The Exciting Life

The Exciting
Life

Published by
Karen Mason at Smashwords

Copyright 2013
Karen Mason

All Rights
Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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All characters
in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover image
courtesy of www.stockfreeimages.com

Chapter
One

New Years
Eve 1958

Annie
Holland put down the bottle of Chanel No.5 and looked at her watch.
It was nearly nine o’clock. Three hours to go until it became 1959
and three days until she reached twenty-five. She turned back to
the mirror on her dressing table and leaned closer. Had any lines
appeared? Could she still be considered a youthful beauty? It was
hard to tell. She’d applied so much of her signature smoky make-up
around her eyes, it was impossible to see if any wrinkles had
started to form. Her pout had been accentuated with its usual rose
coloured lipstick, and the powder around her mouth stopped it
seeping into any spider lines that may have formed. Annie was wise
enough to know that a girl’s face was her fortune; and if she
started to lose her looks, she was up shit creek without a
paddle.

There
was a call from the hall, which jolted her back to her
senses.

‘
Are you ever coming out of there!’ Mandy, her best friend
shouted impatiently. ‘That poor taxi driver’s been waiting for half
an hour.’

‘
It’s alright for you,’ Annie said, standing up and smoothing
down her black shift dress. She then creased it again by bending
over and checking her chignon was still in place. Enough people had
told her she looked like Audrey Hepburn, she felt she had to keep
up the illusion. ‘You’re gorgeous without the aid of a ton of
make-up.’

She
found Mandy at the tatty little mirror that had come with the
furnishings of the flat, and decided her glamorous friend, with her
long, wavy blonde hair and curvaceous, Marilyn-type figure looked
out of place in such dingy surroundings.

‘
How do I look?’ Annie asked, reaching for her swing coat,
which was hanging from the rusty brass hook on the wall. She really
needed to spend what little money she had on improving the décor of
this place.

‘
Like Audrey Hepburn on the game,’ Mandy quipped, taking one
more glance in the mirror and standing on tip toes so she could
ensure her tight-fitting midnight blue dress showed enough
cleavage. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

They
left the house and walked down the front steps to the pavement.
Annie still couldn’t get used to living in this grotty little
Fulham street. Not after all those years of living in Knightsbridge
with Mario. Harrods used to be her nearest shop. Now it was old Mrs
Hawley’s off licence on the corner of Filmer Road. She couldn’t
wait to get into the taxi and be on her way to Bruno’s. At least
for a few hours she could pretend to be wealthy again.

It was a
freezing night, and Annie snuggled close to Mandy as the cab drove
through the London streets, and the dinginess of Fulham turned into
the more upmarket Chelsea – reminding Annie of what she’d left
behind.

‘
You two got fellas waiting for you at this nightclub?’ the
taxi driver said.

‘
Yes,’ Mandy giggled. ‘My boyfriend Clint. He’s a
wrestler.’

Annie
stifled her laughter. Mandy always said this when she wanted to
shut a bloke up. Her boyfriend was actually called Jeremy, and he
was an investment banker who was currently spending the holiday
season with his very posh parents in Suffolk. Indeed where Mandy
had been over Christmas.

‘
What about you?’ the taxi driver asked Annie, and she noticed
him wink at her in the rear view mirror.

‘
It’s my nightclub,’ she said confidently. ‘So I’d better make
an appearance.’

‘
Your nightclub!’ the taxi driver exclaimed. ‘How did a pretty
little thing like you get to own a nightclub?’

‘
From my husband committing suicide,’ Annie replied
matter-of-factly. That shut the cab driver up. Well, for a few
moments anyway.

‘
I’m sorry to hear that love,’ he said, his tone turning
serious. ‘What’s he do that for when he had a beautiful girl like
you waiting for him at home?’

‘
Oh he just thought it was easier to die and leave me his
debts,’ Annie sighed, looking out of the window and feeling a stab
of pain as they drove past Harvey Nichols. Mario - the bastard -
had promised to buy her a mink coat from there for her twenty-fifth
birthday. Instead, all her furs, diamonds and other treasures had
been sold to pay off his gambling debts. But for all that, she
missed him. He’d been her first love and she couldn’t imagine
falling head over heels for someone in such a powerful way ever
again.

‘
She’s just being a misery guts,’ Mandy laughed, trying to
lighten the mood. ‘Everyone knows that Bruno’s is one of the top
clubs in town. She makes a fortune. Don’t you worry about
her.’

Mandy
and the taxi driver then started talking about the famous faces
who’d frequented Bruno’s, and the things they got up to. Annie was
glad they were leaving her out of it, because it gave her a chance
to sit back and think about her situation. Bruno’s was the only
asset she had in the world. All her friends thought she was mad –
her adopted Aunt Alice was better known as Alicia Bloom - one of
the world’s greatest actresses. She could go and stay with her in
her New York penthouse apartment any time she liked or even stay in
the house in Belgravia that Alice owned. She could even go to
Hollywood and stay with her ‘cousin’ Alana - Alice’s daughter; her
husband Dirk dealt in finding homes for people, and would happily
find her a little beach-side condo. But Annie didn’t want their
charity. Whilst she’d had a wonderful childhood, at just five,
becoming the legal ward of Sir Michael and Lady Nesta Holland;
growing up in Elliott House in Oxford, and enjoying a private
education and having ponies and all the things a girl who was born
in the slums of Battersea, should never have. At the end of the
day, none of it was her birthright, and she couldn’t keep taking
off her family.

