Anyone Who Had a Heart (15 page)

She decided that he had to be a member of a rock group, or failing that a disc jockey from one of the pop radio stations. She’d heard they were wacky. Heard they were wild.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked brightly. He wasn’t anything like the middle-aged men who bought for their girlfriends, but she sensed he was just as wealthy and just as demanding.

He turned at the sound of her voice, looked her up and down then straightened and pronounced what he wanted.

‘I think you could. I think I would like to buy a black dress for a girl I intend taking out on a date.’

The resonance of his voice took her by surprise. It wasn’t that it was loud, only commanding; a deep rasp that made her toes curl up.

‘Right,’ she said, determined to make a good impression on this wildly rugged-looking man.

He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were dark
brown
. ‘These look nice,’ he said turning his attention to a rack of simple but well-cut dresses on the rack closest to him.

‘This one in particular,’ he said holding it aloft.

‘That one’s really lovely. Simple but beautifully cut. Do you know your girlfriend’s size?’

His eyes raked her from top to toe, perhaps a little too intimately but she excused him that.

‘About your size. Can you hold it up against you so I can see how it looks?’

‘Of course.’ She did as he said, holding a plain black dress up against her. The dress was truly lovely, fully lined black linen with a square neckline and a scalloped edging around the hem.

Throwing her hip to one side, she pointed her toe, one foot in front of the other.

‘You see,’ she said, smiling and tilting her head to one side like the models she’d seen in the magazines.

‘I think it looks lovely. Do you think you could try it on – just to make sure?’

It wasn’t usual for the staff to be that obliging, but she couldn’t think of any reason for refusing.

‘OK. Just give me a minute.’

The changing cubicle was empty. It was shielded from the shop by a thick curtain that didn’t always close that well.

Marcie didn’t give it any thought. She slid out of her own clothes and into the dress.

When she emerged he folded his arms across his chest and nodded; the peacock feathers in his hat flashed blue and green beneath the spotlights.

‘I love the dress. Love you in it too, darling. You’ve got a good figure. Nice legs too.’

These comments were not quite what she’d expected. She felt her face warming but focused on the sale.

‘And the dress?’

His hooded eyes strayed momentarily to the dress, though not for long. She felt as though he was not just stripping the dress from her body, but the flesh from her bones. It was as though he wanted to see what she was made of – like licking off the chocolate in order to see whether it was an orange cream or a nougat centre.

‘The dress is lovely. You’re right there, darling. No comparison to the lovely thing it’s covering though.’

The blush was threatening again, but she held it off. The shop assistants got ten per cent commission on everything they sold. This dress was expensive – very expensive – and Joanna needed a new winter coat.

‘Do you think it’s right for your date?’ she asked him courteously.

He rubbed at his chin with thumb and forefinger and tilted his head this way and that as he circled her. She attempted to turn round with him, but once
he
was behind her he placed his hands on her shoulders. It was obvious he wanted her to stand still.

‘Oh, I think so.’

What was he waiting for? He liked the dress and it seemed it was the right size for his girlfriend. Marcie found herself getting nervous.

‘Would you like me to wrap it up for you?’

He opened his mouth to answer when the shop door opened and someone else entered. She glimpsed another young man, though this one was not so dramatically dressed. Her first impression was of someone ordinary and slightly scruffy in Levis and brown suede jacket. He looked vaguely familiar, but her glance didn’t linger.

Her customer was reaching for a pair of white boots – Marcie’s favourite items. She’d once had a cheap pair herself but they’d worn out ages ago. These were far more expensive, made in France and what was more, they looked it.

‘I think these to go with it,’ he said placing the boots against the dress. ‘What size are you?’

‘Five.’

‘Try them on.’

Marcie’s blonde hair swung forwards hiding her face as she sat down and pulled them on. She became aware that the second young man had joined the one with the peacock feathers in his hat.

‘Will you stop messing around here? We’ve got
things
to do.’ The young man who had only just entered sounded surly and impatient.

