Miriam.
‘Way beyond,’ Lilly agreed.
She wrote down her mobile number for the babysitter and felt a pang of guilt that if Sam woke up he wouldn’t find his mother at home, but she needed to act quickly. If Max had sold his site it would be to someone local – Lilly doubted the man had ever even left Luton. That meant Mandy was probably still working in the area, but in a week’s time, or even a couple of days, that could change. Girls moved parlours and brothels with ferocious speed, trading with whoever would pay the most. Websites opened and closed on an almost daily basis. Loyalty was in short supply for women in the oldest job in the world.
‘Have you considered how we’re actually going to do this?’ Miriam asked.
Lilly picked up her car keys and ushered Miriam out of the cottage into the humid night. ‘We’ll head for Tye Cross. Someone will know her.’
‘We can’t just go to the nearest brothel and say, “Excuse me, we’re looking for Randy Mandy. Do you know her? Blonde hair? Big boobs?!”’
‘Why not?’ said Lilly.
‘Because they’ll want to know who we are and why we’re asking.’
Lilly put the car into gear and set off. ‘We’ll say we want you-know-what.’
Miriam looked at them both, a black dreadlocked woman in her early fifties with half-moon glasses and Birkenstocks and her colleague still in her now-dishevelled work suit and trainers.
She sounded unconvinced. ‘A pair of lesbian sex tourists.’
Lilly gave her friend a wink. ‘Just say you’re after some girl-on-girl action.’
Tye Cross was synonymous with sex. Everyone in the area knew that this was the place to find a prostitute. Lilly had seen the name appear in numerous court papers, as many of her young clients had mothers working there. Some of them went there themselves, particularly if the lure of drugs had already sucked them into a black hole. Lilly, however, had never actually been to Tye Cross and was surprised to discover what amounted to little more than a few dingy streets dotted with sex shops and strip-clubs. In between were flats where customers prepared to pay a bit extra could satisfy themselves in the comfort of a bed rather than the back seat of a car. A couple of pawnbrokers, an Indian takeaway and an all-night café were the only other signs of life.
Several prostitutes lingered in doorways or wandered along the kerbside and peered into passing cars.
‘Looking for business, love?’
Taking a deep breath, Lilly approached a prostitute standing alone outside a disused sari shop.
Everything must go. 50% discount , declared the peeling posters above the girl’s head. Up close she seemed impossibly thin, and even tonight, when the temperature had not dropped below 65, her legs were mottled with purple honeycomb and she wrapped an oversized cardigan tightly around her tiny frame.
‘I’m looking for a girl,’ said Lilly.
The woman didn’t respond but blew smoke in Lilly’s direction.
‘Her name is Mandy,’ Lilly added.
The girl shivered, flicked her cigarette at Lilly and walked away.
Another woman, older and almost plump, called to them from her spot further up the road.
‘Don’t mind her, darling, she’s waiting on a fix.’
She smiled at Lilly’s blank expression. ‘He’s late tonight, the man that sells them young ones the drugs.’
Lilly nodded her comprehension. ‘I’m looking for a girl called Mandy.’
‘Oh aye.’
‘Blonde, early twenties, I think she’s foreign.’
The woman became distracted as a car pulled to a halt only a few feet away. ‘They’re all foreign these days, honey.’
Lilly realised that in one night she’d been called baby, darling, sweetie and honey by women she’d never met before in her life. It was intimacy at its most fake, and the women used these names without thinking.
The woman spoke over her shoulder as she moved towards a potential client. ‘Try the girl on the counter in Sizzle, she knows most of them. Me, I keep
‘Way beyond,’ Lilly agreed.
She wrote down her mobile number for the babysitter and felt a pang of guilt that if Sam woke up he wouldn’t find his mother at home, but she needed to act quickly. If Max had sold his site it would be to someone local – Lilly doubted the man had ever even left Luton. That meant Mandy was probably still working in the area, but in a week’s time, or even a couple of days, that could change. Girls moved parlours and brothels with ferocious speed, trading with whoever would pay the most. Websites opened and closed on an almost daily basis. Loyalty was in short supply for women in the oldest job in the world.
‘Have you considered how we’re actually going to do this?’ Miriam asked.
Lilly picked up her car keys and ushered Miriam out of the cottage into the humid night. ‘We’ll head for Tye Cross. Someone will know her.’
‘We can’t just go to the nearest brothel and say, “Excuse me, we’re looking for Randy Mandy. Do you know her? Blonde hair? Big boobs?!”’
‘Why not?’ said Lilly.
‘Because they’ll want to know who we are and why we’re asking.’
Lilly put the car into gear and set off. ‘We’ll say we want you-know-what.’
Miriam looked at them both, a black dreadlocked woman in her early fifties with half-moon glasses and Birkenstocks and her colleague still in her now-dishevelled work suit and trainers.
She sounded unconvinced. ‘A pair of lesbian sex tourists.’
Lilly gave her friend a wink. ‘Just say you’re after some girl-on-girl action.’
Tye Cross was synonymous with sex. Everyone in the area knew that this was the place to find a prostitute. Lilly had seen the name appear in numerous court papers, as many of her young clients had mothers working there. Some of them went there themselves, particularly if the lure of drugs had already sucked them into a black hole. Lilly, however, had never actually been to Tye Cross and was surprised to discover what amounted to little more than a few dingy streets dotted with sex shops and strip-clubs. In between were flats where customers prepared to pay a bit extra could satisfy themselves in the comfort of a bed rather than the back seat of a car. A couple of pawnbrokers, an Indian takeaway and an all-night café were the only other signs of life.
Several prostitutes lingered in doorways or wandered along the kerbside and peered into passing cars.
‘Looking for business, love?’
Taking a deep breath, Lilly approached a prostitute standing alone outside a disused sari shop.
Everything must go. 50% discount , declared the peeling posters above the girl’s head. Up close she seemed impossibly thin, and even tonight, when the temperature had not dropped below 65, her legs were mottled with purple honeycomb and she wrapped an oversized cardigan tightly around her tiny frame.
‘I’m looking for a girl,’ said Lilly.
The woman didn’t respond but blew smoke in Lilly’s direction.
‘Her name is Mandy,’ Lilly added.
The girl shivered, flicked her cigarette at Lilly and walked away.
Another woman, older and almost plump, called to them from her spot further up the road.
‘Don’t mind her, darling, she’s waiting on a fix.’
She smiled at Lilly’s blank expression. ‘He’s late tonight, the man that sells them young ones the drugs.’
Lilly nodded her comprehension. ‘I’m looking for a girl called Mandy.’
‘Oh aye.’
‘Blonde, early twenties, I think she’s foreign.’
The woman became distracted as a car pulled to a halt only a few feet away. ‘They’re all foreign these days, honey.’
Lilly realised that in one night she’d been called baby, darling, sweetie and honey by women she’d never met before in her life. It was intimacy at its most fake, and the women used these names without thinking.
The woman spoke over her shoulder as she moved towards a potential client. ‘Try the girl on the counter in Sizzle, she knows most of them. Me, I keep
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