Marrying
Mario at eighteen had seemed like the answer to all her prayers.
What young girl straight from boarding school wouldn’t have their
head turned by a handsome Italian racing driver? And even though
she’d lived on his money, at least she gave him something in
return. She slept with him each night, and always looked good so
he’d have a trophy on his arm. What she didn’t know was that behind
her back he kept a string of mistresses and thousands of pounds of
gambling debts run up in every country he’d ever raced in. And when
it had all got too much, he’d driven into a brick wall to escape
his responsibility.

Now the
only asset she had was Bruno’s, the nightclub Mario had won in a
card game against some gangster. It brought in enough money each
week for Annie to pay the rent on the Fulham flat and to keep
herself looking nice. But even Mandy didn't know that the shoes she
was wearing were a pair she'd paid ten bob for from a stall on
North End Road market. She'd tarted them up with a red silk bow
she'd got in Barbers the department store and they now looked like
something from an exclusive boutique in the South of France. Annie
couldn’t afford the real thing any more.

Bruno's
was situated beneath a French restaurant at the Oxford Street end
of Wardour Street. It was just far enough away from Soho to be
semi-respectable, but Annie knew darn well that most of her
clientele were dodgy - villains who wanted to be photographed with
some minor celebrity, or MPs who enjoyed ogling the young
hostesses. But they were her bread and butter, so she had no choice
but to paint on her cheeriest smile and help them see in the New
Year.

As she
and Mandy entered the club, their coats were taken by Sylvio,
Mario's cousin who worked as a meeter and greeter.

‘
How are things?’ Annie asked, peering into the
club.

‘
Not bad, but there are a couple of dodgy-looking sorts I don't
recognise.’

‘
Who am I looking out for?’

‘
Fat, greasy-looking sod who looks like a vampire and a
good-looking bloke who’s with a blonde with big tits. Not sure who
they are - probably nobody, but you know me Annie, I have a sense
about these things.’

‘
Thanks for the warning,’ Annie said. ‘I don’t need any trouble
tonight. I’m not in the mood.’

They walked into the club, and Annie was pleased to see it was
packed. She recognised all the usual faces – a few models and
starlets, a couple of Maltese gangsters and their floozies. The
rest were people who’d taken their chance and come in, hoping to
have a good time. The house band - led by Ray Scott, were playing
some light jazz on the stage, and the air was filled with smoke and
the smell of alcohol. A few people came up to greet Annie and she
gave them the cursory ‘
hello
’ and ‘
how are you?’
before moving on to the
next person - all the while looking out for the interlopers. She’d
had a gut feeling for ages that Bruno’s would be the next thing on
Mario’s debtor’s list and that someone would come along to take it
off her. Maybe these strangers were henchmen, come to start
trouble.

‘
Hello Annie darling,’ a voice suddenly said, awakening her
from her thoughts. She looked round and saw it was Moira Brand, a
young up and coming actress who used to go out with Kristien Lax,
an old team mate of Mario’s. Even though they’d split up, she still
came to Bruno’s. Mandy couldn’t stand her for some reason and
predictably walked away as soon as Moira joined them.

‘
Hello Moira,’ Annie said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘How are
you?’

‘
Rather excited,’ Moira fizzed in her deep, plummy voice. Annie
always wondered if Mandy’s dislike for her came from the fact that
Moira was a genuinely classy blonde. Her mother was a Lady and her
father a banker. Whereas Mandy did her best to hide the fact that
she grew up in Enfield and her dad was a station manager for London
Underground. ‘I found out just before Christmas that I’m making a
film with James Robertson Justice and Sylvia Sims.’

‘
That’s fantastic,’ Annie smiled. ‘What’s it about?’

‘
Oh it’s some comic caper. I play a secretary who discovers a
secret plan to bomb the Russians. I don’t really care. It’s my
first proper supporting role and that’s all that
matters.’

‘
The first of many,’ Annie said. ‘Can I get you a glass of
champagne to celebrate?’

‘
I’ll pass thanks darling, I’m just off to Cliff Richard’s
party.’

‘
Well lucky you,’ laughed Annie. ‘Have fun.’

‘
I intend to.’ Moira glanced down and gasped. ‘I love your
shoes! Where did you get them?’

‘
I’ll let you into a little secret,’ Annie said as quietly as
she could. ‘I made them.’

‘
They’re gorgeous. I’ve got a dress that’s black velvet with a
red bow on the front. They’d look so good with it.’ She tapped
Annie on the arm. ‘You’ll have to make me a pair.’

She
kissed Annie once more on the cheek.

‘
Ciao darling. I’ll see you in the New Year.’

She
rushed off, and Annie found herself alone again. She thought about
what Moira had just said about her making a pair of shoes for her.
She loved the idea of making shoes for people. Had things turned
out differently, she would have gone to art college to become a
shoe designer; but she’d got caught up with being Mario’s
girlfriend and he would have never supported her doing something
with her brain. It was her job to look good for him.

Mandy
was at the bar being chatted up by a man who looked old enough to
be her father and Annie wondered if she should intervene. Despite
her brassy image, Mandy was faithful to Jeremy and might not have
appreciated this older man trying his luck. Annie went to move, but
was stopped by someone placing a hand upon her arm.