Marilyn

"You are? And how do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things. I'm not just a pretty face, you know. And yes, I'm glad you came back. No one ever stops to talk. Most people don't even notice us and the ones that do, look at us like we're just dummies."

"Well, I don't want to state the obvious but—"

"I know, I know. But a girl can dream, can't she? This job gets pretty lonely at night."

"Wait a minute," said Ralph, his amused grin disappearing. "Something you just said... you mean, you were expecting me? You were actually waiting for me to show up again?"

"Yes, and look at the state you're in. I don't know why I bothered. Boy, you do like to keep people waiting, don't you?"

Marilyn's last remark seemed to chime a familiar note with Ralph. "You do like to keep people waiting." Now that just about took the biscuit. Not only was his mum, his boss at work, and his friends having a go at him, now a stupid dummy was at it too.

"Stupid? And dummy!" said Marilyn, "So now you see fit to insult me as well as keep me waiting."

"I never said anything."

"You don't have to, Ralphy. I know what you're thinking."

"Look, Marilyn, let's get something straight, okay? I'm my own man. You can't tell me what to do. Do you understand? In fact, no one tells me what to do."

"I know that, Ralph, and that's part of the trouble. But you really should listen a bit more. Most times people are only telling you something for your own good."

"So now I'm getting a sermon from a bleeding dummy."

"You see, now you're being downright rude."

"Yeah, yeah!" said Ralph, mimicking a moaning mouth with his fingers. "You're beginning to sound like my old mum."

"Well, she knows a lot more than you give her credit for. You really should make an effort now and again. You could make something of your life, you know. Not like me, stuck in a shop 24/7 with no prospects apart from cracking and peeling varnish. What do I have to look forward to?"

"And now the sob story."

"Look, Ralph. I like you, and because I like you I'm going to give you another chance."

"Yeah? Big deal!"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to be modelling underwear, sexy underwear, some of it quite revealing from what the assistants have been saying. It's a new line we've just taken on. Why don't you pop by tomorrow evening? I'll make it worth your while."

"Sexy underwear you say? Yeah, well don't hold your breath. I might be busy tomorrow night."

And at that moment there was giggling behind him. He whirled around just as two girls passing by seemed to be having a laugh at his expense.

You all right, mate?" said one, holding onto the other's arm, and giggling again.

"Probably a bit pissed," said the other. "I saw him in the pub earlier."

Ralph felt himself sobering up rather quickly all of a sudden. He felt very silly now. Two girls catching him talking to a dummy in a shop window, to nobody actually! How embarrassing was that? They probably thought he was ready for the 'funny farm'.

The girls walked on by, their clip-clopping heels accompanying peels of raucous laughter as they disappeared into the gloom.

When Ralph turned back to the shop, he gasped and stared with disbelief.

Marilyn was once again wearing the midnight-blue evening gown she'd been wearing before. In fact everything was as it was before, all the models still and silent, staring their cold, lifeless gazes. He started to say something to Marilyn, and then stopped, reminding himself to get a grip. "Get real, Ralphy" he said to himself, "it's only a dummy". He would have to go careful with the booze in future. It was obviously doing him no good at all.

Ralph walked on for home, looking around once more at the shop. My God, what had happened tonight? Who could explain such a thing?

As if to fuel Ralph's confusion even more, the sexy blonde in the midnight-blue evening gown appeared to wink at him. He suddenly felt quite sick and dived into the nearest alleyway.

The next day, amazingly Ralph woke up without a hangover, got up on time, pleased his mother by eating and appreciating his breakfast fry-up, and arrived at Jessop's on time. So far so good.

"What happened, Ralphy," said Phil "You wet the bed or something?"

"Very funny," responded Ralph. "Get used to it, boys... this is the new me."

"Yeah," said Dave. "And pigs might fly!"

"Straight up! I met someone last night who changed my life."

"Pull the other one, Ralphy. Your love life's about as lively as a dodo's tea party."

"Who said it was a woman?"

"Well, unless you've turned the other way overnight..."

"You might mock, Philip, but it's true. I'm turning over a new leaf. From now on I'm a changed man."

Jim Gosling poked his head out of the office. "My God, I must be seeing things. Well done, Ralph. Reckon you boys can complete that order today?"

