadequate meals for one. I'd thought for some time before deciding to advertise. I wanted someone I could talk to, without standing in a pub or club. I wanted someone to just be around, without the intrusion into my space. I'd had a few girlfriends, nothing special. A number looking for a free ride, others wrapped up in themselves, not able to let go. I also had a twinge of uncertainly. Should I even be considering a woman? Had the fact that she was such an attractive girl thrown realistic reasoning to the wind? What if she'd a boyfriend? It would seem such a girl would certainly have many admirers. Then if he were here every night, I'd feel like a gooseberry in my own house. Forced to sit in my bedroom or go out to the pub. No, this wasn't what I wanted. Perhaps it'd be better to tell her others had already rung and they really would have first call. She'd just arrived, without an appointment, and couldn't expect to go to the front. Yes, that was it. I'd make some excuse; give myself time to think.
While I had been considering all this, Kelly hadn't once taken her eyes off me. I had the impression she also was studying me, weighing up what I'd said. Finally, she grinned. "When can I move in?" she whispered.
I gasped. What could I say now? Not expecting her to agree, my plans to suggest others were queuing in the wings now seemed petty. I was never a good liar, she'd probably see right through me anyway. So I began pushing the doubts to the back of my mind. "When can you pay your first week's rent?"
CHAPTER 2
Over the years Southport, like many places, had changed. In its heyday the upper middle classes paraded down Lord Street, admiring the many shops catering for such gentry, adding opulence to the area. But they had long since gone. So too were the unique services provided by these shops; it's always sad when something that made a place special comes to an end. However, the two big cities of Manchester and Liverpool still provided the town with a steady stream of day-trippers, but very few stayed overnight. Many visitors who came often left with the impression that Southport is a town for the retired, but that isn't true. Yes, the retired and elderly of the town sit out in the sun, rub shoulders with the visitors, but as night descends and the trippers leave, it's the turn of the young and Southport takes on a new role. Even so, Southport is small, insofar as the young, who frequent the many night spots, are regulars and tend to know each other, if not by name by sight. A stranger stands out like a sore thumb, which begs the question, why hadn't I seen Kelly around before? She gave the impression she'd always lived in the area so it would seem inconceivable a girl so attractive would have escaped my notice. But before you jump to the wrong conclusion, I'm not for one moment suggesting I'm some Casanova – far from it – but it would have been very difficult to miss Kelly. For her part, she'd given little away, even though we'd talked for some time. I seemed to be answering endless questions from her. However, Kelly had a way of skirting around my questions, particularly ones that might have given me some inkling of her past. There'd been no mention of parents or any other relatives. When I asked for a reference, she referred me to a lady in the social services.
As she was leaving, following two coffees and a very enjoyable couple of hours, I offered to help her move in. Kelly's eyes lit up, thanking me for my offer. She hastily scribbled an address on a piece of paper and arranged to meet me at her flat the following Saturday.
Throughout that week I heard nothing from her, and come the day, with perhaps a little trepidation, I drove round to Alexandra Road and parked outside a large rundown house, converted into flats. I carefully looked at the faded names on the doorbells, in the hope her name or Flat 12 was indicated. However, it was without success so I pushed the front door and found to my relief it was unlocked. I found myself standing in a large featureless hall. Glancing at the low numbers on the doors around me, I surmised that number 12 must be on the first or second floor so I made my way purposefully towards the stairs.
I flinched at the musty smell, mingling with cooking odours of every description. I could hear various sounds of music coming from each room I passed, presumably indicating the diverse musical interests of the occupants. The dirty stained carpet, roughly laid on the stairs, was threadbare and reminded me of times past. Had nothing changed since the times I too lived in such a house? What of the government's promise to get the landlords to clean up their act? Was this the result? Indifference, complacency towards people forced to live in such conditions?
However, this was bedsit land, in my view the domain of forgotten people, lonely people. So often portrayed in television dramas and failing for one simple reason. These people lead lonely, isolated lives and are never in and out of each other's rooms. They pass on the stairs, glance at each other suspiciously, often nodding a greeting or exchanging an odd comment about the weather, but that's all. Most of the time, they sit in their single rooms, glancing longingly at the door, expectations raised when they hear the sounds of footsteps on the landing and shrink back in disappointment when no knock came to their door. Or if they receive a knock, it would generally be the landlord wanting his rent.
