What They Do in the Dark - By Amanda Coe Page 0,15

shrugged.

‘I’m not bothered,’ she told him. ‘He—’ she gestured to Derek – ‘can give me the mark so the sight-lines aren’t off.’

So that’s what she did. She played the whole scene to a piece of tape on Derek’s forehead (he was slightly shorter than Dirk). Mike ordered two takes, but Vera, watching out of shot, could tell that he’d be happy to print the first, if he had any sense.

WOMAN

[to JUNE] Everything all right, love?

JUNE

I’m fine. Aren’t I, Dad?

COLIN registers surprise at her invention. The woman sees it.

JUNE

Me dad and me had come for a picnic but he was telling me off because I forgot to bring the sandwiches.

WOMAN

Can we give you a lift?

COLIN

You’re all right.

The car drives off. JUNE shoots COLIN a look.

The look that Lallie gave Derek’s forehead was complicit, seductive and yet terribly, painfully innocent. A flick of the eyes that lasted less than a second. She gets it, thought Vera. She gets the whole thing. Afterwards, she wondered if it really could have been as good as she thought. It was like the momentary triumph of seeing a goal scored at a football match, without the benefit of the action replay. She hoped the editor would see it too, but there were no guarantees. Maybe Mike would decide the look was too knowing, that it was too dangerous to give the story that weight, although the script hinted at it, that the child was that powerful, but ultimately, of course, tragically, only as powerful as a child can be.

Heading back to the caravans, Vera patted Lallie on the shoulder.

‘Good work there,’ she congratulated her. ‘Quite splendid.’

Lallie rolled her eyes and contorted her mouth into a quick Barbra Streisand. ‘Gee, ya really think so?’ she spat in loud, third-hand Brooklynese. Vera walked on ahead. She could admire the talent without admiring the owner. It was almost a given in this business. Just because the kid was a genius, it didn’t mean Vera had to like her.

THERE WAS NO phone at the Brights’ house on Adelaide Road. In cases of particular, often criminal emergency, they used a call box at the end of the street. Letters were neither sent nor received. So there was no warning for Pauline whenever her mother reappeared after one of her mysterious periods of work. Joanne was usually exhausted, and slept for the first couple of days. But once she had revived, she changed the atmosphere of the house as no one else could. Her initial tiredness apart, she had none of the family lassitude, rather a large and angry energy that she dispensed on whoever caught her attention. Until her interest waned, this was very likely to be Pauline.

‘Look at the state of her, Mam,’ complained Joanne, sitting at the table with a fag and a handleless mug of something when Pauline came in from school. Joanne was one of the few people to call Nan anything other than Nan. ‘Come and give your mam a kiss then.’

Pauline trotted over and clamped Joanne in a strangling hug. She couldn’t get on her lap because it was occupied by Cheryl, Pauline’s little sister. Cheryl looked confused but happy. She babbled all the time anyway, as though she couldn’t stop herself talking, but her racket today indicated her pleasure at the reunion with their mother.

Pauline hadn’t seen Joanne for six months at least. It had been so long that she had begun to forget about the previous visit, but as soon as she spoke it was as though it had been days ago.

‘She looks like a fucking gyppo,’ Joanne complained to Nan. ‘Can’t you do summat about her hair?’

Nan sighed. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate without being a bloody hairdresser.’

‘What d’you think you look like, eh?’ Joanne shook Pauline lightly. Pauline said nothing. ‘D’you like looking like a fucking gyppo?’ Pauline still said nothing. Joanne delivered a stabbing tickle under her arms, meant for affection. ‘When I go to’t shop I’ll get some shampoo. Eh? Dirty little bastard you are. You’re that bloody ugly.’

Nan grumbled around the kitchen. The gas supply for the cooker had been disconnected long ago, and a Baby Belling ring with a frayed flex was balanced on top of it. Nan opened the oven, which was full of old newspapers.

‘You haven’t seen my tablets, have you, our Pauline?’

‘No, Nan,’ said Pauline dutifully. Nan took tranquillizers for her teeth. She got Pauline to renew the prescription for her down at the chemist whenever she ran out. Pauline took the tablets