"No danger," said Ralph, confidently. "Leave it to us, Mr Gosling."

Ralph took his jacket off and whispered to his colleagues: "Right fellas... it's Friday, I've got a date tonight and I'm in a good mood. Anyone fancy a cuppa before we get started?"

Two sugars, Ralph," called Jim from his office.

It seemed an age before five o' clock came. The boys pulled out all the stops to get the Simtec order out on time, but it kept Jim Gosling happy and Ralph in a job.

"So what's this date you've got tonight, Ralphy?" said Dave. "Anyone we know?"

"Yeah, come on mate," said Phil. "Spill the beans... What's she like?"

But Ralph didn't let on. How could he?

He made a special effort for the evening -- shower, some nice cologne that he's got for his birthday two years ago, maroon velvet trousers and a nice snazzy purple shirt that went well under his leather jacket. He checked himself in the wardrobe mirror. Did he look the business or what?

And then he remembered just why it was he was making this effort and suddenly that feeling of foolishness and doubt returned. "Marilyn," he said to himself. "This is all your fault. I must be getting soft in the head or something -- getting all ponced-up for a dummy." But he couldn't deny there was a feeling of excited anticipation inside him. That at least was real enough.

"I'm off down the pub, Mum," he called out as he came down the stairs into the hallway.

"Well don't make too much noise when you come in," she called from the sitting room. "You woke me up last night with all your clattering about and I couldn't get off again."

"Sorry!" Ralph did his favourite hand impression of a yacking mouth. "See you later," he said, poking his head round the door, before going out.

He intended to look by on Marilyn Fashions on the way to see if Marilyn was true to her word, maybe stop for a chat, and then on to The Angler's Arms for a few bevies. He began to feel quite apprehensive, kind of nervous even. Blimey, this was worse than going out on a real date. "Get a grip, Ralphy," he said to himself, "You're only going to look at a blinkin' dummy in a shop window, for heaven's sake." But if Marilyn was going to be revealing more of herself, well, that surely was worth the risk of looking a fool over, wasn't it, no matter how ludicrous it all seemed?

As he turned right at the Square into Duke Street he could hear the heartbeat in his ears. Up ahead he could see that the shop was lit up. He stopped in front of the butcher's and stood in the doorway so he could check his hair in the reflection of the glass. What was this sudden concern with personal appearance all about? He'd never been a slave to vanity before.

He came out of the doorway and moved nervously towards Valerie Fashions. Would she actually be waiting for him to show up? After all, she had expected him to come back the previous evening, hadn't she? The most important thing of all though - was she going to be dressed in the sexy and revealing underwear she had expected to be modelling today?

Ralph's pulse was racing as he neared the fashion shop. Once again, as on the previous evening, the wind seemed to gust and send a shiver down his spine. He took a last deep breath, trying to affect an air of confidence. But his fake bravado did little to quell the turmoil inside.

He stood before the shop window, feeling the thrill and fear of anticipation drain away from him. Marilyn was there again, but she was still wearing the same costume as yesterday -- the midnight-blue, evening gown. He felt kind of deflated. Not that what she was wearing was a bad thing, but Ralph was rather looking forward to seeing his 'date' in the alluring underwear she had hinted at. The worst thing was, she appeared to be just what she actually was -- a shop dummy. She was still voluptuous in comparison to the other models, but tonight she appeared lifeless, compared to the previous evening.

Yet what was he expecting - a big warm welcome or something? "Oh, Ralphy, it's you... Come in, won't you? Can I offer you a drink?" Yeah, get real! Not if his usual luck in love was anything to go by.

Disappointment seeped into his bones Had it all been a dream, those things he had heard her say last night, the wave of her hand, the lowering of her eyelids? Had it all been imagination, or had it been the booze?

Another thing that concerned him was the look of unhappiness which seemed to permeate her expression this evening. Should he say something to her and risk making a fool of himself if she didn't answer? Would she hear him but then ignore him?

He heard someone coming up the street and suddenly he lost his nerve. He moved on and looked back, but there was no wink or wave this time, just another person coming into view under the street lamp, a stranger.

He sat at the bar in The Angler's Arms, a somewhat subdued and forlorn figure as he tried to make head and tail of recent events. He was confused.

