They were all too busy off out celebrating, saying goodbye to Bridge Street, and hello to this new, swanky place instead.
The only girl who’d bothered to stay behind was Felicity, who was currently upstairs, doing the mammoth task of sorting out all the bedding for each of the bedrooms, bless her.
‘Here, tell you what, pour a mug out for Felicity too. I’ll take one up for her and see if I can bribe her into staying on a bit later and giving me a hand. Honestly, it’s no problem, Nancy. I can keep an eye on the house. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘Are you sure?’ Nancy glanced up at the clock. ‘Shit, is that the time already? There’s still so much to do, but I promised Scarlett I’d be home in time to have dinner with her and read her a bedtime story. I can’t cancel on her again this week. I’ve barely seen her as it is,’ Nancy said, recalling the previous night’s conversation with Colleen, when her interfering mother had got on the phone and read her the riot act. Berating Nancy for working all hours that God sent when she had a child waiting for her at home.
Nancy’s only saving grace was that her mother had made the decision to move out a few years back, declaring that Nancy could probably use the space; though Colleen still came to the house every day and helped out with Scarlett. Thankfully the woman had gone back to her own flat by the time Nancy got home at night, which suited Nancy just fine.
Colleen was the last person Nancy would take parenting advice from, but her mother had informed her that Scarlett had been inconsolable when Nancy hadn’t come home in time to tuck her into bed like she promised, and for once Nancy couldn’t argue with that.
She’d been working around the clock lately trying to get this place ready, and it wasn’t fair on Scarlett. She had barely seen the child all week.
She couldn’t let her down again tonight.
Downing her wine, she felt irritated again.
The pressure of running a business and being a mother. Worse still, being lectured about motherhood from Colleen, of all people, was the ultimate insult as far as Nancy was concerned. The woman seemed to constantly pull Nancy up on the way she was raising Scarlett, seemingly having a knack for making her feel guilty for working as hard as she did.
It was a hard task to maintain a balance in her life. Juggling work and being a mum. A constant battle that she never seemed to get right.
Someone had to work though. That was what Colleen just didn’t get.
The woman didn’t have a clue how important Nancy’s work was to her.
How much this business that her father had built for himself, for all of them meant to her.
And ultimately, this was all for Scarlett.
Her mother seemed to completely miss that point. Scarlett was the reason Nancy was doing this in the first place; she was the reason she was working her arse off.
This place would one day be her daughter’s legacy, just as Nancy’s father had bestowed his legacy to her.
Yet all Colleen harped on about was the time that Nancy was missing out on with Scarlett, the moments that she’d never get back.
What galled Nancy more than anything was that Colleen was right. Nancy needed to make more time for her daughter, she knew that, and she was determined not to screw up for a second night in a row. For Scarlett’s sake. And her own too. The last thing she needed right now was another call from her mother, another reading of the riot act. She could do without that earache again, especially after the day she’d just had.
‘Course I’m sure. I wouldn’t offer otherwise. Besides, as of tomorrow I’ll be officially living here anyway. What’s one night earlier?’ Bridget grinned, only too happy to make tonight her official moving in night. She was still positively beaming over the fact that she was going to be living in this house. After spending the past four years running Bridge Street alongside Nancy, she’d been over the moon when she’d heard that Nancy was buying up this place.
A posh mansion in Mayfair – and posh was an understatement. The house was a palace in comparison to what Bridget had been used to. With its long winding driveway at the front of the property, the place was set back from the road enough so that they would get the privacy that they needed with an establishment like this.
Which is one of the reasons Nancy had bought it in the first place she figured.
‘A Champneys for misfits’, that’s how Nancy had described it to Bridget when she’d first talked the woman into running this place for her. And when Nancy had offered Bridget the chance to live in too, Bridget had almost bitten the woman’s arm off for the opportunity.
