Stolen (9 page)

‘So if you remember being a hairdresser, can you tell me how you met those two nice friends of yours?’ Janice asked.

Lotte didn’t want to tell anyone about her miserable childhood, or even the hardships she’d had working at the Grand. But she didn’t mind one bit telling Janice about being taken on by Kutz, Brighton’s most prestigious hairdresser.

‘It was a really smart salon,’ she said with a smile. ‘Two floors with everything in shiny black, white and chrome. I expect it’s still the same now. But it was pretty terrifying to me then; all the staff were very trendy and I’d been cloistered away in a hotel hairdressing salon with the blue rinse brigade. It didn’t help either that I’d just moved into a flat with three other girls who were horrible to me,’ she said with a frown.

‘Girlie bitchy stuff?’ Janice asked.

‘Worse than that, they were evil,’ Lotte said. ‘They used to make me wait to cook my tea until they’d eaten theirs, but they’d leave all the washing up and the whole kitchen would be a mess. They’d use all the hot bath water, never took the rubbish down to the dustbins, I had to do that too. I didn’t have any money for nice clothes and they made snide comments about me all the time.’

‘And this on top of a new job?’ Janice said with sympathy.

Lotte grimaced. ‘I felt a freak there too. My one black skirt was well old-fashioned and my white shirt was dingy with age, I can’t tell you how inferior I felt. It was horrible.’

‘So what changed that?’

‘Well, I got home one day to find Mandy and Laura going through my clothes and shrieking with laughter,’ Lotte said.

She could visualize everything. The long, narrow passageway had a threadbare red carpet runner, and she was half-way along it, between the sitting room and the bedrooms, when she heard Mandy talking in their room.

‘Look at this awful skirt!’ she said, and Lotte froze, knowing Mandy was showing one or other of the girls the contents of her wardrobe.

‘It’s like something a missionary would wear,’ Laura chortled. ‘And what about this top? Granny or what!’

Lotte wished the floor would open and swallow her up, yet she crept closer and peeped at Mandy and Laura through the crack in the door. They were both glossy, confident girls from middle-class homes who had gone to Sussex University, then decided to stay in the town. Mandy was in advertising, Laura in marketing, and both thought themselves fashion experts.

The skirt in question was dark grey flannel, a mid-calf-length one from the market. Lotte had seen a model wearing one just like it in a fashion magazine and thought it looked great, but she supposed without the right boots and jacket to go with it, perhaps it did look frumpy. As for the checked top, she’d bought it because it was cheap, and soon acknowledged that it was a mistake. She knew she wasn’t very good at putting clothes together, but that was because she’d had no practice. When she worked at the hotel she always wore an overall.

‘Did you have a go at them?’ Janice asked.

‘No, I was too scared of them, I suppose. I cried myself to sleep that night, and I guess I was still blotchy-faced the next morning because Simon asked me what was wrong.’

‘And you told him?’

‘I burst into tears again and gave him the whole nine yards. He was so kind, he hugged me and said I was to come home with him that night and that he’d cook me dinner and we’d talk it all through.’

Lotte doubted she could explain adequately to anyone how good that night with Simon was. The flat he shared with Adam was just a few hundred yards from the salon, tucked away down a little lane. Lotte thought it was marvellous, right from the first glimpse of the spiral staircase that led to his front door. Adam was a windowdresser but aspired to be an interior designer, and it showed, for the lounge had one bright yellow wall with two large blue sofas against it, and in one corner stood a lamp that was a huge white fibreglass bulldog, complete with spiked collar. She’d never seen anything like it before.

Simon made spaghetti bolognese and talked to her like a big brother.

‘You don’t believe you’re pretty, do you?’ he began. ‘You’ve also got a perfect figure, and I bet you don’t know that either? But do you want to know why I think people are mean to you?’

Lotte nodded.

‘It’s because you’ve got a submissive way of creeping around with your head down. It invites bullies to have a pop at you; even perfectly nice people are likely to put on you.’

Lotte was astonished and stared at him open-mouthed.

