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Things were finally changing, which could only be a good thing.
She’d never been on a motorbike before, and they’d come straight from Darren’s mate’s studio. She couldn’t remember his name, and it turned out not to be much of a studio – rather a back bedroom in a run-down houseshare that smelt of sewage and chips. But he had a camera and some lighting and one of those silver umbrellas, and Molly didn’t mind posing for him if it was needed for the job that Darren had told her about.
He’d already explained that the shots were necessary for the work, though she’d hesitated when they’d told her to take her clothes off, to pose in her underwear. And then they’d given her different pants and a bra to wear, telling her she’d look prettier. They didn’t smell very clean, but she’d put them on anyway. For the photos.
‘Come on, then, come in,’ Hannah said as Molly hovered in the doorway to the main room of the attic in her towel. Hannah was sitting at the dressing table doing her make-up, and Molly barely recognised her from earlier.
‘You look really nice,’ she said, suddenly feeling like a little girl in comparison. Hannah had rimmed her eyes with black eyeliner and smudged on bright-blue eyeshadow. Peachy blusher and scarlet lips made her look seductive, and her tight white dress barely covered anything. Her hair hung in waves around her shoulders. Molly glanced between the other girls, who were in varying stages of getting ready – except Lilly, who was still looking pale and ill, lying on the sofa, smoking.
‘You will too,’ Hannah said, getting up and coming over. She lifted up her wet hair, piling it on top of her head, studying her face from different angles. ‘Cute,’ she said, touching the end of her nose. Then she tugged at the towel. ‘Let me see,’ she added, bending her knees a little so her face was level with Molly’s.
Molly tightened her grip on the towel, clutching it against her chest.
Hannah laughed. ‘Hon, if you can’t get naked in front of us, how are you going to work?’
‘That’s different,’ Molly said, embarrassed, though she’d not really thought about that yet.
While Darren hadn’t explicitly told her what she’d be doing, she’d already worked it out. She wasn’t stupid. It was an unspoken deal – a deal that she’d had no choice but to take. He’d made it clear what would happen to her otherwise. But he’d been kind, had found her crying in a piss-soaked shop doorway and had sat with her for ages. He’d bought her food, a can of Coke, and promised her the new start she was looking for.
She didn’t want to go back on the streets. The past couple of weeks had been grim. She’d never felt so lonely and desperate – rummaging through supermarket bins, sitting on the cold pavement with a plastic cup on the ground beside her and no one to talk to. Most people who’d given her money had dropped in coins without even looking at her. Easing their consciences. Some had said a few words, and one lady had bought her a sandwich and a hot drink. Most just walked past as if she didn’t exist.
She didn’t want to go back to that.
‘Punters smell fear.’ Hannah tugged harder at the towel, making Molly relinquish it. ‘It puts ’em right off. So be confident, yeah?’
While Hannah studied her, Molly squared her shoulders in the hope her small breasts would stick out more. She’d been naked with boys before, but none had ever looked at her this closely. Her skin prickled.
‘You’re going to be popular,’ Hannah said, walking around her. ‘What are you – a size six, eight?’
‘I…I don’t know,’ Molly said truthfully. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought anything new to wear. Her mother had never had any money, and she hadn’t dared nick anything with a tag on. It was usually just food or small stuff from Boots. Some of the clothes in her bag were still from when she was about twelve.
Hannah rummaged through hangers on a clothes rail. A few items were draped over the top and some had fallen on the floor. Lurid colours and latex, black lace and straps…the garments weren’t like anything she’d ever wear normally. But Molly knew her ripped jeans and a T-shirt weren’t going to cut it. Besides, her stuff hadn’t been washed in a long time and ponged a bit.
‘Catch,’ Hannah called out, flinging an item at her. Molly lunged for it and held it up in front of her, turning it round and round, not sure which way up it went. ‘Like this,’ Hannah said, bunching up the small amount of bright pink stretchy fabric and pulling it over Molly’s head. ‘Arms in here…wriggle it down.’
‘I’m trying,’ Molly said, tugging at the thin material. The dress, if you could call it that, sat only an inch below her bottom and barely covered anything. Slashes across the front exposed most of her tummy, while her breasts were concealed, only just, by a band of fabric an inch wide. A series of straps criss-crossed her back.
‘Put these on too,’ Hannah said, inspecting a pair of long black PVC boots. ‘They’re a size six.’
‘I’m a five,’ Molly said, sitting down on a chair as she slid her legs into them. They came almost to the tops of her thighs and her toes wiggled around in the points. When she stood up and tried to walk, her left ankle buckled sideways in the six-inch heels.
‘You’ll get used to them,’ Hannah said, sitting down at the dressing table again. She stuck a couple of Rizlas together before loading it with tobacco and weed. She lit the joint and took a couple of deep drags.
Molly shook her head when she offered her some.
‘It’ll help you relax.’
‘And not care,’ Vanessa piped up, sticking out her arm and taking the joint.
‘Have one of these, then,’ Hannah said, opening a drawer and taking out a no-brand bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. She poured one for them each.
Molly took the shot. Smoking weed made her feel sick, but Hannah was right. She could do with a bit of something to help her through. Since she’d run away, things hadn’t been easy.
But still better than home.
‘How long have you been here at the Cloisters?’ Molly asked the other girls. Vodka trickled down her throat in a hot line.
‘Like, all my fucking life,’ Lilly said from the sofa.
