Vikki Lane huddled in the doorway, arms wrapped around her too-thin frame, trying to keep warm. It had been pleasant enough when she’d first arrived on her small patch, but the temperature had been dropping steadily ever since. And this was only September. What would it be like in winter, standing out here with nothing more than a mini-skirt and top between her and the elements? She jigged up and down and rubbed her arms, but it didn’t help.
A dark car drifted along the kerb, one man driving, window down. Vikki stepped out into the pallid glow of the street light and tried to stop shivering as she approached the car.
“Remember, walk slow and loose, shoulders back,” Simone had told her. “Bring each foot forward and slightly across the other one. Makes the hips swing. They like that. See?”
She had demonstrated, and Vikki had to admit Simone had a lot to swing. Taller than Vikki by a good four inches—and older by some ten years—Simone was beautifully proportioned, and her ebony
skin and jet-black hair shone as if polished. When Simone walked down the street, men and women alike paid attention.
But it was hard when you were freezing to death and you weren’t used to high heels and you knew that your pathetic little body couldn’t begin to compare with Simone’s.
The car stopped. A jacket hung on a hook behind the driver, half covering the near-side rear window. Business man, thought Vikki, as she came closer.
A shadow moved behind the coat.
Panic flared within her as she veered off sharply and walked rapidly away. Her heart thumped wildly as she listened for the slam of the car door and the sound of footsteps thundering down the pavement behind her. She wanted to run, but was afraid to try in her high-heeled shoes.
The engine roared and tyres screeched as the car shot away. Vikki glanced behind to see it turn the corner, and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God she’d seen the coat move and the woman in the back seat. Police! If Vikki had so much as opened her mouth, they’d have had her.
She stepped into the shelter of a doorway and peered at her watch. It was a cheap little thing that lost ten or fifteen minutes a day, but it was all she could afford. Only eight o’clock. She groaned. Four more hours before she could pack it in.
A car slowed and stopped a few yards down the street, and Vikki drew back instinctively. The door opened and Simone slid out, bent to say something to the driver before she closed the door, then blew a kiss as the car took off again.
Vikki stepped out of the doorway. “Coppers are out,” she said breathlessly. “Nearly had me a few minutes ago. Man driving; woman hiding behind a coat in the back.”
Simone shrugged. She knew the ploy, but at least the girl was learning. “What’s happening, apart from that?” she asked.
Vikki shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Sod all,”
she said bitterly. “And I’m—” She broke off as a car slowly drifted to a stop. “Watch it,” she cautioned. “Could be another lot.”
Simone turned and looked. “Not unless they’ve taken to driving Jags,” she observed laconically. She patted her hair. “Could be my lucky night, kid.”
The near-side window slid down with a soft whirring sound. The driver leaned over and beckoned with a gloved hand. He wore a cap and dark glasses, and his face was in shadow.
Simone started forward, hips moving smoothly, and Vikki felt a stab of envy. What chance did she have with someone like Simone around?
The driver waved his hand impatiently, palm outward, then pointed. Simone hesitated and looked back at Vikki with a puzzled frown. “I think it’s you he wants,” she said. Her tone implied she couldn’t think why.
Vikki moved forward hesitantly. The man drew back as she reached the car and leaned inside.
“What’s your name?”
“Vikki.”
“Vikki,” the man repeated. “I like that. Here, this is for you, Vikki.” He held something in his hand. “Fifty pounds,” he said crisply. “Take it.” He didn’t sound local. Educated. Touch of class. Money. He was driving a Jag, wasn’t he?
Vikki tried to open the door. “It’s locked,” she told him.
The man shook his head impatiently. “I said take it. I don’t want you now, but there’s fifty more if you do as I say.”
Vikki eyed him. “What do I have to do for it?” she asked, suspicious.
A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he assured her. “But I want you for the night. Come to my hotel room at midnight and there will be another fifty in it for you. All right?”
“And it’s straight?”
“Absolutely.”
Vikki reached for the money, but instead of releasing it, his other hand shot out and grasped her wrist. “And you’d better not let me down,” he said softly. “If you take this money, make sure you’re there on the dot or I’ll come looking for you. Understand?”
He was hurting her wrist. She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. “I’ll be there,” she gasped. “Which hotel? What room?”
“Room 203 at the Tudor.”
“The Tudor?”
“Yes. Why? Is that a problem?”
“No! No. It’s just that it’s a bit off my patch, that’s all. I haven’t been there before.”
“Right, then. Come straight up to the room. Don’t stop to talk to anyone on the way. And wear something more than you’ve got on. Something decent or you’ll never make it past the desk. All right?”