"What happened, Ralph?" said Rita, pouring him his second pint, and running her eyes over his choice of attire. "You get dressed in the dark or something?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What's up with you tonight? You haven't insulted me once."

"Just got things on my mind, that's all."

"Well, much as I prefer your lack of repartee this evening, I hope you're not sickening for something."

He ignored the remark. There were far more important things to think about. He knocked back the second pint quicker than the first and then ordered a large gin and tonic chaser.

Had it really all been a dream the night before? Whether it had or not he felt the same strange compulsion to go back past the shop on his way home. The feeling was too strong to ignore, and anyway, he had nothing to lose, apart that is, from his self-respect and possibly his sanity.

Perhaps Marilyn had just been in a grumpy mood earlier because the window dressers hadn't put her in the sexy underwear that she so wanted to show off. Women could be moody creatures sometimes.

By the time he got back to Valerie Fashions, it was about twenty to eleven. Normally he would have stayed at the pub until closing time. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he could wait no longer to find out the truth about Marilyn. He also reasoned that leaving the pub when he did, he might well get an uninterrupted 10 or even 15 minutes with Marilyn, because the 'closing-time-stragglers' wouldn't start appearing till after eleven.

Well, she was still dressed the same and still beautiful in her own inanimate way. But now she looked even sadder. In fact when Ralph looked at Marilyn carefully, he saw something on her cheek that caught the light and shook him to the core at the same time. My God, it couldn't be possible, but there it was - a teardrop rolling down her cheek.

"Marilyn..? What's up?"

And suddenly the life seemed to come to her again. Her eyes blinked, squeezing out more tears. He saw her raise a hand to her face and wipe them away.

"Oh, it's silly, isn't it?" she said, her mouth moving out of sync with the voice that registered in Ralph's brain. "A girl can get upset over the smallest of things..."

"So, come on then, tell me."

"I feel bad about ignoring you earlier this evening. I was in such a foul mood. I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes again. "You see, I was so looking forward to modelling that sexy underwear for you and..."

"What happened?"

"The manageress had a change of heart, but that's not all..."

And Marilyn began to cry again, her shoulders shaking and the mascara running into black smudges beneath her eyes.

"The sh-shop has got a new model coming, very beautiful as I understand, and much younger..."

"They can't do that, can they? What's going to happen to you?"

"Well, that's just it. They're going to dispense with my services. I'm afraid it's all over for me, Ralphy. My career's in tatters."

"But, surely you can get another job?"

"Opportunities are limited for models at my time of life, Ralph. I'm no spring chicken and besides, all the fashion houses and shops prefer slim models these days."

"Skinny, more like."

"I was trying to be polite. I come from a different age I suppose. Things have changed now."

"But I love the way you look, so much curvier than the others. Really sexy!"

"Thank you."

Marilyn smiled and dried her tears.

"I hate people seeing me cry."

"Why? Nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone cries from time to time."

"I guess they do. But I always try and put on a brave front. You have to in this line of work. I'm sorry I went on at you last night, by the way. I shouldn't have done that."

"Forget it. I guess I had it coming. Anyway, you were right. It's time I pulled my socks up and stopped letting people down. From now on, I'm going to mend my ways."

"Good for you, Ralph. You've got a lot going for you...apart, that is..." Marilyn smiled at last.

"What..?"

"Apart from your dress sense, that is..."

"What you on about?"

"I think you could do with a teeny bit of advice on colour coordination, Ralph."

"Thanks, and here's me thinking I looked the business tonight."

"It's nothing that can't be put right, young man."

"Yeah? What do you suggest?"

"We could go away together somewhere... To that dessert island you're often fantasizing about."

"Huh? How do you know about that?"

"I told you last night. I know a lot of things. But I also know that they're going to scrap me tomorrow."

"Scrap you? You're kidding!"

"I wish I were. That's really why I'm so upset. By ten minutes past nine tomorrow morning I will be in the skip out the back of the shop. They're going to break me up -- kill me, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"But they can't. I mean, they wouldn't. I want to see you again."

"If only you meant that, Ralph."

"I do. Tell you what... I'll take you to that dessert island."

"You're such a dreamer. You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. Look... What time does the shop open in the morning?"

"Nine o' clock."

"Then I'll be here for you. I'll rescue you, take you off their hands. I'll pay for you... then you can come away with me."

