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‘But you’ve all been discussing it behind my back?’
Jenny sighs. ‘Ofcoursewe have. We care about you. I mean, have you met any of his friends, or his family?’
Belle is quiet for a moment, returning to her wardrobe and pulling out even more items for charity.
‘Age is just a number,’ she says for about the hundredth time lately, though she’s not really certain of the logic behind it. She’s well aware he’s older but she simply doesn’t care. ‘And he doesn’t have any family, not that he’s close to, anyway. Everything he’s done, he’s had to do alone, which is why I admire him so much. He’s a fighter.’
‘I dunno, Belle. Something seems off to me.’
Belle drops down onto the bed beside her friend. ‘Fine. Then I’ll prove to you he’s genuine. That he’s got his own business and home and wants nothing more than for us to be happy.’
‘Good,’ Jenny says. ‘I’ll hold you to that. Anyway, I’m hungry.’
‘Shall we go out for lunch instead of eating here?’ Belle suggests. Her mum knew Jen was coming round and told her that she’d left some stuff in the fridge – cheese triangles and cherry tomatoes, she’d said. As well as mini packets of cheddar bites and pouches of juice. I mean, how old did she think she was – eight?
‘I haven’t got much money for that,’ Jenny replied. ‘And I’m not really dressed for going out.’ She looked down at her old leggings and baggy T-shirt. She thought they were just having a quiet afternoon together, finally catching up properly after Belle’s trip.
‘It’s on me,’ Belle says. ‘In fact, it’ll be on Jack because I’m taking you to the club he owns. Hopefully that will put your mind at rest about him. I don’t know if he’ll be there but as soon as I tell them who I am, they’ll be throwing free food and drinks at us.’
‘Right,’ Jenny says, pulling a face that she hopes will convey her reluctance to go out.
‘And you can borrow something to wear.’ Belle rummages through her wardrobe again. ‘Here, put these on. You’ll look great.’ She tosses a pair of skinny jeans and a blousy orange top at Jenny. ‘And I’ve got some heels you can wear too. It’ll be a sophisticated place.’
Forty-five minutes later, Belle leads Jenny off the bus at the intersection between West Street and Trinity Road, about a mile from the city centre. She’s not actually been inside Jack’s workplace before, though he’d once pointed out where it was. She reckons it’s not far from where they are.
‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ Jenny asks above the noise of the traffic as she totters along behind Belle. She isn’t used to wearing heels, and the jeans Belle lent her feel as though they’re cutting off the blood supply to her legs.
‘Of course, silly,’ Belle says. ‘It’s just up here.’
Before she’d gone to France, Belle had asked Jack a few times about the club – the place he told her she’d be working at on their return, though she couldn’t help wondering if he’d been reluctant to give too much away. One time when they were in the car and Belle had been asking him about it again, he’d swerved off course for a mile or so and suddenly jabbed his hand at a building down a side street, telling her that was it.
‘Satisfied?’ he’d said, shooting her a look as he gripped the wheel.
He’d been a bit short with her a few times since they’d met, but she knew he’d had a tough day, so she didn’t blame him for being snappy. She was probably going on about it too much, but she was excited.
‘I’m sorry,’ she’d replied at the time, feeling bad for him. After that, he’d promised he’d take her there when they got back from France, so she could have a proper look around before she started work. But so far, he hadn’t.
Now, she wanted to surprise him – to show she was serious about her job. She hoped he was working there today. But if not, she and Jenny could suss it out, get to know the other staff even. It would show Jack she was super keen.
A few minutes later, Belle stops outside what looks like an old, disused warehouse or factory – a three-storey brick building with old-fashioned windows and a pulley sticking out from the top floor. She swears it was the place he pointed out. It was night-time when they’d driven past, and she remembers a vertical neon sign above the entrance. Several of the lights had blown and she’d giggled at the word ‘Sca…tt’s’ when really, it should have read ‘Scarlett’s’.
‘Down here, I think,’ Belle says, turning down a narrow lane that seems familiar. She stares up at the buildings around them. ‘There it is!’ she says, recognising the sign. ‘I bet it’s one of those super-cool places with a trendy, underground vibe.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Jenny says, glancing around. ‘It smells horrid down here – like rotting rubbish. Should we go to Maccy D’s instead? We came past one on the bus.’
Belle stops, giving her a look. ‘What’swrongwith you?’ she says, linking arms with her friend. ‘Come on, once we’re inside you’ll love it. Just pretend you’re eighteen, right? I’ll vouch for you.’
The double doors to Scarlett’s are closed. Faded green paint peels off the wood and someone has dumped a plastic bag of rubbish on the step. Belle tentatively kicks it out of the way, not wanting to get her heels mucky.
‘Are you sure they’re open?’ Jenny asks. ‘If it’s a club, it might be shut until later.’
‘Jack said it’s open from midday to the early hours.’ Belle spots a buzzer and presses it, surreptitiously wiping her finger down her denim miniskirt. The girls stand there for what seems like an age, so Belle presses it again.
Eventually, they hear keys rattling and bolts sliding back. One of the two doors opens a crack and, in the darkness beyond, Belle makes out the shape of a wiry man. His face is sallow, and his eyes are ringed with grey, looking as though someone had pushed them back into his skull. Between his nicotine-stained fingers is a cigarette, and he’s dressed in grubby white sweatpants with holes in both knees and a faded pink T-shirt with the name of a band Belle doesn’t recognise printed on the front. She doesn’t think he looks much more than twenty-five.
‘Hi,’ Belle says brightly, wanting to make a good impression, despite now thinking Jenny might be right. ‘Are you open?’
The man looks them up and down, his eyes lingering on Belle’s legs. He takes a drag on his cigarette.
