Tease (33 page)

‘Did I miss something?’

By 3 a.m. Georgia woke from her fitful sleep and realised she was alone in her cabin. Great. She had every right to be pissed off at Lewis and Tiger, but everyone else seemed to be acting like the victim in all this. She rolled out of bed and padded out to find Lewis. Predictably he was out on the deck, a large whisky in his hands.

‘What are you doing out here?’ Georgia asked over the hum of the engine.

‘What are
you
doing out here?’ Lewis countered.

‘I came to find you,’ she replied.

‘You’re naked.’

‘I just got out of bed.’ Lewis stared into his whisky before taking a swig. Georgia put her hand tenderly on
his shoulder and slid onto his knee. Lewis pushed her away roughly.

‘Put some clothes on.’

Georgia was lost for words. An awkward silence fell as she just stood there shivering in the cold sea breeze, looking at him.

‘What’s the matter, babes?’ she asked after a minute, crouching down to look up into his eyes and putting her hand on his arm.

‘I’m not your “babes”,’ he replied, shaking off her hand. ‘Let’s … let’s finish this thing.’

‘What?’

‘It’s not working, Georgia.
We’re
not working.’ Georgia stared at Lewis, open mouthed for a moment, suddenly feeling sick. She stood and stumbled backwards.

‘But—’

‘I’ll put you on a flight from Sardinia tomorrow.’

‘Wait, but … is this to do with the Misty thing? I can – I can explain,’

‘Oh that? Hmmm, Rex couldn’t wait to tell me about that today. No, don’t trouble yourself with that.’

‘Oh, good because—’

‘Because it was over long before that. I’m just relieved I now know for sure I’ve made the right decision.’

Sienna stared at the transcript on her desk, her eyes blur-ring in and out of focus. She had been reading and rereading the same line for half an hour now. She forced herself to go over page four again.

EOC: Oh, it was round the school like a forest fire. Fourteen years old and pregnant? We were all shocked. We knew something was wrong because she’d just disappeared one day. We had a maths test, and we thought she was skiving … but no, that was it … she was gone.

LDB: So who told you she was pregnant?

EOC: Well, it’s what my parents told me. We were all told to keep away from her, you know. We all thought it might be catching … oh, you know how it is when you’re that age. But Poppy came back one day to get her books and things and I – I spoke to her. I couldn’t resist, she seemed different somehow. I don’t know, more … mysterious in a way. I guess I just wanted to see if she was just the same old Poppy.

LDB: Who was the father?

EOC: We weren’t really told exactly. She was a dark horse, that Poppy Adams. Always got good grades you know, we all thought she just used to stay in working, but she was obviously
out messin’ around with boys. It was such a surprise. We never knew she had it in her to be a – tart like that. Of course my mum said it was her punishment from God that she fell pregnant. That she wasn’t a good Catholic. Looking back, she even had a thing for lovely Mr Rogers. We all used to tease her about it. Always thrusting her chest at him, wearing tight gym shirts, she was. He left the same week Poppy left. Went back to Australia apparently. A funny rumour went round that he was the father and some of us got into trouble for spreading gossip. Terrible really, poor Mr Rogers was a terrific teacher
–
he’d never have lowered himself to messing around with a girl like Poppy. No, we all reckoned the father had to be one of the yobs from the local boys’ school. They all showed an interest in her – or her chest, more like.

LDB: And so what happened next?

EOC: What do you mean? When she left?

LDB: No, after you spoke to her when she came back to collect her stuff. Did she tell you anything?

EOC: Um, not much, all she said was that she was going away, being sent to boarding school.

LDB: She didn’t tell you anything about the baby herself?

EOC: Oh yes! Yes, she told me she had already chosen a name. She seemed quite excited about that.

LDB: And what was the name?

EOC: Robin. I remember because there was a Robin Hood film out at the time. Although she didn’t say if that was why she’d chosen the name …

LDB: Did you see her after that?

EOC: No. She went off to her boarding school in England somewhere. Probably the best thing for her. Keep her out of trouble and all. I think she was going to give little Robin away you know, just between you and me. How else would she be able to go away to boarding school? And it made sense that her family wanted to get the bejesus out of Tipperary after the shame she brought them.

LDB: Did she keep in touch?

