Part 17 (2/2)

I hardly slept at all that night. The bed was lumpy and lop-sided and the sun burning down on the roof all day had made the heat and the overpowering smells unbearable. The thought that Steve Harris had tracked me down kept me awake too. If only I hadn't chosen to stay on at the same address!

I was up early, down the street to the supermarket to stock up with food and air freshener. By the time I got back I reckoned that Harry would be in his office so I took out my phone and clicked on his number. To my surprise he answered himself.

'Harry Clay Theatrical Agency.'

'Harry, it's Louise. I've just got back from a week away. I've been expecting a call from you. What have you got for me?'

At the other end of the line I heard him sigh. 'I've tried, Lou, but I told you, there's nothing going in your line at the moment. The summer shows are all booked and there's nothing else suitable.'

'So what do you suggest I do? I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I've been conned out of a job and most of my money. You owe it to me to find me something, Harry.'

'Look, Lou, I'll be frank with you. I'm winding the agency up. I'm past retiring age and I've had enough. I've already let Sally go.'

'I see, so the rat is leaving the sinking s.h.i.+p, is he?' I snapped. 'I've a b.l.o.o.d.y good mind to sue you.'

'Go ahead,' he said wearily. 'You can't get blood out of a stone. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I'm in the same position as you. Look, I know it's tough but my blood pressure has gone sky high and my doctor says I'm heading for a heart attack. My wife has put her foot down. This business with Fortune has just about finished me. It's time to pack it in and that's what I'm doing.'

'It's all right for you, Harry, but-' Before I could complete the sentence he'd hung up, leaving me listening to the dialling tone. I hit the red b.u.t.ton in disgust. What the h.e.l.l was I going to do now? I'd soon get through the little money I had left. I had to earn some cash somehow. I clicked on my list of contacts. There was only one name on the list that would sympathize. I highlighted Mark's number but my pride refused to let me press the call b.u.t.ton.

For a long time I sat on the bed, despair was.h.i.+ng over me like an all-engulfing tide. Why couldn't something go right for me? What had I done to deserve all this bad luck? I got up eventually and opened the suitcase containing most of my clothes, as yet unpacked. It was hardly an haute couture collection. It made me angry to think of the lovely things I could have bought, if only I hadn't blown all my inheritance on Paul b.l.o.o.d.y Fortune and his G.o.dforsaken play. I hung everything up and examined each garment critically. Nothing looked fas.h.i.+onable or smart. I had to admit that even the Chanel suit was beginning to look a bit shabby as I pulled at a loose b.u.t.ton. Suddenly I made up my mind. If I was going to get myself a new agent, I was going to have to look a bit less down at heel. I'd go up west today and buy myself a few nice things to wear with some of the cash I'd got left. They wouldn't be designer but I'd always had a good eye and the summer sales were just beginning. I might find some bargains. I'd get my hair done too. It would be a good investment.

First, I trawled my list of agents. As I'd expected, none of them would see me there and then, so I left a copy of my photos and profile along with my mobile number, then I took the Tube to Oxford Street. I bought a cla.s.sic suit, a casual skirt, a jacket and three tops. I also found some really elegant shoes and a handbag, all at reduced prices, then I sat in the best hairdresser's I could afford for most of the afternoon, having my roots done and my hair cut and blow-dried.

It was while I was walking to the Tube station that I pa.s.sed a bridal shop and a tiny card in the corner of the window caught my eye.

a.s.sistant wanted.

I stood looking into the window at the beautiful designer bridal gown displayed for some time. It was unusual for a shop of this calibre to advertise in this way. I was intrigued. Eventually, I pushed the door and was immediately surprised by the tinny notes of Mendelssohn's Wedding March. As I walked into the shop I was trying not to laugh. A stylishly dressed woman of about fifty approached me.

'Can I help you?'

I took a deep breath. 'I've just noticed your advertis.e.m.e.nt in the window,' I said. 'It so happens that I'm looking for work.'

She looked me up and down critically. 'Do you have retail experience?'

I treated her to my best smile. 'I'm actually an actress,' I told her. 'But I have often taken retail work when I've been between engagements as I am now.' It wasn't strictly true of course but I hoped she'd swallow it.

'In that case you'll have references.'

Trying not to look taken aback, I shook my head. 'All the jobs were temporary, of course. But they were all in the fas.h.i.+on trade,' I added quickly. 'I do have quite a flair for fas.h.i.+on; being an actress it's all part of the training.'

'This is a designer boutique,' she said. 'I design most of the gowns, although I do stock a few low-budget dresses.' She appraised me again. 'As it happens, I only need temporary help at the moment, so this might very well suit us both.' She eyed my outfit doubtfully. 'I take it you own a smart black dress or suit?'

'Naturally.' I made a mental note to give the Chanel suit a good sponge and press and get the loose b.u.t.ton firmly sewn on. I looked at her. 'What salary are you offering?'

She named a figure that was ludicrous. I shook my head. 'I'm afraid I'd need twice that,' I told her. 'London rents don't come cheap and if you want me to look smart ...'

'All right, I agree,' she said, throwing me completely. 'When can you start?'

'Well tomorrow if you like.'

She nodded. 'As you can see, I'm on my own here at the moment so I really do need help and quickly,' she said. 'Which is why I put the notice in the window. Normally I'd advertise in the usual way.'

'That would suit me. What time would you like me to be here?' I asked.

'Be here at eight, then I'll be able to show you around and explain our routine.'

I walked out of the shop feeling really cheered up. I'd get back onto my feet in no time, I told myself.

But on the Tube on the way back to the horrible bedsit, the spectre of Steve Harris and his threat to get back in touch reared its ugly head. I couldn't stay on in that room like a sitting duck, just waiting for him to come and find me again. Besides, Stoke Newington was an awfully long way from the new job. A sudden thought hit me and I took out my phone and called Dianne. She'd be home from work by now. She could always say no.

She answered the call almost immediately. Clearly she'd deleted my number from her phone because she didn't know who was calling.

'h.e.l.lo?'

'Di, it's me, Lou,' I said. 'Long time no see. How are you?'

'I'm fine and you?'

She sounded a tiny bit frosty so I turned on the charm. 'I've really missed you, Di,' I said. 'I hated the way we parted company last time. Any chance I could pop in and see you some time soon?'

She hesitated. 'Aren't you busy with the new play? I'd have thought you'd be on tour by now.'

'It's a long story,' I told her. 'Actually it all fell through in quite a spectacular way. I'd love to tell you all about it. Look, I'm working in the West End at the moment. Any chance I could come and see you after work tomorrow?'

'Yes, OK then,' she said. I knew I'd have aroused her curiosity. 'Though I won't be able to make an evening of it. I have to go out later.'

'That's all right.' I paused. 'How is Mike?'

'Fine I suppose.' There was a long pause at the other end then she said. 'I'll tell you all my news when we meet. Around six, OK?'

'Fine, look forward to it.'

I returned to the dreadful bedsit that evening, feeling much better. I was just tucking into my microwave meal for one when my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. Could it be a call from one of the agents already? Full of optimism, I clicked the green b.u.t.ton.

'h.e.l.lo. Louise Delmar speaking.'

'h.e.l.lo, darlin'. Little brother Steve here. How are you all right?'

'Leave me alone,' I snapped, my good mood evaporating instantly. 'Look, there's no point in you ringing me. I don't want to meet you, so please don't ring me or write any more notes.'

'Oh, now is that nice?'

'Frankly, I don't care whether you think it's nice or not,' I said. 'Just go away!'

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