Contest and Consequence

by Sarah Bayen

Part Seven Sylvia's Mother

  

Eight fifteen the following morning found Sue and I walking down the road towards the High Street. We were both immaculately dressed in our uniforms with the black pencil skirts, and sensible shoes. I wasn't used to wearing such a long skirt, and it took me a while to get the hang of walking in it. Both our hair was tied back rather severely into little buns, courtesy of Sue's hairdressing skills, and we were both rather well made up for day time. I felt clean, and rather pleased with the look.

In all my preparations however, I had forgotten about a blouse. When I resigned myself to the idea on Thursday lunchtime, I had simply thought I could get away with wearing one of my boy's school shirts, but of course, I had forgotten to bring one with me to Sue's. She came to the rescue, however, lending me one of her work blouses. It was a little large on me – Sue was quite buxom, but I wasn't too upset by that, because it meant that my boobs and bra were slightly less prominent than they might otherwise have been. She had also had to lend me a pair of tights; I had some black ones with me, but Sue told me that Sylvia preferred us to wear flesh coloured hose.

I approached meeting Sylvia again with some trepidation. I had tried to tell Sue as best as I could about how she had nearly accosted me the previous Saturday, but, as I was too shy to admit that I had was worried about being molested by a woman more than twice my age, my obtuse explanations of what I was really worried about met with only generalised offers of support.

The High Street wasn't as busy as it normally was; the shops didn't open until nine. Sue explained to me that Sylvia liked us to be there early so we could make sure everything was neat and tidy before the first customers came in. We got a few odd glances from people as we passed. The skirt was rather tight, I knew, and I was sure that what was drawing their attention was my enormous bum, which I felt was moving rather inelegantly due to my unfamiliarity with calf length skirts.

We reached the shop, which was shut and dark. Sue rang the bell on a door to the side, which led up to the flat above. Apparently Sylvia lived over her work. For a long time nothing happened. Sue rang the bell again, and I began to wonder if Sylvia had gone away for the weekend, freeing me of the danger of falling into her clutches again. I began to gear myself up to suggest that we go back to Sue's house, as Sylvia was obviously not in, when there was a dull thump from behind the door, and the rattle of chains and locks being undone.

The door opened, and Sylvia peered around it. She looked awful. Her black hair was all over the place, and, like mine the previous day, her eyes were surrounded by the remains of yesterday's mascara. She stared out at us from under heavy lids, as if we were total strangers, and I caught a whiff of her breath. Hot and clammy, the odour of whiskey or some such spirit was almost enough to make me puke.

"I'll get the keys," she muttered, and started clanging around behind the door. She re -emerged, and handed a bunch of keys to Sue. "I'm going back to bed," she announced, and then, focusing on me for the first time. "I'll be down to check on you later."

She shut the door was a slam, and Sue shrugged to me, and opened the shop door and walked in. Crossing over to the till, she switched on the lights, and we began preparing the place for business. I was experiencing a sense of relief. I had been dreading working here with Sylvia, and more especially, the early morning before any customers could come in and distract her. What we were doing instead seemed positively pleasant, and Sue explained all the various things that needed doing.

I was assigned to tidy up the lingerie displays, which I did. I hadn't noticed when I had been in before, but there were one or two really nice things on sale. A pale mauve camisole particular caught my eye, and Sue surprised me by suddenly appearing at my side while I was admiring it.

"It's nice isn't it?" she said.

I nodded in reply.

"Maybe you could try it on later, if we're not too busy."

I blushed at the thought of this, which was strange, since I was hardly unused to putting on girl's clothes by then. I think what made me feel embarrassed was less the thought of putting the thing on, so much as Sue noticing that I wanted to.

All of a sudden it was time to open; Sue lit the window display, and turned around the little sign in the shop. This was it; we were actually running the show! Not that anything particular happened immediately. We didn't get our first customer until half past nine. A woman came in, looked desultorily through the skirts on display in the middle of shop, and then, with a passing wan smile, left again.

"Maybe you could just freshen up the changing rooms," Sue suggested, producing a can of air freshener from underneath the desk. "It can get a bit musty overnight." She handed me the can, and I went to the back of the shop, and through the curtain to the changing room. This was where my ordeal had happened the previous week. I sort of shuddered as I entered, almost as if the place was haunted, and quickly squirted the air freshener around rather recklessly, before hurrying back into the main shop.

Things started livingly up after that. We had a bunch of school aged girls come in. I was worried for a moment that I might be recognised as the winner of the beauty contest, but fortunately for me, they did not come from our school. One of them bought a skimpy looking top that she had tried on, which was my first ever sale. I felt strangely elated, although the financial benefit was all Sylvia's rather than mine.

The morning wore on with no sign of Sylvia. We sold a couple of skirts, and, to my dismay, someone came in and bought the camisole that I had liked so much. Then she arrived. She looked barely better than she had done when we first got to the shop, but had at least ran a brush through her hair, and shown her face some sort of attention. As far as I could see she had simply slapped another layer of make up over the smudged stuff from the day before.

"How are we doing girls?" she asked, walking behind the till. I had foreseen this, and taken myself off to the body of the shop. "It looks a bit quiet."

True enough, she had chosen to arrive when the shop was empty.

"We're not doing too bad," Sue explained. "We've made about £70 so far I think."

Sylvia shrugged, and pulled off some sort of report from the till, and then studied it for a while.