‘You’ve got to be more assertive, stand up straight, look at people directly and don’t take any shit from them,’ he insisted, wiggling a finger at her. ‘Also, you don’t wear makeup, your clothes are all too big for you and look like they came from a charity shop, so we’ve got to fix that. On the plus side you are really sweet to your clients and a great hairdresser, but they want to see a bit of glamour and personality too. We are in the beauty business and we should look the part.’

He said she needed a makeover, and that meant going shopping for new clothes, a more up-to-date hairstyle, and she’d got to learn about makeup.

Strangely, Lotte didn’t feel embarrassed by Simon’s criticism. He had such a gentle way of making quite incisive observations that she felt cared for rather than insulted.

Adam came in then. He was far more conventional than Simon, with neatly cut dark hair and smart, casual clothes. Lotte would never have guessed he was gay for he looked hunky and muscular, and he had a very deep voice. But he was very welcoming too, and looked sympathetic when Simon explained how things had been for her.

‘Simon said you looked scared stiff on your first day at the salon,’ he admitted. ‘He wanted to bring you home right away, he’s such a mother hen. But I said he might scare you even more and he must wait.’

Over the meal and a couple of bottles of wine, both Simon and Adam asked her questions about her past. But there was also a great deal of laughter and Lotte felt relaxed and happy in their company.

She wasn’t used to drinking and she got a bit tiddly, so Simon said she’d better stay the night in their spare room. The last thing she remembered thinking before she fell asleep was how funny it was that she’d never admitted anything about herself or her family to anyone before, yet she’d told these two men almost everything.

What Lotte hadn’t expected was that Simon would involve everyone in the salon with her makeover. Or that they’d all be so enthusiastic about it. They cut her hair in layers, added two other lighter shades of blonde, plucked her eyebrows, and two of the top stylists instructed her on makeup.

Simon and Jenny, one of the junior stylists, were her shopping advisers, and they took her to shops she’d never even looked in before. They were brutal, not allowing her the loose, drab-coloured clothes she kept straying towards, but forced her into snug-fitting, bright colours, and often what she thought were plain weird clothes.

‘Wake up and smell the coffee!’ Simon exclaimed when she asked if the clothes weren’t a bit too bright. ‘You’re gorgeous, why not let the whole world notice you?’

Lotte had no desire for anyone to notice her much, but she soon realized that Simon had a real flair for clothes and knew what was right for her. Each time she came out of the changing cubicle to show him and Jenny another short skirt, tight pair of jeans or a midriff-revealing top, she could see by his face, and the approving glances from other girls, that she was looking good. In one baby pink top and a denim ra-ra skirt she even liked herself.

She would’ve liked to have bought most of the clothes they made her try, but she couldn’t afford them all. In the end she selected three outfits and a pair of shoes, and even that was a whole week’s wages. She knew it wouldn’t end at that either; now that she’d got the hang of it she’d want more clothes and makeup. She felt wonderful, for the makeover hadn’t just altered her appearance, it had changed how everyone treated her. Suddenly she was one of the girls at the salon, not an outsider any more.

Yet even more satisfying was to airily tell her flatmates she was leaving. Simon had offered her the spare room in his flat.

‘You can’t just go – what about giving us notice?’ Laura gasped as she watched Lotte flinging her few clothes into a plastic bin liner.

‘You should have been a little nicer to me then,’ Lotte said, smiling quite confidently because Simon was downstairs waiting for her. ‘I don’t feel I owe you anything.’

She flung a ten pound note at Laura for her share of the electricity bill as she left. ‘By the way,’ she said, looking sharply at the girl’s bleached hair, ‘your roots need doing.’

Lotte only told Janice a very abbreviated and upbeat version of that period in her life; that she’d been very shy when they first met, but Simon had become her friend, brought her out of herself and given her a room in his flat. ‘I was so happy living with him and Adam,’ she said simply. ‘I loved them both like brothers, and I hope I will be able to go and stay with them again once I’m well enough to leave here.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear you’ve remembered where they fit into your life,’ Janice said as she stood up, then took Lotte’s wrist to take her pulse. ‘I don’t think it will be long before everything comes back to you.’

After Janice had left the room Lotte thought over what she had remembered and pondered about the four most recent years which were still missing. It seemed to her that these memories were locked inside a series of boxes, and she needed someone to supply the key.

