by Karen Wyld
He addressed her again: ‘What’s your name?’
Tori hesitated, wondering if she could ignore him and just walk away. She sensed Louis next to her and knew he would protect her, if needed.
‘Come on, I haven’t got all day,’ the man said sharply.
Tori glanced at Louis. He was clearly uncomfortable at the way the man’s companions were looking at him. As they giggled, pushing each other slightly, Louis turned away from them.
‘Oh, what fantastic bone structure,’ said one.
‘Those lips are positively delicious. I would love to photograph him,’ said another.
The first woman laughed. ‘Oh, darling, we all know you really want to do something else with him. Face it, Ana, you’re a failure as a photographer. Just be content with spending Daddy’s money in the most pleasurable way you can.’
‘You’re so catty, Sybil. Remember all those pieces I sold at my last exhibition? They were practically running out the door.’
‘Your father’s business acquaintances were snapping them up, hoping to win his favour by being nice to his darling.’
‘They were good photos. And at least I do something worthwhile with my time.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Sybil, as she moved closer to Ana.
Stepping between them, the woman in the tangerine suit said, ‘Come on, that’s enough. There’s shopping to be done.’
They laughed and wandered towards the clothes boutique from which Tori had just been evicted.
Sybil paused. ‘Angie, are you coming?’
The fourth woman ran to join them. Fascinated, Tori watched them walk away. All that confidence. And their clothes were so spectacularly unusual. Like a flock of many-coloured birds. Tori was thinking how Maggie would agree with that description, until a tapping noise brought her attention back. The man was impatiently knocking his cane on the pavement.
‘Well, your name?’
‘Tori.’
‘You look familiar,’ remarked the stranger.
Tori shook her head, positive they hadn’t met before. She would have remembered someone like him. He reached over, grabbed her chin and proceeded to position her head one way and then another. The woman in the tangerine suit came out of the boutique. She was striking. Tall and angular, with blue-black hair cropped short to frame high cheekbones. Tori wondered if she had also been asked to leave the store, and what slur those girls might have used for her. The woman didn’t appear to be upset as she walked sensually towards the man, threading an arm into the crook of his.
‘Not another project, Andrés,’ she said.
Tori had only ever heard an accent like that on television, in shows made overseas.
Andrés responded, ‘Always, Marcie. I need to stay one step ahead in this game.’
‘Well, play nicely. This one isn’t like your others, and she’s so young.’
Turning back to Tori, he asked, ‘Are you looking for work?’
Tori nodded, not sure where this was heading.
He pulled a small card from his top pocket. ‘I own a photographic gallery. Here’s the address.’
He turned and proceeded to walk slowly up the street with Marcie on his arm. The other three women flowed out of the fashion boutique and followed, chattering in their wake.
Tori examined the business card: Galería de rebelde. Andrés Califa, proprietor. There was a phone number, and an address on High Street. She handed the card to Louis and, with a frown, he passed it straight back. Tori had forgotten Louis couldn’t read.
‘It’s his business card.’
Louis observed, ‘That lot looked loaded with cash. Bet he’d pay well.’
‘What do you think he wants me to do?’
‘Don’t know. Maybe he needs a cleaner.’
‘Probably something like that.’
Louis stated, ‘I don’t like him.’
‘He’s a bit, I don’t know, strange?’
‘Yeah. And arrogant.’
‘I suppose so, but I really need some work.’
‘Maybe he has something suitable. I still don’t trust him.’
‘I can ask questions first, make sure it’s something I want to do. Or I don’t even have to go there at all.’
Louis watched Tori put the card in her pocket. ‘It’s up to you.’
Tori nodded. Even with Louis as a good friend, it was all up to her. Keeping Maggie safe. Providing them both with food and security. Finding work. Filling the space their mother had once occupied.
Louis said, ‘Hey, if we hurry we can make it to St Martin’s before lunch finishes. I’m sure we can talk them into letting us take some home to Maggie, as well.’
Later that day, Tori sat at the basement window, looking up at passing legs – a flood of people on their way home from work or heading to an early dinner in the city. Tori didn’t notice the sounds of muffled voices and soft music that drifted from the floors above. She was thinking about her encounter with that man. She wasn’t sure why Andrés made her feel uncomfortable. What she did know was that she needed a job. They couldn’t keep living like this, in a dank basement, existing on discarded food. As the last piece of sunshine was replaced by the soft glow of street lights, she heard Maggie moving around. The old bed they shared creaked as her sister climbed into it.
‘Will you tell me a story, Tori?’
‘Sure, which one do you want?’
‘One about Mum. A time when she was happy. When we were all happy.’
Tori walked over to the bed and got in next to Maggie. ‘Okay, ready?’
Maggie nodded as her sister bunched up a too-thin pillow under her head. Tabby Tomcat jumped through the window, and settled on the bed too.
‘Are we all ready now?’ laughed Tori.
Tori hoped Maggie hadn’t heard her stomach grumbling. She’d given her sister the last stale donut, pretending she wasn’t hungry.
‘Why don’t we do something different today?’
