Llewellyn took a steadying breath as the lift bumped to a halt at the top floor of the hotel. She smoothed the black silk over her hips and adjusted her expression as the heavy doors slid back. She was greeted by her own reflection in a large gilt mirror across the hall but did not allow herself to linger. Instead, her eyes slid away to stare at the red patterned carpet at her feet and her clear lacquered toenails in their elegant sandals. She looked her best. If it wasn’t good enough now, there was nothing she could do.
She turned left. In front of her were the doors to the club and a queue of men and women waiting to be let in. She was pleased to see her research hadn’t been wasted. Her elegant black silk matched those of the women around her and the slim heeled shoes with the narrow straps flattered her feet as well as any of them. The shoes she had bought on credit. The dress she had lifted from David Jones.
At the door a security guard in a designer suit held out his hand.
“Membership please.”
She had prepared for this and slid the card easily from her purse. She showed it to him deftly between her fore and middle fingers as she had seen some of the men do. He took it from her, checked it, and handed it back.
“Next please.”
She was in.
Don’t stand around. Walk like you’ve been here before.
The bar was the logical place to go so she headed for it, weaving her way swiftly between the perfumed bodies.
Slow down, you’ll look out of place.
She slackened her pace and joined the crush at the marble top. The queue gave her a chance to look around and plan her next move. If this had been a regular pub she would have hung about the bar but here, nobody stood. They all seemed to gravitate to tall tables with stools against the glass wall that looked out over the city and the harbour. The lights were deliberately dim so that you could see not just the moving coloured lights of the traffic in the streets but also the brilliant full moon reflected in the rumpled waters near the quay. It was a beautiful sight.
Like Fairyland. And us kings of the castle.
The darkness hid the city’s flaws and the bright lights accentuated its curves. The Bridge rose majestically to the left. The working grey steel was covered in night silk and jewelled with light. The perfection of its arch stood out against the dark sky. The Opera House pointed out over the harbour, its shells seeming to reach forward.
In perpetual hope of something better, something more.
Somebody jostled her roughly and she found herself standing at the bar, the marble top digging into her ribs. For a moment she was flustered.
Get it together.
What was it she had planned to order? Not a bourbon and coke, that was for sure.
”Corona please,” she stammered.
Woeful, absolutely woeful. You don’t even like beer.
The barman had the bottle in his left hand before the words were out of her mouth. He tossed it deftly to his right hand, cracked the top and slid it across the counter with the lemon in the neck before she had fumbled with the zipper of her purse.
“
She managed to yank a ten dollar note out but struggled to find the change. In desperation she turned the purse upside down and spilled the contents onto the marble. Coins skittered everywhere. People turned to look. The barman, who had been drumming his fingers impatiently on the taps scooped up the coins he needed and turned away. He appeared to say something to his colleague. They both laughed.
You just don’t belong here do you.
Llewellyn felt her face grow hot as she set about gathering up the spilt coins. She managed to get all of them off the bar but had to leave what had fallen on the floor. The people were packed too tight here and she was afraid to crouch down in case they trampled her. When she looked back to where she had left her drink, it was gone. And then the crowd squeezed her out, ejected her from their mass, so that she found herself standing alone in an empty space with her back to them and the tears starting to prickle her eyes.
”Can I buy you another drink?”
She almost jumped out of her skin. In slow motion she turned towards the voice, swallowing her tears with an effort. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Stop staring, you idiot, say something.
“Um, uh, yes … yes please. That would be great.”
Her rescuer smiled. “What would you like?”
A second chance.
“Vodka and lime … thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She turned to watch him as he approached the bar. There was no waiting around for this man. The bodies seemed to part before him and as he came up to the marble top he raised a hand and caught the barman’s eye. Instantly the man was in front of him leaning close to catch exactly what was said. Then he was off again, moving swiftly, clinking glasses, dumping a straw in one but not the other. The change was handed back on a little silver tray.
So that’s how it’s done.
He was back at her side in a moment. “Shall we?”
She smiled and nodded, taking the offered drink from his hand. They moved off through the crowd together.
The Queen with her Prince Charming.
Her benefactor was a head taller than herself and wearing the obligatory uniform of silk shirt, dark trousers, and black leather shoes. A gold watch peeped from the cuff of his shimmering burgundy sleeve with the word JAG stamped on the band and a small gold cross could just be seen at his open collar, along with some curling dark hair. The hair on his head was smooth and fine and lay with natural ease about his temples. It was dark and cut longish.
But not too long.
His ears were small and neat and sat close to this head, unadorned.
“Will this do?” He looked down at her and Llewellyn felt her heart stumble in her chest. His eyes were the purest pale blue – why hadn’t she noticed them before? – and framed by dark lashes. He raised his perfectly shaped brows as he asked the question. She nodded and pretended to sip her drink, dropping her eyes so that they travelled over his narrow hips in their tailored pin-stripe to the cuffs of his trousers that sat just exactly on his shoes above the floor.
