The Wooing of a London Soubrette

"Make her jump?" Terry asked, a little confused and Sandy nodded.

"Yes, she has parachute and won't jump from plane. You need to make her."

Terry grinned and squeezed Sandy's hand. "I'll try. But I have to go back to work for a couple of days. But I'll be back on Wednesday."

"You drive tonight?"

"Yeah. There'll be nothing on the roads, it'll take me no time to get back," Terry guessed but wasn't completely confident in his assurance. He would probably arrive home around sunrise.

* * * * *

Terry had managed to negotiate a couple of days off work mid-week and was sat in Grace's lounge idly playing with her tits. It was Sandy's twentieth birthday the day after but she was not celebrating it, the rape at knife point and beating she took still scaring her.

Grace had repeatedly suggested that they leave London and go elsewhere but Sandy had become insular and was not conversing fully. She wanted to be left alone and it scared Grace; she had never seen Sandy like that.

Since Grace had known Sandy she had been very strong, and stood up to everyone and everything that had been thrown at her. She had coped with so many horrors in her life, but this was almost one step too far, and this terrified Grace. They needed a change of scenery.

Terry had testified to the fact that there was a thriving sex scene in Manchester and Birmingham and she left the suggestion in the air but Sandy was not able to make a decision and Grace made sure that she ate three meals a day and did not over-consume on alcohol.

The Wednesday they were alone in the lounge when Sandy walked in. "What you doing tonight?" Sandy asked clinically and Terry shrugged, a little surprised. Sandy had barely spoken to him since he had arrived earlier in the day and didn't immediately appreciate why she was doing so now.

"Dunno. Might stay here, keep you company."

"There is some good music on in the pub down the road. That Irish band we saw a couple of weeks ago," Sandy told them and they nodded.

"Yeah OK. If you want to see them."

Sandy shook her head. "No. I need to sort some stuff out." Grace looked at her and she shrugged her shoulders. "Police paperwork. I've been putting it off, I just need it done."

"I'll help. I don't want to ..." Grace started and was unsure how to finish it. She didn't want to tell Sandy she didn't want to leave her alone, or alone at night as that sounded weird. Certainly she had cancelled some of her shifts so she could spent more time in the flat with her, although Sandy had surprisingly refused to cancel her shifts at the casino, especially as she was convinced her rape was now connected with the illicit gambling. She said she wouldn't let him win, but Grace could earn enough money to keep them solvent for weeks if they needed to.

"I'll go tomorrow. We can celebrate my birthday. Promise," Sandy said. "And we can talk about our new business venture." Grace and Terry looked at each other, but with Sandy's insistence they left the flat ten minutes later.

Grace whispered in Terry's ear. If he could be quiet later, he could fuck her ass. She just didn't want Sandy to hear.

* * * * *

Grace laughed as she unlocked the door to their small flat. Terry had his arms around her shoulders and was telling her about the problems a certain builder had caused. He was certainly knowledgeable about business and would provide guidance to Sandy and herself when they did set up on their own. She called out to Sandy when she came in but there was no answer; she's obviously gone to bed early.

Terry walked through to the kitchen and filled the small brown kettle. "You having one?"

"Please," Grace replied and put her small handbag on the table and turned around to go into the bathroom. The cheap lager had made its way down to her bladder and she needed to release.

"You have milk, right?" Terry called and Grace replied that she did. He picked up the milk from the fridge.

Grace let out a piercing scream that chilled Terry to his bones; he dropped the milk onto the floor and ran into the bathroom, skidding abruptly. He immediately turned Grace to bury her face in his chest when he saw the sight that had caused her to yell.

Spinning from the ceiling joist was a naked and ashen-faced Sandy, suspended by a rope on her neck. "Call the police," was all he could say and he pushed Grace out of the room. It wouldn't do any good, it was suicide, the chair kicked away from underneath her, but they had to do it.

He blinked and put his hand to his mouth. "You stupid girl," he muttered and wiped a tear from his eyes. He had liked Sandy, she had been good to him and he knew how much Sandy meant to Grace. He had no idea that the rape had affected her so badly but there was no other reason why she would want to take her own life. Surely?

There was an envelope on the sink and he picked it up before respectfully closing the door.

Chapter VII

Dear Gracie,

I am sorry you had to find me like this but I just could not go on any more. I'm sure the bastard was stalking me to the shops yesterday and I know he is going to get me. Next time he will kill me and if you are there, he'll kill you too. Neville knows I know all his secrets and wants me dead.

I know you are thinking that I am weak and cowardly for taking the easy way out, or that I was insane, but there is no-one who can help me and this is the simplest way.

I am at peace now. No-one can make me unhappy or scared any more. No more perverted uncles trying to force me into under-age dog porn or abusing me. No more sweaty clients humping me. I have moved on to a better place.

I have put all of my money that I had saved up in your drawer. I have also taken all the money from Neville's casino safe and hidden it in Terry's car under the spare tyre. Please take it and have a good life with it. You deserve it.

I have also sent Neville's secret book where he keeps all the information about his dodgy dealings to the Police. Get out of London, the parlour may get raided.

I have fed Puddles and there is some chicken in the fridge for him tomorrow morning. I was going to have it for my dinner but didn't feel like it. Please don't let the little thing starve.

Please, please forgive me for being a coward. You are the only person I ever loved, you made me happy and my life worth living but I know you are in good hands with Terry.

He is a good man, I wish I could have found someone like him. Don't push him away, you need him now and he needs you.

