liked. Alan had brought her Life at the Top, Kon-Tiki and Management: An Introduction. Russ had brought her Sex in the Cinema, Inside Linda Lovelace and Britt. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she would have time to start reading them.
As Mary did her automatic half-curtsy and began to slide the dishes on to the table, she heard, from behind, 'Hello, Mary.'
Unable to turn, Mary hesitated. One of the cabbies reached for his plate and said, 'That's me, my love.' Many people called her Mary by now. But she knew who this was.
'It's not far enough, Mary,' he said.
She turned. It was Prince. He was sitting there with his chair leaning backwards against the wall. She noticed again how effortless and alert he was, compared to all these other people, how in control, how in tune, with his newspaper, his cup of coffee, his cigarette.
'Hello. What's not far enough?' said Mary.
'Me? I didn't say anything,' he said.
'Yes you did. You said it's not far enough. I heard you.'
'You've got big ears, haven't you Mary,' said Prince interestedly.
'What?' said Mary, blushing.
'And you're nosey too.'
'Well you've got a completely square head.'
'Don't be cheeky.'
'What?' said Mary, lifting a hand to her face. Her cheek was certainly very warm.
'You're all lip, you are.'
'What?'
'All mouth.'
'...Well I'm sorry.'
'Don't cry, you fathead.'
'I've got a thin head,' said Mary.
He laughed and said, 'Oh boy—I'm going to have a lot of fun with you, I really am.'
'Mary!' called Mr Garcia. 'I say bring the poached egg toast!'
Mary was about to hurry away but Prince reached out and took her by the wrist. Mr Garcia saw him then and said quickly, 'It's okay. It's okay, Mary.'
'Sit down,' said Prince. 'Mary, Mary Lamb—that name kills me.'
'What do you want from me?'
'Who you are—that's the first thing I want to find out. Who are you? Eh? Eh? Are you Amy Hide?'
'I don't know,' said Mary.
'She was quite a girl, Amy.'
Mary looked down. 'Oh God, I hope it isn't true,' she said.
'The things she did.'
'I, I want forgiveness.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'That's right.'
'Sorry?' '
'Yes:
He laughed again. 'I can't get enough of this,' he said. 'But let's be serious for a while. I'm in a hell of a position actually. And so are you. You be straight with me and I'll be straight with you. Let's get our story straight. Okay?'
'Okay,' said Mary.
'Now. Some people have been working on the assumption that Amy Hide came to a sticky end.'
'Did she?'
'Apparently very sticky, yes. Mind you, she was cruising for a bruising all along. And yet, and yet—here you still are.'
'If it's me.'
'If it's you.' He took a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his overcoat. 'I've got something for you, an address.
'Home, perhaps,' he said, and stood up. Cigarette smoke came like spectral tusks from his nostrils. 'Why don't you go and find out, Mary?' he said.
Mary looked down at the address—Mr and Mrs Hide and where they lived.
'Be in touch,' he said.
Mary watched him amble out into the street. A black car swooped down and he got into it. 'He knows about me,' Mary murmured as she walked up the vault of the crowded café.
'Is the feeling of self-loavin I can't bear. Inna mornins. Used again. I'm just a bloody pushover, I am. I'm just bloody anybody's—providing they're film stars, I'm a cinch. Open me eyes, and there'll be Mia or Lisa or Bo or Elke, Nasstassia, Sigourney, Imogen, or Ju lie or Tues day or Cher yl or Mer yl . Hah! It's not my mind they're after—I know that, mate, don't worry! Take you now, Mary—'
'Ah fuck off, Russ,' drawled Alan. They had both got much worse at talking over the last half-hour.
'No, come on. This is serious. Mary. You see someone like me, dirty great unk like me, the tight T-shirt and the jeans and all, all the equipment. It says only one thing to you now dunnit? S, E, X. Come on, it does dunnit?'
'Russ,' said Alan.
