The Girl Behind The Curtain (Hidden Women) by Stella Knightley Read Free Book Online

said.
    Marlene took me down into the basement where the uniforms were kept. We passed a couple of dressing rooms. I couldn’t resist peeking in. In one room, a young man about my age was coating his lashes with mascara. He was wearing a rather lovely silver dress. He caught me gawping and gave me a smile.
    ‘That’s Isadora. Like the dancer.’
    ‘Hello, sweet thing,’ Isadora called.
    Isadora’s friendly smile made me feel a little better. Likewise, Young Hans seemed rather nice. I began to feel as though my new job might not be so bad after all. Until Marlene handed me my uniform. The skirt barely covered my bottom.
    ‘This isn’t my size,’ I told her.
    Marlene assured me it was.
    ‘But it shows my . . .’
    ‘That’s the idea, you silly sausage. All the better for earning those tips. You won’t get by on your wages alone. You need to work the floor. You got any rollers? Your hair could do with being more . . .’ Marlene mimed a bouffant.
    I told her I didn’t.
    ‘Then come a bit early,’ she said. ‘And I’ll fix you up.’
     
    Now I’d better finish this diary entry and get myself to the Boom Boom so Marlene can indeed do my hair. I can hardly believe that tonight I start work as a waitress. A waitress in a transvestite club at that! Papa would be apoplectic. I think Mummy would be secretly impressed. All the same, I don’t think I’ll tell her when I write again tomorrow morning.

Chapter 6
    Berlin, last September
    After the languid mystery of Venice and the haughty chic of Paris, Berlin felt much more like London and perhaps, if I cared to admit it, that’s why it felt much more like it could be home.
    My first few days there were blessed by brilliant late-summer sunshine. It was wonderfully warm: the sort of weather that makes you feel as though you’re on holiday the moment you step out of the office.
    I’d reported to my new boss and met my new colleagues but the university term had yet to begin. I had no students as yet, so, when I wasn’t taking catch-up German lessons myself, I spent some time exploring the city. I’d visited before, on a school language-exchange trip and again to interview for the post I had just taken up, but I’d never done more than dash round the major monuments that were the top on any tourist’s ‘must do’ list. I’d climbed to the top of the impressive glass dome of the Reichstag building and had my photograph taken by the Brandenburg Gate. I’d even posed with a fake soldier at Checkpoint Charlie. I hadn’t been much more adventurous than that.
    I was looking forward to getting to know Berlin a great deal better. It helped that I had some friends in the city already and they were eager to show me their favourite places. There was Clare, of course, my friend since our undergraduate days. And then there was Harry. I met Harry when we worked together at Selfridges during one Christmas break. Extravagantly camp, he was a real Marmite person in that you either loved him or you hated him. Fortunately, I loved him from the moment we were set to work side by side, keeping control of the queue for Santa’s grotto in Selfridges’ toy department. He could always make me laugh.
    Clare and Harry both loved the city and shared their enthusiasm at once. It certainly felt like a place with a great deal going for it. Compared to Paris, the population seemed much younger and less uptight. Compared to Venice, everyone seemed to have more energy and drive. The Venetians were content to rest on achievements past. I suppose it made sense that Berlin seemed to be looking more to the future, given what a complicated past Germany had.
     
    The first weekend I was in town, I met Clare and Harry for a tour of the real Berlin. We met at the sombre and moving Berlin Wall monument on the Bernauer Strasse. I’d always thought of the Wall as just that: a wall. Seeing a preserved section of the wide strip of no-man’s-land that had actually flanked the rather insignificant-looking