The Year of the Ladybird by Graham Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

your own room, have they told you that? As for food, hey!’ He suddenly lowered his voice. ‘Eyes right! Eyes right!’ I thought he was
asserting himself, saying ‘
I is right
’ but then he said ‘Three o’ clock!’ and I realised that he wanted me to look to my right-hand side.
    A very pretty girl in a tiny bikini was strolling away from us.
    ‘You like school dinner? I f’kin don’t. Okay if you want spotted dick and jam roly-poly every Wednesday and pummelled spuds and choked carrots and strangled sprouts and canteen
cuisine . . . Eyes left! Eyes left!’
    To the left, two good-looking full-figured mothers led their toddlers over to the play-sand.
    ‘. . . and strangled sprouts and canteen catering well let me tell you I had better grub in the fuckin’ army and if that’s your idea of a good . . . Eyes right, eyes right,
four o’clock.’
    I glanced to the right and a very old lady with dowager’s hump came creeping towards us. Nobby howled with laughter. ‘Got you there, son, didn’t I? Walked into that one you
did! Shake hands! Hey! Hey!’
    I admitted he’d ‘got me’ there. Nobby refused to move on until I shook his outstretched hand. Then he started up again with his unbroken patter. I was glad when we reached the
theatre. I looked at my watch. It was 9.15 a.m. I hadn’t even got to the day’s briefing and I was dog-tired.
    Nobby’s excitable energy wasn’t the only reason why I was so shattered. I’d had my worst night so far. I couldn’t sleep. I’d had the window wide
open but the air was stifling. Every time I thought I might drift off to sleep I had an image of Terri mouthing that single word at me.
    In fact it wasn’t just while I was sleeping. After the assault on Luca Valletti I’d taken a seat at the side of the theatre watching the show without really seeing any of it. The
entire Variety act. Paget and Drum, the comedy duo. Shelly Breeze – I’m not making up these names – doing her diva routine. Abdul-Shazam in his fez inserting swords into a casket
containing one of the dancers. Oh yes, Nikki danced at the edge of the stage. She was magnificent under stage lights. All the dancers were and they maintained dazzling smiles that you rarely got to
see offstage. But at some point in the show Nikki caught my eye, and she winked at me.
    Finally Luca, consummate professional that he was, topped off the show. He had a white silk scarf wrapped tightly around his bruised throat and you wouldn’t have known what had taken place
in that theatre ninety minutes earlier. He had this farewell song – something about fighting in the Foreign Legion – where he waved a white handkerchief and the ladies in the audience
took pocket handkerchiefs out of their handbags and waved back at him.
    And so I go
    To fight the savage foe,
    Although I know
    I’ll be sometimes missed
    By the girls I’ve kissed.
    They lapped it up. But I couldn’t help thinking about what was going on in Luca’s head as he smiled and sang and levelled the blade of his hand at his breast.
    So I’d spent an entire evening thinking about Terri; and I’d spent a night tossing and turning in the heat with her face appearing in the dark. Now I was about to go into the theatre
where I would see her cleaning the stage. I knew I was going to have to fight to avert my eyes. I thought I was transparent and that the chirpy mad Mancunian or Nikki or Tony or all of them would
see through me straight away. I was ready-tailored Music Hall material. I’d only been in the camp a week and I’d fallen for the old story about rescuing the woman with the
mop-and-bucket.
    But when I walked in I didn’t get to see Terri at all. A much older woman with a dry scowl and a giant hair-pin was up on stage swinging the mop to and fro giving the boards a good
grinding. Tony sat in the front row of the seats, legs spread far apart, his well packed midriff spilling over his belt buckle. He looked glum.
    ‘Where’s Punch and Judy,