"I'd love that, Ralph. But you'll have to be here sharp on nine, I'm telling you. The assistants are going to start on me right away. Please help me. I'm so frightened."

"No worries, Marilyn. Leave it to me. I'll be here early. There's no way I'll let them do that to you."

"Oh Ralph, what a lovely sweet person you are."

When Ralph got home he went straight to bed, setting his alarm for 7:30 a.m. "I've just got to be there for when they open up," he said to himself. "Marilyn's relying on me and I'm going to save her." And with that final thought, he pulled the covers up over himself and tried to settle down. But his mind was in a turmoil and he could just not get to sleep. He lost count of the times he glanced at the clock. It seemed like it was every five minutes. Eventually, at around 2:30 a.m. he managed to drift off. He dreamed of running away with Marilyn to his favourite tropical island.

When he finally awoke he wasn't exactly sure where he was for a moment or two. He reached out across the bed hoping to feel the warm body of Marilyn next to him. The next instant he became startlingly and instantly awake, remembering the importance of the day. In a sudden panic he shot a glance at his bedside clock and breathed a sigh of relief. It said 7:15. He'd beaten the alarm by fifteen minutes. Incredible! But his relief was only temporary.

When he studied the second hand he saw that it wasn't going round at all. The clock had stopped. Despite all those 'low-battery' warnings, he had failed to do anything about it. He meant to replace the battery two days ago, but he hadn't got round to it. Now in a sudden panic he glanced furiously at his watch. My God, it was already twenty to nine. The clock had stopped before the alarm time had been reached.

He had never got out of the house so quickly as he did on that day. In fact he was still tucking his shirt into his jeans as he flew down the street to the town. It was almost twenty past nine when he got to the shop. Two window dressers were already putting a beautiful white gown on a brand new mannequin. Ralph felt the colour draining from his cheeks. He tried to tell himself that his panic was irrational, but it didn't stop him bursting into the shop and enquiring about Marilyn.

"Who's Marilyn," said the manageress standing behind the counter, and looking puzzled over her reading glasses.

"The model that was in the window up until this morning."

"Yes, what about it?"

"Do you still have it? I heard you were going to dump her."

"Well, yes..."

Well, don't... I must have her... Look..." Ralph got his wallet out and pulled out a wad of tenners. "I'll pay for her... How much?"

"You can have her," said the manageress. "We were only going to throw her away."

"Where is she?"

"Out the back, in the yard. But you'll have to be quick if you don't want to carry her away in little pieces. George took her out about five minutes ago to break her up for the skip." The manageress pointed the way.

Ralph dashed out to the yard, feeling a terrible sense of dread. As he opened the back door he heard a sickeningly dull clump come from behind a bright yellow mini-skip, already partly full with rubbish from the refurbishing that was taking place on the first floor. There was a blood-curdling scream and a familiar but desperate voice: "NO, NO, Please don't! NOooo!" There was another whack and a sound of splintering and cracking pieces of alabaster, followed by the heart-rending sound of a woman sobbing, becoming weaker. When he reached the other side of the skip he saw the maintenance man, George laying into Marilyn with a sledge-hammer.

The third blow struck before Ralph could take action. This one broke the legs away from the body. Ralph flew at George, shoving him roughly to the ground. He stared in horror at the broken pieces of body strewn everywhere, head, limbs and torso now separate entities. A platinum blonde hairpiece lay fluttering in the breeze nearby. He was aware of an underlying, terrible whimpering and sobbing, almost subliminal, the sound of which seemed to rip at his heart. He looked at the now hairless head of what remained of Marilyn, her mascara-smudged eyes staring accusingly at him as a tear trickled down her cheek. He sank to his knees in a state of shock and disbelief and began crying also.

"Didn't you hear her calling out?" he sobbed. "She was telling you to stop. Why didn't you stop when she told you? You just carried on hitting her when she was trying to tell y-you t-to..."

Ralph was distraught. He carefully scooped up the mannequin's head and cradled it in his lap. Her eyes fluttered momentarily before finally settling open. "Oh, Marilyn, I'm so, so sorry," he said, gently closing them for her and kissing her forehead.

George was still sprawled out on the ground. A small crowd has gathered, the shop's staff had come out into the yard to see what all the commotion was about.