"Well it's a start," she said eventually. "Now, Sarah, I want you to help me stock take the dress hire stuff out the back."

My heart leapt into my mouth. This was the moment I had been dreading. Somehow the simple excitement of running a shop for a couple of hours had taken my mind off it. I knew of course, that she would eventually come down from her lair, but I didn't anticipate that she would try and get me out the back so quickly after her arrival.

I was frozen to the spot. "Come on my girl," she said, glaring across at me, "we haven't got all day."

My breathing became all flustered. "Maybe we should wait until after the lunchtime rush," I suggested, breathlessly.

"Lunchtime rush!" Sylvia echoed, with disbelief in her voice, "It's only half past eleven. Now come on, let's get started."

She moved herself out from behind the till, and walked back towards the changing rooms. Slowly, and reluctantly, I followed her. Sue watched me go, and I felt like a prisoner off to her own execution.

I got to the changing room some time after Sylvia, because of my sluggish and reluctant progress. She was already through in the other room, with its rows and rows of dresses, and had switched the light on.

"Right," she said brusquely. "All of the dresses have got numbers on, can you see? Well you won't be able to see from there, come closer."

Reluctantly I walked through to the dress filled room. Standing close to Sylvia, I could smell again the stale reek of alcohol on her breath. She held a dress out to me, and showed me the number on its collar.

"Do you see what I mean?" she demanded. I nodded in reply. "Good. Now they should all be in order. There was a delivery back from the dry cleaners in the week. I put them back in, but I didn't bother to check whether I had them all."

She took out a sheet of printed-paper, which I assumed was the dry cleaning report, and looked over it. "Right, first one, number forty-two."

I looked up and down the rows of dresses bewildered at where to start. "The numbers are on the rack girl!" Sylvia snapped, and put her hand to her head, as if shouting had caused her some pain.

She was right however. I hadn't noticed before, but on each rack was a hand written card indicating two numbers with a dash between them. I quickly found the one that said '30-50', and running down it, found dress number forty-two.

"It's here," I said.

"Good, but what is it?"

"Um, it's blue."

"Oh for God's sake, is it a lavender sleeveless full length dress or not?"

It was obvious Sylvia wasn't impressed by my abilities at this job. I looked at the dress. It was certainly full length, and I supposed you could call it lavender. Checking, I noticed that it had no sleeves.

"Yes," I said at length.

"Good," Sylvia responded, and put on mark on the paper. "Now, number one hundred and six."

This process was repeated three more times, and I began to get the hang of what was expected of me. It was dull, and boring, but a whole lot better than what I had feared might happen with me stuck in the back room with Sylvia. One of the dresses particularly caught my eye. It was a lovely red satin strapless number, with a gorgeous clasp at the front. I wondered what it would look like on me, as I held it up, and tried to describe it to Sylvia.

"Number one hundred and sixty-three," she snapped, rousing me from my reflections. I had got myself used to the layout of the room now. 163 would be on the final rack, by the back wall. I bustled myself out from one narrow little space, and into the last one, and began to look for the dress in question. I found 162, and next to it, 164. I looked up and down the rack a bit, in case it had simply been put in the wrong place, but there was no sign of it at all. I figured it must have been put on the wrong rack.

I lifted my head from the dresses to tell Sylvia the news, but she was no longer at the door. Turning my head, to my dismay, I saw that she had come right into the room, and was now standing at the head of the narrow little space between the dresses, blocking my exit.

I stared at her wide-eyed, wondering what would happen next. "It's not here," I said, my voice high pitched and quivering in my rising anxiety.

"I don't suppose it is," she leered, smiling at me, while purposefully placing her arms on the racks on either side.

"Maybe I should check the other racks." I said, in a voice that sounded as frightened as I felt.

"No need," she said, quietly, and slowly moving down the narrow space. "I sent it back to be redone."

She continued to advance towards me, and I felt my knees begin to shake. I noticed my boobs bobbing up and down in front of me, as my breathing became rapid and shallow, and my lips were beginning to quiver.

"While we're here," Sylvia drawled, now only feet from me, "Let me check your uniform."

She put her hands on my shoulders, and I nearly collapsed in fright. I thought I might call out for Sue, but somehow my voice had disappeared. Sylvia, inches from me now, looked me up and down.

"Your skirt's all right," she said, appraisingly. "But the blouse is a little loose. I like my girls to wear their blouses tight. Do you understand?"

Not daring to meet her gaze, I simply nodded.

She stepped away a little. "I suppose the shoes will do. Make sure you keep them well polished though."

Again, I meekly nodded.

"Now," she said, staring at my face. "I asked you to get yourself a slip didn't I? In fact I gave you the money for one if I recall."

I closed my eyes to try and hold back my fear. I could guess that she was going to ask me to raise my skirt so she could see it.

"Did you get one, or just spend my money on some frippery or other?" she demanded, putting her face close to mine, so close that I could smell the drink from the previous evening yet again.

"I bought one," I managed to say. "It's fine."

She stood upright again. "Well let's see it then."

I hesitated. "It's fine. It's nice," I whimpered.

She folded her arms, filling the space between the dresses entirely with her width.

"I said I wanted to see it my girl," she drawled with menace. "I'm entitled to see what you've done with my money."
My whole body was quivering by this time, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I silently cursed Liz for making me get the prettier slip, instead of the plain white one I had set my mind on. I took a deep breath; however scared I was, this was one battle I just had to win. If I lost this, then I would be spending months of hell as Sylvia's shop assistant, on call to her every whim.

