Page 66 of A Midlife Gamble

‘We have pinnable bottom pieces,’ a slightly-built man in a logo polo shirt said. Denny, the photographer.

‘Pinnable bottoms?’ Kay said, her lips twitching.

He nodded. ‘Would you like to see?’

‘Absolutely. When will I ever get the chance again?’

Denny disappeared and Kay moved across to the row of curtained cubicles, behind which Marianne, Helen and Caro were still getting changed. ‘Come out!’ she called. ‘We have pinnable bottoms!’

Helen was first. Along with fishnet tights, she wore a purple diamanté-studded bra top, and a purple diamanté-studded thong bottom. ‘My bottom,’ she said as she positioned herself to see, ‘looks like a sack of oranges. You know? The netted stuff in the supermarket.’

‘I know,’ Kay laughed. ‘Why do you think I chose this?’ And she indicated the more modest, fuller cut of her one-piece.

Helen smiled. ‘You know me, I’m a show off.’ But the truth was, she’d been drawn to this costume the moment they had walked into the shop.You’ve never lived,the angel had said to her on the first day. Well, she was trying to, she was really trying, and a thong seemed as good as place as any to start.

Caro pushed her curtain back. She was in a red one-piece, with a red skull cap and red feathers. Her heels making her even taller and even more slender. She looked fabulous.

‘Caro!’ Helen clapped her hands together. ‘You look fantastic!’

‘I feel it,’ Caro smiled. ‘Moulin Rouge, here I come!’

‘Ta dah!’ Now Marianne came out. Shortest of all, she was in a yellow two-piece, a defiant slab of midriff spilling over.

Denny reappeared, holding up a brace of multicoloured feathers. ‘Anyone for pinnable bottoms!’ he grinned.

One armon Kay’s shoulder, Caro towering in her heels behind and Marianne, a drop shorter at the end, Helen could not stop laughing. None of them could. Twenty minutes it had taken them to get into position. Twenty long minutes of uncontrollable hilarity. The kind of non-stop giggling seven-year-olds find so easy. Minutes of outraged shrieks when Marianne, attempting to position the green feathers of Caro’s pinnable bottom, onto her real bottom, had stuck the safety pin in too far. Minutes of having to find a chair, quickly, and sit down and catch her breath, when Kay lost several of her tassels. Lost them?Where could they have gone?Helen had wheezed with laughter. And, one hand stuck up her crotch, it had taken Kay forever to persuade them back down again; an age of a time with Marianne holding the back of Helen’s chair just to stay upright, and Caro walking back and forth, snorting with laughter. Bunions escaping peep-toes and boobs escaping bras, they had, somehow, managed to line themselves up, ready for Denny to take the photo.

'Smile,’ he called, but he hadn’t needed to. Not at all.

And now thatit was over, now that Denny was already at the back of the store, behind his screen, getting ready to print the images, an idea had formed in Helen’s head that would not leave.

Caro had already changed. Behind the curtains, she could see Marianne’s bare feet. Kay’s too.

‘Cover for me,’ she said, as Caro sat to tie her sneakers.

‘Cover for you? Why?’

Kay came out. ‘Are you staying like that?’ she said, because Helen was still in costume.

‘I think,’ Helen started. ‘I am… For the next two minutes anyway.’ Again she turned to Caro. ‘If Denny comes out, say I’m getting changed.’ And grabbing her handbag, she turned and made for the door. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘Helen?’

Caro’s voice fell away. Two strides more and Helen was out of the photography shop and onto the pavement. She was hustling and jostling her way through the crowds, trying not to notice if anyone had noticed. She was on the strip, walking the boulevard, the sun on her face, a grown woman with half her life still left to live… and a backside that revelled in its newly-found freedom of movement, swinging left to right like a ship un-moored. She made her way to a nearby drugstore, walked straight in and bought a can of coke. Then she walked out, peeled the ring back and stood in thong and feathers, sipping the fizzy sweet drink.Now I’m living, she thought as she tipped her head to the cloudless sky. ‘Now,’ she cried.‘Now, I’m living!’

29

My dear Marianne,

The first thing I want to say to you is, sorry. You know now that I have not made a success of my life. In fact it is fair to say I have made quite a mess of it. Sometimes I feel I would like to change. Leave this part of the world and start again. Other times I feel I’m too old. And anyway, the gambling always seems to win. You said it is not a sickness, and I don’t mean to compare it to the suffering of others, but I am sick, Marianne. I am sick at heart and I don’t know how to cure myself. I have lost everything I ever valued, more than once, and I don’t know how to get it back.

The second thing I want you to know is that although I have said things to you over the last few days that have not been true, some were. The time we spent together in Athens has always stayed with me as one of the happiest periods of my life. I want you to know that. You deserve to know it. You never liked your name, but I loved it and whenever the song came on the radio, I can tell you that I would try to find a quiet place to remember you. You were beautiful then, and you are now. We won’t see each other again, not in this life anyway. My dearest hope is that, in time, you will be able to forget the lies of today and remember only how we were yesterday.

Always,

Tony.

‘Phffh!’ Marianne snorted, ‘if he thinks I’m going to waste another minute remembering anything about him, he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was!’

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