Devil in Disguise (29 page)

‘I have
drunk brandy before, you know. Simon was very partial to it. Mind you, that was
Sainsbury’s cooking brandy.’

‘A
distant relative of this,’ said Lilia, with a shudder.

Molly
took the glass and downed it in one.

Lilia
raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘I am very impressed! You are clearly no
blushing virgin where this particular lesson in concerned.’

‘I
could probably teach you a thing or two, if we’re being honest,’ said Molly,
pouring herself another glass. ‘Cheers!’

‘That
is the care and maintenance of the vocal cords dealt with: cigarettes and
brandy.’

‘This
is going straight to my head,’ said Molly. ‘I’ve only had a bit of fruit for my
breakfast.’

‘That
is all to the good, my dear. As well as improving your voice, alcohol will
loosen you up and help you to access the emotions necessary for the songs you
will sing. Let us begin.’ Lilia moved to the piano and lifted the lid. ‘We will
try some scales now. Ready?’

Molly
stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly and feeling light-headed.
‘Ready for action,’ she replied.

With
one finger Lilia played middle C and Molly sang the note perfectly.

‘The
right note but your voice is still too clean. Too bleached. Continue.’ Lilia’s
fingers travelled up the piano keys and down again and Molly’s voice followed
suit. ‘Not bad. Now squeeze the notes out for me, making an
eee
sound.
Slide the note up as high as you can reach, then down again like this:
eee-EEE-eee!’

Molly
replicated the sound and this procedure was repeated higher and higher up the
scale until her voice was just a squeak and then back down to a deep rumble.

‘You
have a good range,’ Molly. There is a lot for me to work with. Now pop out to
the garden with some more brandy and have two cigarettes, then clean your
teeth. It is almost time for Joey’s lunch and we don’t want you breathing
Courvoisier and fags all over him.’

Molly’s days were very
full, beginning bright and early with the cold bath and the fruit for breakfast
followed by at least three cigarettes smoked in the garden. After she had
walked Heathcliff, she had to attend to Joey, feed him, bathe him, dry him,
powder and dress him and get him into his chair for the day. Lilia’s bruises
proved too tender for her to attempt any shopping or housework so Molly ended
up doing those as well.

The
regime was far from easy: she felt permanently weak and hungry, and had the
beginnings of a cough from the cigarettes. She longed for some chips, biscuits
or bread, but these were all denied her. Lilia allowed her fruit for breakfast,
salad for lunch and steamed vegetables with some fish or chicken in the
evenings. She started on the brandy before lunch and they spent their
afternoons at the piano. Joey had to be fed and bathed in the early evening
while Lilia watched
Coronation Street.
After Molly’s meagre dinner —
which she often had to eat while Lilia tucked into delicious-smelling stews
with buttery mashed potato, or juicy steak with chips — it was time for her
acting lesson. Lilia would select scenes from Shakespeare, Bernard Shaw or
Brecht, and make Molly perform them, reading the other parts for her. Then she
would give her direction and advice on breathing, diction and posture.

A week
passed, and by the end of it, Molly already found it hard to remember the life
she had left behind, or any kind of existence outside Kit-Kat Cottage and her
strict regime. It was curiously familiar, not unlike her institutional
childhood, and comforting, with the absence of responsibility: all she had to
do was obey.

One afternoon as they were
doing their singing practice, Molly’s voice suddenly broke into a jagged rasp.
Lilia jumped up from the piano and clapped her hands. ‘Did you hear that?
Excellent! That is the very quality I have been looking for.’

‘My
throat feels like the bottom of a birdcage,” said Molly,’ hacking a little. She
rubbed her temples. ‘My head’s throbbing.’

‘I
couldn’t be more pleased for you,’ said Lilia, delighted. ‘Do it again.’

Molly’s
voice, once clear and bright, cracked a second time but remained in tune.