EOC: No. That was it. Well, I mean, I’ve seen
The
Tiger Starr in newspapers and magazines since then of course! But she doesn’t look anything like Poppy. Like a different person. Although looking back it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that a girl like that would take her clothes off for money.

Sienna couldn’t bring herself to turn the page and read any further. So Tiger was her sister after all, lock stock and barrel. Sienna didn’t know whether to be relieved or disgusted about it. Particularly now she knew what the big secret was. That the cold-hearted ice queen had given away her son after getting knocked up by some unknown boy at fourteen, the dirty whore. Well, if Sienna had a nephew out there, she was damn well going to find him.

The words on the page in front of her blurred again as her mind wandered. Where to start? She couldn’t rely on Tiger to tell the truth any time soon about the son she gave away. And Sienna had already used up all her free favours from Lance just to get this far. Forget the detective act, there had to be a quicker way of flushing her
nephew out, and Sienna knew just the way. Bob Bell may have eaten her for breakfast once before, but now she felt ready to play the game properly.

‘I need some more of the big pink ones, darling.’

‘You can say that again,’ said Blue, sliding the dish of jumbo pink Swarovski crystals across the shag-pile carpet of the parlour to where Tiger lay, stretched out in her black satin
déshabillé
, silk stockings and fluffy mules. She grunted a distracted thank you as she delved into the crystals with one hand, whilst keeping her eyes on
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
playing out on the mini cinema screen set into the wall. A towering spike-heeled shoe was perched on a silver tray on the carpet in front of Tiger like a sculpture, with beautiful clear and pink crystals snaking their way up the heel and spreading out towards the toe.

This was a favourite ‘work and pleasure’ past-time for Blue and Tiger; sitting peacefully in front of a good film whilst rhinestoning all manner of costume pieces. Since the drama of St Tropez, Tiger had wanted to reclaim some modicum of reserve about her life; so keeping herself safely at home and well away from the public eye seemed a step in the right direction. Besides, she needed to focus one hundred per cent on Vegas now. She was past the slow jog and was now shifting up two gears before the final
sprint for the finishing line. Her own Vegas show, for Chrissake! Finally it had hit her. She was already psyching up.

It proved a welcome antidote to the black well of anger she had been teetering on the edge of since the St Tropez trip. Anger at what Rex had done to her. Anger that Lewis and Sienna had both misjudged her so badly. Anger that she had been tarred with the wrong brush yet again, anger that nothing had changed in all these years. The dark shadows of her past were reaching for her, threatening to prise open the Pandora’s Box of memories and emotions she had kept firmly locked up for so long. Tiger knew she couldn’t afford that possibility – it would surely swallow her up. She just had to be pragmatic and deal with today’s mess if she were to survive.

Tiger certainly had enough of that mess to deal with. She was still reeling from what Rex had done on the yacht. She had played it back in her mind so many times over, and each time she felt like she had just witnessed someone’s mask slip. She had known Rex for ten years and she just didn’t recognise him back there on that boat; he had been just a bizarre champagne, cocaine and lust-fuelled cartoon of himself. She couldn’t reconcile the two personalities. And now Sienna wasn’t even talking to her. All Tiger could do was to keep calling and leaving messages, and pray that Sienna would figure out the truth in her own time. If nothing else she was a smart girl.

Tiger had been kicking herself mentally that straying into a social scenario with Lewis had proved so disastrous. If only she hadn’t agreed to the trip. The pair had been forced to clear the air the moment they had reached Sardinia. Tiger was still offended at how Lewis could have been so wrong about her, but both had agreed on one thing – neither wanted to drop their working relationship after they had put their hearts and souls into it for so long.

Lewis was now esconced in Tiger’s pad as previously promised. Strangely, since he had moved in, Tiger still found herself regretting having kept herself so distant from Lewis for the last fourteen years. She hardly dare admit that he was pretty good company around the house. Since their fight he seemed to be making an effort to be more agreeable, setting their disagreement to one side. He had fantastic stories that were aired after his nightly bourbon and even Blue enjoyed his dry humour. Tiger and Blue giggled between themselves that they felt like kids on the
Jackanory
rug when Lewis started with one of his tales late at night. It was almost as though his presence made everything safe somehow; she hadn’t even received a pink letter since she had returned to London. Tiger hoped it wasn’t the calm before the storm.