The wearer of the black hat with peacock feathers kept his eyes firmly on Marcie. ‘Stay cool. I’m not messing about. I think I’m in love.’

The second young man seemed a little familiar but she couldn’t quite place him. She saw him toss his head. ‘Christ! That’s the fourth this week.’

The man with the feathers in his hat prevented her from studying the newcomer.

‘I hope I haven’t been too much bother, darling, you know, having you try stuff on and all that.’

‘Not at all,’ she said. She blushed. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. ‘You’ve made my day. We never see men who dress as fashionably as women. I think you’re what they used to call a dandy.’

‘Yeah,’ grumbled the new arrival. ‘Straight out of a bloody comic strip.’

‘Excuse my mate,’ said the first man. ‘He’s got a complex.’

‘Oh!’ Marcie didn’t care about their banter. She had Joanna’s new coat to consider.

The man with the feathers in his hat flapped a hand as though he were batting a ball.

‘I think the boots and the dress go well together. Wrap them up will you?’

She went back into the cubicle and changed back into her own clothes. In her head she was counting
how
much commission she’d made – certainly enough to buy Joanna a new winter coat and perhaps even new shoes.

‘That’s seventy-five pounds altogether,’ she told him feeling very happy with herself.

‘That’s fine.’ He nodded but did not attempt to pay her.

She decided that was OK. She would wrap the merchandise and then he would pay her.

‘Great,’ he said when she tried to hand him the large carrier bag containing the dress and the box containing the boots.

‘Right. That’s seventy-five pounds,’ she restated.

‘Great.’

He made no move to give her any money. She was beginning to get nervous.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know it’s a lot of money, but I’m sure your date will be really pleased with what you’ve bought her.’

‘Would you be?’

His tone and the look in his eyes took her off guard. While wearing the dress and boots she’d felt envious of the girl they were being bought for.

‘If I was her, I would be pleased,’ she responded.

‘Then take them. They’re yours, but on one condition.’

She was young and new to the city, but she guessed where this was going even before he propositioned her.

‘Go on,’ she said, apprehensive at what he was going to suggest.

‘You can be my date. Seven thirty. I’ll pick you up.’

‘For Christ’s sake! We have to go. The old man will be waiting for us.’

In the heat of the moment she’d almost forgotten the other young man. He’d been pacing up and down between the rails with a sour look on his face.

Marcie held out her hand.

‘The money,’ she said, in response to his quizzical grin.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t need to pay.’

An awkward customer! This was certainly something Marcie did not need. She fervently wished for Carol to come back from the chemist’s and April to come back from the cloakroom.

‘If you don’t pay I’ll call the police,’ she said, jutting her chin out and holding her head slightly to one side. ‘I mean it,’ she added.

He rested his elbows on the countertop and looked at her.

‘I do not believe that a sweet little girl like you would have me arrested.’

‘Well, I will,’ she retorted, unable now to stop her face from reddening.

‘For Christ’s sake! Put the girl out of her misery.
She
just bloody works here.’ The other young man sounded impatient.

‘That’s right. I just work here,’ she said in a very precise manner. ‘No money. No goods.’ She swung the carrier bag behind her back, holding it there with one hand while holding out the other hand for payment.

The customer used two fingers to jab the rim of his hat sending it back a little on his head. A mischievous smile played around an expressive mouth that promised to be velvet against bare flesh. She found herself wondering how often those lips kissed and how many girls they’d kissed. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. Girls followed pop groups in droves. And were willing to give up more than kisses she reminded herself. She blushed at the thought of them kissing her own lips.

‘I’m not paying,’ he said in the same precise manner she’d used, though she detected a twinkle in his eyes. He was making fun of her. The illusion of somebody different had turned sour. She wasn’t having anyone making fun of her.

She shrugged. ‘Fine. I’ll put these things back into stock.’

‘There’s no need.’

The door jangled open just as she began carrying out her threat. April was back from having a fag and popping a pill.

Marcie stated her case. ‘This gentleman doesn’t want to pay. He’s being a nuisance. I think we should call for the police.’