Maggie looked up from the book she was reading. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps a walk in the park?’
Maggie shook her head.
‘How about we feed the ducks in the park?’
Maggie shook her head again.
‘I noticed some newly hatched ducklings the other day, when I was walking past the pond with Louis.’
Maggie’s eyes lit up. ‘How many did you see?’
‘About a dozen, swimming with their mothers on the pond. If we took some bread, they might come close.’
‘It’s all gone.’
‘I know a place where we can get all the free bread we can carry. And pies, sausage rolls, donuts.’
‘Where?’
‘The bakery on the other side of the park. Louis showed me the other day. They throw out all the unsold things at closing time.’
‘He gets them from the bin? Are they yucky?
‘Not if you beat everyone else to the good ones, on top.
To do that, we’d have to leave now. And since when did you become too posh to eat binned food?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Can’t you do it on your own?’
‘You have to come too, so we can carry more. And then we’ll stop off at the park, and feed the ducks before it gets dark.’ When they’d finished feeding themselves and the ducks, Tori gathered up the bags of remaining pies and cakes. She estimated they had enough for about two days, if they weren’t too stale before then. She put on her coat, and placed her hands in the pockets to warm them. She felt something, and remembered the business card Andrés had given her. As Maggie said goodbye to the ducklings, Tori thought about the job he’d offered her. She remembered the other studio she’d been made to clean. And how she’d been forced to pose for the camera. She could still feel von Wolff ’s presence sometimes, even though she knew he was dead. Tori would sometimes catch herself remembering the things he’d made them do. And how he’d threatened to send them to an institution if they didn’t obey him. Tori had vowed never
to let someone treat her like that again. Andrés didn’t make her feel the same way von Wolff had, but she was still unsure about him. She’d found him unpleasantly fascinating: a peacock with a hint of malevolence. Tori didn’t think she could bear being in a photographer’s studio again, even if the work was just cleaning. Shaking away unwanted memories, she stood up and called out to Maggie. As they started walking towards their squat, the sun had begun to set and the sky was full of red, pink and blue. Halfway across the park, Maggie stopped in her tracks.
‘Look at that sky, it’s so pretty. Let’s stop for a bit more,’ she suggested.
She found a patch of soft lawn and sat down, looking up at the spectacular show the setting sun was putting on. Tori sat beside her. They were so enthralled they hadn’t noticed the man’s presence until they heard the music. He was of medium height and quite thin. His jet-black hair fell down his back, held tightly in a single plait. Unobserved, Maggie admired his long mustard-coloured shirt with an embroidered firebird on the back. They watched him; first he stood like a starfish, then moved his arms and legs through the air as if dancing in water. As he moved gracefully in the dusk, the man sang a joy-filled song. Maggie and Tori could not understand the words, but the birds seemed to. The park had filled with small birds, darting in and out, making loops. The birds were like shadow puppets against the backdrop of the fading sunset. Maggie had noticed that the birds appeared the moment the man started singing, as if this was a normal part of their day – farewelling the day together, a harmony of dance and song.
He then took a reed flute from his pocket and put it to his lips. The birds settled on branches of nearby trees, heads bobbing side to side in rhythm. A lone bird swooped close to the twins. Maggie stood, and put an arm straight out. This small bird alighted on her arm, chirping merrily. Maggie stood still and smiled at the bird. Suddenly, the man stopped playing his flute, and turned to her. Maggie’s bird flew away, joining the others that were settling in among branches and leaves of nearby trees. Maggie became aware of him looking at her. She smiled. He bowed, and then walked away.
The sun had well and truly risen, and Louis still hadn’t shown up with breakfast. When they saw him yesterday, he’d promised. All the twins had were some rock-hard donuts they couldn’t bring themselves to eat. They discussed where they might find more food. Some of the places they frequented were no longer safe. There’d been too many questions and raised eyebrows from those charities, prying about where their parents were, and if they needed help to go home. More than a few had not asked questions. Instead, they told the twins their problems would disappear if they’d just let the good Lord into their hearts. Maggie would get nervous with all the attention, so had stopped going. Tori told her that some charity people were fools and to just ignore them. Secretly, Tori also found them unnerving. They never questioned Louis, so she often asked if he could fetch them some food. Tori was certain they treated her differently from him, as they assumed she was just a girl. If they knew what she’d already been through in her life, or seen the way she handled a rifle, she was certain they’d stop patronising her. Their fussing just made it difficult for Tori and Maggie to get the help they really needed – food, not salvation.
Trying to distract herself from hunger, Tori set to work tidying their place. As she was sorting clothes, a card dropped on the floor. Tori picked it up, and immediately recognised Andrés’s business card. Tori put it in her jean’s pocket then picked up her sneakers.
‘I’m going out for a bit.’
Maggie looked up from the book she’d been reading. ‘Where?’
‘High Street. To see if I can find leftovers in the alley behind the restaurants.’
Maggie nodded, returning to her tattered book. Tori laced up her shoes and then climbed out the window. When she got to the corner of the block, she heard someone shouting her name. Turning, she saw Louis running towards her. She didn’t acknowledge his presence and kept walking. Tori crossed at the lights, with Louis following.