The two women had struck up an unusual friendship over the past four years, despite being so completely opposite. There was Nancy, with her fancy, private school education. Well-spoken, dressed in head-to-toe designer clobber. Hard around the edges and didn’t take any shit from anyone. Whereas with Bridget, what you saw was what you got. She wore her heart on her sleeve. Loud and brash, she said it how it was. Proud of her Irish roots, and she had a mouth on her that could rival the Dartford Tunnel. And the language that came out of it… she could swear for the whole of England and Ireland combined.
Yet, somehow it just worked.
Nancy seemed to appreciate that there were no airs and graces with the girl. That Bridget was always straight down the line with her.
It was the same with Bridget; she knew that underneath that cold, hard exterior of Nancy’s, the woman had a heart of gold. The tough exterior was all bravado. Nancy’s way of protecting herself from the world.
Though she’d let her guard down a bit with Bridget, finally opening up about things that she’d never speak of to anyone else. Things about her father, the notorious Jimmy Byrne. About his murder.
She spoke about her family too. How she adored her grandmother, Joanie, while only tolerating her haphazard mother, Colleen.
The only thing that Nancy never, ever spoke about was her brother, Daniel.
Bridget had only ever heard the man’s name acknowledged in conversation very rarely between Nancy and Jack.
That subject was completely off bounds, and Bridget could see why.
The fact that her brother had disappeared completely almost four years ago, that he’d never even seen his little niece, must cut the woman so deeply.
According to Jack, from what Bridget could make out, Daniel had upped and left England one day. Gone travelling abroad, which, judging by the family’s reaction, was probably for the best.
No wonder Nancy didn’t even like to hear her brother’s name mentioned.
Still, who was Bridget to pry? Nancy was good to her, more than good, in fact, the woman was a diamond.
‘I can’t wait to move in if I’m honest!’ Bridget laughed. ‘Little old me, swanning around in this big, old mansion. It’s the dream, isn’t it?!’
‘Oh, hark at you, Lady of the bleeding Manor here. And I see you’re starting as you mean to go on, with your mugs of wine! Keeping it classy.’ Jack laughed, nudging Bridget on the arm playfully, sensing the girl’s excitement. ‘See, Nancy, it’s all in hand. Stop stressing, okay? Between the three of us, we’ve got it all covered.’
Nancy nodded. Knowing that Jack was right. They could sort the alarm system in the morning.
‘Good. Well, now that’s all sorted I’m going to leave you ladies to it. Bridget, I’ll be over first thing in the morning to give you a hand, okay?’ Kissing Nancy on the cheek before he left, he winked at Bridget and shot her a friendly smile.
‘Cheeky bugger. Lady of the bleeding Manor indeed.’ Bridget raised her eyes then as she clocked Nancy flush a deep crimson. ‘Steady on, girl, you’re blushing right down to your feet.’ She grinned then. ‘So, who do you reckon the lucky lady will be tonight?’ Bridget said raising her eyes towards the door where Jack had just left.
Nancy could bury her head in the sand all she wanted, but Bridget could tell that Jack going on yet another date was bothering her.
‘Who knows? I’ve lost track of the whos and wheres. There�
��s always someone with Jack…’ Nancy said glugging back the last of her wine.
Then, seeing the smirk on Bridget’s face she added, ‘What? He’s a free man, Bridget. It’s got nothing to do with me.’
Bridget couldn’t help herself then.
‘If you say so!’ She giggled.
Nancy sighed, and sensing her friend’s dubiousness, she added. ‘Seriously, Bridge. He can do as he pleases, and why wouldn’t he? He has women throwing themselves at him. I’m sure he’s not complaining. He’s a bloke after all. Good for him.’
There it was, thought Bridget, hearing the hint of jealousy to Nancy’s tone.
For a smart woman, Nancy really was completely clueless when it came to Jack Taylor. He might be out on the town with a different woman every night, but it was Nancy he wanted. The man was head over heels in love with her. Even a blind person could see that.
Which only made her think Nancy could see it too. Yet, typical Nancy insisted on keeping Jack at arm’s length. Maybe she was telling the truth when she said that she just didn’t feel the same.
