Ruthless - [49]

‘OK,’ she sighed.

‘Good.’ Annie and Tony stood up.

Layla went to the door, and paused there.

‘I suppose I ought to tell you…’ she said.

‘Tell me what?’ asked Annie.

‘I phoned Dad.’

45

‘Hiya, honeybunch,’ said Ellie Brown, throwing her arms wide as Layla came up the stairs to the upper floor of the Shalimar.

‘Hi, Ellie,’ said Layla gloomily, getting to the top stair and being enfolded in Ellie’s cuddlesome perfumed warmth.

She’d seen her cousin Jimmy Junior downstairs behind the bar, where he worked tossing cocktails and flirting with the girls. He’d shot her a puzzled grin, clearly wondering what she was doing here. She was wondering that, herself.

‘Your mum told me to expect you,’ said Ellie, kissing Layla’s cheek.

‘Hi, Layla,’ said Chris, Ellie’s big, ugly but good-hearted husband, taking her overnight bag. ‘Come on in. Hey Tone. Keeping OK?’

‘Fine,’ said Tony, bringing up the rear. ‘You?’

‘Yeah, not bad.’

‘Let me show you your room,’ said Ellie, and Layla followed her with a heavy heart along a plainly decorated hallway. She thought how noticeable it was, the difference between the opulence of the tiger-skin-and-gold club downstairs and the austere magnolia neatness of the upper floor. But Annie was right – this place was thick with muscle, guarding the door, monitoring the safety of the girls who worked here. The club was tight.

‘Here we go,’ said Ellie, opening a door.

They entered a room with a double bed, dressing table, wardrobe and a small TV. Chris placed her bag on the bed, then withdrew.

‘Loo’s just across the hall there,’ said Ellie, flinging back the curtains to let the sun in.

Layla went and peered out of the window. Below, there was a busy road lined with parked cars. Downstairs there was glamour, luxury, champagne on tap. Up here, there were no fancy trimmings. But it was neat and clean. Ellie showed her along the hall to the office, the monitor room, the girls’ dressing room.

‘It’s like bloody Fort Knox, this place,’ said Ellie with a smile. ‘Nice and secure.’

Layla nodded. She knew that Ellie had once run a far more down-market establishment in Limehouse. A knocking-shop, not to put too fine a point on it. Since then she’d gone up in the world.

‘Did Mum tell you what happened?’ asked Layla, when they’d returned from the grand tour and Ellie was bustling around, making sure everything was in order in the bedroom.

Ellie was a big woman, stocky in middle age and comfortable with it. She wore flattering business skirt suits in peacock blue, red and purple, no accessories. It was the red today, and it suited her. She dyed her hair a fetching mid-brown and kept it tucked up neatly in a chignon. Her nails were short and well manicured. Her skin was as clear as a twenty-year-old’s, her manner confident and smiling.

‘Annie told me there’d been a bit of trouble and she wanted you out of it,’ said Ellie. ‘That’s all.’

I am standing in a room over a lap-dancing club, thought Layla morosely. I should be at work filling in tax returns, and instead I am standing in a room over a lap-dancing club.

Grimly she remembered her mother’s parting shot: ‘Don’t go getting all pally with the girls, OK?’

Layla thought that wasn’t OK at all. She thought it was pure snobbery on her mother’s part, imagining the daughter of the great Annie Carter was too good to mix with lap dancers.

‘I won’t be staying long,’ said Layla, praying that would be the case. She was dreading having to phone in sick again tomorrow. No one was ever sick at Bowdler and Etchingham. Anyone foolish enough to take sick leave was liable to return to find their desk had been moved to a less desirable spot, their chances of promotion reduced.

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ said Ellie. ‘That goes without saying.’

I’m going to lose my job, thought Layla. She loved her job, it defined her. She loved neat rows of figures, making columns add up. She craved order, and accountancy gave her that.

Yeah, because it’s missing in other areas of your life, right?

‘Telly’s there if you need it,’ said Ellie, desperate to break the uneasy silence. ‘And there’s the radio.’

‘Fine,’ said Layla.

She made no move to start unpacking, settle in. Just stood there, looking lost.

‘Don’t go out if you can avoid it, but if you do, you take Chris or Simon or Kyle with you,’ said Ellie.

Layla knew Chris on sight: Simon was a blond mound of muscle, and Kyle had waved her in the door today, dark-haired and barrel-chested, with a broad smile of welcome. She rather liked Kyle.

‘And you don’t ever go out without telling me exactly where you are.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ said Layla. ‘Mum’s orders?’

Ellie smiled but didn’t answer that. ‘Just ask if you need anything,’ she said, going to the door. ‘Oh – and Layla?’

‘Hm?’

‘Probably best if you stick to your room in the evenings,’ said Ellie, and with that she closed the door.

Terrific, thought Layla.

46

Annie was alone that evening when the police came knocking. She was just sitting there, thinking over what Layla had said before Tony had taken her off to Ellie’s place.

I’ve phoned Dad.