THE RED BODY STOCKING - CHAPTER 2

In the last blog, Liz's friend Roz asked her to come to a party which would change her life. Here's the party. Do let me know if you enjoy it.

 

Chapter 2

A week later, Tina Tushmore's breasts launch themselves into Roz's resplendent lounge before the rest of her follows - two seconds later. It’s a miracle, I think -  a woman who defies gravity with bigger pectorals than Arnie Schwarznegger.

‘TG.’ Roz whispers to me, pointing to the most significant portion of Tina Tushmore's anatomy. ‘Titty Galore.’

TG is a natural peroxide blonde whose face is armour-plated with make-up. She flashes the twenty women sitting in the room a rent-a-mouth smile which doesn’t reach her eyes. I watch in amazement as she heaves an enormous suitcase onto Roz’s prize possession; a 16th century inlaid mother-of-pearl table with bow legs. Roz nearly faints. Then TG snaps the suitcase lid open and uses it as a breast prop.

‘Evening, girls!’ she says, fluttering her eyelashes. We stare in fascination as two stalactites of mascara, layered over enormous false eyelashes, descend precariously over her eyes.  One of the eyelashes sticks onto her cheek. There’s a communal intake of breath as she tears it off and stares at us. Quasimodo stands before us with one enormous feathery eye and one raisin.

I stuff a fist in my mouth.

‘Now how many of you have been to a party like this before, girls?’ TG shouts, as if she’s in a meeting for the hard of hearing. 

‘I thought you said this was an illustrated talk on wild life?’ 76 year old Mrs. Bates says to her school-friend, Miss Price, who’s been running the local post office on precarious lines for thirty-five years.

‘Well, I think that's what Mrs. Hopkins said, Edna.’ Miss Price answers, adjusting her hearing aid.

TG doesn’t bother to check the uplifted hands as she forages in the case and brings out her first visual aid of the evening. A vibrator. It isn’t really what I’d expected from my first party in eighteen years. 

‘What happened to the nighties?’ I whisper to Roz. But Roz seems mesmerized by the object in TG's hand.

‘Later.’

I’m worried. What will Mrs. Bates and Miss Price think? I’d only asked them because they hardly went out in the evening.  Most of the time, Mrs. Bates played the organ in church and Miss Price arranged the flowers for the elderly vicar.

‘Is that part of an elephant's trunk?’ Mrs. Bates asks, peering at the vibrator. ‘I haven’t brought the right glasses.’

‘Not many of you will have seen one this size.’ TG says, stroking the Stallion.  ‘This is our most popular line for obvious reasons. It only needs two batteries and it’ll go for hours.’

Miss Price looks concerned. ‘Oh, dear, I don’t believe in waste, Mrs.…umm. Batteries were terribly difficult for my parents to get during the war, you know… What does that implement do, exactly?’

‘Well, if you don't know at your time of life, love. I can't tell you.’ TG snorts with laughter as she switches the Stallion on. The breast prop collapses.

‘Well, that's a bit of wild life for you, Edna,’ Miss Price says as we watch the vibrator pitch and roll in TG's hand, accompanied by a rumba of breasts.

‘Packs a punch, does this one, girls. But if that's not enough for you. How about this!' TG forages in the suitcase like a magician and brings out another visual aid: 'The Rampant  Rabbit!'

‘That's more like it,’ shouts Mrs. Bates. ‘ At least I can recognize that!’

‘This is the only one on the market  filled with sensual beads  and a rotating seven inch shaft. And-get-a-load-of-this, girls!  A vibrating rabbit clitoral stimulator!’ TG turns it on and we watch the pink ears of the rabbit gyrate up and down.

‘It reminds me of the church outing to France,’ Miss Price says, smiling at TG.

‘This rabbit reminds you of a church outing?’ TG’s enormous feathery eye quivers rapidly.

Miss Price turns to her friend. ‘Remember, Edna. How that ferry boat went up and down in that gale. Reminds me of that rabbit's ears.’

Mrs. Bates nods in agreement.

‘Girls! Girls! Let's concentrate here!’ TG shouts desperately, feeling her sales slipping through her fingers.  ‘Just ask hubby to buy you one of these for Christmas and you'll all be happy bunnies.’ She snorts with laughter again.

‘Oh, but I'm not married.’ Miss Price's voice trembles. ‘I’ll never get a Rampant Rabbit for Christmas.’

‘Look, love ... anyone could buy you one of these - even your friend Mrs. what's her name.’ TG shouts at her.

‘I'm not deaf, you know!’ Miss Price shouts back as she turns her hearing aid down. She looks at her friend. ‘I'll buy one for you, Edna - if you'll buy one for me.’

‘But what will I do with it, Tilly?’

‘I think it would look very well on the mantelpiece in your front room. It would blend beautifully with the pink carpet and it would be a conversation piece, wouldn't it? Imagine the vicar's surprise when he sees the rabbit's ears bobbing up and down.’

