Instead, Starla hopped silently off the stool and decided to have a wander around this incredible home. She turned back into the hallway and made her way across a wide landing which curved around to a broad staircase towards the back of the house. Glass panels swept across one side and, looking over, Starla could see a sizable tiled gym/games room below. She stepped quietly down the stairs, the thick carpet giving no sound to her tread.
There were four bedrooms opposite the gym, each beautifully decorated with its own en-suite bathroom. Mostly the rooms were plainly decorated in light greys and white but each had colourful fabrics draped on the beds which brought out the tones used in the curtains, lighting and wall canvases.
At the end of the line of bedrooms, a double doorway led to the master bedroom. Starla knew all the right terms because she saw luxury homes being sold to eager young couples every day on television programmes like Residence of Opulence and Desirable Places.
The master bedroom was lavish and probably more sumptuous than anything she’d ever seen on the television. It was set on two levels; the upper one a mezzanine floor which Starla saw contained a vast dressing area. A gigantic window ran from ceiling to floor at the far side of the room like a colossal sheet of ice and Starla guessed that the blinds were electric, since she could see coiled roller blinds but no dangling cords.
The bed was majestic with a tall headboard that reached up almost as high as the mezzanine. It truly was a bed fit for royalty and Starla found herself blushing because she was staring at her son’s private space without his permission.
Starla peered out of the window, reflecting on the situation. She saw Marnie’s Peugeot parked in the driveway next to a silver Jag and a little further on, where the driveway curled around to greet an immense double garage, a Land Rover had pulled in. There was no mistaking who the 4x4 belonged to with the number plate: GAV 88.
Starla leaned her head against the glass and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was a fool! She was certainly being taken for one left, right and centre. Of course Gav could drive, living all the way out of here in the middle of nowhere! He was lying about driving so that he didn’t have to visit, so he had an excuse for not bringing his partner – the same man who had posed with Marnie for those fake wedding pictures and even masqueraded his fictional identity to meet her and Jakey in their own home!
They were all lying – all of them!
And Guy and Tina – they were a right pair of liars as well.
And Jakey!
And Billie too, with the truanting that had enabled her pregnancy.
All of them!
Starla feared that she would break down in tears again like she did yesterday so she bit her lip, turned on her heel and went back up the broad carpeted staircase.
Voices came from the kitchen area where she had previously sat. The three young adults sat on the two-seater together, a little squashed but laughing at a magazine spread out on the coffee table.
Starla hardly dare peek over their heads. There was only one magazine story that would cause all of them to laugh like that. Was this stupid article going to haunt her forever?
Craning over, Starla nearly fell onto the three bodies below her. This was not the article she was expecting to see at all! There was no ‘Steven Kelly’ byline. No double page to accommodate her enormous bosoms and double chins. There were no inset pictures of Skye and Billie…
These were photos of Marnie and it was pretty clear to Starla, even from the odd angle she found herself looking from, that Marnie was as naked as the day that she was born!
23
Wednesday
MARNIE
“I can’t look any more!” Gav stood up and put his hands over his face. “Marnie… are you trying to blind me? You’re my sister! I don’t want to see these.”
“They’re artistic,” she responded haughtily.
“There’s always a place for art, Gav!” exclaimed Morgs. “You should know that with the amount of galleries and exhibitions I drag you to.”
He stood up to prise Gav’s hands down from his face playfully.
“They may be artistic but it’s weird! Seeing you like that Sis? Not good.” Gav tried to look stern.
Marnie closed the magazine.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she stated. “Guess you won’t be watching the movie then?”
“No I bloody well won’t!” shouted Gav, laughing.
“I think he disapproves of straight porn,” teased Morgs.
“No, no. I don’t disapprove. I just don’t want to see my sister that way. What you do in Cape Verde, or wherever else you’ve been with Max, is up to you. I know you’re enjoying being in front of the camera, instead of the hair and make-up lady behind it. Enjoy it while you can.”
“It’s not really a case of enjoying it!” Marnie cried, twisting round in her seat so that her eyes could follow Gav who had moved over to the counter top to make fresh teas. “It’s more that I don’t mind it. It doesn’t bother me. And I’m going to save every penny so that I can afford to send Skye to Marlingstone Girls. I don’t want her to end up at St Jude’s with little other option than to be an ambulance driver like Mikey, a hairdresser like me, a window cleaner like you or a technician like Guy.”
“Marnie!” exclaimed Gav, fishing around in a jar for tea bags. “What a little snob you’ve turned into!”
“I’m not a snob, Gav. I just want better for Skye. Surely you can see that?” Marnie twisted further in her seat so that she was kneeling up, leaning on the back of the settee.
“Of course I can but you make the rest of us sound so… downtrodden.”
“I know we’ve all got jobs and skills, but you have to admit that St Jude’s isn’t exactly the best start in life for a kid.”
“You’d better not let Tina hear you say that,” interrupted Morgs getting the milk from the double-fronted fridge. “She’s very dedicated to that school.”
“Institutionalised, more like,” grunted Gav.