She lid onto a stool with her eyes still down, clunking her drink awkwardly onto the table and turning to look out at the city. She felt him sit down opposite her and take up a coaster. He tapped it lightly on the table and when she looked at him he handed it to her.
“Oh,” she said, the blush rising up her face again. She hastily lifted the glass, spilling some of the contents, and put the coaster under it, then wiped the water away with her palm. Her hand, now wet, had no easy place to rest and she moved uncomfortably in her seat while he stared out at the view, until she managed to dry it surreptitiously on the cushion. Then she placed her hands in her lap and looked at him expectantly.
“So what’s your name?”
He turned to gaze at her as if he had forgotten she was there. “Adrian,” he said finally.
“Mine’s Llewellyn.”
He nodded absently. “You’ve never been here before have you?”
“Um, no.” She looked down at her hands and began clasping and unclasping her fingers. She could feel her heart in her chest.
“When did you purchase your membership?”
“My what? … Oh, my membership. Um, well, a couple of weeks ago. I got it a couple of weeks ago …” She looked up at him and nodded, and looked down again.
“Yes,” he said and there was a gentleness in his voice that caused her to look up. “It helps if you know someone you can link up with when you get here. It can be pretty hard to break in actually. Some of these groups are tight; been together through school and uni. Have family connections too. I guess you didn’t realise that when you joined.”
“No.”
“Who recommended you anyway? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Um, a friend … from school. She, uh, doesn’t come here any more. But she used to. She just moved away. Recently.”
“Oh right. What was her name?”
“Julie. Julie Knight.”
“Mm. Don’t know her.” He paused. “I know most people who come here, by name anyway. My father owns this club. I don’t come here very often myself. Not my scene really, but Dad likes me to keep in touch, be seen with the right people.” He rolled his eyes. “It helps if one of us turns up every now and again and makes sure the tone isn’t declining. Dad feels out of place here. Too old. So he sends me. I’m supposed to blend in and mingle etcetera and make sure the patrons are happy. Discretely of course.” He smiled. “So are you a happy patron?”
Llewellyn looked up, shrugged, and looked down. “Pretty happy. Happier now you’re here.” She looked at him from under her lashes and felt herself blush again.
I can’t believe you just said that.
“Good.”
She could feel his eyes studying her so she turned awkwardly in her chair to look out the window, hoping her colour was normal again. “The harbour looks pretty tonight,” she said.
“Yes. It does. That’s why we opened a club up here.”
“Of course.”
Adrian looked at his watch. “Oh well, Llewellyn. It’s been nice talking to you.”
She looked up at him as he rose from his stool. His drink stood untouched on its coaster.
“Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Thank you,” she said “and thanks for the drink.”
He was already backing away, his eyes wandering towards the door.
“I might see you again?” She raised her voice, as the crowd began to wash around him.
He glanced back briefly. “You might,” he said, and was drawn into them and away.
Llewellyn sat for a while staring out at the lights passing back and forth across the Bridge.
What now?
Through the murkiness of defeat an inkling of triumph was stirring in the pit of her stomach. She had done it. She had come here and met her beautiful man. She had done it. And she would be back, every night until she saw him again. He didn’t know how happy he was going to be.
The Queen would claim her Prince Charming.
*****
Llewellyn sat on the now familiar stool and faced the window as normal. The city looked its usual beautiful best with its daylight face hidden behind the evening veil. A sliver of moon cut the night sky just behind Blinky Bill and the car lights moved slowly below. The harbour was wind-roughened tonight, showing little white caps in the darkest patches. She could see a ferry rising and falling with more urgency than normal as it pushed through the swell past the Opera House, a determined little tug boat upon a great sea.
Would it succeed? So much effort required.
It struggled along, pitching and rolling, but still gleaming with hope. Finally it disappeared from view.
“Hello stranger.”
Llewellyn froze, adjusted her face in the pale reflection of the window, and turned around. A young man with streaked blonde hair was standing at her table. Their eyes met, the welcome in his faded into embarrassment. The hope went out of hers.
“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” He turned and left as abruptly as if she had insulted him. Llewellyn watched him go.
So many nights seemed to have passed since she had met Adrian. A familiar track had formed and she followed it doggedly every evening. The security guard in the designer suit was beginning to recognise her and gave a curt nod as she showed him her membership. His eyes barely looked at the card; only at her face and clothes. He showed no emotion, no welcome, but the sameness of his greeting comforted her.
Membership please. Next please.
Once through the door she would head straight for the bar, standing in the queue so that she would end up just to the right of the first set of taps. She never let her attention waver and always carried the exact change in her hand; always ordered the same thing – vodka and lime.
Eleven seventy.
Then she would retrace her steps, their steps, to the same table by the window. Sometimes it was already taken so she had to go elsewhere. Then she knew she wouldn’t see him and didn’t stay very long; only scanning the crowd for his face and finishing her drink, looking out at the city. On those nights she would let the tears escape as the lift carried her downwards to the street. It was an effort to try again the next day. But tonight she had their spot and hope leapt in the dim light like the white caps leapt under the Bridge.
