looked round at the younger men, used to hearing laughter when he said something funny.
Mark Aston stayed under the peak of his cap. He’d been padded up with niggers like this before.
Thinks ’e’s ten men.
Fair play to the Paki bird though! Nice one!
‘Good to have you back with us, Delford,’ said Colin. We were just about to have a look at your
curriculum veetees
.’
‘You ain’t looking at my teepee!’
Delford nudged Beauty and laughed at his joke.
While the man explained what it was, Beauty returned to picking at her jacket, throwing quick glances at the others in the room.
What was it like to be one of these people?
If she stayed out, would she become like them?
At least they didn’t have to worry about marriage stuff. They were free from that.
She studied the tall Somali woman. Her scarf was done in a bun at the back, and she wore a long beige skirt with flat-soled boots and a loose red polo neck jumper. She caught Beauty’s eye and smiled.
Pretty lady.
Big, too.
That’s how they are sometimes, hallahol.
At eleven o’clock Beauty hurried out of the building and headed along School Street to the hotel she’d been told about. As she walked across its carpeted lobby she felt the eyes of the uniformed receptionists on her. What would they think, seeing an Asian girl on her own?
Nothing. They’re white. They aynt gonna think nothing.
‘How can I help?’ asked the older one, looking down from the raised platform behind the counter. The other woman disappeared through a side door.
‘I need a room for a few days,’ Beauty said.
‘Certainly. Would that be a single, or a double?’
‘Single or double what?’
‘Room.’
‘A single,’ she said, and reddened.
I am dumb.
The woman tapped computer keys.
‘We have a single room free. That will be sixty pounds a night, payable in advance.’
‘Sixty pounds? For one night?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
She didn’t have enough, and the woman was waiting for an answer.
‘I’ve only got fifty pounds,’ said Beauty. ‘Less now.’ She blushed. Why did she keep saying things aloud? Was she going loony?
‘Have you tried the George on Darlington Street?’ The woman’s voice was friendly. Beauty shook her head.
‘Maggie, how much does the George cost a night?’ the woman called to her colleague.
Beauty’s cheeks burned. Did she have to shout?
‘Forty-five pounds,’ came the loud answer.
The woman looked at her sympathetically.
‘Have you tried a B&B? They’re usually cheaper. I can …’
‘Thanks, I’ll find one,’ Beauty said and turned away.
As she shuffled through the revolving door and out into the street she felt light-headed. She didn’t even have enough money to stay out for two nights. How could she go home after two days? Better to go now and avoid getting beaten up.
The noise of the traffic streaming round the island was too loud. She stood on the pavement, the wind fluttering her salwar around her legs.
When she got back to the first-floor room the only person there was Horace, an old Jamaican. She twitched the corners of her lips in greeting, kicked her bag under the chair and unwrapped the chips she had bought. The smell of vinegar rose with the steam and filled the room.
‘Wh’appen, me girl?’ Horace greeted her.
‘Mm-huh,’ she answered, through hot chips.
‘Ya ahright now? Ya have somewhe’ f’ tahn?’
Beauty swallowed. ‘Eh?’
‘Somewhe’ to live?’ Horace repeated.
Al-lh – how does he know?
That white lady must have told him.
‘People aal tahk ’bout you,’ he added.
Horace looked from Beauty to the food.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.
She picked up a chip, and his eyes followed her hand. Was he hungry? She noticed his battered shoes andshiny trousers, and the sagging pockets of his old black jacket.
‘Aren’t you having lunch?’ she asked.
‘Me nah gat no money till me giro come tomorra.’
Beauty put the chip down. ‘Take these, I can’t eat any
Mark Aston stayed under the peak of his cap. He’d been padded up with niggers like this before.
Thinks ’e’s ten men.
Fair play to the Paki bird though! Nice one!
‘Good to have you back with us, Delford,’ said Colin. We were just about to have a look at your
curriculum veetees
.’
‘You ain’t looking at my teepee!’
Delford nudged Beauty and laughed at his joke.
While the man explained what it was, Beauty returned to picking at her jacket, throwing quick glances at the others in the room.
What was it like to be one of these people?
If she stayed out, would she become like them?
At least they didn’t have to worry about marriage stuff. They were free from that.
She studied the tall Somali woman. Her scarf was done in a bun at the back, and she wore a long beige skirt with flat-soled boots and a loose red polo neck jumper. She caught Beauty’s eye and smiled.
Pretty lady.
Big, too.
That’s how they are sometimes, hallahol.
At eleven o’clock Beauty hurried out of the building and headed along School Street to the hotel she’d been told about. As she walked across its carpeted lobby she felt the eyes of the uniformed receptionists on her. What would they think, seeing an Asian girl on her own?
Nothing. They’re white. They aynt gonna think nothing.
‘How can I help?’ asked the older one, looking down from the raised platform behind the counter. The other woman disappeared through a side door.
‘I need a room for a few days,’ Beauty said.
‘Certainly. Would that be a single, or a double?’
‘Single or double what?’
‘Room.’
‘A single,’ she said, and reddened.
I am dumb.
The woman tapped computer keys.
‘We have a single room free. That will be sixty pounds a night, payable in advance.’
‘Sixty pounds? For one night?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
She didn’t have enough, and the woman was waiting for an answer.
‘I’ve only got fifty pounds,’ said Beauty. ‘Less now.’ She blushed. Why did she keep saying things aloud? Was she going loony?
‘Have you tried the George on Darlington Street?’ The woman’s voice was friendly. Beauty shook her head.
‘Maggie, how much does the George cost a night?’ the woman called to her colleague.
Beauty’s cheeks burned. Did she have to shout?
‘Forty-five pounds,’ came the loud answer.
The woman looked at her sympathetically.
‘Have you tried a B&B? They’re usually cheaper. I can …’
‘Thanks, I’ll find one,’ Beauty said and turned away.
As she shuffled through the revolving door and out into the street she felt light-headed. She didn’t even have enough money to stay out for two nights. How could she go home after two days? Better to go now and avoid getting beaten up.
The noise of the traffic streaming round the island was too loud. She stood on the pavement, the wind fluttering her salwar around her legs.
When she got back to the first-floor room the only person there was Horace, an old Jamaican. She twitched the corners of her lips in greeting, kicked her bag under the chair and unwrapped the chips she had bought. The smell of vinegar rose with the steam and filled the room.
‘Wh’appen, me girl?’ Horace greeted her.
‘Mm-huh,’ she answered, through hot chips.
‘Ya ahright now? Ya have somewhe’ f’ tahn?’
Beauty swallowed. ‘Eh?’
‘Somewhe’ to live?’ Horace repeated.
Al-lh – how does he know?
That white lady must have told him.
‘People aal tahk ’bout you,’ he added.
Horace looked from Beauty to the food.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.
She picked up a chip, and his eyes followed her hand. Was he hungry? She noticed his battered shoes andshiny trousers, and the sagging pockets of his old black jacket.
‘Aren’t you having lunch?’ she asked.
‘Me nah gat no money till me giro come tomorra.’
Beauty put the chip down. ‘Take these, I can’t eat any
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