I could understand why Kelly wanted to leave, to try and escape a life which normally meant the sharing of bathrooms and toilets. Never really feeling clean. Putting up with the banging and crashing of doors day and night. The young girls, considered an easy target, constantly harassed, living behind a locked door. I felt a little proud I'd not followed through with my initial doubts and rejected her. I'd even begun to look forward to her being around.
After having been brought abruptly out of my thoughts by the slamming of a door, I stopped the occupant as he rushed down the stairs. "Do you know Kelly's room? It's number 12, I believe."
The lad, not much older than twenty, stood for a moment then looked me up and down. "What do you want with her?" he demanded.
Our eyes locked, his cold as if protecting the girl. "I don't see as it's any of your business," I retorted.
He moved and barred the way. "Then this is as far as you go. Besides, how did you get in? The door's always locked."
I was just going to have a serious go at him when Kelly looked over from the balcony above. "It's all right, I know him," she called.
We both looked up. I was relieved by her timely intervention, things could have gotten out of hand.
He grinned up at Kelly and then looked towards me shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry, mate, we've had a few strange people coming in lately. Some of the lodgers living here have been a bit nervous... No hard feelings, eh?"
I smiled thinly and mumbled a few appropriate words then watched, as he disappeared out of the front door. But Kelly was becoming impatient and called down, urging me to hurry.
"She would live at the top of the building," I said to myself, gasping after my climb. I felt stupid for having allowed myself to become so unfit. I made too much use of the express lift in the complex. Never going to the fitness centre. All too often eating out, living on a diet of pub grubs, fast food, to avoiding cooking at home. It was time all this stopped I decided. Time I made an effort. Perhaps with someone else around, I'd be motivated to use the skills I'd learnt in a local college. A fad some years before, I'd decided to learn to cook. Spending two hours a week for two years, finally being rewarded with a certificate. Not much good to me in my line of work, electronics, but it'd been interesting and I'd been proud of my culinary skills. The recipes, though, were elaborate and needed many mouths to consume the prepared dishes. As there was just me living alone it meant a freezer of half used offerings, or eating the same thing for every meal in the week. So I'd lost the enthusiasm, reverted back to my old habits, now it seemed I was paying for it. I looked a mess, and I knew it. Perhaps Kelly was the impetus I needed. After all, I'd even surprised myself yesterday by making my way around the corner from my favourite café bar and enquiring at the sports club as to the cost of membership. But I'd done nothing about it as usual, and put it to the back of my mind.
As I reached the top stair, I could see Kelly just inside a half open door with a number 12 prominently displayed in white. On entering, I gazed round a room, a third in size to my kitchen. Packed within the little room was a single bed, a tabletop cooker balanced on an old cabinet, and in a far corner a sink with a draining board. Kelly was grasping a few items and pushing them inside a holdall. I stood silently for a moment, cringing at the sight of the threadbare carpet.
"How much do you pay for this?" I asked, partly to make conversation but not expecting her slightly aggressive response.
"You're not thinking of putting the rent up if I tell you?" she retorted.
"No, I'm not, I was interested, that's all. Besides, I think you'd give me a hard time if I even suggested it."
She zipped her holdall and passed it across then threw her final belongings into a carrier bag. "If you must know, ten quid more than you charge," she replied, moving to the door and beckoning me to follow.
I held back for a moment as she glanced impatiently at me. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" she demanded.
"Is that it, is that all you've got? One holdall and a carrier bag?" I stammered, thinking she'd produce a suitcase at the very least.
In the following months I was to discover that Kelly was very sensitive. Normally, she'd be the life and sole of the party, her enthusiasm for life boundless. Yet there were moments when the mask slipped, revealing an insecure Kelly. I wished I'd not said those words, as she returned to the room and flopped down on the bed. Looking across at me standing there I could sense the nervousness in her, perhaps afraid to reply, but realising she must.
"You're taking me into your home, Keith, without asking many questions," she began. "I think it's only right that you know just who I am, and more importantly where I'm from. Would you like to sit down for a moment?"
I did as she asked and settled into what looked like a comfortable easy chair; however, much to Kelly's amusement, I continued settling lower and lower until finally I was on the floor. The episode relaxed her slightly.
"I never use it, the wooden bits underneath are missing," she remarked, indifferent to my plight.
