Free Mask of the Verdoy by Phil Lecomber Page B

with dried egg, from the wash basin. She pushed her head under the tap and drank greedily, her head spinning a little as she bent down.
    ‘Half-eleven,’ said Slater, removing his jacket and inspecting his eye in the mirror.
    ‘Ooh! Vern, love! How did that happen?’ asked Sally, changing out of her crumpled uniform and pulling on her bathrobe.
    ‘Got jumped in Poland Street—eyeties, three of the bastards. But I showed ’em what for, alright.’
    ‘Looks nasty. That’s gonna leave you with a smashing lamp if you don’t put something on it.’
    ‘What d’you suggest— steak ?’ sneered Slater, sitting on the bed and taking off his collar.
    Sally came and sat next to him, stroking his bruised eye.
    ‘My Nan always used to swear by a bit of dripping with pepper in it. D’you want me to go and see if Mrs Cahill has got any?’
    ‘Get out of it!’ Slater pushed her hand away. ‘I ain’t putting that muck on me boat … ’Ere—you got any of those fags left that you swiped from the club?’
    ‘I think there’s still a couple of packets under there.’
    Slater bent down to look under the bed.
    ‘’Ere, what’s this then?’ His hand came out holding a crumpled letter. ‘Who’s been writing you letters, eh? You got some bloke on the go?’
    ‘Oh, don’t be daft, Vern! That’s from my brother Charlie. I’ve told you about him—don’t you remember? He’s in the Navy. Look here … the stamp’s all the way from Spain. He says he’s coming home on leave soon—it’s been ages since I seen ’im. We used to be so close when we were little. Hang on a mo’—I’ve got his picture here somewhere.’
    ‘Save yerself the bother! I’ve seen plenty of sailors in my time—usually arse-up in the gutter. Mind you, when Jolly Jack Tar does show up, make sure you arrange a little get-together—usually loaded on the first night ashore, ain’t they?’
    Slater dropped the letter back on the floor.
    ‘Christ, you’re a slovenly mott! Look at the state of this place! Didn’t your mother teach you nuffin’ about keeping ’ouse?’
    ‘But it’s difficult, Vern—what with me working nights. I’m always so tired … by the time I’ve had a kip there’s no time for anything else before I have to get ready again for my next shift.’
    ‘And when did you last have a bath, girl? Blimey! You’ll be scaring the punters off.’
    Sally pulled away from him and went to sit at the dressing table. She stared sulkily at her puffy face in the fly-blown mirror and then searched amongst the numerous bottles and pots.
    ‘Well, it’d be a lot easier if we had our own bathroom.’ She sprayed her cleavage with cheap scent from an atomizer. ‘What with having to get Lady Muck down there to fire up the boiler half an hour before you need hot water. I mean, if we had somewhere nicer to live …’ She began to work a dollop of cold cream under her eyes as she spoke. ‘Marlene—you know, who does the cloakroom at the club—well, she was saying that her bloke Terry has—’
    ‘Oh, cheese it! Won’t yer? You’re giving me an ’eadache. I’ve told you—the only way we can move into a better gaff is if you start pulling in a bit more gelt. It’s all very well soaking ’em for a few bob a time with the snide bubbly and with yer tips and all. But it’s time to up yer game, gel. There’s plenty of steamers to be had at the club—Christ! Paladino’s even got those rooms on the top floor fitted out for it. He’s an old pal, so we’d get a good rate.’
    ‘I told you, Vern—I ain’t doing it! I don’t mind dancing with ’em, I can even put up with ’em pawing me a bit—as long as I’ve had a drink. But I ain’t doing that .’
    Slater walked over to Sally and thrust his hand down her front.
    ‘You do it with me, don’t yer?’ he growled in her ear.
    ‘But that’s different, Vern. I’m … I’m your girl, ain’t I?’
    ‘That’s right,’ he said, squeezing her breast and meeting her