I managed to pull myself upright to my full height, which was still a good few inches shorter than the woman in front of me. I refused to be intimidated though. I put my hands on my thighs, and raised the hem of my skirt an inch or so, until the hem of the petticoat showed underneath.

"There," I said, as decisively as I could.

Her eyes fell towards my ankles, as she looked at the pale pink scalloped hem. She raised her eyebrows and, again, the stink of stale booze filled my nostrils. She must have seen me flinch away.

"That's nice," she hissed. "I like to see boys in pink lacy under things."

Blushing, I let my skirt fall back into place.

"Oh no," she said, with a leering smile forming on her face. "I think I want to see it all. Take your skirt off for me."

I stared back at her. "I don't think that's either necessary or appropriate actually."

I could hardly believe that I had managed to say this. From the look on her face, neither could Sylvia. "I beg your pardon?" she said, with menace.

"I said, it wouldn't be appropriate to let you see it. Not all of it anyway."

She stared at me in disbelief.

"It's fine that you should check that I'm wearing the uniform. I've shown you that, you saw that I'm wearing a slip. But it's not right for you to ask me to take any clothes off. Whether you like boys in pink lacy underwear is up to you, but I don't have to be a toy for your fantasies."

Sylvia's face looked as if she was about to explode. Her lips pressed firmly against each other, and she held her breath and shook a little. I folded my arms across my chest, partly to look more assertive, and partly to hide my shaking bosom. Still she said nothing in response.

"Well if you'll excuse me, I think I'll get back to the shop to see if Sue needs a hand." I said, moving forward, and hoping that she would get out of my way. She didn't, and stood large in front of me and continued to shake. Suddenly she let fly an enormous burp, which must have been about 80% proof.

"Oh God that's just so gross!" I said, before thinking about it.

Sylvia staggered out of my way, and I quickly took the opportunity to get to the other side of her, and moved quickly towards the changing rooms.

"We've not finished with this yet young lady," I heard her say behind me. "I feel a little unwell today, but I won't have any insolence like that from my staff."

"No Sylvia," I said brightly, moving into the changing room. I nearly ran through that, and back into the shop. Sue was helping a couple of women looking at the blouses. She looked at me when I got back into the shop, and I smiled at her reassuringly, before moving behind the till.

I was amazed that I felt so elated. I almost felt like singing as I picked up a few empty hangers from behind the till, and tidied them into a cardboard box. Sylvia came back through the changing room, looking the worse for wear, and lurked around the back of the shop.

The phone rang, and with an efficient skip, I moved over to it and answered it. A duchess sort of voice asked to speak to Sylvia. Holding my hand over the mouthpiece, I turned to the back of the shop. "It's for you Sylvia," I said brightly.

"Of course it's for me; it's my shop," she chuntered under her breath, as she staggered towards the desk.

She took the phone, and I moved discretely out from behind the till to greet a young mother who had just come in. She had a baby in a pushchair. I smiled at her, and then looked at the baby, which was waving its mittened hands in front of its face and smiling. "What a gorgeous little fellow you've got there!" I gushed.

The mother smiled. "You wouldn't say that if you had to get up with him at three in the morning," she responded.

"Oh but he's beautiful!" I countered, pulling a face at the baby, which produced a giggle, and a further flurry of arm waving. I held out my hand, and he grabbed wildly at it, clasping my fingers, and gurgling with pleasure.

"I'll keep an eye on him if you want to look around," I offered. The woman smiled, and wandered off a little to check on some of the racks where the baby buggy wouldn't reach.

"I've got a friend coming around in about half an hour," Sylvia suddenly announced haughtily. "I'm just going up to the flat to get ready, but call me down when she arrives will you?"

"Yes Sylvia," I responded, still playing with the baby. She looked at me as if she was going to say more; to tell me off for idling perhaps, but she thought better of it, and stalked off out of the shop.

The woman with the baby decided to try on a couple of skirts, which gave me even more time to play with my new companion. My elation at fending off Sylvia had put me in a good mood, and playing with the baby made this even better. The woman came out of the changing room wearing one of the skirts.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"Yes he's fine," I replied. "Oh you look good in that!" I added, which, although true, I calculated might add to the possibility of a sale. She did in the end decide to buy the skirt, which I took as a vindication of my approach. I wheeled the buggy over to the sales desk so that the baby could rejoin his mother once she had bought it.

She thanked me profusely. "It's all right," I replied. "I like babies."

"I can see that," she responded, smiling at me. "You'll make a good mother one day."

How wrong could she be, I thought to myself, but smiled, and felt a little uneasy, if not a little wistful.

We were busy enough over the next few minutes, it being lunchtime. A number of office and shop girls from up and down the High Street came in, and mooched around. Some even bought some stuff. A short, portly looking woman wearing a long black raincoat came in, and marched purposefully up to the desk where Sue was serving.

"My name is Cynthia Morgan," she announced. I recognised the tones as those belonging to the woman who had rung earlier. "I believe your employer is expecting me," she continued, and then looked intently at Sue, as if at an idiot.

"I'll let her know you're here," Sue replied with fortitude, and picked up the phone to ring through to the flat. The woman stood proudly by the desk, and surveyed the shop, her eyes lighting on me, as I showed a customer out of the door, and thanked them for their business.