‘You
hear it?’ said Lilia, excited. ‘The voice of a woman, not a girl! Gritty,
lived-in, broken like your heart. You see how it is all fitting together? We
have made a breakthrough. Congratulations.’

Molly
wasn’t sure how thrilled she felt. She was permanently woozy and light-headed
from the smoking, the brandy and the strict diet Lilia was enforcing. She had
given Lilia control of her life, though, and it was amazing how quickly she
became used to it. If Lilia was angry, she felt miserable; if she was pleased,
Molly clung to the few, rare words of praise that came her way.

‘There is a change to our
routine today, Molly,’ Lilia announced, the following morning. ‘We are going
into town. You need some new clothes. And I’ve been thinking about your hair.
Now you are shedding all that blubber and your cheekbones are being given a
chance to fulfil their potential, it needs attention.’

Molly
looked down, surprised. Had she really lost weight? Now she thought about it,
her jeans were getting looser and looser, and she was beginning to find her
previously snug jumpers somewhat roomy. Then her hand went to her hair and she
stroked her curls protectively. ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Straight
hair. More severe. And darker. I don’t approve of the way you play with your
curls all the time, as if they were seaweed. Obviously it isn’t easy to find a
stylish salon in Northampton,’ but I have secured an appointment at Hair Today.
I shall come with you to hold your hand.’

After
breakfast, they loaded Joey and his wheelchair into the car and Lilia drove
them into town. She took Molly to the market first, and looked through some
cheap tracksuits and poorly made skirts and T-shirts. ‘It doesn’t much matter
what you wear for the next few months. Working clothes, that is what we are
buying today. It is pointless spending much as your body shape will change
dramatically in the next weeks and months. How do you feel about overalls?
They’re two for a flyer.’

They
arrived at Hair Today in good time for the eleven o’clock appointment and Lilia
immediately took charge, leaving the stylist in no doubt that Molly’s curls
were to be permanently straightened, and a dark-brown colour put on.

‘And
could you cut it, Eleanor,’ to just above the shoulder? A sensible length,
don’t you think?’

‘Certainly,”
said Eleanor. ‘I’ll take those straggly ends off It’ll be much smarter.’

Lilia
wheeled Joey out for a walk around the town centre and a visit to the library
while Molly was sat in a chair, swathed in a nylon cloak and given a battered
old
OK!
to look at while Eleanor applied the various lotions and
potions. It all took a very long time, and there seemed to be hours of waiting
while the various chemicals took effect. Lilia and Joey returned and settled
themselves in the waiting area, Lilia tittering over
People’s Friend
while
Molly had her hair washed and then cut.

‘Your
mum doesn’t like it curly, then?’ said Eleanor, as she began snipping off a
good eight inches of Molly’s now ramrod straight hair. ‘It’s funny, really. I
get girls with straight hair coming in here who’d die for curls like you had.
Then the people with the curls can’t stand them. We’re never happy with what
we’ve got, are we?’

Molly
said nothing but stared soulfully at her image as it altered before her eyes.
When the cuffing was done, the hairdresser got out her blow-dryer and set to
work, brushing Molly’s hair into long, glossy sheets as she blasted it with hot
air. At last she switched the dryer off ‘All done!’ pronounced Eleanor proudly.
Lilia came trotting over, eager to see the results. ‘It took some doing to get
those corkscrews out, but we’ve managed. What do you think?’

Molly
sat staring at herself in the mirror. She looked like the same person but now
transported to a bygone age. Her hair hung to her shoulders in shining chestnut
curtains. She had a sudden memory of her mother looking at her through the
glass. It was just a flash but Molly gasped at the resemblance.

‘Ah!’ sighed
Lilia. ‘So much better. It was as if you had a bird’s nest there before. You
look sophisticated and serious.’ She smiled at Molly. ‘I consider that a
success. Don’t you?’

‘I
don’t recognise myself,’ said Molly. ‘Is that me?’

‘The
new you,’ said Lilia, proudly. ‘The woman who is going places.’