I pulled myself out and joined her on the bed. She was fiddling with the plastic handle of the carrier. Suspecting her hesitance I spoke quietly. "Perhaps you should tell me what's on your mind, Kelly?"
She stopped fiddling taking a deep breath, launching into her story. "I've been here for six weeks," she began. "You see, I'm an orphan. I've lived all my life in children's homes. When I was eighteen they wouldn't allow me to stay and called the Social Services. They found me this flat and agreed to pay the rent for the first six months, or less if I got a job and could pay my own way. To you, this must look like the pits. It probably is, but for a girl who's lived in institutions all her life with people telling her what to do and when, and the constant checking of my room, throwing anything out that wasn't tidy or part of the inventory, this is heaven. I could finally close the door to the world and live as I wanted." She glanced across, her eyes lighting up. "I've a job, you know, it's part time, so I'm not completely reliant on the social and I know it's not very well paid, but it covers the rent and a little more. It's in the Kingsway Nightclub serving behind the bar, but some nights, like weekends, I wasn't getting home till three. That didn't matter, I'd my own key and my own private room. I could sleep till dinner if I wanted."
She fell silent for a moment then her voice became harsh. "Then I found one of the hazards of living in bedsits. I thought the days of pushing the wardrobe in front of my door to prevent unwanted night-time visitors were ended. Three days before I came to your flat, I woke up to find the bloody landlord calmly emptying the electric meter. Said he'd knocked and when he got no reply thought I was out."
She turned and looked at me, her eyes wet, clearly disturbed with recounting her ordeal. "It was hot that night, I was naked in bed with a man as close as you are to me now, how do you think I felt? He even had the nerve to suggest we could be friends. Friends, I know what sort of friend he wanted me to be. Ever since, I'd taken too moving a chair in front of the door. I couldn't bear the thought of a repeat, I had to get out."
I'd many questions I wanted to ask, but realised this wasn't the time. They could come later.
"Anyway," she carried on, "when I saw your ad I prayed you'd accept a girl. The woman running the shop was even reluctant to give me the address. She kept giving me funny looks, following me around the shop, perhaps thinking I was going to pinch something." Kelly looked at me indignantly. "Me! Pinch something! I've never stolen in all my life. Even when some of the girls in the home pinched sweets and makeup; I never did and believe me when you have nothing and constantly hungry, it's very tempting. But for me, it was against all I'd learned."
I stopped her for a moment. "But you'd got hold of my card, surely she didn't give it to you?"
Kelly grinned mischievously. "Oh, that? Well, I didn't really pinch it, I would have taken it back. But like I said, she wouldn't let me have your address and I'd no pen or paper, so I borrowed it."
I smiled at her interpretation but felt annoyed at the shopkeeper trying to decide who I should, or should not see, regarding my attempts to find a flat mate. "So, Kelly, you ‘procured' my address. What then?"
She glanced towards me, a genuine look of fear spreading across her face. "That was the worst moment of my life. When I asked at the desk which was your flat, thinking it was one of the two bed flats there, the man said it was the penthouse; my confidence was on the floor. You'll never know how scared I was when I rang your bell. I didn't imagine that homes existed like yours. My room's like a fairy tale and a bathroom of my own." She wrinkled her nose and looked away. "Don't ask what I put up with here. Even your offer of a lock gave me confidence that this was someone who would at last respect my privacy. Then, before you told me the price, I was telling myself to get out and stop dreaming, this little room was my world and I'd never be a part of yours."
I tentatively slipped my hand into hers; she didn't resist or pull back. "Kelly, think of this as a new start in your life. You forget I've been there too. Maybe not as bad as you've had it, but it wasn't pleasant. So I promise, your room is yours for as long as you want it. When you shut that bedroom door, believe me, no one will enter."
She carried on fiddling with her bag. "Can I ask you a really big favour?" she whispered.
I pulled away and looked at her as she glanced up, her eyes sparkling once again.
"Go on... While it's still confession time," I replied, afraid of what else I was letting myself in for.
"Can I have a week's trial? All posh flats give you a free trial, besides, I may hate living there and then what?"
I put on my serious voice and looked directly at her. I spoke very slowly. "Then, Kelly, you leave and come back to somewhere like this. Maybe you should tell me the real reason you already want to renege on our agreement, which, I should remind you, we've not even solidified with a deposit, let alone a week's rent."