Sylvia came out of her flat as I was standing there, and I was obliged to hold the door open for her as she strode back in. Her hair was messed up again. I had rather thought she might have taken the time to tidy herself up a bit, but it seemed as if she had taken the opportunity to sleep.

"Cynthia!" she bellowed, coming into the shop. The two women approached each other, and hugged, before kissing each other on the cheek. "It's so good of you to come."

"Not at all," said the other woman in her grating voice, "It's always nice to have an afternoon tipple with an old friend."

"Yes indeed," Sylvia responded.

Cynthia stood back a pace. "You look a little unwell my dear," she announced.

"Oh no it's nothing," Sylvia replied. "Just a little tired. You know how it is, trying to run a business and all that."

"Oh yes," Cynthia agreed. She stared at Sylvia for a while, and then turned to face Sue, who was observing all this like me. "And this must be the one you were telling me about last week," she said, scrutinising Sue intently through her glasses. I felt a rush of relief that for the moment there were no customers in the shop to witness this bizarre performance. "Well, I suppose he's not that bad, but to be honest, from your description, I was expecting something a bit more delicate. He's a bit frumpy if anything."

Sylvia looked as baffled and bewildered as I felt for a moment, and then a smile of comprehension flittered across her face. "Oh no my dear, that's not him. He's the one over there," she said, waving an arm in my general direction.

Cynthia's gaze was immediately directed towards me, and she took several steps forward to see me more clearly, looking at me over the top of her small spectacles. "Oh well yes I should have guessed," Cynthia said at length. "Yes, I can see what you mean now. He is rather good isn't he?" She began circling around me, as if I was an exhibit in a zoo. I stared across at Sue, who was stifling a giggle. "Boys always make better girls than girls do, if you know what I mean."

"Yes," Sylvia agreed.

"And you," she said to me suddenly, making me jump. "Are you enjoying being a young lady? It certainly seems to suit you."

I hardly knew what to say to be polite. In the end I smiled, and said, "Yes, it's quite good fun."

She smiled back at me, and seemed satisfied with this answer.

"Come along Cynthia," Sylvia shouted from the other side of the shop. "I've got a good bottle of whiskey upstairs calling to us."

"Yes, I can hear it too my dear," Cynthia replied, without taking her eyes off me. "Well we can't keep it waiting any longer can we?" And with this, she and Sylvia left us alone to our own devices. As soon as the door shut, my eyes met Sue's, and we both burst out laughing.

"Oh God what an awful woman!" Sue declared between hysterics. "I mean Cynthia that is."

I nodded. "She was a bit odd wasn't she? Mind you, I'm not sure Sylvia should be drinking any more. She was looking a bit queasy anyway."

Sue shrugged. "She always drinks a lot. She's got more whiskey in her than blood most of the time I should think."

"Well I can't see that it can be good for you," I observed, a little puritanically.

Sue shrugged again. "Well it's up to her I suppose."

"True enough."

We spent a pleasant enough half hour or so after that, with a steady stream of customers coming and going. Sue then decided that she wanted to go out for lunch. I agreed to mind the shop, and perhaps pop out for a sandwich when she got back. The lunchtime rush had died down a little, although it was not yet two o'clock, and I spent most of the time tidying up the rails, which the customers, bless them, had made quite a mess of with their constant inspection of the clothes.

The bell on the door rang, and I turned to pay whoever was coming in some attention. A familiar figure stood nervously in the doorway, wearing a bomber jacket, and a pair of jeans; it was Janet.

"Hello Janet!" I said brightly, moving across to her, to make her feel welcome.

"Hello," she mumbled. "I wasn't really sure whether I should come or not."

"Of course you should," I said, ushering her into the shop. "I said we might have something for your big night, and I meant it."

She lumbered nervously in, and I closed the door behind her. She stood stock-still and transfixed, and I had to sidle my way around her to get to what seemed the proper side.

"Did you have any ideas about what you might want?" I asked, putting on an efficient, but helpful tone.

She shook her head. "No," she said bluntly. "I've not been on many dates. I'm not sure what I should wear."

"Well what colours do you like?" I asked, hoping this would lead me somewhere where I might be able to advise better.

She simply shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno," she said. "You tell me."

"Honestly Janet," I said, despairing. "You're not much help!"

"Sorry," she muttered, looking down at her feet.

I looked at her, and tried to imagine what sort of dress might look good on her. It wasn't easy. She was large, not necessarily all that tall, but well built, with rounded shoulders and an uneasy gate. Hesitantly, I walked over to the eveningwear rail, and looked around. Apart from any questions of taste, it was going to be difficult to find anything in her size. Eventually I found a dark blue velvet dress in a larger size. I picked it off the rail, and held it up.

"What do you think of this?" I asked.

Still by the entrance, Janet looked up. "It's all right," she responded. "But maybe a bit girly?"

"Now look here Janet," I scolded, "If you're going on a date with a boy, you'll have to be a bit girly you know."

She looked down at her feet again. "Sorry. You're right," she replied. "Do you want me to try it on?"

I was exasperated. "Well it's up to you. Would you feel good in it?"

"Dunno," was the predictable response.

"Well all right. I think you should try it on." I said, and walked over to the changing rooms, beckoning her to follow. She did so obediently, and I pulled the curtain to one side for her. She looked at me startled, and then walked on through. I followed, and put the dress on a hook for her. It didn't seem right to me to stay in there while she changed. "I'll just be out here if you need any help," I said, and walked back through to the shop, shaking my head to myself. It had come to something when me, a boy, was giving fashion advice to a girl, even one like Janet.

