Precious was ecstatic to have her back, hugging her, hitting her with sultry waves of Giorgio.
‘How’s tricks?’ Layla asked her that evening.
‘So-so.’
‘I haven’t seen China yet. Is she in?’
Precious frowned. ‘She’s a bit down, poor love. Her daughter’s ill. They don’t think it’s serious, but she’s going out of her mind. Tia’s on the other side of the world, and she’s here. It breaks her up.’
‘And Destiny?’
‘That bastard’s beating her up again. Why she stays with him is a mystery to me. The first mark on her face hadn’t even had time to heal before he added a second one, so she’s still off work and I’m doing double time. We’ve got a couple new girls in too. Sapphire and Opal.’
‘How’s the studying going?’
‘I’m well into stress management now.’
‘I could do with some of that.’
‘Remember the heart-brain exercise. You got problems?’
‘Some. And Alberto… I don’t know.’
‘He likes the new look?’
‘I think I’ve bewildered him. He’s having to reassess.’
‘Well, that’s good.’
‘I’m not sure. Is it? God, what am I doing? Do I really want this? I feel as if I’m going crazy.’
‘Positive thinking,’ Precious reminded her.
‘Hm,’ said Layla.
The evening passed, with the steady boom of music from the club below keeping Layla company in her room while she read a book. Feeling restless, at eleven o’clock she went along to the kitchen to make a drink. Tony and Chris were playing cards at the table. Of course – it was breaktime, Chris was supposed to be filling in for Kyle or whoever was on duty tonight. Grabbing the opportunity, Layla snuck into the monitor room with her mug of tea in her hand.
The two new girls – Sapphire, a statuesque Nigerian, and Opal, a tiny blonde – were working two of the private dancing rooms downstairs, entertaining two middle-aged men. And there was Precious, dancing for a man in his twenties who had a large, embarrassed smile on his face.
Layla watched for a little while, then stole along the corridor to her room before Kyle’s fill-in or Kyle himself returned.
Alberto showed up at noon the next day, surrounded by his usual phalanx of heavies led by Sandor. Alberto stepped into Layla’s room, and closed the door to give them some privacy.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Are Mum and Dad OK?’
‘They’re fine. Still fighting, but fine.’
He was silent, staring at her face.
‘So what brings you here?’ she asked.
He leaned against the door, folded his arms and stared at her.
‘You’re not my sister,’ he said.
Layla swallowed hard. ‘No. I’m not.’
‘And I’m not your brother.’
‘No. You’re not.’