I love you forever, see you in fifty years or so!

Sandy.

Chapter VIII

Grace's fingers were trembling as she read the letter, her eyes streaming with tears bouncing off the paper.

Terry got up when he heard a knock on the door and the burly PC Tate escorted by a younger officer, came in with a grin on his face. "Someone said the old tart had topped herself," he said crassly. "Where's the body?"

Terry bit his lip. "She is in the bathroom, second on the right," he replied tersely and he walked down the corridor and opened the door.

He chuckled. "Hey I bet she isn't gonna give good oral now. Boastful cow said she could suck a golf ball through a hosepipe."

Grace took a deep breath, filed the letter away in the envelope and put it in her handbag. She walked to the corridor, and with as much force as she could muster, drove her fist into the side of PC Tate's head.

"Don't you dare talk about my friend like that," she screamed, and arrowed a kick into his stomach, tears streaming down her face. "She was a good person. And because you won't find her attacker she has killed herself." Grace steadied herself on the doorway and was over the surprised police officer.

"Stop her, Dawkins," PC Tate cried out between painful yells and Terry dragged Grace away before the police could do it.

"He killed her," Grace yelled, straining at Terry's arms. "It's his fault," she shouted hysterically and he pushed her into the chair she had just come from.

Terry looked into Grace's eyes and knelt down beside her, holding her hand. "It won't bring her back, Grace. It won't bring her back."

* * * * *

Grace and Terry walked into Grace's bedroom. Her body had been taken to the morgue and she didn't want to leave London that night, the shock of what she had seen made her scared. She had looked in Sandy's bedroom and she had helpfully sorted out all of her belongings before she had killed herself. This made Grace cry again; the very thought that she had spent the last days of her life organising her own death.

It hit her that suddenly she would have the rest of her life without her only friend and this scared her. But her loss was more than that, she felt she should have been there for her, Sandy was her friend and she let her down when she needed her the most. Why was she out with Terry instead of consoling her?

Grace was racked with guilt and nothing Terry could say changed anything. She opened her desk drawer and burst into tears. Sitting on top of all the underwear and papers was a big pile of money: Sandy's money.

"It'll pay for a nice funeral," Terry muttered when he saw it and immediately wished he hadn't. It was a little insensitive but Grace was looking further into her drawer and not listening to what he said. A small wrapped present and card lay at the back; she removed them.

"She was twenty tomorrow," Grace said tearfully. "We were going to go the flicks before all this happened."

"What did you get her?"

"A bracelet," Grace replied staring into the space. "A silver bracelet. She loved her jewellery." Grace buried her hands in her face and howled inconsolably.

* * * * *

"Listen Fingers," PC Tate said menacingly pushing the guy up against the alley wall. "You do what I tell you to. That girl you raped topped herself. You just do the beating that I tell you to and get out of there. Nothing fucked up, you hear me."

"But you told me to teach her a lesson," he whined. His clothes were torn and dirty from his work in the factory and the officer sneered.

"I told you to give her a seeing to. Little bitch wouldn't give me a freebie, I didn't tell you to rape her."

"Yeah, but she was asking for it. See what the slut was wearing."

PC Tate drove a fist into his stomach and stared at him. "I've had a fucking hard time covering this one up," he spat. "You're lucky half of the Met aren't looking for you. We got a fucking good description, now lose the trainers and stop fucking about and just do what I tell you to, unless you don't want to run the crack market in this town?"

* * * * *

"I know we are supposed to be going slowly and all that, but please Grace. Come and live with me for awhile. At least until you got yourself sorted."

Grace huffed at him. "Please Terry, I don't need this," she murmured and he nodded. It had been two days since the body had been found by her, but he was getting worried. She seemed unable to think about anything other than Sandy and he certainly didn't want her living here on her own.

"I know. Which is why I am concerned about you. It's a small village. Well away from the hustle of London. Come back and I'll sleep on the sofa while you are there. Please. I'll only worry about you. Come after the funeral."

Grace wiped a tear from her eyes and glanced over at the envelope on her desk with Sandy's scrawling writing. She thought about what she told her, "don't push him away," and then looked up at him.

"OK. But I don't know what I will do for work."

"There is a strip club in Stoke. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you occupied. Or don't work. It's not as though I will need the money," he told her. "Just come. Please, Grace. Just come back to Cheshire with me."

* * * * *

"I'm leaving," Grace admitted and passed Ethel the cat. "He needs a home and we can't take him."

Ethel smiled and looked at the purring animal in her hands. "You sure, love. Won't your partner want to keep it?"

Terry was busy loading the last of the bags in his car and was waiting for his girlfriend to join him. It had taken many weeks, but she was finally his. She was worth fighting for, he thought, as she was unique.

"No. There is no space. And he is a London cat."

The woman smiled and stroked the animal. She had a nervous look on her face as if she wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to broach it.

"I'm sorry to hear of your friend," she said eventually and Grace nodded. She hadn't stop thinking of Sandy and wished that she was coming with her, and wiped her eyes.

"Yes. It was ... awful. Police don't care," Grace muttered. "Bastards."

Ethel nodded. "They are that."

"You ready?" Terry asked, interrupting the subdued conversation, and Grace left Ethel and Terry to give the flat one last look, and to lay a small bouquet of flowers in the bathroom. She knew they would be gone as soon as the cleaners came in, but she couldn't leave the flat without signifying Sandy's presence somehow.

"Yes," she murmured as she returned to the daylight. "Let's just get out of here."