I carried on tidying the rails for a while, and then heard Janet calling from behind the curtains. With some misgivings, I went over, and said. "Are you all right?"

"I need some help," she said, rather pathetically.

I hesitated for a moment, and then went through the curtain. She had managed to strip down to her underwear, which was a rather dull white. She looked self conscious, and uncomfortable.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Can you just help me put it on?" she mumbled.

"Sure," I said, after a moment's hesitation. I walked across, and took the dress back off its hook, and undid the zip on the back. I had to admit that it looked a little large, far larger than any I had tried on, but there again, Janet was a good deal broader than me.

I helped her into the dress, and then did it up for her. The material was lovely, and shimmered in the half-light of the changing room. Janet looked decidedly ill at ease in it.

"What do you think?" she asked, her eyes gazing at me anxiously.

Had I been honest, I would have told her that it would look a whole lot better if she stopped stooping forward, which was emphasising her rounded shoulders; I might also have suggested that she did something about the unibrow that she had pulled low across her forehead.

"It looks nice," I said eventually. "Have a look in one of the mirrors and see for yourself."

She shuffled across, and looked forlornly at her reflection, scowling. "I don't look pretty like you or Chrissie," she muttered.

"Oh Janet you do!" I insisted. "Stand up a bit straighter and you'll see."

She made some effort to stand more upright, which did improve the overall impression, and turned from side to side to see herself from different angles.

"What about make up?" she suddenly asked.

I was taken aback. "We don't sell any," I replied.

"I know that, I meant what sort of make up should I wear with it?"

I felt my mouth open, and then close again. A week ago I had put on make up for the first time in my life, and now I was being asked for advice about it. I shrugged, and shook my head a little.

"Come on Sarah," she insisted, "Give me some advice. Yours always looks so good, what would you wear with this?"

I was still struck with the incongruity of me, a boy, being asked for make up advice by her, a girl. "I'm hardly an expert Janet." I managed to say.

"I don't know about that," she went on, a little resentfully. "You always manage to look so fresh and feminine in yours."

"Well, thanks," I managed to mutter. "But, if you remember, I'm a boy under all this." She looked at me disbelievingly. "Janet, I'm Steve! You know that. I only dressed up as a girl for the Womanless Beauty Contest. I'm a boy apart from that."

She stared at me, as if appraising this as new information. "Maybe," she said at last. "But you're so good at it, give me some advice about make up; please!"

I shook my head again. This was ridiculous. I suggested eventually that she try a few shades that would compliment the dress, and then, as subtly as I could, that she made some sort of changes to her eyebrows. She seemed pleased with this, and smiled her thanks at me.

"Okay then!" she said brightly. "That sounds good. I'll have this dress!"

I smiled back at her. The dress didn't look too bad, and now she seemed happier in it, she was looking, if not beautiful, at least attractive in some ways. I undid it for her, and left her to change back into her jeans.

I busied myself with the racks for a few minutes, waiting for her to emerge. Before she did, Sue came back in.

"Hi," she said brightly. "Not too busy then?"

"No," I replied, "We've got one customer who's just going to buy a dress."

Sue nodded, and went behind the till, putting her bag down out of sight with mine. At length Janet reappeared, clutching the dress in front of her. Sue saw her and snarled. "What's she doing here?"

"She's buying a dress," I replied. Sue glanced at me, and then angrily back at Janet.

Janet returned to her look of perpetual discomfort under this aggression from Sue. I walked over to her, smiling, and took the dress off her, and took it behind the till to wrap.

"You'll look lovely in it," I said brightly, as Sue sullenly took her money. "I'm sure your boyfriend will be impressed."

"Huh!" muttered Sue. "I can't see her having a boyfriend! Ever!"

Janet's shoulders rounded again, and she looked dolefully at the ground.

"She's got one already actually," I said pointedly to Sue. "And he's quite a hunk!"

I winked at Janet, and her demeanour brightened considerably. "Thanks for your custom madam," I said with mock formality, and then, as an aside, "And don't forget to make sure you've got the right shoes to go with it!"

Janet looked momentarily worried at the thought of having to get some matching shoes, but then, slowly, a smile formed on her face. "Thanks Sarah," she said, and kissed me on the cheek before leaving the shop.

"Why were you so nice to her?" Sue demanded, once she had left. "She's one of Chrissie's friends!"

I shrugged. "I know, but we can't all be enemies for ever you know. I just thought it would be nice to be friends."

Sue shook her head in dismay, but said no more.

The first part of the afternoon went pleasantly enough. A few customers came and went, and we managed to sell some more stuff, due in no small part, I rather immodestly thought, to my enthusiastic approach to being a sales girl.

At around three, I was surprised to see Nikki and Anita come in. We all chatted for a while, and Sue put the kettle on for coffee.

"Come and have a look at this," Anita said, grabbing my arm, and leading me off to the back of the shop where the lingerie display was. I was by now very familiar with it, and wondered which of the items she wanted to show me. When we arrived, however, she paid the clothes no attention, and began speaking in a whisper.

"Steve," she began. "I just wanted to say how sorry I was for being snappy with you yesterday." Her blue eyes looked deeply into mine, and for a moment, I remembered why I had loved her so much for so long.

"It's all right," I muttered in reply.

"No it's not," she continued. "I was cross with you for agreeing to sleep over at Sue's house. I wanted you all to myself."