She looked away to prevent me seeing the tears forming in her eyes. "I wanted to get some nice clothes to wear in your flat. I've only got what I'm wearing and a couple of pairs of jeans..." She raised her voice slightly and shuffled uncomfortably. "You don't know what it's like to grow all the time. Most of my clothes I brought are too small for me besides which, the home only gave you the bare essentials. I even have to wash my underwear every night because I've only two pairs of pants."
She shrugged indifferently and opened her bag grasping a used envelope. "I'll not renege on our agreement, the clothes will wait; it's all there, you don't need to count it."
My thoughts suddenly went back to a film with Richard Harris, in which he sang the song 'How to handle a woman'. Just what sort of man was I that forced her to admit her real reason for holding back a week's rent? Fifty pounds for me was of little significance, but to her it meant the world. Somehow, without embarrassing either of us, I had to repair the situation without looking soft.
"I suppose your argument on the face of it seems reasonable. You can hardly walk round the place in your underclothes like you can here... You'll need at least a couple of jumpers and something else rather than just jeans to wear all the time." I stopped as if deep in thought. "I'll do a deal. I hate cooking and cleaning so you do my share for this week then you're on. But this arrangement's only for one week, I'm not intending to employ a cook or cleaner, Kelly."
She jumped up and grasped my hand, pulling me towards the door. "It's agreed, let's get out of this bloody place, it depresses me. But I'll warn you, I'll clean willingly, but cooking, that's a no, no. I can't cook. I can't even make tea... They never let us."
I looked towards the now empty door space, confused somewhat with her reply. Racing down the stairs, I finally caught up with her waiting outside the front door. "What do you mean, you can't cook? Every girl can cook. How do you feed yourself?" I stuttered breathlessly.
She smiled, shaking her head slowly. "Not me, I told you I never learnt. Besides, it's still only nine thirty, have you had breakfast yet?"
"No, only coffee, why?"
"Okay, then I'll show you how I'll feed you in this town for the week, what do you say?"
I looked at her hesitantly and she could see the doubts forming. "Keith, trust me; you'll not go to dives or anything like that. I'll feed you and we'll have a great time finding clothes. Say yes, please… Let me show you I'm not some dumb girl."
Her voice was so intense and I for one never considered Kelly was in any way dumb. This girl was full of self-confidence and certainly too streetwise for that.
"When you say food we're not talking of living on tea and biscuits, spending a fortune in restaurants or takeaways?" I asked hesitantly.
She grabbed my hand. "Two pounds a day tops, Keith, any more than that and I'll pay yours. Leave the car, you won't need it, but let's hurry; the first place stops serving breakfast in an hour."
Was I getting old or did Kelly exist in a world I'd abandoned years ago? I'll never know, but the next few hours really opened my eyes. We started in a high street store with breakfast for ninety pence. Kelly suggested that if I was really hungry, instead of the standard five I could have seven items on the plate for an extra fifty pence, but she didn't and it wasn't part of her budget. I tried to take a cup for coffee, but she pushed it back, shaking her head profusely. "They charge seventy pence for that, we'll get coffee later… You'll see," she said with a wink.
We did. An hour later we were sitting in the Salvation Army café boasting the cheapest cuppa in town. At ten pence including a biscuit I couldn't argue. The rest of the day was spent finding clothes for her. She spent wisely, stretching her fifty pounds beyond anything I could have done. She involved me in all the decisions and at times I'd convince myself I made the selection, but as time would teach me, Kelly always made you feel like that.
When late in the afternoon she turned into an amusement arcade, I decided she'd failed. Not at all; there, for one pound, we were served chips, bangers and beans, with tea in a plastic cup.
"It's always cheap here if you can stand the same thing. It attracts the old ones and they play bingo. Anyway, I've fed you well for two pounds, what do you think of that?" she asked proudly.
With elbows on the table and cupping my hands under my chin I looked across at this girl. How could somebody have abandoned her to an orphanage? Why had she never been adopted? Just how many more things would she show me over the coming few months that would make my life seem positively luxurious, while people like her struggled to survive?
"I give up, Kelly, you've won. Mind you, much as I admire what you've done there's no way I could do this for the whole week. I'd never be able to look a sausage in the eye again, I'll cook, and you clean. Let's go home, shall we?"