Vikki nodded vigorously. “I’ll be there,” she assured him. The man released her wrist and handed her the money. Still leaning inside the car, she tucked it into the waistband of her skirt. She stepped back and joined Simone as the car pulled away.
“So what was that all about?” Simone demanded.
Vikki grimaced. “Changed his mind,” she said dejectedly, and before Simone could ask more questions, she shivered violently. “I’m freezing,” she declared. “I’m going up to Lee’s to get warm. Want to come?”
Simone shook her head, as Vikki knew she would, and shuddered delicately. “The place is filthy,” she said. “I don’t know why you go there.”
“Because it’s the only place round here that’s warm,” said Vikki as she moved off.
“Better not let Luke catch you,” Simone called after her. “You get back without any money again tonight, and you know what’ll happen, don’t you?”
Vikki waved her hand without turning round. Her fingers strayed to the waistband of her skirt; she felt the crisp notes tucked
safely there and could hardly contain herself. Who cared about Luke when you had fifty quid? She felt like skipping, but she daren’t while Simone was watching. Time enough for that later—after she had the other fifty.
“Wear something decent,” the man had said. Trouble was, she didn’t have anything decent. At least, nothing that would pass muster at the Tudor. Her face clouded. She’d never been to the Tudor Hotel, but Simone had warned her about the place, so she would have to be careful. But first things first.
She poked half-heartedly through Simone’s clothes, and was about to turn away when she spotted the black dress. It would be far too big, of course, but she pulled it off the hanger and eyed it critically. It might work if she pinned it at the back and wore her mac over it. After all, it was just to get past the desk.
Twenty minutes and six safety pins later, Vikki stood before the mirror mounted on the back of the door. “Not bad,” she told her image in the mirror, “though, God knows what it looks like at the back.” The thought of what Simone would say if she could see what had been done to her dress gave Vikki pause, but she thrust the thought from her mind. With any luck at all, Simone would be sleeping by the time Vikki returned, and the dress could be slipped back in the wardrobe without her ever knowing.
She remembered seeing a small evening bag of Simone’s on the top shelf of the wardrobe. It would look better than the tatty old thing she had. Vikki hesitated only for a moment, then told herself that if Simone didn’t notice that the dress was gone, she was hardly likely to miss an evening bag.
In for a penny, she thought recklessly as she transferred her few bits and pieces to the evening bag. She tucked it beneath her arm and stood before the mirror again, turning this way and that. It would have to do, she decided. There was no way she was going to let that kind of money slip through her fingers. Besides, if it was
anything like the other times, the dress would come off as soon as she got there anyway.
Now, she must do something with her hair.
Vikki Lane approached the entrance of the Tudor Hotel with trepidation. She’d walked all the way from Cresswell Street, and her feet were sore. She leaned against a shop window, balancing herself, first on one leg, then on the other, as she took off each shoe, and sighed with relief as her feet were exposed to the cool night air.
Somewhere nearby a clock began to strike the hour. Vikki peered unbelievingly at her watch. Eighteen minutes to twelve and the second hand was still. She shook the watch violently, but it made no difference.
And she’d been congratulating herself on arriving early!
Muttering beneath her breath, she thrust her aching feet back into her shoes and crossed the street to the hotel. No time for caution now; she’d just have to chance it.
She could see the desk and the lift beyond it through the big glass doors. A man and a woman stood behind the desk, their backs toward her. She sucked in her breath. She hadn’t counted on the man being there; if he was the one Simone had told her about, she’d never get past the desk. Hardly daring to breathe, Vikki opened the door and slipped inside, eyes glued to the pair behind the desk. If either one of them turned round, they couldn’t help but see her.
She slipped off her shoes and flew barefoot across the marble floor to the safety of the stairs. She didn’t stop until she reached the second floor, pausing only long enough at the top of the steps to put on her shoes before moving down the corridor.
Room 203 was at the far end. She raised her hand to knock, but as she did so the door swung inward. It was dark inside. Vikki jumped when someone spoke.
“You’re late! I told you midnight on the dot. Come in and shut the door.”
She recognized the voice and breathed easier as she stepped inside. “I’m ever so sorry,” she said, “but my watch …” A hand rested on her shoulder. “Never mind that,” he said impatiently. “Let me take your coat.”
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, fearing he would turn on the light and see the mess she’d made of the back of the dress. “I can manage.” She began to shrug out of the coat, but his hand tightened on her shoulder and she found herself being turned with her back toward him.
“It’s no trouble,” he said. “No trouble at all.”