‘If you hate shorthand, what on earth are you doing here? This is a secretarial college. Just in case you hadn’t worked that out yet.’

‘Escaping from my parents.’ Vivienne took a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and offered one to Jeanie, who declined. She lit one for herself and blew out a long stream of smoke.

‘Well, I suppose that’s not strictly true as they’re currently in America. I’m escaping from their plans for me.’

Jeanie leaned back in her chair to avoid the cigarette smoke that was wafting in her direction.

‘And what are their plans?’

‘To marry me off to some eligible young man from a good family. Someone who works in the City and plays in the country.’

Jeanie wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘God, that sounds a bit dire. So, what’s your plan?’

‘Not sure yet, but by persuading them to let me come here, I’ve bought myself some time to think of one before they get back.’

Vivienne flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette. ‘What about you? What are you doing here?’

‘Earning my keep until someone pays me to sing for a living.’

‘Well with a voice like yours, I’m sure that won’t take long.’

Jeanie was flattered, but also fascinated by her new friend. She was so sure of herself, so grown up, and yet she could only be a year or two older than Jeanie at the most. She felt a sudden need to impress her.

‘I’m singing tonight – at Larkins. Come along if you like.’

‘What’s Larkins?’

‘The holiday park. They’re having a talent show – looking for new acts. Anyone who’s good enough might get a permanent job there when the season starts.’

Vivienne delved into her handbag and retrieved her powder compact. She considered the invitation as she carefully reapplied her lipstick. For some reason, Jeanie was suddenly desperate for her to accept. Vivienne snapped the compact shut and dazzled Jeanie with the full beam of her smile.

‘I’d love to.’

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

1972

‘Well this is no good at all. You wouldn’t be able to hear yourself think.’

Shunty-Mae was not at all in favour of Imelda giving readings at Larkins Holiday Park and she was making it her business to raise objections at every turn. The newly refurbished entertainment lounge was a large room with a stage at one end facing numerous rows of red and gold chairs, and a bar at the other. A rotating glitter ball hung from the ceiling, showering the room with a twinkling confetti of tiny lights, and gilded palm tree lamps stood in columns along the walls. At the foot of each palm tree was a pair of pink flamingos flanking an outsize martini glass containing a paper umbrella and a plastic cocktail cherry.

‘It looks like a brothel!’ she added.

Imelda laughed. ‘And how would you know?’