Part 5 (1/2)

The wide, low-ceilinged living room took up the whole depth of the house. It was Anitas favorite room. Narrow windows high in the walls at front and back let in a little light, but most of the illumination came from a battery of spotlights trained on posters, small pieces of abstract sculpture, and vases of flowers. Expensive scatter rugs covered much of the block floor, and the room was furnished out of Habitat Anita opened a window and tidied up quickly. She emptied ashtrays into a bin, shook the creases out of cus.h.i.+ons, and got rid of some flowers which were past their best. She picked up two gla.s.ses from the chrome occasional table; one smelled of whisky. Samantha drank vodka. Anita wondered whether the man was still here.

She went back to the kitchen and pondered whether she had time to wash up before waking Sammy. No, she decided; Sammy had an appointment later in the morning. Still, she could probably clear the kitchen while Sammy was drinking her tea. She put the kettle on.

The girl entered the bedroom and pulled back the curtains, letting the sun pour through like water from a bursting dam. The bright light woke Samantha instantly. She lay still for a moment, waiting for the last few cobwebs of sleep to dissolve in the awareness of a new day. Then she sat up and smiled at the girl.

Good morning, Anita.

Morning, Sammy. The girl handed Samantha a cup of tea and sat down on the edge of the bed while she sipped it. Anitas accent had the broad tw.a.n.g of a c.o.c.kney teenager, and her bustling, motherly manner about the house made her seem older than she was.

I ve tidied downstairs and done the dusting, she said. I thought Id leave the was.h.i.+ng until later. Are you going out?

”Mmm.”Samantha finished her tea and put the cup down beside the bed. Ive got a script conference. She threw the bedclothes aside and got up, crossing the room to the bathroom. She got under the shower and washed herself quickly.

When she came out Anita was making the bed. I got that script out for you, she said. The one you was reading the other night.

Oh, thanks, Samantha said gratefully. I was wondering what Id done with it. With the huge bath towel wrapped around her, she went to the desk at the window and looked at the volume. Yes, thats the one. What on earth shall I do without you, girl?

Anita busied herself about the room and Samantha dried her urchin-cut hair. She put on her bra and panties and sat in front of the mirror to make up her face. Anita was not as chatty as usual this morning, and Samantha wondered why.

An idea struck her. Have your A-level results come yet?

Yeah. This morning.

Samantha turned around. How did you do?

I pa.s.sed, the girl said flatly.

Good grades?

Grade one in English.

Thats terrific! Samantha enthused.

Is it?

Samantha stood up and took the girls hands in her own. What is it, Anita? Why arent you pleased?

It dont make no difference to anything, does it? I can work in the bank for twenty pounds a week, or work in the Bra.s.seys factory for twenty-five pounds. I could do that without A-levels.

But I thought you wanted to go to college.

Anita turned away. ”That was just a silly thing-a dream. I could no more go to college than fly to the moon. Whatll you wear-the white Gatsby dress? She opened the wardrobe door.

Samantha went back to her mirror. ”Yes,” she said absently. Lots of girls go to college nowadays, you know.

Anita laid the dress on the bed and put out white tights and shoes. You know what its like up my place, Sammy. The old mans in and out of work, no fault of his own. My mum cant earn much, and Im the eldest, see. I'll have to stop home and work for a few years until the little ones start bringing some money home. Actually- Samantha put down her lipstick and looked past her own image in the mirror to the young girl who stood behind her. What?

I was hoping you might keep me on.

Samantha said nothing for a moment. She had employed Anita as a sort of maid-c.u.m-housekeeper during the girls summer holidays. The two of them got on well, and Anita had turned out to be more than efficient. But it had never occurred to Samantha that the arrangement might become permanent.

She said: I think you ought to go to college.

Fair enough, Anita replied. She picked up the teacup from the bedside table and went out.

Samantha put the final touches to her face and dressed in jeans and denim s.h.i.+rt before going downstairs. As she entered the kitchen Anita put a boiled egg and a rack of toast on the small table. Samantha sat down to eat.