She was sure the dark-haired girl called Dale had been very important to her, and it was so frustrating and scary not knowing why. Dale had told her things, about them sharing a cabin on a cruise ship, trips ashore in places like Buenos Aires and Cape Town, but none of that meant anything. Why couldn’t she remember any of it?

‘Tell me about this sailor boyfriend of Lotte’s,’ Dale asked Simon. He’d opened a second bottle of wine and Dale had told him all about how she and Lotte met, and about the good times they’d shared. ‘I got the idea there had been someone special just from a certain look she had when people were talking about love affairs, but she never told me anything about him.’

‘She met him on her twentieth birthday,’ Simon said. ‘She had been like a frightened little mouse when she first moved in with us, but within that year she’d become a real doll. I tell you, some guys came into the salon to get their hair cut just to get near her! Lovely hair, pretty face and a body like a top model’s. She still wasn’t the most confident girl in the world, but she had stuff to say, she could hold her own, and she was liked because she was kind, sunny-natured and very real.

‘She’d had a couple of dates, but I guess she wasn’t ready to take anything beyond that. Anyway, on her birthday everyone at the salon met up at Loco’s night club to celebrate, and Adam and I watched her as she met Mark.’

He paused, his dark eyes a little dreamy. ‘It was just like in a movie. They looked at each other across the club, moved together and that was it! Love at first sight. None of us got a look-in with her that night, all she could see was him, so we left them to it. I think they had about ten days together before he had to go back to his ship. We never saw anyone as happy as she was.

‘But then he was killed in a road accident.’

‘He was killed?’ Dale exclaimed. She hadn’t been expecting that.

‘You can hardly credit fate could be so cruel to her,’ Simon said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘She meets the right guy, they fall in love and make plans for the future. But his leave was up, and he’s on his way to the station and walks in front of a truck!’

‘Poor, poor Lotte! How did she take it?’ Dale asked gruffly, for a lump had come up in her throat.

‘Badly. She was absolutely prostrate with grief. Adam and I took turns to go on suicide watch,’ he said, his voice heavy with emotion. ‘We really thought she would attempt to end it all. It wasn’t just that he was her first and only love, we reckoned all the other stuff too – her sister’s death, her parents rejecting her, and all those growing-up years without a friend in the world – was lumped into it. Adam and I kept telling her we loved her, but for a time it was like she was a rag doll, she didn’t respond to anything we said or did. She didn’t eat or go to work, she just stayed in bed crying. We didn’t know what to do. It was terrible to see.’

‘What brought her out of it?’ Dale asked.

‘Me becoming ill,’ Simon said with a glum smile. ‘I had some weird virus, I was so weak I couldn’t do anything. Adam couldn’t take time off work and I was throwing up and stuff and suddenly she got up and started taking care of me.’

Dale sighed. ‘That is so like Lotte. Now if it had been me, you wouldn’t have roused me out of my misery by needing a nurse. That would have sent me deeper into despair.’

Simon smiled. ‘I’ve got the first postcard she sent me from the cruise somewhere. She said, “Cabin mate is an untidy, selfish bitch, but she’s got a certain something about her.” ’

‘She said that about me?’ Dale gasped and then laughed. ‘She was totally right of course, but I thought she’d write home and say I was cool.’

Simon raised one eyebrow. ‘She might be soft-hearted but she’s no one’s fool. I guess she saw something else in you that she liked. Before long her postcards were full of “we did this” or “we did that.” ’

‘I’m ashamed to admit that I jokingly called her my “slave”, because she used to wash my clothes with hers and pick up after me. She used to do this kind of jokey bowing thing to me. But I grew to really love her, I never felt that way about any other girlfriend. I can’t bear the thought of all this happening to her.’

‘Well, I think, as I’ve already said, that whoever is responsible for how she ended up was on that cruise ship,’ Simon said firmly. ‘So come on, Dale, think of all the people she got to know. Was there anyone who would have persuaded or coerced her to go home with them?’

‘Well, Fern and Howard Ramsden, the couple who rescued her from the rape and looked after her, are the obvious ones. But they were Americans and they were going home. Besides, they were religious, they wouldn’t hold someone against their will.’