She looked at me for a moment; a single tear was running slowly down her check. I leaned over and touched it gently with a paper napkin. "Did I say something wrong, Kelly?" I asked quietly.
She shook her head. "No, it's just me being stupid… when you said, ‘let's go home', for the first time I realised I had a real home to go to."
CHAPTER 3
It had been three months since Kelly arrived. To say my life had changed would have been an understatement. The first priority had been to find her a real job. The girl had ambitions, not that she discussed them, except she needed more money than she was earning, to build up a much needed wardrobe. Even so, she still intended, even with a fulltime job, to continue at the Kingsway for a short time and add to her savings.
As a freelance design engineer I visited many companies and while I was working in a small family firm, the receptionist left to have a child. Kelly was hired that same afternoon. What surprised her new boss – and me for that matter – was that she had been very well educated and held a number of certificates, including typing and shorthand. But that was Kelly's way, never boasting of what she had achieved. Now, with her confidence returning, there was no stopping her.
To explain our relationship at that time would have been impossible. I the landlord, she the tenant, but to share your home with a girl like Kelly was to share your life. I started to look forward to going home, something I'd not done for a long time. We'd sit together; sometimes on the balcony on warm nights, other times with a single candle over dinner. It was during these times Kelly would tell me something of her past. I learned that she had indeed twice been taken for adoption. The first was at the age of nine when a couple had offered her a home.
She looked across at me, the candle catching the sparkle in her eyes. "It was awful. I was treated like a Barbie doll. They'd come with different clothes like something you'd see in old films. Flared dresses with big bows, insisting I have my hair constantly in a ponytail tied with a ribbon. I couldn't face school and used to go to a girlfriends to change into jeans and jumper. One day I was very ill at school. Turned out later it was food poisoning; anyway they came to pick me up. You can imagine what they said when they saw me in jeans. The teachers couldn't believe their eyes when they walked out, refusing to allow me to return to their home."
"And the second time, Kelly, what happened then?"
She scowled at the very thought of it. "Oh, that time… I was just a glorified babysitter. That's when the father wasn't creeping round me. He'd even come into the bathroom while I was in the bath. When I asked for a lock, the wife insisted they ran a liberated house and locks were unnecessary. That was it, when the social worker came I demanded to return to the children's home. After I told her why, she went berserk. Luckily for me they're very sensitive to placing girls in homes, they're very strict when there's even the slightest suggestion of possible abuse or impropriety."
I raised my eyebrows at her words but she was indignant. "I'm not stupid," she began. "I worked hard at school and do know what the word means."
We both laughed and finished dinner in silence. Later over coffee I broached the subject once more. "You mentioned when we first met that you'd drag a wardrobe in front of your bedroom door. Why was that?"
She looked at me carefully before replying. "Are you sure you want to know, it's not pleasant?" she asked quietly.
"Only if you want to tell me. You know sometimes bringing things into the open tends to put them into perspective."
She shrugged and fiddled with her cup. "It's all the same to me, but I'll tell you." She moved to the settee and held her cup in both hands. "When we were in the home it was lights out at ten for girls at fourteen. Some of us would sneak out and go to the discos. There was only an old guy of sixty, who acted as night watch man cum handyman. He lived in the flat of the home and checked the building at twelve before he went to bed. Anyway, we'd had one of our nights out and it was after twelve when we got back. We climbed through the kitchen window but he was sitting at the table waiting for us. He said he'd tell the matron in the morning. We all went cold at the thought. At the very least we'd have all our so called privileges taken away, or even put out onto the street. No amount of talking would deter him then Jenny started to play up to him finally asking him what it would take to say nothing."
She fell silent for a moment then carried on. "You can guess what he wanted. Me and the other girls went to bed but not Jenny...! She stayed behind. It was two days later when someone woke me in my room. The man was sat on the end of my bed grinning. I demanded that he leave, but he just sat there. Then the bombshell. He said he'd come for my payment of his silence. I stared at him in horror as he moved to my side grasping my hair pulling my head back before kissing me and pushing his hand into my nightdress. I told him I'd scream the house down but he just laughed.
"Scream, girl," he said. "Scream all you want, there's only me on tonight and the other girls won't help." Kelly lowered her head, ashamed. "I even told him I was underage and he'd go to prison if the owners found out he'd been in my room. He carried on laughing at me, asking if I liked living in cardboard boxes."
