miserable self-doubt, said goodbye. He’d said nothing at all. Why would he do that? With a rush of fear I wondered if he was in trouble. Had he tried to call, but been prevented somehow? Did he need help? And what could I do about it if he did?
Ten
I ’d always prided myself on my ability to adapt to any changes to my working environment, but dancing at the Barclay was a steep learning curve.
After my audition, I hunted through my wardrobe for something that I thought might be appropriately dramatic and sexy. Eventually I settled on the dark blue velvet dress I’d worn at the last conference dinner. A few tops and skirts that I wore out clubbing with my friends. And lingerie. Black lace with a pink ribbon trim.
I had no idea if that was okay.
I wasn’t even nervous when I went back. The club was already filling with people, the music at a level loud enough so the girls had to lean forward to chat to the guys in the bar but not so loud that they couldn’t hear someone calling them over.
I found Helena behind the bar. She was a small woman in her forties, with an expression which said ‘don’t give me any shit’. She never looked happy in the time I worked there; even when she laughed she looked pissed off. She had dark hair piled on her head, which gave her an extra few inches, and sharp heels.
‘You worked before?’ she said, writing my name on a list behind the bar.
‘No,’ I said. I didn’t think she was referring to work in general.
‘Did they tell you the rules?’
‘I guess so. No fraternising, that sort of thing?’
She smiled at me, or maybe it was a grimace. ‘“No fraternising.” I like that. If you’re any good and they want you back, you have to be here ready and out in the club by eleven. If you’re late you get fined.’
The dressing room was still crowded even though a lot of the girls were already out in the club. I found a tatty bar stool and dumped my shoulder bag next to it, changing out of my jeans and into my dress while the girls around me ignored me completely. They were all talking at once, laughing, shouting, and the room was a confusing mess of fabrics and make-up and clouds of competing perfume.
‘Mind if I sit here?’ I asked, pulling my bar stool up to the edge of a mirror. A blonde girl was finishing off her look with lip-gloss.
‘Whatever,’ she said, ‘I’m done.’
I had the mirror to myself. Within a few minutes the room had emptied of everyone except me and another girl. She was shorter than me, even wearing improbably stacked heels; she had long brown hair, big baby blue eyes.
‘You new?’ she said.
I nodded. ‘Is it obvious?’
‘Only that you’re not out there yet. You’re wasting money.’
‘I’m not on until later.’
She laughed. ‘Christ, you are new, aren’t you? Just ’cause you’re not on stage doesn’t mean you’re not working. You should be out there hustling.’
I looked at her blankly.
‘You go out and chat to people, get them to buy you drinks, do a few dances, try and get them in the VIP area.’ She took pity on me. I must have looked scared, or lost, or maybe just dumb. ‘Want me to show you?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘but if any of my regulars come in you’re on your own, right?’
‘Thanks. What’s your name?’
‘My club name is Kitten,’ she said, ‘But back here you can call me Caddy.’
‘Caddy? Like in The Sound and the Fury ?’
She looked at me, glossed lips in a perfect O. I thought she was going to ask me what the fuck I was talking about, but it turned out we’d underestimated each other. ‘You read it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve never met anyone else who’s ever read that book. What’s your name?’
‘Genevieve. I think they’re calling me Viva.’
‘Viva. Isn’t that a type of old car? My dad had one.’
We both laughed, and it was the birth of a friendship – Viva and Kitten. The other girls in the club came and went; the Russians and the Polish
Ten
I ’d always prided myself on my ability to adapt to any changes to my working environment, but dancing at the Barclay was a steep learning curve.
After my audition, I hunted through my wardrobe for something that I thought might be appropriately dramatic and sexy. Eventually I settled on the dark blue velvet dress I’d worn at the last conference dinner. A few tops and skirts that I wore out clubbing with my friends. And lingerie. Black lace with a pink ribbon trim.
I had no idea if that was okay.
I wasn’t even nervous when I went back. The club was already filling with people, the music at a level loud enough so the girls had to lean forward to chat to the guys in the bar but not so loud that they couldn’t hear someone calling them over.
I found Helena behind the bar. She was a small woman in her forties, with an expression which said ‘don’t give me any shit’. She never looked happy in the time I worked there; even when she laughed she looked pissed off. She had dark hair piled on her head, which gave her an extra few inches, and sharp heels.
‘You worked before?’ she said, writing my name on a list behind the bar.
‘No,’ I said. I didn’t think she was referring to work in general.
‘Did they tell you the rules?’
‘I guess so. No fraternising, that sort of thing?’
She smiled at me, or maybe it was a grimace. ‘“No fraternising.” I like that. If you’re any good and they want you back, you have to be here ready and out in the club by eleven. If you’re late you get fined.’
The dressing room was still crowded even though a lot of the girls were already out in the club. I found a tatty bar stool and dumped my shoulder bag next to it, changing out of my jeans and into my dress while the girls around me ignored me completely. They were all talking at once, laughing, shouting, and the room was a confusing mess of fabrics and make-up and clouds of competing perfume.
‘Mind if I sit here?’ I asked, pulling my bar stool up to the edge of a mirror. A blonde girl was finishing off her look with lip-gloss.
‘Whatever,’ she said, ‘I’m done.’
I had the mirror to myself. Within a few minutes the room had emptied of everyone except me and another girl. She was shorter than me, even wearing improbably stacked heels; she had long brown hair, big baby blue eyes.
‘You new?’ she said.
I nodded. ‘Is it obvious?’
‘Only that you’re not out there yet. You’re wasting money.’
‘I’m not on until later.’
She laughed. ‘Christ, you are new, aren’t you? Just ’cause you’re not on stage doesn’t mean you’re not working. You should be out there hustling.’
I looked at her blankly.
‘You go out and chat to people, get them to buy you drinks, do a few dances, try and get them in the VIP area.’ She took pity on me. I must have looked scared, or lost, or maybe just dumb. ‘Want me to show you?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘but if any of my regulars come in you’re on your own, right?’
‘Thanks. What’s your name?’
‘My club name is Kitten,’ she said, ‘But back here you can call me Caddy.’
‘Caddy? Like in The Sound and the Fury ?’
She looked at me, glossed lips in a perfect O. I thought she was going to ask me what the fuck I was talking about, but it turned out we’d underestimated each other. ‘You read it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve never met anyone else who’s ever read that book. What’s your name?’
‘Genevieve. I think they’re calling me Viva.’
‘Viva. Isn’t that a type of old car? My dad had one.’
We both laughed, and it was the birth of a friendship – Viva and Kitten. The other girls in the club came and went; the Russians and the Polish
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