Page 16 of Diary of Darkness

“Yes.”

“You’ve never done anything with a boy?”

“No.”

“Not even a kiss?”

“No, not even a kiss, nothing,” I say. “It’s just never happened for me.”

“Oh, come on. There must have been some near misses.”

“No, I’m telling you, I haven’t done anything. My mother has been sick for a long time, so I had to grow up fast. I had so much on my plate, taking care of the house, looking after my little brother, I just never really had the time for boys. Plus, I just never found anyone I liked enough to want to sleep with.”

“All right, you’ve convinced me. Goodness gracious. A virgin in this business is something of a rarity these days…” Jane scratches the side of her mouth. “Okay, look, I’ll be frank with you. What you’re asking for is unheard of. £50,000 is an extraordinary sum of money to pay for one night, even for our well-heeled clientele, and far, far higher than what my regular girls command, so I can’t make any promises.” She pauses and taps her fingers on the table. “Having said that, you, my girl, are stunning, so there’s no question your offer will attract a considerable amount of interest. Without a doubt, you are drop-dead gorgeous—a little rough around the edges, perhaps, but nothing we couldn’t fix with the right clothes. With my help, I could easily make you the Belle of the Ball.”

My heart starts to sing. “Um, wow. Thank you for the compliment…”

“There’s no need to be coy, Jessica. You’re beautiful and I think you know it. You have the face of an angel. Your body is breath-taking. But I also like your honesty, your sweet and unassuming air, and I think many of our clients will too. A word of advice. Never change your personality. It’s one of the things that adds to your charm and places you head-and-shoulders above the rest.”

“Thanks, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing at all. As the adage goes, better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

I laugh nervously. I’m not quite sure what to make of that comment.

“All right,” Jane says, pulling out a leather-bound diary. “Leave this with me. Right up front, I’ll tell you that I take a twenty-per-cent cut of everything you earn, okay?” I nod silently. She continues: “So listen, I have a few lines of inquiry I’d like to explore. Give me two days and I’ll call you as soon as I have an update. By the way, can I have your telephone number for my records?”

“No, wait! I’m sorry, but you can’t call my house phone. I don’t want my mother to know about any of this. If it’s okay, can I call you instead? Could we arrange a day and time and I’ll make contact with you?”

Her mouth quirks upwards. “Of course, whatever works for you, I’m happy to accommodate. Call me at six pm on Wednesday evening and we’ll take it from there.”

“Brilliant!” Beaming, I get to my feet in preparation to leave.

“Hold it.” Jane opens the desk drawer and produces a Polaroid camera. “Are you okay for me to take some pictures of you? You didn’t bring a portfolio, and in this business, photos are so important. It will help speed things up if I’ve got something to show our clients.”

“Sure! You can take some pictures, no problem.”

Briskly, she snaps a couple of headshots, and then finally, we shake hands and say our goodbyes. As I walk to the door, Jane puts her hand on my shoulder, and I see a subtle softness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother, by the way. Sorry to hear she’s sick. Your motive for wanting this money is truly commendable and I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to find a suitable match.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” I murmur, touched by her sudden show of warmth. Perhaps she’s not such an Ice Queen after all. With a final wave, I leave the building and head for the bus stop and home. It starts to rain, and I curse myself for forgetting my umbrella.

I spend the next two days on pins and needles, counting down the hours until I can make contact with Jane again to find out my fate. I’ve never felt so nervous about anything in my life, and I keep playing out different scenarios in my head over and over. First off, I wonder if there will be any takers. Have I asked for too much money? Will this all be a huge waste of time and come to a big fat nothing?

Then, assuming she does find someone, I wonder what kind of person he will be. Will he be kind and patient, or will he be a plonker? What will he look like? Will I find him remotely attractive, or will he be physically repellent?

What age will he be? Will he be someone much older, someone with lots of sexual experience or will he be a virginal, trainspotting, anorak-wearing weirdo? Will he be married? Single? Will he have children? What sort of job would he do? A banker? A film producer? A wealthy sheikh? A member of the British aristocracy? My mind boggles with the possibilities and by the time Wednesday comes, my brain is completely fried.

“Just popping to the shops for a carton of orange juice,” I call to Cynthia as I sneak out the front door. “Do you need anything?”

“Ooh, could you pick me up some bananas? Freddie says he’d like bananas and custard for pudding tonight.”

“Sure, no problem. I won’t be long. See you guys soon.”

It’s approaching ten to six as I walk through the gathering shadows towards a phone booth located around the corner from my estate. As I draw near, I’m irritated to find it’s already in use and the girl inside doesn’t show any signs of hanging up anytime soon. Pacing up and down outside, I try to remain calm, glancing at my watch every so often as the seconds tick by.Come on, come on, I haven’t got all day…

At last, the girl puts down the receiver and vacates at one minute to six.

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