I can feel hysteria welling up inside me and turn quickly to talk to my new neighbour, Renate, a young German girl. Her head is moving up and down in rhythm with the rabbit's. I thought it’d be a friendly gesture to invite her to a typical British party. Looking at the expression on her face, I wonder if this is the right venue.

‘For those of you who think small is beautiful.’ TG winks at me as she brings another smaller vibrator out of her case.  Has she met Ivor? I wonder as she puts the vibrator in my hand.

‘This is the answer - Rumpelstiltskin. Or for the more adventurous.’ TG is looking at Roz now, I notice.  ‘What about G-Force. Takes you to the stars this one does, girls.’

TG brings out a double-ended 9" vibrator, places it onto Mrs. Bates' lap and switches it on. Mrs. Bates screams, thinking it’s a snake. She throws it at Renate. Suddenly the room is full of flying vibrators as the women follow Mrs. Bates' lead.

‘Butter fingers!’ someone shouts at Renate, who seems incapable of movement.  Lying on the floor beside her is Rambo; a 10" multispeed, soft, vein-textured vibrator which pulsates at an alarming rate. I pick it up and place on Renate's lap, just to prove I’m a member of Neighbourhood Watch.

‘That's yours, Renate.’

I smile encouragingly at her, but Renate just stares down at it in horror.

‘It's all right. It won't bite. Well, it shouldn't!’ I laugh, then realise my humour is wasted on her.

A yellow vibrator with an elephant's head bounces into my lap and suddenly, I can’t stop laughing. Soon the room is full of hysterical women attacking each other in mock-vibrator battles.

‘What you doing!’ TG shouts. ‘This isn't supposed to be funny! It's supposed to be sexy!’

‘Please. I do not understand,’ Renate says, after we’ve all calmed down.

‘What, love?’ TG answers in a saccharin-filled voice. ‘Don't they have much sex in Germany?’

‘No, I mean how is it sexy to hold one of these strange objects?’

‘Look, love, you can satisfy yourself for hours with one of those things, let me tell you.’

Renate looks even more confused. ‘But my husband already does that.’

There is a stunned silence in the room. TG's jaw drops open. Her evening is not going to plan.

‘Well, aren't you the lucky one,’ she purrs when she's recovered her powers of speech. ‘Right - let's have them all back in the case. It's costing me a fortune in batteries.’

‘I did tell you about wasting batteries, didn't I, dear?’ Miss Price says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes as she reluctantly puts her model back in the case.

Suddenly the Stallion leaps out of my hands and snakes across the carpet. It’s too much for Roz's psychotic dog, Beethoven. He’s been watching strange oscillating objects for a long time through the window. Tearing his chain from the garden wall, he bounds into the room and sinks his teeth into it.

I’ve never seen breasts move so fast. TG throws herself at the dog in an effort to make him relinquish the Stallion. Beethoven growls convulsively and sinks his teeth deeper into the shaft. TG tightens her hands around the dog's throat and his eyes start to bulge. At that moment, Beethoven bites straight through the shaft and reaches the battery. With a howl, he releases his prehensile clamp on the vibrator and races out into the garden. All that is left of the Stallion is a leaking battery and a shattered shaft scrunched all over Roz's Persian rug which cost £25,000.

‘That's a pity,’ Miss Price says, ‘I was just getting the hang of that one.’

‘Sorry about that,’ I gasp, when I can speak.  ‘I'll pay for the vibrator, naturally.’

‘It'll cost you £60.’ TG's make-up is cracking like council pavements. But she’s a professional. She replaces her breast prop and regains her smile. ‘Well, this is turning out to be an interesting evening, isn't it?’

‘Oh yes, very,’ Miss Price says with an excited tremor in her voice. ‘What else have you got in the case?’

‘Oh, lots of things, love. Of course, some of you have other methods.’ TG stares at Renate.  ‘For those of us not so lucky to be living with Superman, let's look at other options, shall we? The aphrodisiac. The Romans knew a thing or two, I can tell you.’

‘Actually, the word comes from the Greek goddess Aphrodite,’ I say without thinking. ‘I’ve just finished a very interesting book called “How to tell your Romans from your Greeks.”’

‘Well, thank you very much, love, I didn't realize I'd been dealing with such a load of … ’  TG's  lips tighten  into purse strings as she struggles for words.

‘Intelligent  women?’ I suggest helpfully.

TG's make up has started to flake over Roz's carpet. ‘I have a number of potions in this case that can increase sexual desire ten times over.’

‘Better not give it to Renate's husband then,’ Miss Price hiccups with laughter before leaning over to her friend. ‘Do you know something, Edna. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much since the vicar fell down the steps during Harvest Festival.’

Edna Bates looks at her in surprise, then suddenly bursts out laughing too.

‘Right. Are you ready to sample the aphrodisiacs, girls?’ TG says, trying to ignore the constant interruptions from the old women.

‘You bet!’ shouts Mrs. Perkins. ‘My husband never raises anything except a pint of beer.’

