The Bricks That Built the Houses Read Online Free PDF Page B

smoother or more confident or male she might have the nerve to lean in and kiss this girl. But as it is she rubs her face with a clumsy hand and stretches her legs out and crosses them at the ankles. She never knows if girls are coming on to her or just being friendly. She never knows. She always feels creepy for assuming. She sweeps the patio again forLeon or for a client wandering over, but seeing no one she recognises, she shifts on the bench and looks into Becky’s face for as long as she can without going blind. Which is about a quarter of a second.
    ‘I have a plan,’ she says, ‘that I’m working towards.’
    Becky waits for more.
    ‘Go on then,’ Becky urges, waving her cigarette in the air like a conductor with her baton.
    ‘Go on then, what?’ Harry asks, laughing.
    Becky rolls her eyes, looks away. ‘You’re no fun.’
    ‘What’s your name?’ Harry asks her.
    ‘Becky.’
    ‘Becky.’ Harry repeats it to herself. Logging it. Someone leans over and pushes the heater switch. They lean forwards together, ducking the arm that leans in, then backwards again. ‘What about you? How long you been dancing?’
    ‘Same, all my life.’
    Harry finishes her cigarette, stubs it out carefully, places it on the floor, neatly, next to the leg of the bench. Becky flicks hers towards the corner of the patio; the little bulb blooms as it soars through the air. They sit in silence, listening to the party roaring.
    ‘So, is it always parties like this?’
    Harry sways on the bench, knocked by the confidence of this woman.
    ‘I shouldn’t even be talking to you,’ she says quietly, looking away. ‘I don’t know you, do I? You could be CID. Orfucking . . . you could be working for anyone.’ Harry holds her knees. Eyes darting.
    ‘Yeah, but I’m not though,’ Becky says. ‘I’m obviously not.’ Harry watches her closely. ‘It’s alright. Keep your hair on. You don’t have to tell me anything. I was just trying to make conversation. I’ll keep it to myself next time.’ Becky looks away, at the people standing round. Her hair, almost black, has the remnants of a dyed redness running through it and when she moves, Harry sees the redness and is drawn towards it. She leans back, crosses her legs.
    ‘Tell you what.’ Harry’s heart is rolling up its sleeves.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’ She pauses, holds the moment, watches strands of Becky’s hair ripple in the wind. ‘But you have to tell me something first.’
    ‘Like what?’ Becky leans back on to her hands.
    ‘Don’t know. Something you don’t tell people?’
    ‘Fine,’ she says simply.
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Why not?’ She flicks her hair and glances around, keeps her eyes elsewhere as she talks. ‘The dancing don’t pay so well. It’s not regular income and it’s crazy hours. So . . .’ She drinks. Harry watches her throat pulse as she swallows. ‘I work as a masseuse.’ The word lasts a long time in Becky’s mouth. ‘You know, a
masseuse
.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s the same deal as your job really, no one knows. Except I don’t have a massive chip on my shoulder about it like you seem to.’
    It hits Harry like a thrown brick. Knocks the wind out of her for a moment and she hiccups as she draws smoke in. She plays it cool. ‘No one knows?’
    ‘Nope. Well, a couple people know, obviously. But mainly I keep it to myself. Less hassle that way.’ Harry stares at her, eyebrows raised; Becky looks back, bold and unflinching. ‘So don’t worry. I can keep a secret.’ Harry’s blood starts pumping the other way round her body. ‘Now you,’ Becky says gently.
    Harry looks up for Leon, sees no one, checks around her for the others on the patio and begins to speak softly, which pulls Becky closer towards her.
    ‘Well. OK,’ she says. ‘OK.’ She psychs herself up for it. ‘So. I go round offices uptown, all, like . . . pre-arranged.’ She measures her words as she speaks, her voice is low, slow and gradual. A