just about to put the phone down,’ Kathy told her. ‘Where were you?’ She grinned. ‘Hey! You haven’t got a fella there, have you?’
At the other end of the line, Maggie continued drying her hair. ‘No, worse luck. I were in the bathroom.’
‘So, you haven’t forgotten we’re off to the Palais tonight, then?’
‘No chance! I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Bad day, was it?’
Maggie groaned. ‘You could say that. I’ve never known the salon so busy. Eight bloody hours, an’ I never even got a proper chance to sit down. Honest to God, Kathy, I don’t know why I’m looking forward to the Palais, ’cause I’ll not be able to dance even if I’m asked. Me back aches like it’s been through a wringer, and me feet feel like two over-baked puddings.’
Kathy was used to Maggie’s moaning. It was all part and parcel of her colourful personality. She’d met Maggie at work, when she’d come in as a replacement receptionist. Maggie’s outspoken style and vibrant outfits meant she hadn’t lasted long – but long enough for the two of them to become good, if unlikely, friends. ‘We needn’t go to the Palais if you don’t want?’ she suggested slyly. ‘We could go to the chippie instead, then come back here afterwards. You can help me paint that bathroom wall … I’ve been meaning to do it for ages.’
‘What!’ Incredulous, Maggie yelped down the phone. ‘You asking me to help you paint the bathroom wall … on a Sat’day night of all things?’
‘Well, if you really don’t feel like going down the Palais, I thought it would be a good idea. Besides, I finally bought a tin of paint last week … that lovely lavender colour I told you about. And I know I’ve got two brushes …’ She smiled mischievously. ‘It’ll be fun. What do you say?’
Maggie was shocked. ‘Bloody hell, Kathy, have you gone bleedin’ mad or what! You can paint if you like, but, pudding feet or not, I’m off to the Palais!’
Kathy laughed out loud. ‘That’s more like it! Now stop your moaning and get ready. Eight o’clock as usual, outside Woolies.’
Maggie sounded relieved. ‘You and your painting. You were just having me on!’
‘It worked though, didn’t it?’ Kathy laughed. ‘See you later.’ Eager now to be ready, she replaced the telephone receiver and nipped back up to the flat.
Kathy glanced at the clock. It was just coming up for five. ‘Time enough yet,’ she muttered. ‘Tea and crumpet sounds good.’ Leaping off the sofa, she busied herself in the tiny kitchen area, filling the kettle and switching it on. She put two crumpets under the grill.
In a matter of minutes she was seated at the table, a steaming hot cup of tea in front of her, and alongside that two golden toasted crumpets. After a moment’s hesitation, she added a scraping of precious butter from her weekly ration. ‘It’s an end-of-week treat,’ she told herself.
Hungrier than she’d realised, she soon devoured the crumpets. Washing them down with the tea, she cleared away and went into the bathroom, where she ran a hot bath, stripped off, and gently lowered herself into the soapy suds. It felt wonderful. ‘Just what the doctor ordered!’ She sighed and lolled, and closed her eyes to dream about her perfect man; only to groan with disappointment when she realised there was no such thing on God’s earth.
‘One of these days, I might get swept off my feet by the man of my dreams,’ she muttered, ‘though I’ll probably be old and grey, and he’ll have no teeth!’ The image in her mind made her laugh out loud.
Ready to submit to a full hour of soaking in the tub, she stretched out her legs and, draping her arms over the side of the bath, began to sing; not the rock-and-roll stuff Maggie was so fond of, but a quiet, romantic Nat King Cole song, ‘When I Fall in Love.’ It was one of her favourites. She always loved to swell her voice up to that high note. She could imagine she was Alma Cogan, in sexy high heels and one of those frilly, swingy creations.
Her romantic rendition was brought to an abrupt halt when suddenly the doorbell rang. ‘Oh, now what?’
Slipping and sliding, she struggled out of the bath, grabbing a towel to wrap round her nakedness. It was her neighbour. ‘There’s a telephone call for you. Says it’s urgent,’ he told her. Dripping wet and disappointed, Kathy pulled on a dressing gown, went back downstairs and took up the phone. ‘Hi, Maggie.’ She couldn’t resist a tease. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about painting the bathroom walls?’
‘It’s not Maggie. It’s me … Samantha. We need to talk.’
The familiar voice of her older sister instantly darkened Kathy’s mood. ‘What do you want?’ She must want something, Kathy thought. It was the only time her sister ever called her.
‘It’s Mother.’
‘What’s she up to now?’ Kathy’s mother was a law unto herself, though she hardly ever did anything that might hurt her darling Samantha.
Now, though, Samantha sounded anxious. ‘It’s best if you come over,’ she suggested hopefully. ‘She’s about to do something very silly.’
‘Such as what?’ Kathy no longer had much patience with her mother’s selfish antics.
‘Please, Kathy. Come over. I can’t talk about it on the phone.’
‘What … right now?’
‘Please! I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen.’
‘Good God, Sam! If she won’t listen to you, she’s hardly likely to listen to me, is she?’
‘If you don’t help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions. I mean it!’
Kathy had never heard her sister so frantic. ‘Where are you now?’
‘At Mother’s house.’
‘Does she know you’ve asked me to come over?’
‘She wants you to. Be quick as you can. I just can’t deal with it.’
Kathy was intrigued. ‘All right. I’ll be there soon as I can. Now if you don’t mind … I’m soaked through and catching my death of cold.’
When a moment later she replaced the receiver, Kathy leant for a minute on the wall by the telephone. ‘What the devil are they up to now?’ There was no telling with those two … one was every bit as devious as the other.
Back in the flat, she quickly dried herself off. After pulling on clean underwear, she then slipped on a pretty blue blouse, together with a calf-length dark skirt, which she thought made the best of her not-so-slim legs. Lastly, she pushed her tiny feet into a pair of smart brown shoes with a slender heel. A quick brush of her shoulder-length brown hair, a dab of lipstick, and she was ready; though a casual, passing glance in the mirror made her pause. ‘Just look at yourself, Kathy Wilson! It’s time you did something worthwhile with your miserable life … you’re losing your figure – as if you ever had one in the first place …’ She gave a long, sorry sigh. ‘You’ve got to take a hold of yourself before it’s too late.’
Disillusioned,