Maybe? Though Bridget wasn’t completely convinced about that.
This was what Nancy did. She shut people out. Kept them at arm’s distance and that’s what she was doing with Jack too, Bridget was convinced of it.
This was Nancy’s way of protecting herself, so that she wouldn’t get hurt. Christ knows she’d had enough heartache to last a lifetime the past few years. It was no wonder why she cut herself off from everyone; her little daughter included, unfortunately, though Bridget would never say that out loud. Especially not in Nancy’s earshot.
As much as deep down Nancy loved and adored her child, she came across as detached. Letting her family and Jack do the bulk of the work bringing the little girl up.
But that was none of Bridget’s business, and she had no intention of making it hers.
‘Strange though, isn’t it, that none of these dates that he goes on ever seem to work out? I don’t think he ever bothers seeing any of the women twice.’
‘Maybe he’s just fussy?’ Nancy said then, knowing too well what Bridget was implying. Her friend was convinced that Jack was in love with her, and that that was the real reason he’d never moved on.
Blah, blah, blah. Nancy had heard it a million times before, despite Nancy telling her friend until she was blue in the face that her and Jack would never work out. That they’d just been a one-night stand, as cold and crass as that sounded. They’d only spent that one night together.
The night Scarlett had been conceived.
She said that sleeping with her dad’s friend and confidante – a man more than twice her age – had been a mistake. A mistake that Nancy had no intention of repeating.
She’d always made that crystal clear from the minute that Scarlett had been born that the only thing she wanted from Jack was for him to be there for Scarlett. For them to both work together as their daughter’s parents. To give Scarlett the best start in life that they could.
Relationships only complicated things as far as Nancy was concerned, and Nancy had had enough of dysfunctional families to last her a lifetime; she didn’t want the same disappointments and complications for her daughter too.
‘Oh, he’s fussy all right! You know what the problem really is? None of those women are you!’
‘Well, that’s tough luck then, isn’t it?’ Nancy said, finishing her drink, before picking up her keys and handbag from the side. She grinned. ‘Because it’s never going to happen. Besides, Jack’s not the only one with a hot date lined up, you know!’
‘Bollocks?’ Bridget screeched, almost dropping her mug in shock at the ‘Ice Queen’ – as the other girls secretly called her behind her back – confessing to a date? This was a first. Judging by the smug look on Nancy’s face, the girl wasn’t winding her up either.
‘You kept that bloody quiet! Go on then, who is he?’
‘She! It’s a she, actually.’ Nancy laughed then, enjoying the look of shock on her mate’s face.
‘Who?’ Bridget shook her head confused.
‘And when I say hot date, I mean smoking. It’s all happening. Smiley Faces and Chicken Dippers, the works. Who knows, if I play my cards right, by about 8 p.m. I could be snuggled up in bed reading her a bedtime story too.’
‘Scarlett?’ Bridget rolled her eyes then, kicking herself that she’d almost fallen for Nancy’s wind-up.
‘Damn right, Scarlett. I haven’t got the time or the patience for any man in my life right now, Jack included. So get any wild fantasies you have about the two of us out of your head. It ain’t happening. All right?’
Bridget smiled again, still not wholly convinced, but Nancy chose to ignore it.
‘Right, doll, I’ll see you in the morning. You sure you’re going to be all right here?’
‘Er, let me think about that. Little old me, living it up in this big old beautiful house. Yeah, I think I’ll cope.’ She laughed. ‘Seriously, don’t you worry, Nancy. I’m going to ply Felicity with the rest of this wine. Get her drunk and rope her into unpacking the rest of these boxes with me.’ She winked, walking Nancy out and closing the door behind her friend as she left.
Bridget took a deep breath and stared around the kitchen at the carnage everywhere.
The place was a bloody tip, but the sooner she got stuck in, the sooner she could fall into bed.
Her bed.
In her new stunning home.