The temporary living arrangements weren’t appreciated by everyone, needless to say, and tensions ran high between Tiger and Georgia back in the rehearsal studio. Georgia had taken her split with Lewis pretty badly. But since her naked ambition hadn’t dissipated a jot in the
face of her romantic failure, and since she could hardly blame Tiger for any of it, she was still as professional and hardworking in the studio as her jealousy would allow her to be.

Tiger bravely continued to put sticking plasters over the situation. Meanwhile, she gave Lewis and Blue strict orders to keep her fully occupied with work. Gluing rhinestones to her stage shoes was about the only thing she could do this evening to keep herself safely distracted from the siren’s call of that terrifying Pandora’s Box.

‘Another hour and I’ll have this baby all finished,’ said Tiger, squinting as she carefully daubed spots of glue onto the silk of the shoe on the tray before her.

‘I’m nearly done with the other one,’ said Blue. ‘I can finish yours too if you like.’ Tiger looked up alarmed, and snatched her shoe up, clutching it to her bosom.

‘You must be joking! This is my therapy!’ she gasped, smiling.

‘Spoilsport,’ huffed Blue. ‘More champagne?’

‘Go on, top me up.’ Tiger nodded, stretching out and yawning languidly. ‘Boy, rhinestoning is hard work.’ She grinned, flexing her biceps theatrically.

‘Oh I love this bit,’ said Blue, as Bette Davis slapped Joan Crawford up on the screen. ‘Yeah! Right in the chops! Oof!’ squealed Blue, clapping his hands together.

‘Hmm! Some pent up aggression there, darling?’ asked Tiger, amused.

‘Oh you know. Bette’s the best.’

‘Our usual ten quid says you were dreaming of doing that to Richie.’

Blue was silent.

‘Hand it over,’ said Tiger, holding out her palm.

‘Oh, alright. Maybe I’m still a bit sore.’

‘Sore? You’ve been a bitch since St Tropez.’

‘More than you?’

‘Yeah! Quiet as hell! It’s awful! I’m used to your wisecracks and put downs. When you’re flat my world stops spinning. You’re like champagne without the bubbles!’

‘You’re kidding? I didn’t know it was that bad.’

‘I can read you like a book, sweetheart.’ Blue averted his eyes uncomfortably.

‘Oh my god he really hurt you,’ Tiger whispered, the familiar wave of guilt washing over her that somehow she had encouraged her best friend to back the wrong horse in Richie. For a moment Blue looked deeply troubled as he fiddled with a rhinestone.

‘So anyway. Screw Richie. What’s up with Libertina? You two should be together. I like her, she’s cool.’

‘Euuugh!’ groaned Tiger loudly, slapping her hand against her forehead. ‘I really like her too! But I’ve got the reverse Midas touch these days. Everything I touch turns to shit.’

‘Meaning?’

‘She thinks I just want a fling. Nothing serious.’ Tiger sighed loudly.

‘And do you?’

‘I’m not sure. Probably … you know me.’

‘Oh Jeez. Yep, you’re right, you’re hopeless. Can’t keep a man, can’t keep a woman …’ Blue nodded.

‘Oh, tell you what, since I’m on the floor, why don’t you just kick me while I’m down here, babes?’ They both burst out laughing. Blue knew it was time to drop the subject.

‘You know, you should take some make-up tips from Bette!’ he joked, a fiendish glint in his eye. Tiger regarded the character of Baby Jane thoughtfully, up there on the movie screen in her two inches of dry, caked panstick, smeared lipstick and smudged black kohl pencil as she ranted at Joan Crawford.

‘You know who Baby Jane is, darling?’ Tiger said slowly as a wicked smile crept across her face.

‘Who?’

‘Rosemary Baby!’ Tiger held her breath. Blue paused before shrieking and rolling over in peals of laughter. Tiger slapped her stockinged thigh and hooted. Gravy bared his teeth and started to growl.

‘Easy now!’ giggled Tiger, stroking the dog affectionately. ‘Ooh, maybe that was an omen! Creepy!’

‘Don’t tempt fate, darling,’ said Blue ominously. The growl swelled into a full rumble, before Gravy launched himself violently at the picture window, squaring up to the glass and barking and yelping his head off as ferociously as a miniature Yorkshire Terrier could. Blue and Tiger exchanged worried glances.