I smiled. "Well it was kind of her to offer," I responded. "And she helped me get ready this morning."

"Good," Anita continued. "But we're still friends aren't we? Special friends?" She took my hand, and I felt myself blushing. At some stage, I would have to tell Anita about Liz, or Liz about Anita, or something. I smiled weakly at her, and nodded.

"Good!" Anita exclaimed again. "Well once you've finished work, come around to my place, and we can start getting ourselves ready for the girls' night out!" A light of enthusiasm flashed in her eyes. "It's going to be so good!"

I smiled and nodded again, and we went back to rejoin Nikki and Sue by the till, where steaming cups of coffee awaited us. We chatted away for some time, breaking off only when a customer came into the shop. I was pleased that Anita and I had made her peace. I had, in truth, not been looking forward to having to go around to her place that evening if she was still grumpy with me. I had even considered asking Sue if I could stay with her for another night, but now, everything seemed okay again.

After a little while, the shop door opened again. I turned attentively to it, assuming that a customer would be about to join our little world. Instead, it was Cynthia who walked in, although walk was hardly the right word to describe her movement. She staggered unsteady through the doorway, and had immense problems coping with the little step up that led from the door to the shop itself. The four of us looked at each other, and then to the woman herself with various degrees of disgust. She was obviously roaring drunk.

"I need your help," she slurred, having eventually managed to defeat her personal Everest of the step. Her eyes closed, and she half fell, have leant against the wall. The others seemed rooted to the spot; I decided to go and see what she wanted.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked her, mindful that she was blocking the entrance, and in any case, her current state was hardly likely to encourage our customers.

"Sylvia is," she said, and then paused, as if to try and remember. "A little unwell. I was hoping one of you girls might just come up and have a look at her."

I looked across at the others. Anita pulled a face, and Nikki stared at the woman in disbelief. Sue stood motionless behind the desk.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

Cynthia made some effort to stand upright. I offered her my arm as assistance, and was nearly toppled over myself as she leant all her not inconsiderable weight against it. I staggered even on my small heels, but managed to keep us both upright.

"She's sort of fallen over," Cynthia continued. "And she won't get up again."

I looked at her, as her eyes glazed over again. Unable to bare the weight on my arm any longer, I leant her gently against the wall. I smelt a rat. It seemed entirely plausible to me that this was an elaborate ruse to get me to go up to the flat, and then, well, I daren't think too hard about what Sylvia might have in mind.

I looked at my friends. "Do you think one of us should go and look?" I asked uncertainly.

There was no reply for a moment, but eventually Sue came out from behind the desk. "I suppose we should," she said. I was relieved, assuming that she was going to volunteer, but then she went on. "I'll just get this out of sight," taking hold of Cynthia's arm, as she began to slide down the wall. "You go and see what the old bat's done to herself now."

Sue manhandled Cynthia along the wall, and after a pause, Nikki came to offer her some assistance. I looked pleadingly at Anita. "Will you come up with me?"

She looked perplexed for a moment, but then walked towards me. I breathed a sigh of relief. If I was going into the spider's web, at least I'd have the protection of Anita with me.

I opened the door, and went outside. The door to the flat was open, revealing a flight of stairs going up. Glancing behind me, to make sure Anita really was there, I slowly made my way upward, grabbing hold of the banister for comfort. The carpet on the stairs was dirty and shabby, and I didn't relish seeing what the rest of the flat contained.

Reaching the top of the stairs, there was a small hallway, and a number of doors of it, some open, some closed. One, judging by the smell coming from it of stale perfume with a hint of urine, was the bathroom.

"Sylvia?" I ventured; there was no reply.

"I expect she's in the lounge, wherever that may be." Anita offered from behind me.

I turned to look at her, as she reached the top of the stairs. I walked further on, and opened one door that turned out to lead to the kitchen. Looking across, I saw that the door opposite was slightly ajar. Gingerly, I opened it, and saw in the corner opposite a rather small and old television. This was indeed the lounge. I walked slowly in, and was overcome by the stench of alcohol, must, and the acrid aroma of fresh vomit.

Anita was gagging behind me. I looked across, and saw Sylvia lying on the floor by the sofa, face to one side, with a stream of matted vomit circling her mouth.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Anita, "She's dead."

Looking at her, that seemed a reasonable assumption. I quickly got across the room to take a closer look. Her mouth was open, and drool was hanging in threads between her lips and the carpet. I put my hand against her clammy neck. At least she wasn't cold, but if she had stopped breathing, there might be a need for the kiss of life. I shuddered at the thought.

"We'd better get an ambulance," I said, finding a pulse. "It looks as if she's poisoned herself with whiskey."

Anita nodded, and went to the phone on the display cabinet by the window, and began dialling. To my relief I saw that Sylvia was still breathing, although shallowly. Grimacing, I put my fingers into her mouth, and cleared out the final remnants of her vomit, in case they were causing some sort of obstruction.

"Is she all right?" Anita asked, with concern in her voice.

"I don't know about that, but she's still alive anyway."

Anita told the emergency operator that we needed an ambulance, and then, when through to ambulance control, gave some brief details and the address. She then hung up.

"They're sending one as soon as they can," she told me.

"We'd better put a blanket on her or something," I said. "I'll see if I can find one in the bedroom."