Our eyes met, hers full of sadness.
"You know, the one thing you believe in a home is nobody wants you. You only have to read the papers about communities up in arms when there is even a suggestion that a house is to be converted for homeless young people or an orphanage. His threat of telling the owners and my fear of being on the street filled me with dread. What could I do but agree? I had to do things with him that made me sick. I refused to take my pants off, so he'd demand I satisfied him in other ways. When he'd finished I was laying face down on my bed crying, I thought he'd gone."
The room was silent as she pulled herself together. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Then he was at my side, I can still smell the stench of his foul breath. Wrenching my head back, he held a knife in front of my eyes, before running the cold blade down my face. No one could imagine the terror that knife held for me, when a man threatens to carve his initials on my cheeks if I uttered one word."
Kelly looked down, her breath short, she was close to tears. "I'll never forget his words till my dying day," she finally whispered.
I just sat there, unable to speak, horrified at the girl's ordeal. The room was absolutely silent. Kelly fiddled with her watchstrap.
"Surely you didn't let him get away with it. The home would have protected you," I naively blurted out.
Kelly sniggered with contempt. "Protect us! You don't understand, do you? We're a meal ticket, nothing more. A nuisance. If we stepped out of line, we were always wrong and lying. No one would have believed me, even the bruises on my breast, they'd have claimed were self-inflicted. Besides, I'll tell you what would have happened if – and it's a big if – they'd believed me. The home would have made a report and sent it to social. That would take weeks; in the meantime he'd be there with the full knowledge of what I'd done. How long would you think it'd be before he came back to cut my face, or beat me up?"
I didn't really want to pursue a part of her life obviously distressful for her, but I suppose my curiosity overcame me, so I asked my questions. "Did he return?"
She had turned away and was gazing out of the window, as if in some sort of dream. "He returned, they always do... I'd lay there unable to sleep, cringing at every sound. Eventually, the door would open, the flash of his torch resting on my face. ‘I'm waiting girl,' he'd say, leaning against the wall playing with the knife. There'd be a big grin on his face when I begged him to leave me alone, but it meant nothing. He'd demand I came to him before his patience ran out…"
She stopped for a moment, pulling herself together, glancing up at me shyly. "I suppose you think I'm a tramp, allowing a man to abuse me, but I had dreams. I wanted so much to be a fashion model. Who'd want a girl with scars all over her? So I bit my lip and did what he asked of me. I'd resisted all his efforts to get into my pants, but if something hadn't happened he'd have got his way. I'd have had no option."
I stopped her for a moment and poured two drinks, Kelly grasping hers gratefully.
"You know, Kelly, I don't think you're a tramp in any way. You did what you had to do to survive. I'm often ashamed of my gender when I hear this sort of story. These men are scum, directing their sexual perversions on children, who can't fight back. But you did say something had happened, what was that?"
Pulling herself together, she gave a weak smile and wiped her eyes. "Four weeks after he began coming to my room he was fired after being found drunk on duty, when the owners made a spot check. I think one of the girls, he was also harassing, had set him up and rung them. I'd was terrified he'd blame me for being kicked out and he'd come back one night and cut me, so I'd slide the wardrobe in front of the door before I went to sleep."
Her confession was, I believe, a form of release; at last she could finally tell somebody, but I was confused a little and wanted an answer. "Tell me, Kelly: Your experiences of men, particularly older men, and I'm also thinking of the landlord entering your room… doesn't it now make you want to run a mile at the thought of sharing a flat, alone, with another ‘man'?"
She looked across at me. "I've often lay in my bed wondering why myself," she began. "I suppose it was your confession that you'd once been in my position and at that moment I really believed that here was this man offering an olive branch to someone who was at the bottom of the pile. It didn't matter if I'd been male or female, fat, thin, whatever, I really believe you'd have helped that person."
I shrugged. "You're right, I would, but I do have a confession also, Kelly."
"What's that?"
"Well, I'm bloody lucky I didn't get a man, fat, thin or whatever. My street cred's gone through the roof with you around."
She laughed and grabbed the paper from under the coffee table and began reading the television page. "Do you like weepies?" she asked.
"No…"
"You'll like this one."
"Which?"
"Brief Encounter. It's a little like our meeting, except they kept meeting in a railway station café."
