the tiny bedroom and which was currently strewn with Charlotte and Helen’s clothes. ‘You know.’
Helen reddened furiously. ‘No. God, no,’ she protested. ‘No, it’s not like that at all. I’m just living here because –’ she hesitated, not wanting to get into any long conversations about the state of her home life, ‘because, it’s easier for everyone, that’s all. And convenient. You know what the buses are like out our way. Five minutes’ walk from here and I’m slap-bang in the middle of town. That’s all.’
‘That isn’t how it looks from where I’m standing. Come on, Helen, don’t be so coy; you can tell me,’ purred Charlotte conspiratorially. ‘Harry follows you around like a dog and he can’t take his eyes off you, you know that. Although personally I’ve always seen him more as Buttons than Prince Charming. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s sweet – but he’s a bit wet, isn’t he?’
Helen glared at her. ‘No he isn’t,’ she said. ‘Harry’s really kind.’
‘Well, you would know,’ purred Charlotte. ‘You’d have to be blind not to notice how much he fancies you. What do you want? A neon sign? Him down on one knee? A nice fat diamond? Oh my God, is that what you’re hanging out for?’ She laughed. ‘Don’t tell me. You’re saving yourself till you’re married?’
‘No, don’t be ridiculous,’ said Helen more forcefully, feeling her face redden under Charlotte’s scrutiny. ‘I mean, I like Harry, but not like that. He’s a friend – a really good friend.’
‘So you say. If that’s true why are you blushing?’
To try and divert Charlotte’s attention Helen nodded towards the little pots on the dressing table. ‘I’d go with the blue if I were you. The purple makes you look like you’ve got a black eye.’
‘Oh, bugger the eye shadow. I want to talk about Harry. He’s not that bad a catch when you look at it, he’s quite nice looking – he’s got his own flat, own car, and his dad’s got his own business. You could do a lot, lot worse, you know,’ whispered Charlotte. ‘I’d be in there if I were you.’
‘Stop it,’ hissed Helen. ‘He’ll hear you.’
Right on cue Harry shouted through the door, ‘Look, I don’t want to rush you in there, ladies, but we really need to be leaving in about fifteen minutes if you want to be there by half past. It’s going to be busy in town and I’ll need to find somewhere to park.’
Charlotte glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, come on, don’t be such an old woman, Harry,’ she shouted back. ‘I reckon if we leave in half an hour we’ll have plenty of time. Why don’t you come in?’ She gave Helen a long sly wink. ‘Keep us company. Help Helen fill in these entry forms.’
A split second later Harry peered around the door, grinning like a loon, his expression a subtle mixture of nervousness and expectation. ‘Hi, how’s it all going in here?’ he asked. ‘You all ready, are you?’
Charlotte gave him the full benefit of her come and get me smile while peering up at him sexily from under her long sooty black lashes. ‘Why don’t you come on in and judge for yourself, Harry,’ she purred. ‘What do you think?’ She batted her lashes like a film star.
Harry blushed scarlet. ‘Lovely, really lovely,’ he stammered. ‘You both look amazing.’
Helen groaned and looked away. The two of them were still in their dressing gowns. In Charlotte’s case a skimpy, bright, red, silky, kung-fu, just-above-the-knee number that left very little to the imagination; and in Helen’s, a long tartan one that she had bought from a charity shop on the walk home from work, when she realised that she couldn’t wander about in her nightie with Harry around. As it was he still went bright crimson as soon as she opened her bedroom door in the mornings, and he’d been so kind to her that she didn’t want to cause him any more problems.
‘I’m very glad that we meet with your approval,’ Charlotte purred, pulling out a fold of papers from her handbag. ‘Have you got a pen on you?’
Helen knew from experience that Harry was the kind of young man who always had a pen to hand. He tapped the top pocket of his jacket. ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘What colour do you want?’
Charlotte waved the words away. ‘We don’t mind what colour it is; the thing is, Harry, as you can see we’re both really busy. We were hoping you’d fill in our entry forms for us, weren’t we, Helen? While we finish getting ready.’
Helen looked up at him and smiled warmly. Harry’s father, Helen’s boss at the toy shop where she worked, had given her and Harry the afternoon off for all this. Harry grinned self-consciously and hastily turned his attention to the papers he’d been given. ‘So what do you want me to do?’ He said.
‘We were supposed to fill them in when we went for the auditions,’ said Charlotte, her gaze wandering back to her own reflection as she set about finishing off her makeup. ‘But we didn’t go because my dad knows the people at the Carlton Rooms and they said we didn’t need to audition, but we really need all that stuff done before the show tonight. And you seem like the natural choice; Helen said you’re really good at that sort of thing. You know, like organising and giving Helen a helping hand with things.’
Harry reddened furiously.
Helen shot her a look. Charlotte winked. ‘So can you do it?’
Harry flicked through the forms, while Charlotte patted her nose with a powder puff and then sat back, turning her head left and right to admire the overall effect. ‘So, what do you think? Perfect or what?’ she asked, striking a pose.
Harry, oblivious, was concentrating on the entry form. He glanced up at Helen and frowned. ‘I’m not sure about all this,’ he began.
‘How about you read out the questions and we’ll answer them?’ Helen said quietly. ‘I mean it’s not like it’s an exam or anything.’
Harry nodded. ‘Okay. Fair enough.’
At the dressing table Charlotte was adding a great gash of bright orange lipstick. ‘Uhuh, and then we better get a move on or we’ll be late, won’t we Harry,’ she said, heavy on the sarcasm. ‘How old are you?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, whoever signs those has got to be over twenty-one.’
‘I’m twenty-two, nearly twenty-three,’ said Harry.
‘That’s okay then. So what’s the first question?’
‘Name of the act?’
‘Well, that’s easy enough, we’re the Wild Birds,’ said Charlotte with a grin. ‘Wild by name and wild by nature, isn’t that right, Helen?’
This time it was Helen who blushed.
Dutifully Harry wrote it in. ‘And what type of act are you?’
‘We’re singers,’ said Helen.
‘Female vocalists,’ corrected Charlotte. ‘We’re an all girl duo, and we’re really good. I mean you’ve heard us, Harry? We’re bloody brilliant, aren’t we? They’re going to love us tonight, I know it.’
Harry