‘Stop, will you. Where are we going?’
‘We’re not going anywhere. I am.’
Louis frowned. ‘You’re going to that guy’s place, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘I should go with you.’
‘I don’t need your help. I’m just checking out what sort of job he has going.’
‘Let me come too, and afterwards we can go back to your place for a feed. Look, I got lots.’
He held up three bags, grinning broadly.
‘Where’d you get all that?’
‘From the church over on Second Street, the one with the red roof. There’s a new brother there. Brother Eddie is cool. He’s like us. I told him I needed to get food for two friends, so he let me have extra.’
‘Like us?’
‘Yeah, he’s a blackfulla. I think he’s from the west coast. Or maybe up north. He’s travelled a fair bit.’
Tori frowned. ‘What did you say about us? You didn’t say we were living in a basement, did you?’
‘Of course not. Anyway, he’s all right. I reckon we can trust him.’
‘He can’t ever know about Maggie and me. He’ll send us to an orphanage, or worse. It’s different for you. Guys don’t get hassled by welfare and do-gooders like girls do.’
‘You know I’d never make trouble for you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, and Maggie.’
Tori felt bad. Louis didn’t know they were hiding from the police. He didn’t deserve to be growled at. Louis was their best friend. Their only friend. Tori couldn’t imagine how they would have adjusted to city life without him.
‘Hey, thanks for the food. How about you take that to Maggie, and I’ll see you there soon. After I talk to this photographer guy.’
‘You sure I’m not needed?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’
‘See you soon, then.’
As he walked away, Tori called out, ‘Hey, don’t tell Maggie you saw me.’
Tori had no trouble finding Andrés’s studio. No one could miss that garish façade. The brickwork and overly large front door were painted in vibrant flowers, butterflies, paisley and peace symbols. Tori stood by a wide window, peering in. She didn’t see anyone in there but the sign said it was open. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door, which set off a small bell.
‘Hang on, won’t be long,’ she heard a woman’s voice call out.
Tori stood near the door, looking around at framed photos on the wall, mostly altered objects and landscapes. Tori wondered how the photographer made that hazy, lurid effect and went to have a closer look. Hearing someone come up behind her, Tori turned and saw one of the women she’d seen with Andrés outside the boutique: the tall, stylish woman with the accent.
‘Hey, it’s you.’
Tori nodded, feeling unusually shy.
‘You’ve come about that job, I suppose.’
‘Yes,’ stammered Tori.
‘Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Andrés, though, that’s a whole different story.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t worry, hon. I was just joking,’ she said. ‘I’m Marcie.
And your name?’
‘Tori, ma’am.’
She laughed. ‘Just call me Marcie, honey. Does your mother know you’ve come here for a job?’
Tori pretended to be distracted, unsure of what to say. She felt a strong urge to tell this woman with the kind eyes and warm voice the truth. Well, part of the truth. The bit about her mother being dead, and how it was now up to her to look out for her twin sister. Instead, she kept quiet.
Marcie said, ‘It’s okay. Mothers don’t need to know everything we do. Although, as someone older than you, if I was to give you any advice it would be to turn around and walk out that door.’
‘Are you making things up again, Marcie?’
Tori turned around, and saw Andrés standing behind her. ‘Just warning this girl about what a tyrant you can be,’ repli
ed Marcie.
‘Not true, I’m a big softie,’ he said.
While his attention was on Marcie, Tori studied Andrés. He was wearing a close-fitting topaz shirt with black leather pants. With the top buttons of his shirt undone, Tori saw a mass of pendants resting on his chest, hanging from chains and thin leather straps. Chestnut waves swept across his forehead, highlighting his cold grey eyes.
Marcie laughed, ‘Soft? Ha!’
‘Haven’t you got things to do, places to be?’ commented Andrés, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yeah, yeah. I was just leaving.’
As Marcie walked out the front door, Tori was reflecting on how Andrés’s mood had quickly changed. She then noticed he was staring intently at her.
‘So, you came after all.’
Tori nodded, unsure of what to say, and feeling intimated being alone in Andrés’s presence.
He blazingly looked her up and down. ‘I suppose you want to know what I have planned for you?’
‘I came about that job.’
‘Good, let’s talk business. I’m an artist. Those are mine on the walls. In addition to my photography, I exhibit other artists’ works in my gallery. Come, follow me.’
Tori followed Andrés to the end of the long room and through a door. In this small room were tripods and camera cases. The room also had benches, with photos strewn all over them. Andrés opened another door and Tori peered into a darkroom, not much bigger than a closet. Tori recognised the smells rising from the trays of liquid. She suddenly felt apprehensive and moved away from the darkroom’s entrance. Memories started rising to the surface: a flashing camera, leering grin, fire, screams. Tori pushed the images down again.
‘I want you to model for me.’
‘No, that’s not the type of work I’m after.’
Tori started to walk away but he grabbed her wrist. She twisted her arm, freeing herself from his grip, and glared at him, nostrils flared.