At first she didn’t cotton on to the expression on April’s face – until she blurted, ‘Roberto! Darling! Fab to see you! Love the gear! Especially the feathers!’

After tweaking the feathers, she ran her hands down the front of his plum-coloured velvet jacket. She was all over him.

‘Roberto! Darling, this jacket is F.A.B. Did you get it at Sergeant Pepper’s?’

Marcie didn’t hear his reply. Face red with embarrassment she was too busy looking from one young man to the other, trying to work out exactly what was going on here. She’d certainly seen the second young man before, though not the first, except …

She recalled Gabriella’s collection of silver-framed photographs and instantly knew.

‘The young lady doesn’t understand,’ said Roberto. ‘She doesn’t know who I am and that it’s compulsory that she comes out on a date with me. I chose the clothes for her. I think she’ll look great in them. Don’t you?’

‘If Marcie doesn’t want to go with you, I will,’ said April.

‘Sorry, darling.’ Roberto tickled her chin as though she were a silly child. ‘Well, Marcie
is
going out with me tonight.’

He was smiling at her in a self-assured way that was both annoying and alluring.

‘I’ve heard all about you, Marcie Brooks. I heard you were a right little corker. Your father told me so. We can put the date on hold. I know you can’t make it tonight because your old man’s taking you out. The truth is, my little sparrow, that my mother said you needed some decent clothes to go out in. She suggested I chose for you. My mother knows I have very good taste.’

Marcie’s jaw dropped. She eyed the carrier bag and the box she’d placed within it. The string handles of the carrier bit into her fingers. ‘These are for me?’

‘Your father would want you to look fab to the power of four.’

She decided his terminology matched his outfit; it was way out, modern and meant to impress.

‘You are Nicholas Roberto Camilleri?’ She felt embarrassed that she sounded so awestruck, but she couldn’t help it.

He nodded. ‘Yep!’

He had a straight nose, high cheekbones and an arrogant set to his chin. This was a man who was sure of himself, sure of his allure and not likely to take no for an answer.

‘We’re all off out tonight. Call it the firm’s party,’ Roberto said to her. ‘So in a way it is a date; except
that
we’ll all be there along with your old man. Great stuff, huh?’

He smelled good, a subtle mixture of fresh maleness, expensive aftershave and a hint of the outside freshening the inside.

‘Roberto! Time we were off.’

The guy in the brown suede coat was leaning on a clothes rail and looking totally disinterested.

The young man in glasses
.

There was no time to say anything to the young man she’d seen in Victor Camilleri’s apartment.

Roberto tilted her chin slightly and kissed her lips.

‘
Ciao
!’ he said on his way out and waved. The young man named Michael never said a word.

Marcie stood staring long after the door was closed. It was as though they’d been visited by a whirlwind that had rushed through, done its damage and passed on to pastures new.

‘Wow,’ said April. Her blue eyes were wide with outright envy. ‘Wow! Aren’t you the lucky one! The Camilleris footing the bill for new togs. And Roberto Camilleri doing the choosing. Wow! If that doesn’t beat it all!’

Her eyes reflected Marcie’s own amazement.

‘That’s three wows,’ said Marcie, determined to play it down, opening the bag and peering in. Should she accept the gifts or not?

‘You’re not going to refuse a date with him, are you?’

‘You heard him. It’s a family thing. My father invited me.’

‘That’s tonight. What about tomorrow night?’

‘Is he in a pop group?’

April shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’

‘But he does work for a living – sorry – no need to answer that. He obviously must if that plum-coloured jacket is anything to go by.’

April popped a sliver of Wrigley’s chewing gum into her mouth. ‘He works for his father of course,’ she explained as she started to chew. ‘The Camilleris all stick together. It’s a family business. Remember?’

The shop had gone quiet. The two girls went behind the counter where the till was and the tube of Smarties that really were Smarties – a little sugarcoated chocolate to keep up their energy. Marcie took the carrier bag behind the counter, placing it down next to her leg. She couldn’t help staring at it. These were expensive clothes, the most expensive she’d ever owned.