the world of men. The more logical Braddock, however, asserted that it was a meteorological phenomenon, the result of light hitting water droplets in the atmosphere: a much more mundane and less romantic notion.
The rational Braddock also insisted this was no time for misplaced sentiment and, moreover, dreams were for fools and madmen.
I stood in a doorway and smoked a Marlboro. Then I smoked another.
When I next looked, the rainbow had gone.
Perhaps there comes a point in everyone’s life when we have to shoulder aside our nobler feelings and face an unkinder truth; when our romantic ideals wither and, like the Norse gods, discover it is time to die.
13
ADELE
Adele sat in the back room of the Gold Club, drinking tea from a chipped mug while Leona lit a cigarette from the stub of her last one.
Nina was off work with flu. The new girl, Samantha, was the only one with a customer. It was a slow day.
Samantha was half-Italian, nineteen and dumb as a stone but she had long black hair and great legs. She was therefore the natural first choice for most of the club’s patrons. Intelligent conversation wasn’t that high up their list of desirable attributes. It fell well below enthusiasm and physical flexibility.
Leona readjusted her skirt and said, “Did Nina tell you she once had a client drop dead on her of a heart attack?”
“Christ, no.”
“The good news was that she was on top at the time, but the bad news was they were in the back of his car. She’s not been able to look at a silver BMW since without having flashbacks.”
Adele giggled and almost spat out a mouthful of tea. “Is that a true story?”
“As true as they come. She said they were parked up behind the big TESCO store in Nottingham. It’s a rather popular location after midnight.”
“What did she do?”
“She called a taxi. What else? She couldn’t very well drive his car home with a stiff in the back seat, could she? There are sodding CCTV cameras all over the place in Nottingham.
“When they found him the next morning it caused a bit of a stir. It was all over the local papers. I told Nina she could at least have put the poor man’s cock away.”
The women heard the thud of feet on wooden floorboards above them.
“Sounds like Sam’s finished,” said Adele.
“Uh-huh,” muttered Leona, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. “So,” she went on, “what do you do when you’re not working, Adele?”
“Work some more elsewhere.”
“I know that feeling. I was studying property law last night. I fucking hate it. I’m never going to pass these exams.”
M iss Connie put her head around the door.
“ Leona, you have a customer. It’s the Irish gentleman.”
“Right,” she replied, stubbing out her cigarette. “Mick’s a non-smoker. Better give my teeth a scrub and gargle with some mouthwash. Back to the grind. See you in an hour, unless you get lucky.”
The wall clock showed it was coming up to three twenty in the afternoon.
Adele told Miss Connie she was going out into the back yard for a smoke, then took one of Leona’s cigarettes and her lighter. She didn’t normally smoke, but she needed something before she phoned her mother.
She’d been putting off calling for days. The conversations always depressed her.
The back yard was high-walled and half-full of rusting junk. It hadn’t been swept in months. Adele found a rickety stool, sat down, lit up and felt the burn in her throat. She shivered a little despite the afternoon sunshine. Then she pressed the buttons on her cell phone.
“I was wondering when you were finally going to call.” The Glaswegian accent was slurred, as usual. By this time in the afternoon her mother would have got through at least half a bottle of spirits. Rum, vodka, whisky. It didn’t matter much to her what it was. Whatever was selling cheapest at the off-licence on the corner.
“Hello, Mam. How are you?”
Adele knew the answer to that question. It was always the same, a
The rational Braddock also insisted this was no time for misplaced sentiment and, moreover, dreams were for fools and madmen.
I stood in a doorway and smoked a Marlboro. Then I smoked another.
When I next looked, the rainbow had gone.
Perhaps there comes a point in everyone’s life when we have to shoulder aside our nobler feelings and face an unkinder truth; when our romantic ideals wither and, like the Norse gods, discover it is time to die.
13
ADELE
Adele sat in the back room of the Gold Club, drinking tea from a chipped mug while Leona lit a cigarette from the stub of her last one.
Nina was off work with flu. The new girl, Samantha, was the only one with a customer. It was a slow day.
Samantha was half-Italian, nineteen and dumb as a stone but she had long black hair and great legs. She was therefore the natural first choice for most of the club’s patrons. Intelligent conversation wasn’t that high up their list of desirable attributes. It fell well below enthusiasm and physical flexibility.
Leona readjusted her skirt and said, “Did Nina tell you she once had a client drop dead on her of a heart attack?”
“Christ, no.”
“The good news was that she was on top at the time, but the bad news was they were in the back of his car. She’s not been able to look at a silver BMW since without having flashbacks.”
Adele giggled and almost spat out a mouthful of tea. “Is that a true story?”
“As true as they come. She said they were parked up behind the big TESCO store in Nottingham. It’s a rather popular location after midnight.”
“What did she do?”
“She called a taxi. What else? She couldn’t very well drive his car home with a stiff in the back seat, could she? There are sodding CCTV cameras all over the place in Nottingham.
“When they found him the next morning it caused a bit of a stir. It was all over the local papers. I told Nina she could at least have put the poor man’s cock away.”
The women heard the thud of feet on wooden floorboards above them.
“Sounds like Sam’s finished,” said Adele.
“Uh-huh,” muttered Leona, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. “So,” she went on, “what do you do when you’re not working, Adele?”
“Work some more elsewhere.”
“I know that feeling. I was studying property law last night. I fucking hate it. I’m never going to pass these exams.”
M iss Connie put her head around the door.
“ Leona, you have a customer. It’s the Irish gentleman.”
“Right,” she replied, stubbing out her cigarette. “Mick’s a non-smoker. Better give my teeth a scrub and gargle with some mouthwash. Back to the grind. See you in an hour, unless you get lucky.”
The wall clock showed it was coming up to three twenty in the afternoon.
Adele told Miss Connie she was going out into the back yard for a smoke, then took one of Leona’s cigarettes and her lighter. She didn’t normally smoke, but she needed something before she phoned her mother.
She’d been putting off calling for days. The conversations always depressed her.
The back yard was high-walled and half-full of rusting junk. It hadn’t been swept in months. Adele found a rickety stool, sat down, lit up and felt the burn in her throat. She shivered a little despite the afternoon sunshine. Then she pressed the buttons on her cell phone.
“I was wondering when you were finally going to call.” The Glaswegian accent was slurred, as usual. By this time in the afternoon her mother would have got through at least half a bottle of spirits. Rum, vodka, whisky. It didn’t matter much to her what it was. Whatever was selling cheapest at the off-licence on the corner.
“Hello, Mam. How are you?”
Adele knew the answer to that question. It was always the same, a
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