“Adrian, hello!”
Llewellyn whirled around on her chair, lost her balance and had to steady herself by grabbing the table. The legs of her stool landed on the carpet with a dull thump. Two people standing nearby turned to look at her. It was Adrian and another woman. Llewellyn took a step towards them, her eyes on Adrian’s. He looked at her, at the tall blonde woman in the indigo dress, and back to her.
“Llewellyn,” he said with a faint smile. “This is Karen. Karen, this is Llewellyn.”
Karen held out her hand, an amused expression on her face. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, and her eyes travelled coolly from the top of Llewellyn’s head, over her body to the carpet and back to her eyes. They shook hands. “Are you here alone?” Her voice was smooth and low.
Like a cat’s purr.
“Just tonight.” She felt Adrian’s eyes upon her but did not acknowledge his stare. Her pulse beat in her ears.
“Well then, why don’t you join us for a drink?”
“Thank you,” she heard herself say “I will.”
Karen smiled and glanced at Adrian. He looked back at her, meaningfully. “My shout,” she said. “What’ll it be?”
“Vodka and lime.”
“Soda water.”
Karen laughed, then swayed away through the crowd.
“So you’re here on your own again.” Adrian sat down opposite her and leaned back a little, folding his arms across his chest. She put her hands in her lap and looked down. Her tongue was stuck again.
Why couldn’t she be who she wanted to be?
“Just tonight. I, um, met some people a few weeks ago, but they’re not always here.”
“Oh, right.” He turned his head to stare out the window.
“So, um, where do you know Karen from?”
“Karen? From school. We went through school together. We’re old friends. Aren’t we?” The last question he addressed to Karen as she returned, placing the drinks on their silver tray on the table.
“Yes. We go back a long way.” That smile again.
Cat with the cream.
“Where did you go to school Llewellyn?” she asked.
“Me? Oh, um, PLC. Pymble Ladies’ College.”
“Lucky you. And what do you do now?”
“Oh, um, you know. I’m between jobs at the moment.”
“Interesting.” She shot a glance at Adrian. “So how did you two meet?”
“Um, well.”
Adrian’s eyes were upon her again. She took a deep breath. “I met Llewellyn two weeks ago. Here,” he said abruptly.
“How romantic,” Karen crooned.
“Yes.” He paused. “Well ladies. It’s been pleasant but I’m afraid I must be leaving.”
He rose and swept them both a glance. Llewellyn struggled quickly to her feet, reaching for her purse and nearly upsetting her glass on the table.
“I’ll walk with you,” she gasped but Adrian was already turning away.
“You haven’t finished your drink,” Karen said. She moved slightly in her chair so that Llewellyn couldn’t get past without pushing her. “Don’t waste it.”
Llewellyn looked at her. The other woman was almost her height, even though she was sitting down. “I don’t want it,” she said. Her chest began to heave and she moved forward, pushing the air with her hands as if moving imaginary obstacles.
“That’s a shame.”
Karen stood up, letting her past, and Llewellyn stumbled forward, clutching her purse against her stomach. Adrian had disappeared from view.
She stood still. Her heart was pounding in her chest like an engine revving out of control and a sob or a scream threatened to overcome her in the deafening silence.
What did it matter now. The castle was crumbling.
She turned towards the tall woman with the feline smile. “You,” she hissed, “you ruined it for me. On purpose. You bitch. You jealous bitch. You …”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The voice was still smooth and even. She raised an elegant hand. “Security,” she called calmly, “this woman is drunk.”
“Drunk! Bullshit! I’m not drunk.” Llewellyn was screaming now, at last her voice was free. “Whore … how dare you … on purpose … my life … my dreams … you bitch …”
Hands like two steel bands fastened onto her upper arms and she was turned and propelled towards the exit as if she was on wheels. Now the crowd parted before her. All eyes turned to her. Pity, disgust, annoyance. She lashed out at them with her feet but they were impervious, distant, amused.
Executions always pleased the crowds.
Outside, in front of the large gilt mirror the security guard in the designer suit set her down, but did not let her go.
“Now,” he said. His voice was heavy and his eyes held hers. She didn’t dare struggled or look away. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” she said feebly.
“Membership please.” He released one of her arms and held out his hand. With shaking fingers Llewellyn managed to unzip her purse and take out the neat plastic card. She hesitated, gazing at it. He reached forward and drew it from her fingers. “Thank you.”
“Please …” she murmured, but he turned her firmly towards the elevator and stood her in front of it, one hand still holding her arm. He pressed the button and watched the numbers as they climbed. Llewellyn stared at the red patterned carpet at her feet and her clear lacquered toenails in their elegant sandals. One of the straps was broken and the varnish was chipping off her nails. The elevator dinged. The heavy doors slid back. Llewellyn was pushed gently over the threshold. She turned and saw herself in the gilt mirror, a frail girl in a cheap silk dress and heels too high for her. Her hair had frizzed and her make-up had become a grey stain on her cheeks. Slowly the doors rumbled shut and she descended to the street for the last time.