'Is true! Admit it, goo on. Here all right darlin, here's to you. Your good elf.'
'Yeah cheers,' said
As Mary did her automatic half-curtsy and began to slide the dishes on to the table, she heard, from behind, 'Hello, Mary.'
Unable to turn, Mary hesitated. One of the cabbies reached for his plate and said, 'That's me, my love.' Many people called her Mary by now. But she knew who this was.
'It's not far enough, Mary,' he said.
She turned. It was Prince. He was sitting there with his chair leaning backwards against the wall. She noticed again how effortless and alert he was, compared to all these other people, how in control, how in tune, with his newspaper, his cup of coffee, his cigarette.
'Hello. What's not far enough?' said Mary.
'Me? I didn't say anything,' he said.
'Yes you did. You said it's not far enough. I heard you.'
'You've got big ears, haven't you Mary,' said Prince interestedly.
'What?' said Mary, blushing.
'And you're nosey too.'
'Well you've got a completely square head.'
'Don't be cheeky.'
'What?' said Mary, lifting a hand to her face. Her cheek was certainly very warm.
'You're all lip, you are.'
'What?'
'All mouth.'
'...Well I'm sorry.'
'Don't cry, you fathead.'
'I've got a thin head,' said Mary.
He laughed and said, 'Oh boy—I'm going to have a lot of fun with you, I really am.'
'Mary!' called Mr Garcia. 'I say bring the poached egg toast!'
Mary was about to hurry away but Prince reached out and took her by the wrist. Mr Garcia saw him then and said quickly, 'It's okay. It's okay, Mary.'
'Sit down,' said Prince. 'Mary, Mary Lamb—that name kills me.'
'What do you want from me?'
'Who you are—that's the first thing I want to find out. Who are you? Eh? Eh? Are you Amy Hide?'
'I don't know,' said Mary.
'She was quite a girl, Amy.'
Mary looked down. 'Oh God, I hope it isn't true,' she said.
'The things she did.'
'I, I want forgiveness.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'That's right.'
'Sorry?' '
'Yes:
He laughed again. 'I can't get enough of this,' he said. 'But let's be serious for a while. I'm in a hell of a position actually. And so are you. You be straight with me and I'll be straight with you. Let's get our story straight. Okay?'
'Okay,' said Mary.
'Now. Some people have been working on the assumption that Amy Hide came to a sticky end.'
'Did she?'
'Apparently very sticky, yes. Mind you, she was cruising for a bruising all along. And yet, and yet—here you still are.'
'If it's me.'
'If it's you.' He took a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his overcoat. 'I've got something for you, an address.
'Home, perhaps,' he said, and stood up. Cigarette smoke came like spectral tusks from his nostrils. 'Why don't you go and find out, Mary?' he said.
Mary looked down at the address—Mr and Mrs Hide and where they lived.
'Be in touch,' he said.
Mary watched him amble out into the street. A black car swooped down and he got into it. 'He knows about me,' Mary murmured as she walked up the vault of the crowded café.
'Is the feeling of self-loavin I can't bear. Inna mornins. Used again. I'm just a bloody pushover, I am. I'm just bloody anybody's—providing they're film stars, I'm a cinch. Open me eyes, and there'll be Mia or Lisa or Bo or Elke, Nasstassia, Sigourney, Imogen, or Ju lie or Tues day or Cher yl or Mer yl . Hah! It's not my mind they're after—I know that, mate, don't worry! Take you now, Mary—'
'Ah fuck off, Russ,' drawled Alan. They had both got much worse at talking over the last half-hour.
'No, come on. This is serious. Mary. You see someone like me, dirty great unk like me, the tight T-shirt and the jeans and all, all the equipment. It says only one thing to you now dunnit? S, E, X. Come on, it does dunnit?'
'Russ,' said Alan.
'Is true! Admit it, goo on. Here all right darlin, here's to you. Your good elf.'
'Yeah cheers,' said
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