‘Bring
it on,’ said Molly, determinedly, giving in completely now, handing over her
appearance to Lilia’s charge.

When they eventually left
the hairdresser’s, they walked to the graveyard at the top of the high street
and found an empty bench, parking Joey beside them. It was a bright, sunny
winter’s day. Lilia pulled a Tupperware box out of her bag and announced that
it was time for Molly’s lunch. ‘Salad and pickled herring with pumpernickel
and a hard-boiled egg.’ She pulled out a flask. ‘And strong black coffee, of
course.’

‘What
are you having?’

‘Joey
and I ate earlier at a very pleasant café. This is only for you.’

Molly
was so hungry she dived straight in, making quick work of her egg. Some tramps
and punk rockers loitered nearby, but the bench they had chosen was on a path
that seemed to be a cut-through. There was a constant stream of
Northamptonshire folk going about their business.

Molly’s
lunch was interrupted by a familiar voice. ‘Molly Douglas? Is that you?’

She
looked up, her cheeks bulging with pumpernickel, to see Roger, the doorman from
the Derngate,’ standing in front of her.

‘I
almost didn’t recognise you — except that I saw Miss Delvard here and then
thought it
must
be you. What you doin’ here, girl? And, my God, you look
so different. It’s your hair! You’ve interfered with nature — and with
spectacular results. So demure, so different!’ He turned respectfully to Lilia.
‘Miss Delvard. We met at your soirée a while ago. Such an enchanting evening.
I’m Roger. Remember me?’

‘Of
course,’ said Lilia coldly. ‘You seemed to find something very amusing as you
departed, if my memory serves me correctly. You laughed long and loud as you
got into your car.’

‘Why,
I—’

‘Still
squandering your talents at the stage door?’

‘Yes,
still there.’ Roger nodded. Then a cross expression came over his face. ‘And do
you know what makes me sick? I don’t get no appreciation, no thanks and not so
much as a whip-round when I passed my driving test at the sixth attempt. I
thought, You know what? Fuck the lot of them. Not even a good-luck card.’ He turned
back to Molly. ‘So, what are you doing back in this dump? And why are you
loitering in a graveyard eating black bread as if you were auditioning for
Oliver!?
I fuckin’ hate that musical. Too many kids in it. Kids can’t act and I
fuckin’ hate them too. They shouldn’t be allowed in the theatre in my opinion.
So? Spill the beans.’

Molly
swallowed the last of her pumpernickel. ‘Hello, Rog. Lovely to see you. I’d
give you a hug but I’ve got hard-boiled egg all over my hands. I’ve … er …
I’ve come to see Lilia for a bit, that’s all.’

‘Come
to Northampton on holiday?’ Roger looked suspicious. ‘I would have thought
you’d be living it up in London with your boyfriend. What did you say his name
was?’

‘Oh,’
you mean Daniel …’ said Molly, struggling to find the words to explain her
situation without giving away too much.

‘Finished,’
said Lilia decisively. ‘All over. So she came to stay with someone who
appreciates her. To wit, me.’

Roger
raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But if I’m honest, I can’t say
I’m surprised. I heard about you and Marcus on the last night of the panto. I
mean, a woman of your age in a happy relationship does not go off into the
night with an eighteen-year-old stagehand.’

‘I’m
sure he said he was twenty-one,’ declared Molly.

‘He was
cross-eyed when he came to work the next day to do the get-out. I said, “Are
you all right,’ Marcus?” He was nearly in tears. He said you were like some
sort of wild, insatiable vampire. He’s only a boy. How he had the sense to
record some of it on his mobile phone I’ll never know. Well, it’s lovely to see
you again. I’ll call round and see you one of these days. It’d be nice to renew
our acquaintance. ‘Bye now, Molly. Take care.’

Lilia
watched him wander off through the graveyard, his hands in his pockets. ‘Hmm,’
she said thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. ‘Yes. We shall invite Roger over
very soon. I have a feeling he may be useful.’