‘To hell with him,’ she said, then glanced out of a window that overlooked the back of the building opposite, its windows already shuttered against the heat.
A scuffle of feet behind her interrupted her thoughts and she came away from the window to see Paloma andBrigitte, the two other girls she shared with, strolling into the kitchen.
‘Hello,’ she said with a bright smile, determined to win them round. ‘How are you both?’
Paloma glowered, darting her a venomous look, but didn’t speak. She was tall and slender, but with a full bosom, and curving hips. Brigitte was smaller, more energetic, quick to speak and even quicker to anger. She narrowed her dark eyes and then nodded as if reaching a conclusion. She came across and poked Riva in the shoulder.
‘You … think … you are better than us, don’t you?’
Riva stepped back.
‘Because you’re French. Oooh la la.’ And she performed a strange little wiggle that didn’t quite come off.
‘Of course not,’ Riva said, astonished more by the wiggle than by what the girl had said or by the poking. Although she actuallywasa better dancer. ‘Look, I’m ballet-trained, that’s all. I was forced to go.’
And she went up on her toes and just about managed a pirouette. It didn’t help. The girls just rolled their eyes and sniggered.
Riva tried again. ‘I’ve no more experience of cabaret dancing than you. Probably less. You’ve been here longer. I have all sorts of bad habits that I need to get rid of. Ballet habits that don’t work in cabaret. Even Gianni said as much.’
Brigitte narrowed her eyes. ‘He did?’
Riva nodded. It wasn’t quite true, but Brigitte seemedmollified and gave her a patronising smile. All the girls had minimal job security and any one of them could be axed the moment someone younger or prettier came along. Brigitte and Paloma probably needed to believe they were superior to feel secure.
‘Friends then,’ Riva said and held out her hand. Brigitte shook it.
‘So, who’s your rich boyfriend?’ Paloma asked, still looking dubious.
Riva frowned.
‘We saw you getting into his car.’
Riva snorted. ‘It’s not his car. He borrowed it.’
Paloma looked happier hearing that and Riva realised she would have to be more discreet if she weren’t to cause jealousy among the girls.
‘There’s a new girl coming,’ Brigitte said.
‘Dancer?’
‘Hostess. I saw her with a man coming out of our spare room.’
‘With Gianni?’
The other two exchanged looks. ‘No.’
‘Then who?’
She winked. ‘The one they are all scared of.’
‘Who’s he?’
Paloma gave Brigitte a look and the other girl clammed up. ‘See you later,’ she said and grabbed her friend by the elbow and pulled her from the room.
Well, Riva thought, what was that about?
Her thoughts travelled back to Bobby again. Had she imagined how it had felt? Certainly, some of the shinehad rubbed off from what she’d thought had been a perfect day. A day of seamless blue skies and sapphire seas to hold in her heart forever. She remembered Addison’s kindness and the way his paintings expressed something deeper than just the surface of a person. Hope and love, but also suffering.
And she remembered Bobby’s kiss; felt his proximity even though he wasn’t there now, and the feeling of it still rippled through her.