Leaving Anita alone with Sylvia, I went back into the hall to try and hunt down Sylvia's bedroom. I guessed it correctly, and entered. It was an appalling tip, with clothes and bedding strewn willy-nilly all over the floor. The air was thick with the smells of stale cigarettes and alcohol, and I noticed several empty bottles lying where they had fallen all over the floor. Fighting my distaste, I pulled a blanket from the mass of clothes that I assumed was the bed, and took it through to the lounge. Once there I covered the still unconscious figure of Sylvia with it, and checked again for her pulse and breathing. She was still breathing, if anything a little more healthily now.

"I'd best go and tell the others what's happening." Anita said. I nodded in response, and she made her way down the stairs.

I was alone with Sylvia then. The nightmares that had haunted me for a week about that particular event seemed insignificant then, as I looked at her pale and fragile body lying there. I noticed a stain on the carpet around her waist; she had at some stage wet herself. I shook my head; what a state to have got herself into.

I brushed her hair back off her face, and out of the pool of vomit. It felt dry and powdery, without lustre or shine. I waited there for what seemed an age. At first I thought perhaps that Anita or one of the others might come up to check I was all right; then, as time went by, I realised that they were keeping out of the way. I couldn't blame them really; the whole thing was rather gruesome.

At last I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs; I stood up, and shouted for the ambulance crew to come into the lounge. They did so; two rather large men in green uniforms. One immediately took my previous position beside Sylvia, and listened to her mouth. He checked out her pulse, and then attached a mask to her face.

"Is it drink or drugs?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "She was like that when I got here."

He looked disappointed that I didn't know exactly what had poisoned her.

"There's a woman downstairs in the shop who was with her at the time; but she's not entirely sober."
"Right," he responded, with business-like efficiency.

The second man began unravelling a stretcher of sorts. I wondered briefly how they would manage to carry the rather bulky weight of Sylvia down the stairs.

"You'd best get out of the way love," the second man said to me. I looked at him for a second, then nodded, and went back down the stairs. Sue, Nikki and Anita were in the street at the bottom.

"What's going on?" Nikki asked me.

"I don't know," I replied. "I think they're going to bring her out and take her to hospital. Where's Cynthia? They want to know what she's been drinking."

"She's still in the shop, if she's awake." Sue replied. "I'll go and get her."

Quite a crowd had developed on the pavement opposite, all looking across at us with a ghoulish delight in the misfortunes of others. One of the ambulance crew came purposefully down the stairs, and into the vehicle to call someone on his radio. Sue came out of the shop, leading a dishevelled Cynthia with her. The man jumped back down out of the cab, and, nervously, I said. "This is the woman who was with her."

He looked from me to Cynthia, and scowled. "I don't suppose she's going to be much use. Still, she might as well come with us. Put her by the van."

He ran back up the stairs, and we sat Cynthia down on the open back of the ambulance.

"What's this?" she slurred. "I hope there's going to be some firemen too. I do like firemen you know."

"I'd better ring her mother and brother," Sue said. "They'll want to know, although we need to tell them what hospital she's going to."

"It'll be the new one," Anita said. "The old one's not got a casualty any more."

"Well I'll ring them anyway," Sue decided, and went back into the shop.

There was a rumble from the flat, and the two men with some expertise brought Sylvia, on a stretcher, down the rather narrow stairway. We quickly moved out of the way so they could get through.

"Get her out of it," one of them said, through gritted teeth, gesturing at Cynthia, who was now laid across the tailgate of the ambulance. Quickly, I went across, and pulled her upright, as the men slid Sylvia on the stretcher in beside her.

"Come on darling," one of them then said to Cynthia. "We're going for a little ride so you can meet some nice doctors."

"Oh how pleasant," Cynthia slurred, and allowed the man to pick her up, and place her on a seat within the vehicle. They fussed around with the two women for some time, while we stood helplessly at the back of the vehicle.

Sue came out of the shop. "Her mother's on the way to the hospital. Her brother's going to come here first to lock up the shop and the flat," she announced.

One of the ambulance men came out of the back of the vehicle, and surveyed the four of us standing there, looking helpless. "Which one of you ladies decided to send for an ambulance then?" he said.

My heart sank; we were going to be lectured about wasting his time, coming all the way around here just to pick up a couple of drunks. It had been my idea, although Anita had actually made the call. I decided to take the rap myself.

"It was me," I said quietly.

He stared long and hard at me, and I began to wish that the ground would swallow me up. "Well," he said. "She's got a lot to thank you for young lady. It looks as if she's been drinking for a week. If you'd have left it much longer, she might not have pulled through. With a bit of luck, she should be all right in a day or two." I looked at him in amazement. He smiled, and placed an avuncular hand on my shoulder. "Well done." And with that, we went around to the front of the vehicle.

"Wow!" said Anita after a brief pause. "You're a bit of a heroine then Sarah!"

"Yes," agreed Nikki. "You did well."

I couldn't find the strength to put any words together. "You look as if you could do with a drink yourself," Sue said. "I'll put the kettle on." She went back into the shop to do so.

I looked over the road to the crowd, who were still there, muttering amongst themselves. To my dismay, a policeman was crossing over the road, having failed in his attempt to get them to move on, and clear the pavement.

"Is everything all right here?" he asked, once he reached us.

"Yes," replied Anita. "They're just taking her away."

He looked at the shop and the flat behind us. "What about making these secure?" he asked.

"We've got a key for the shop, we work there," I blurted. "But not the flat."

He looked at me, and nodded.

"Her brother said he was coming over," Nikki added. "He might have a key for the flat."

