Later, at the club, Riva was sitting at a table and surveying the scene with Tommy-O during a break. Tonight, his wig was black, long, straight and dramatic. He wore an almost transparent dress of gold sequins sewn onto net, big, hooped gold earrings and a fur stole. Bangles of gold set with glittering rubies circled his wrists.
‘Are those real?’ she asked.
‘The rubies? Nah. I’m not made of money.’
His eyes were made-up with thick black kohl and he looked stunning.
‘Mixing it up with the Egyptian princess look tonight darling,’ he said, shouting to be heard over the clatter of plates, clinking glasses, and chattering men and women. The bar was packed with sailors yelling for service and sultry girls clinging to their prey.
‘You’re wasted here,’ she replied equally loudly. ‘You should be in Hollywood.’
‘Don’t I know it, doll! Follow me.’
They picked up their glasses and found a quieter niche away from the bar and the noise faded a little.
‘So, is that real?’ She reached across to touch the stole.
‘This one? Sure is, honey,’ he said, and winked. ‘Genuine mink. Gift from a rich admirer. Wanna try it on?’
He handed it over and she wrapped it around her bare shoulders then pouted wildly as if she were a film star, making him roar with his great barking laugh and then splutter on his cocktail.
‘You got your badge yet?’ he asked her.
‘Gianni will have it for me tonight. Will it be the same as the hostesses wear?’
He nodded. ‘Pretty much. Theirs are stamped with the initials of the Malta Police and a licence number. Officially they have to be over twenty-one.’
‘Some look younger.’
He pulled a face. ‘Hmmm. They have to scarper when the police come checking.’
‘Are they paid well?’
‘They earn alanda– a kind of token – each time they persuade a punter to buy a drink. They do well enough.’
‘Do they, you know …’ she tilted her head, ‘go with the men?’
He grinned. ‘Not here, darling.’
‘There are brothels?’
He wrinkled his nose and kind of winced. ‘Officially they’re banned. Some bars have cubicles upstairs though. For a while the girls were examined for venereal disease, supposedly four times a month.’
‘Not any more?’
‘No, chérie. The Naval Shore Patrol and the Military Police come around most nights, but they deal with brawls and fights, not so much the girls.’
‘Who looks after them? The hostesses and bar girls, I mean.’
‘Murky area. Here at the club, Gianni. But he’s small fry.’
At that moment Riva saw Gianni ushering in a slight young girl with pale blonde hair, elfin features, and tiny pointed chin. She didn’t even look sixteen. ‘Look at her,’ she said.
With them was a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a cane. Even though he was turned sideways to her she felt sure she’d seen him before.
‘That girl might be the one staying at your place,’ Tommy-O said.
‘I heard there was someone … Do you know who the man is?’
