Bad Little Girl(70)

‘Oh, yes? All right, then. It does hurt a little.’

Marianne shook out two and handed them over with a cloudy glass of water. ‘As soon as we have breakfast, I’ll be on my way.’ She stubbed out her cigarette decisively on the edge of her plate. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the puffing of the boiler, the faint sound of draining bath water.

‘You bite your nails,’ said Claire for something to say.

‘Oh, yes. I used to wear false ones, but now, oh, who has the time?’ Marianne glanced at them and grimaced. ‘They’re ugly, aren’t they?’

‘Oh, no. Not ugly. But you don’t seem like an anxious person at all. It’s strange.’

Marianne smiled crookedly, turned her hands over slowly and wiggled her fingers.

‘Lots of nervous energy.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh God yes. I’m quite transparent. The artistic temperament!’ She struck a pose, batting her eyelashes. Claire smiled politely and sipped her dirty water. ‘Oh hell. Why not have a drink? A proper drink. Come on, it’s – well, it’s early, but we’re grown-ups, aren’t we? Brandy? Or whisky?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Well, can I?

‘Of course. But, will you be all right to drive home?’

Marianne didn’t answer, picked up her bag and spent a long time rearranging the contents. The atmosphere thickened. Benji farted. Both women pretended not to notice.

And then Lorna swept into the room. Her face was stuccoed in a thick layer of dark foundation, covered with talcum powder, and her eyes, sunk into the mess, were rimmed with blue eyeliner. Her lips had been crudely painted in candy pink. She’d drawn a heart on her cheek in red biro, and that overwhelming cheap, sweet scent that Claire had noticed earlier flowed from her clothes, her hair. She was wearing an imitation silk robe. It dragged on the floor behind her, picking up flour and food scraps. Ragged tinsel was wound around her head.

‘I bought her the make-up, do you mind?’ whispered Marianne. ‘It’s all cheap stuff, and she absolutely begged for it. And the perfume – well, it was on sale.’

Lorna, as if in a trance, crossed the room in her gauzy gown wielding a CD. ‘She’s been practising,’ whispered Marianne again.

‘I have a surprise.’ Lorna was coy. ‘For both of you.’

‘Oh, fun fun!’ Marianne clapped her hands.

‘I’ve been practising, haven’t I? All morning. In the car.’

‘We have a champion lip-syncher here,’ smiled Marianne. ‘A real little star.’ She took the CD from Lorna’s fingers, while the girl struck a kabuki-like pose, waiting for the music to start.

Some soupy strings. Lorna extended one arm, then the other, and rose up onto her toes. The tinsel slipped over one eye and she brushed it away with annoyance. Claire and Marianne exchanged an anxious look. Lorna dimpled, and began to mime:

‘After you get what you want you don’t want it.’ She wiggled her fingers in Claire’s face. ‘If I gave you the moon . . .’ She gently stroked Claire’s cheek. ‘You’d grow tired of it soon . . .’

Marianne nudged Claire, half closed her eyes, and mouthed, ‘Bless’, then mimed along with the girl, waving an unlit cigarette. ‘You’ll grow tired of me . . .’

‘’Cause after you get what you want you don’t want what you wanted at all!’ Lorna grasped their hands tightly, and led them into a shuffling, giggling waltz around the table. Claire gritted her teeth and tried not to let the pain show.

The last chorus began and she gestured to Marianne and Claire to sit down. Marianne lit a cigarette, smiling fondly. When the song finished, Lorna picked up her hems and curtseyed. Claire smiled sleepily at her. The pills were starting to work.

Marianne leapt to the CD player and pressed stop, leading the applause. Lorna smiled and bobbed on her feet, shivering with excitement.

‘Again,’ she said and dragged Benji out from under the table. ‘Put it back on again – the music.’

Benji was reluctant to stand on his hind legs; Lorna bunched up a fistful of tinsel, and walloped his head. The dog flattened its ears and crouched back under the table, snarling, a low, threatening sound, tinged with fear.

‘Benji! Don’t be silly!’ Marianne leaned down. ‘Silly boy!’ But the dog curled up tighter, cringing from the swaying tinsel.

‘Ben-jiii!’ Lorna sang, waving the tinsel in his face. ‘Come and dance!’

‘Darling, I think he wants to stay where he is.’ Claire put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Leave him alone.’

‘Come and DANCE!’

‘Oh Benji, you won’t get a prettier partner! Come and dance!’ Marianne pulled him out from under the table by his collar. His paws scrabbled feebly and he twisted his head away from Lorna. Lorna prodded him hard in the kidneys with one dirty foot and he yelped and skittered towards the closed door, turning fearful eyes on Claire.

‘Stop it, stop it, he doesn’t want to!’ Claire cried.

‘He did before. When we practised. He liked it!’ Lorna ran to him and smacked his nose with one small fist.

‘He doesn’t now, please, he’ll bite you! Stop it!’ begged Claire just as the dog sprung at the girl, his teeth meeting together inches away from her knee.