The policeman assessed this information silently, looking over our heads at the two doorways. "Well," he said, looking at me. "It looks as if you've got it under control. Maybe I could just take your address and phone number in case I need to contact you later." He got out a notebook and stubby little pen, and held them at the ready.

My heart was in my mouth again. If anything came of this, then my parents, and the rest of the world for that matter, would know that I now had a job as a shop girl. I struggled to find a reason to refuse.

"Why do you need her address?" Anita asked. The policeman looked sternly at her for a moment, and then broke into a smile, and placed the notebook and pen away.

"I don't," he admitted. "Not really anyway. I just thought I might be able to persuade you to come for a drink with me sometime."

He flashed his smile at me, and I felt myself blushing furiously.

"It's hardly the time for that," Anita admonished him. "She's just had a bit of a shock you know!"

He looked a little sheepish. "Yes, I'm sorry. Maybe I'll come back in a couple of days then, to check how you're getting on." He looked at me for a few seconds, and then went back across the road to the crowd.

Anita and Nikki led me back into the shop, and we had the cup of coffee that Sue had prepared for us. The three of them chatted away about the incident, while I found myself a chair behind the till, and sat quietly on it, not joining in. After half an hour or so, Anita and Nikki announced that they were leaving.

"I'll see you when you've finished here?" Anita half asked, and half stated to me. I nodded. "Don't worry," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You did the right thing darling."

"Yes," agreed Nikki. "You were brilliant."

I smiled again, and they left Sue and I alone.

"David's taking his time," she said, looking at her watch.

"David?" I asked.

"Yes, Sylvia's brother. He should have been here by now."

"Does he know where it is?" I asked.

"Oh God yes," she replied. "He's been here lots of times. He minds the shop when Sylvia's away, or ill or anything." I nodded in reply. "I always like it when he's here. He's a real laugh. I sometimes wish he ran the shop all the time rather than Sylvia, but he's got his own business up in town; interior design or something." She smiled, and then as if confessing some secret, moved closer to me and said. "He's quite a dish too! Tall and dark haired, and really good looking!"

"You fancy him then?" I asked.

"Oh God yes!" she exclaimed. "Anyone would. But you and me would be wasting our time with David, he's gay!" She looked at me with barely concealed disappointment on her face; I noticed immediately too, that she seemed to have forgotten that I was a boy.

I looked at her. "Well I suppose I might stand a chance," I said quietly.

"Oh no," she continued, not picking up on the cue, "Like I say, he's gay through and through. He's pleasant enough to women, but there's no way he'd ever fancy one."

She looked at me with the same matter of fact look. "But I'm a boy!" I reminded her petulantly.

She stared at me with the same disbelief that I had seen on Janet's face earlier that day. "Well I don't know about that," she said at length. "You might be, down there," she said, pointing to the front of my skirt, "But up here," she went on, tapping herself on the temple, "Where it really counts, I think that you're as much a girl as any of us. Sorry if that offends you, but that's just the way it is."

I didn't know what to say or think about this, and just stared at her.

"Oh God, I hope I haven't upset you," she said at last. "It's just that we had such a nice sort of girly time last night, and again here at the shop, until Sylvia's little performance. I had forgotten that you were a boy, to be honest. But that's good isn't it?"

"Is it?" I asked blankly.

"Yes," she insisted. "It's much less complicated that way, and in any case, it suits you. You make a much better girl than you ever did a boy."

"I see," I said at last, looking away from her.

"Oh but you do!" she went on. "Do you think Steve would ever have been so nice to Janet for a start? Or would he have been able to take control of things when Sylvia collapsed?"

I thought about this; they were both things I had never really done before. Was she right? Was it being Sarah that enabled me to do this sort of thing.

We had no chance to talk this through any further, because at that moment, a tall man in his thirties, wearing a rather sharp suit came through the door. He hesitated for a moment, then smiled at came across to the till.

"Sue!" he said enthusiastically. Sue hugged him, and told him how sorry she was about Sylvia. "It's all right," he said. "I've phoned the hospital. They're pumping her out now, and she should be all right once all that bloody whiskey is out of her system. I don't know why she drinks so much."

"No," said Sue, sympathetically. "Oh, and this is Sarah," she said, indicating me. David turned his dark eyes to me, and smiled. He held out his hand for me to shake. "Hello Sarah," he said. "I'm so sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," I told him.

"No," he said distractedly. "Listen, I don't want to seem rude, but I'd like to shut the shop up, and get up to the hospital if that's all right. I know it's a bit early, but I'll make sure you get full wages for the day, both of you."

"Of course David," Sue gushed. "We'll get our coats and leave you to it. You've got my number haven't you?"

"I think so," he replied, anxiously chewing on his knuckles.

"Well I'll give it to you again, just in case," Sue went on, writing her phone number down on a note, which she tucked into his jacket pocket. "Ring me as soon as you know anything, or if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks Sue," he said to her, and hugged her again. "It's been a bit of a day."

"Yes," she said, reassuringly.

I watched as they separated. It was all the more poignant knowing that Sue fancied him.

"Come on Sarah, let's get our bags and go," she said, still looking into his eyes.

We left the shop, and walked back up the High Street towards Sue's house. My first day at work had hardly gone according to plan, and I was more than a little shaken by the afternoon's events. We had yet another coffee at Sue's house, before I picked up my stuff, and started off towards Anita's, to get ready for our grand girl's night out.

  

  

  

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