“Well… I wouldn’t say anything to her, obviously. But she’ll soon realise I’m not keen when Skye starts at Marlingstone and stays there for the duration. As for downtrodden, I don’t think so, but admit it Gav: if it wasn’t for Morgs inheriting like he did, then you and I would be scrabbling around for pennies.”
“I’d rather have my mam and dad alive any day,” said Morgs matter-of-factly, sniffing the milk.
“I know you would Morgs. I’m sorry. I was out of order saying that. I’m just trying to make Gav here understand that I’m not a bad person if I choose to strip off and fool around on film.”
“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Sis – far from it. I think you’re a lovely girl with a big heart and an amazing mammy to Skye. I really couldn’t have chosen a nicer sister! I agree, St Jude’s didn’t turn us all into rich boffins…”
“Didn’t that billionaire food giant go to St Jude’s?” Morgs interrupted.
“Barry Gardner? Yes, but there are always exceptions. The fact that most of us aren’t billionaires isn’t the fault of the school particularly.”
“So, whose fault is it?” demanded Marnie.
“Whose do you think?” asked Gav, shaking his head as he poured boiling water into the mugs. “Did we get a top notch upbringing? Did we go to museums and galleries? Did we take trips into the country or have picnics on the beach? Did we go to swimming lessons or dance classes or ride horses? Did we ever see the Christmas lights in the city or get the chance to sit on Santa’s knee in Meadowhall?”
Marnie stared at her brother in stunned silence. Of course he was right – mostly. Jakey had done his best to take both sets of twins out once Clara had become reluctant to leave the house, and she definitely remembered him taking them all on the bus to see the Christmas lights. But, by the time they’d all hit their early twenties, Clara had become completely agoraphobic.
Skye had already done much more at four, than Marnie had at fourteen. Marnie was determined that her daughter
would not miss out, although she hadn’t really thought about it in measurable terms against her own lost childhood. As a child, Marnie had always considered herself a bit special because she was a twin, not identical like Gav and Guy (which would have been better) but special all the same.
“What was that?” Morgs turned his head towards the hallway. “Did you shut the front door properly when you came in, Gav?”
“I think so. That was quite a slam, wasn’t it? I’ll go and check.”
“Morgs?” quizzed Marnie once Gav had disappeared, “You do think it’s OK to do this, don’t you?”
“Of course it’s OK if it’s making you happy Marns. They’re paying you stacks of cash and by the time Skye is old enough to watch porn, the world will be a lot more broadminded. Besides, porn is always current and, even if it weren’t, there’s no way she’d ever recognise you. Nobody expects to see their mam in that kind of movie!”
“I know. I didn’t even mean to do it. I was just a stand-in for the other girl. She decided to try some local cuisine when we were in Greece a few months back. I told you she got food poisoning from eating undercooked chicken, didn’t I?”
“You did. And Marnie? Stop worrying. These are our halcyon days. One day you’ll be glad you did this – when Skye’s a lawyer or politician or what-have-you because you paid for her to have a private education.”
“Ha, yes! Politicians always have porn star family members anyway. Either that, or they’re out getting a slice of the action for themselves!” grinned Marnie.
“Doesn’t appear to be anyone there,” announced Gav, returning.
“Must be the wind,” surmised Morgs.
“There’s hardly a puff today!” Marnie looked towards the bi-fold doors.
“I don’t know, sweetie, there’s two in here!” Morgs giggled.
Marnie swiped him with the magazine.
“So, what’s the deal with this magazine shoot then?” asked Gav, ignoring their antics.
“It’s just a silly boys’ magazine which does a feature on porn stars once a month. As you saw, the photos are pretty tasteful. Nobody would know it was me, even if they were to buy a copy. It doesn’t have my real name anywhere in it. I’m Suky Selene throughout.”
“Suky Selene?” Gav and Morgs repeated together.
“Uh-huh, does it suit me?”
Gav and Morgs looked at one another and shrugged.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” said Marnie.
“Now,” she continued, “I’m going outside for a ciggy and then it’s about time we lopped that fringe lopped off.”
24
Wednesday
STARLA
Starla slammed the door without caring who heard. She managed to walk to the end of Picton Place before the tears almost completely blinded her.
Crying, walking, stumbling, she headed back towards the train station. Starla had no particular thought of going home, she just wanted out. She felt stuck in two different versions of hell. In one she was immobile with a pregnant daughter, a cheating husband and an appointment with the elephants. In the other she was mobile but the ability to move around was giving her a less than savoury insight into people and their opinions, most of which seemed to involve an inordinate amount of blame on her part.
Take Gav, she thought to herself sobbing miserably. All this time leading her on, letting her believe that he was some hot shot businessman. What had he called himself? Oh yes – a visual enhancement executive. Far from enhancing her vision, he had simply pulled the wool over her eyes. All that rubbish about working in London at the film production studios. Why, he’d probably just cleaned their windows!
A large black cloud moved in front of the sun and Starla shivered. She looked around and realised that she’d somehow missed the turning for the station. She was in an unfamiliar area but it seemed fairly built up so at least she might be near public transport of some description.