Anita poured two cups of coffee and sat down opposite her. Samantha ate in silence, then pushed her plate away and dropped a saccharine tablet into the coffee. Anita took out a short filter-tipped cigarette and lit it.

Now listen, Samantha said. If you must get a job, Id be delighted for you to work for me. Youre a terrific help. But you mustnt give up hope of going to college.

Theres no point in hoping. Its not on.

Ill tell you what Im going to do. Ill employ you, and pay you the same as Im paying you now. You go to college in the term, and work for me in the holidays-and get the same money all the year round. That way I dont lose you, you can help your mother, and you can study.

Anita looked at her wide-eyed. Youre ever so kind, she said.

No. Ive got much more money than I deserve, and I hardly spend any of it. Please say yes, Anita. I could feel I was doing somebody some good.

Mum would say its charity.

Youre eighteen now-you dont have to do what she says.

No. The girl smiled. Thank you. She stood up and impulsively kissed Samantha. There were tears in her eyes. What a bleedin turn-up, she said.

Samantha stood up, slightly embarra.s.sed. Ill get my lawyer to draw up some kind of thing to make it secure for you. Now I must fly.

Ill ring for a cab, said Anita.

Samantha went upstairs to change. As she put on the flimsy white dress which had cost more than Anitas wages for two months, she felt oddly guilty. It was wrong that she should be able to change the course of a young girls life with such a small gesture. The money it would cost would be negligible-and probably tax-deductible, she realized suddenly. It made no difference. What she had told Anita was true. Samantha could quite easily have lived in a stately home in Surrey, or a villa in the South of France: she spent virtually nothing of her vast earnings. Anita was the only full-time servant she had ever employed. She lived in this modest house in Islington. She had no car, no yacht. She owned no land, oil paintings or antiques.

Her thoughts turned to the man who had called last night-what was his name? Julian Black. He had been a bit of a disappointment. In theory, anyone who called on her on the hop had to be interesting: for everyone a.s.sumed they would have to pa.s.s through a battery of security guards to get at her, and the duller sort of visitor never bothered to try.

Julian had been pleasant enough, and fascinating on his own subject, which was art. But it had not taken Samantha long to find out that he was unhappy with his wife and worried about money; and those two things seemed to sum up his character. She had made it clear she did not want to be seduced by him, and he had made no advances. They had enjoyed a couple of drinks and he had left.

She could have solved his problems as easily as she had solved Anitas. Perhaps she ought to have offered him money. He didnt seem to be asking for it, but it was clear he needed it.

Perhaps she ought to patronize artists. But the art world was such a pretentious upper-cla.s.s scene. Money was spent with no clear idea of its value to real people: people like Anita and her family. No, art was not the solution to Samanthas dilemma.

There was a ring at the door. She looked out of the window. The taxi was outside. She picked up her script and went down.

She sat back in the comfortable seat of the black cab and flipped through the script she was going to discuss with her agent and a film producer. It was called Thirteenth Night, which would not sell any cinema tickets: but that was a detail. It was a reworking of Shakespeares Truelfth Truelfth Night, but without the original dialogue. The plot made much of the h.o.m.os.e.xual innuendoes in the play. Orsino was made to fall in love with Cesario before the revelation that Cesario was a woman in mans clothes; and Olivia was a latent lesbian. Samantha would be cast as Viola, of course. Night, but without the original dialogue. The plot made much of the h.o.m.os.e.xual innuendoes in the play. Orsino was made to fall in love with Cesario before the revelation that Cesario was a woman in mans clothes; and Olivia was a latent lesbian. Samantha would be cast as Viola, of course.

The taxi stopped outside the Wardour Street office and Samantha got out, leaving the commissionaire to pay the driver. Doors were opened for her as she swept into the building, playing the role of a film star. Joe Davies, her agent, met her and ushered her into his office. She sat down and relaxed her public facade.

Joe closed the door. Sammy, I want you to meet w.i.l.l.y Ruskin.

The tall man who had stood up as Samantha entered now offered his hand. Its a real pleasure, Miss Winacre, he said.