Take Two

CHAPTER 22

Terry lived in a converted clothes factory in Kilburn, close to the main high street, with his boyfriend, Gabe, and hundreds of movie and theatre props. While Terry was under contract with the company that made Rags To Riches, he and Gabe also ran a firm that specialized in props and costumes for film and television productions. The downstairs area was packed with movie props, everything from furniture and paintings to half-built robots, fake trees and plants and hundreds of labeled cardboard boxes. The main door led into the storage area the size of a tennis court and to the left was a metal staircase that led to the upstairs living area, two large bedrooms, a sitting room, two bathrooms and a kitchen. Terry took Carolyn up the stairs and switched on the kettle. ‘Coffee, then I’ll get you fixed up,’ said Terry.

‘Fixed up?’ repeated Gabe, walking sleepily into the kitchen. He was unshaven and wearing only black silk pyjama bottoms, showing off his six-pack abdomen. He ran his hand through his tousled blonde hair and smiled at Carolyn. ‘Not planning on stealing my boy are you?’ he asked.

‘As if she could,’ said Terry, planting a kiss on Gabe’s cheek and patting him on the backside. ‘Get her a coffee while I take a quick shower.’

Carolyn sat down at the breakfast bar and sighed.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Gabe. ‘Terry said you were a bit distraught last night.’

‘I’m going through some shit at the moment,’ admitted Carolyn. ‘Not the least being that my boyfriend of two years has decided he’d rather shag a younger model.’

‘Men,’ said Gabe. ‘Can’t live with them, can’t shoot them in the nuts.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘In this case I might make an exception.’

Gabe made three mugs of coffee and Terry reappeared just as Carolyn was sipping hers. He’d changed into a Nike tracksuit. ‘Right, let’s get started,’ he said to Carolyn. ‘I’m thinking estate agent. Both of us. Drumming up business. I’ll run off some business cards and we’ll get you in a suit.’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Gabe.

Terry patted him on the cheek. ‘Secret squirrel stuff,’ he said. ‘We could tell you, but then we’d have to kill you.’

Gabe smiled sarcastically and folded his arms. ‘Don’t fuck around, Terry. What are you up to?’

‘I’ve got a problem, Gabe, and Terry’s trying to help me with it,’ said Carolyn. ‘It’s personal. Really personal. And Terry’s being an angel.’

‘And you can’t tell me what it is?’

Carolyn looked pained. ‘I’d rather as few people know as possible. If that’s okay. If you really, really want to know I’ll tell you, but I’d much rather not.’

Gabe nodded slowly. ‘Okay. I get it. Mum’s the word.’

‘You can see why I love him, can’t you?’ Terry said to Carolyn. ‘Now come on, downstairs. Let’s see what we can do about your hair.’

They went down the stairs to the main storage area. There were three columns of metal shelving units each twelve feet high with just enough space between them to manoeuver a stepladder. Every inch of space was filled with labeled cardboard boxes and objects swathed in bubble wrap. Terry found the box he was looking for and pulled it out. ‘Wigs,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking dirty blonde with a slight curl.’ He pulled out a blonde wig and Carolyn tried it on. Terry grinned. ‘A bit of tidying and it’ll be fine,’ he said. He went over to a rack of women’s suits and pulled out a dark blue skirt and jacket. Carolyn pulled a face and Terry laughed. ‘It’s not high fashion, darling, it’s camouflage.’

‘And you’re wearing a tracksuit?’

‘I’ll change once we’ve done your face and hair,’ said Terry. He took her back upstairs into the kitchen and sat her at the breakfast bar. Gabe had gone back to bed. Terry retrieved a make-up case from his bathroom and spent half an hour fixing her wig, applying a small beauty spot by her lip and applying make-up that accentuated her cheekbones. When he’d finished, he showed her the new look in a mirror. Carolyn nodded as she admired his handiwork. ‘You said you were going to take ten years off me but you’ve gone and added five years,’ she said.

‘I’ve given you a certain maturity,’ he said. ‘It’ll make you much harder to spot. Whenever you’re in the papers, they Photoshop you to make you look younger.’

‘They do not!’ protested Carolyn.

‘You know they do,’ said Terry. ‘So no one ever sees you this way. Your own son won’t even recognise you. How’s Robbie doing, by the way? He’s in his second year now, right?’

‘He’s doing just fine. Still wants to be a journalist, which worries me a bit. But hopefully he’ll grow out of that. Last year he wanted to be a pilot. And the year before that an astronaut.’

‘He’ll do all right,’ said Terry. ‘He’s a smart boy. Takes after his mum.’ He put away his make-up brushes. ‘Okay, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it.’