I thought for a moment. "Yes, I remember that, it's pretty old and in black and white. But surely it was about an illicit love affair between two married people? I'm not married, Kelly, and I don't think you are, unless you've not bothered to mention that little fact? Anyway, I met her."
"Met who?"
"Celia Johnson, she was the actress who played the woman trying to escape her humdrum life. I was on a cruise ship with the ex and Miss Johnson was a passenger along with Iris Murdoch, the novelist and a Lord Allan. See, you've got me going now, reeling off all these famous high society names."
Kelly grinned. "I knew it, the next thing you'll be invited to the Queen's garden party. I'll be your companion and I'll get to meet all these famous people."
I laughed. "You'd like to be famous, would you?"
Her attitude suddenly changed, her voice and manner serious. "I will one day, Keith. You'll see, I too will be at the top, and nobody will look down at me again."
There was no arguing with this girl, the passion and determination in her voice put paid to that. "I believe you, Kelly, but every life, no matter how high up that so called ladder, has its problems… Anyway, it's been a good night up to now, let's have a cry together and watch your weepy, shall we?"
She suddenly relaxed and soon we were both engrossed in the film, she with her legs crunched up to a cushion trapped between them and her chest, tears running down her face. Me… I was half watching the film and her reactions, wondering what this girl had in mind for her future.
CHAPTER 4
It was early one Saturday morning. I'd made a jug of coffee then collapsed onto my favourite chair before picking up the local free paper posted through my letterbox. The more I read, the more I became despondent. It would seem that unless I fancied a car boot, a collector's fair or a school fun day, there seemed nothing that would lure me out of the flat. So by the time Kelly finally emerged, some twenty minutes later, followed by her pouring coffee from my newly brewed jug, I'd come to a decision.
"Would you like to go for a drive, and maybe even… if we find somewhere really interesting… stay over?"
She looked at me for a moment. "Yes please, thank you for asking me. It'll be nice to get out, what should I take? If you're thinking of staying somewhere that is."
"I'd not thought so far ahead, perhaps better than jeans though and then you've got something to dress into, if we go out for dinner?"
She stood after finishing her coffee. "Okay, I'll find something; but come on, drink up, now we've decided to go out let's not waste any more of the day."
Our drive ended up in York. After dropping the car off at a park and ride, followed by a short bus ride into the city, we wandered through the narrow streets, gazing into the shops before coming out in front of the Minster. Kelly took my hand as we passed through the big doors and into the sudden quietness of the Minster itself. I didn't comment or object. In some ways it seemed so natural, in others strange that she wanted to hold my hand. For a short time we seemed to have it all to ourselves and then, as we sat in a pew, other people came in, their footsteps echoing around the vast space.
"You know, since coming to your house, Keith, we've never gone to church. I used to go every week when I was in the home. Will you come with me sometime?"
"Of course I'll come with you, Kelly, but I'm not one for churches; they seem like icons to worship a god, no better than the past, when images, such as statues, were prayed to. Just look around and tell me how much it has cost? Not only in money, often extracted from the poorest around us, but the waste of materials and energy. Just so people can pontificate and try to tell us we should work harder and their way is a better life, when half of them have never lifted a finger in work."
"So you're saying you don't believe in God?"
"No… I'm not saying that; it's a good thing to have beliefs and I for one wouldn't deter anyone. What I don't believe in is the hypocrisy that surrounds it, but that, girl, is another story." I stood and offered my hand. "Come on, let's go, shall we? Besides, I fancy afternoon tea, with tiny triangle sandwiches, followed by scones full of jam and cream."
Her eyes lit up. "I'd love to try cream scones with jam, they sound really, really decadent. Thank you."
I smiled inwardly, as once again she took my hand and we made our way to a small teashop I'd noticed on the way to the Minster. While we waited for the afternoon tea special, I looked through the visitors' guide.
"If we stay over, they have a ghost walk at seven," I commented.
"You mean they've real ghosts around here?" her eyes wide with excitement.
"No… Not a real ghost – or I should hope not anyway! It's more of a walk to show where a ghost had been seen, or said to appear, I would think. There's also quite a number of theme bars and night clubs, so the city seems to have a lot more going on than we have in Southport," I replied before handing her the booklet.
Kelly looked at the different adverts and then back to me. "If we are staying, can we stay in the city centre rather than outside? Then the night will have real atmosphere."