Shaking her head once again, as she started sifting through the boxes, Bridget still couldn’t believe it.
Things were well and truly on the up these days, and Bridget had every intention of making the absolute most of it all.
Eight
‘The girls have all gone to The Paradise Club. I said I’d go and meet them,’ Felicity Monroe said, standing in the bedroom doorway and watching as Bridget Williams smoothed down the curtains she’d just hung. ‘You should come for a couple too, bet you could do with a drink?’
The two women had been working flat out for hours. Unpacking boxes and making up the beds just so, but the place was still nowhere near finished.
Even so, Felicity was eager to get out of there.
She’d said she’d give Bridget a hand, but she also wanted to join the rest of the girls for a drink too, seeing as they were all out celebrating tonight.
Bridget couldn’t begrudge any of them that.
They should be celebrating. It was the end of an era. Bridge Street had officially closed its door, and as of Monday they would all be working in this swanky new place. If it was ready in time, of course.
‘Go out? What? And miss out on all the fun of staying here on my tod and unpacking the rest of these boxes? Nah, you’re all right. You go though, Felicity,’ Bridget said then, glancing up at the clock and seeing that it was almost midnight. ‘I don’t know how you girls do it. Going out so late at night. I’m getting too old to be going out clubbing at midnight. This is about the time I’d be thinking of calling it a night and coming home if I was out.’
‘Jesus, Bridge. You’re in your thirties, not your nineties. No one goes out early anymore. Anyway, you forget, we’re used to going out late after working all night at the flat. It’s good to have a drink and let your hair down once in a while. Christ knows we all bloody earn that much, at least.’
Bridget nodded. She could understand that. The girls worked bloody hard for their money, they deserved to let off some steam every now and then.
‘No wonder you’re all out celebrating. You lot are going to miss Bridge Street like a bleeding hole in your head, compared to working in this place,’ Bridget reasoned, totally getting why the girls were all so excited.
They’d made it.
Nancy had only kept on the best-looking, hardest-working girls. She wanted high class. Girls that were happy to learn a trade in massage and holistic therapies. Eventually, she wanted to branch out to offer an escort service, too, for the new wealthy punters that she wanted to attract.
; Knowing Nancy, she was bang on the money too, and if these girls played their cards right, they’d also be raking in a fortune. This was the noughties and while running a brothel might still be illegal, there was no crime in opening up a private member’s spa, was there? And that’s all Nancy was doing. Adding a bit of class to the sex trade, which was normally considered a seedy and dark industry. There was big money to be made and Nancy Byrne wasn’t missing a trick when it came to cashing in, but she didn’t just want to make money for herself. She wanted to give her girls a chance to earn decent money too.
If they didn’t work for her here, they’d only be out working their trade somewhere else. At least here, Nancy could offer them a safe environment. She was a Byrne and that name guaranteed protection. They’d be looked after properly.
Bridget grinned then.
‘I can’t believe that I actually thought I’d made Bridge Street look anywhere near half decent.’ She laughed. Remembering how when Nancy had first handed over the reins to her, Bridget had been so eager to put her stamp on the place, to make it look stylish: ‘more modern’. Slapping up silver glittery ‘wag’ wallpaper and draping faux fur throws strategically over every available chair in a fruitless bid to make the place seem more sophisticated. Who had she been kidding? ‘You couldn’t polish a turd, you could only roll it in glitter!’ Wasn’t that the saying? Well, that’s exactly what she’d done.
Bridget had done the best she could, but it didn’t matter how much they decorated the place, or cleaned it up, at the end of the day the flat in Bridge Street would always be just a grotty little knocking shop in the middle of Soho, nestled between a dodgy pizza place and a cheap and cheerful off-licence. This place, though, was something else entirely.
She sensed Felicity’s impatience as the girl stood by the doorway, foot tapping against the solid oak floor, coat wrapped tightly around her, her bag on her shoulder.
The Forgotten_An absolutely gripping, gritty thriller novel Page 6