She decided to cut through the back of a supermarket in the hope that it would lead her out onto a main street or high street or similar. She could ask for directions from there.
No… no she couldn’t ask for directions because she was invisible and inaudible. Fantastic. Life was just dealing her blow after blow.
It took a good five minutes for Starla to clear enough room in her cluttered mind before she remembered that she could remove the ring to be seen and heard. During this time, she had managed to walk to the front of the supermarket, across a pot-holed forecourt with chained bollards and through an uncovered arcade. There were quite a lot of shoppers milling around, possibly because it was lunchtime. An ornate clock on a mock Tudor tower showed the time as just after midday. Starla hadn’t eaten but Gav’s words had made her feel sick to her stomach.
Starla looked for somewhere quiet where she could take the ring off and become visible. She might cause a bit of a stir if she were to appear slowly in front of a group of office workers, settling down outside the various coffee shops to enjoy their lattes in the patchy April sunshine. She carried on walking until she came to a market area. The traders were all busy, either chatting to one another or to customers, so she ducked down a narrow alley which appeared to be a bit of a dumping ground for fruit boxes and the like.
Certain that she could not be seen, Starla pulled the ring from her finger and popped it into her bag. Rather than go back the way she came, she continued to the end of the passage where it opened out into a yard. She could see that this was some sort of disused railway yard. The station was further down; she could just about make out the top of it from where she stood. No need to ask for directions, after all! She could put the ring back on and ride the train out of Bilberrymoor without being seen.
A growling sound halted Starla in her tracks. In front of her, an angry pitbull strained on a lead; frothing at the mouth, gnashing its dagger-like teeth. A stocky young man with a tattooed neck held the lead taut and his eyes bounced up and down her body like ball bearings. Behind him, a taller, older man stood wielding a baseball bat. He tapped the bat against his free palm rhythmically.
The young Clara had grown up in a rough area but had never once been roughed up. Starla felt a hot feeling at the back of her throat and was unsure whether it was the taste of fear or stomach acid.
“Your bag…” snarled the older man, stepping forward, “or we let the dog loose.”
Starla clenched her pelvic floor muscles. The fear of being ripped apart by a vicious dog was slackening her bladder and she felt more afraid than she had ever felt before.
Gulping for breath, she lifted the strap over her head and held her bag out with closed eyes. Her hand shook so much, she thought that she would drop it, for certain.
Too scared to open her eyes, she felt the bag ripped from her grasp and the sound of heavy boots running away to her right hand side.
When she finally felt brave enough to open her eyes, the two men and their miserable pitbull had disappeared. She bent over double and retched violently for several minutes.
Whimpering with fear and shaking with shock, Starla made her way back down the alley to get herself as far away as possible from the crime scene.
Her body wracked violently with breathy, tearless sobs as she stumbled over fruit boxes into the market area. Gasping for air, she was both glad to be among people yet terrified to be among crowds.
“You alright, lass?” One of the market traders gently supported Starla by the elbow.
She swayed against him and started to sob loudly.
“You sit yourself down on this,” the trader instructed, sliding a wonky stool beneath Starla’s backside. He looked around, chewing his bottom lip, clearly unsure of how to deal with a hysterical female. Spotting Shirley on the next stall, he called to her urgently.
Shirley hurried over and held Starla’s hands between her own, rubbing them gently.
“Take your time, lovey. Alf here will get you a tea.” She looked up at the man. “Strong. Go on Alf. I’ll keep an eye on your stall.”<
br />
Once Starla had a polystyrene cup of dark tea in her hand, she was able to put some words together.
“They t… took my b… bag.”
“Who did, love?” enquired Shirley, softly.
“I don’t know,” gulped Starla, “t… two men… and…. a d… dog. P… pitbull.”
“Sounds like the Cobalt Bat Boys. They’ve been terrorising a lot of folk hereabouts. Did one of them have a baseball bat?” asked Alf.
“Y… yeah, yes. H… h… he… took my bag.”
“How about a tattoo? Did they have any tattoos, love? Maybe a bat with open wings?”
“Yes, no, y… yes… a tattoo…”
“That sounds like them, don’t it Shirl?”
Shirley nodded and stood up. “We’d best call the police. Them bastards shouldn’t be doing this to decent folk. You’re about the fifth this year and we’re only in flippin’ April.”
Starla struggled up from the stool and pulled on Shirley’s arm.
“No! No police. I just need to get home. I need to get home.”
“I’m sure your family would rather you report this first. It’s really important, love. It might happen to someone else.”
“I’ll report it when I get home… I promise. I’ve got my partner and three grown sons. They’ll sort it out with the police. I just… I need to get home!”
“Perhaps we could ring someone for you,” suggested Shirley. “Your partner perhaps? Or one of your lads?”
“I don’t have their numbers. And my ring… oh god! My ring!” Starla began to sob again.
“Was it valuable?” asked Shirley.
“More… valuable than anyone c… could believe. P… p… priceless. Priceless!”
“Sentimental value,” explained Shirley to Alf. “These things are irreplaceable to us girls.”
Dying to Be Slim Page 15
