‘Haven’t you brought any lunch?’ asked Layla.
‘God, no. I never eat until six. Got to watch the body.’
‘Don’t be daft, you’re gorgeous. Have one of these, I can’t eat all this.’ Layla split open the cellophane pack and handed Precious half her lunch.
‘Oh, OK. Thanks.’
They ate in companionable silence. Rather, Precious ate and Layla nibbled. Then Precious said: ‘Um, Layla?’
‘Hm?’
‘Are you aware that there are four men watching you?’
Layla sighed. ‘My dad’s men. And Alberto’s.’
‘Oh, that’s good. They’re looking out for you.’
Layla shuddered. ‘I hate it,’ she said.
‘Is this how you always live? Under guard this way?’
‘No. It isn’t. It’s just…’ Layla stopped herself. She was in danger of saying too much. It was so easy to talk to Precious, to confide in her. And she mustn’t. ‘Something’s happened, that’s all. It’s put the family sort of on red alert.’
‘Ah, then I suppose all you can do is loosen up, let them carry on with their job of guarding you, and get on with your life.’
‘Loosen up? How would you feel if someone was after you, someone you didn’t even know, so you had to be surrounded by all these people…?’
Precious stared at Layla. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Me and my big mouth. But, well…’
‘Well what?’
Precious shrugged. ‘You’re Max Carter’s daughter. I thought you’d be used to all this shit.’
‘I’m not.’ Layla felt guilty now. Precious was trying to be friendly, and she had slapped her down quite hard, for the second time. Both times, Precious had hit a nerve.
‘Look, I’m sorry I bit your head off,’ she blurted out. ‘And before, when we spoke about Alberto. Sorry.’
Layla swallowed a bite of sandwich. It was dry. She took a swig of Coke, then set it aside on the bench. She was going to have to start eating properly soon, but right now food just made her gag.
Precious waved a casual hand. ‘Ah, forget it. I do it all the time. Poke and pry. And I shouldn’t. People hate it. And you’ve been stressed to hell, I can see that.’
Stressed? She’d been going out of her mind. She still was.
‘I know you were only trying to help,’ said Layla.
‘That’s true. I was.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it. It was nothing. If I’d known it was such a sore subject, I wouldn’t have opened my fat gob.’
‘Can I ask you something?’ said Layla.
‘Anything. Go on.’
‘About the dancing. It’s naked dancing, have I got that right?’
Precious shrugged. ‘Sometimes. Sometimes it’s a G-string, but mostly it’s nude.’
‘How do you do that? In front of strangers?’
‘Easy.’
‘And what about when – you know – you’ve got the curse?’
‘That’s easy too. Put in a tampon, cut off the string. Sorted.’