I try to imagine 17 stone Mr. Perkins raising anything and stuff my fist in my mouth to stop the hysteria. TG grinds her teeth before leaving the support of the breast prop to demonstrate the wonders of powered rhinoceros horn. She places a little on her hand between her thumb and index finger and snorts loudly. Soon she’s swaying around the room, but I can’t tell whether it’s the weight of her breasts or the potency of the horn which is causing the movement.

‘You just need your man to inhale a little of this before he goes to bed and he'll be chasing you round the bedroom for hours.’

‘I don’t want a marathon!’ Mrs. Perkins shouts. ‘I want fornication.’

‘Gestation? 22 months for elephants.’ Miss Price announces to the room.

TG pretends she hasn’t heard and brings out bottles from her case with names like  Aprodite's Dream.  Moon Bug.  From Sidcup to the Stars.

‘Or you could just rub a little of this on your body, girls and feel the difference.’

We all start rubbing the lotions on ourselves. I rub some Moon Bug on my arms. The smell reminds me of something in the garden. What is it? I pass the bottle to Roz. Her nose wriggles.

‘Compost,’ she says.

 Suddenly I feel a slight tingling on my arms. It’s working. So that's what an aphrodisiac feels like.  I look over at Mrs. Perkins who is rubbing enormous quantities of  From Sidcup to the Stars all over her. She’s rolled down her woollen stockings and is just about to start on her legs when TG grabs the bottle out of her hands.

‘I did say a little, love, didn't I? This stuff costs a fortune.’

‘I thought if I used the whole bottle I'd get as far away from Sidcup as possible. I hate it.’ Mrs. Perkins answers.

I can feel the tingling on my arms getting stronger. It feels more like an itch than anything else. Renate leans over to me in concern.

‘Your arm, Liz - it looks very red.’

My arm now looks like a relief map of the equator.

‘Is that what's supposed to happen with an aphrodisiac?’ Miss Price asks. ‘My arm's a little itchy too.’  She brings out some ointment from her handbag and passes it to me. ‘This is very good for stopping itches, Mrs. Hopkins. I stock it for Mr. Pearson from Number Four. He swears by it for his piles.’

I swiftly pass the ointment back. ‘Thanks, the itching's stopped.’

‘Well, there's a miracle ointment for you. And you only touched it.’

‘Girls - girls!’ TG is starting to sound hysterical.  ‘Let’s concentrate here... Now I want you all to kneel on the floor for a game.  A little game I've invented to get you in the mood.’

‘In the mood for what?’ Mrs. Bates snaps. ‘Arthritic immobility?’

‘Don't be silly, love.’ TG says through clenched teeth. ‘I'm sure you can manage to kneel … if you make an effort.’

‘Come on, Edna.’ Miss Price is already on her knees. ‘Pretend you're in church.’

‘But I don't know why I have to.’ Edna Bates says, looking suspiciously at TG.  ‘This isn't my idea of an illustrated talk on wild life at all. And don't think I'm going to pretend to be a rhinoceros because I'm not.’

‘Nobody wants you to be a rhinoceros, love.’ TG grinds her teeth rapidly for a few seconds. Then she smiles and puts us in pairs. Each couple is given a piece of paper with a crude outline on it, a pair of scissors and a straw.

‘Oh, this is just like Christmas, isn't it, Edna,’ Miss Price shouts excitedly. ‘What do we do now, Mrs.... umm.’ She looks up at the overhanging ledge of TG's breasts  which are overshadowing the light.

‘I want you to cut out the Percys on the paper and -’

‘Oh, that’s a Percy, is it?’ Miss Price says excitedly, as she hacks into the paper.

‘Not yet! I'll tell you when.’

‘Sorry.’ She looks crestfallen, so I wink at her and waggle my scissors in solidarity.

‘Now when I give the word, I want one of you to cut out Percy and pass it to your partner. Then the partner will push Percy along the floor, but not - and this is the funny bit, girls - not with her hands, but by blowing down her straw as if it was a pea-shooter.’

‘A hooter?’ Miss Price shouts out in confusion.

‘She means the straw, Tilly... I think.’ Mrs. Bates looks doubtful.

‘The other partner will be kneeling at the finishing line encouraging her to blow harder.’

‘I've no idea what that woman is talking about,’ Tilly Price shouts to Roz. ‘It's your house, do you know?’

‘You'll soon pick it up, love,’ TG says, before grinding her teeth again.

‘All right?  Ready! Steady! GO!’

I watch Roz's elegant attempts at cutting out a perfect Percy. She’s only half way round the shaft when Mrs. Bates had finished.

‘Oh give it to me, Roz. We're not making a work of art!’ I grab the scissors off her and tear around the shaft in a flash, noticing that Renate and partner are already blowing their Percy across the carpet. They laugh loudly as it flutters around the room.

‘So that's what you do!’ Mrs. Bates purses her lips around the straw and blows hard. Percy lifts half an inch off the floor. ‘It's supposed to represent a kangaroo, I suppose.’

‘Surely you can do better than that, Edna?’ Miss Price takes the straw off her friend, spreads herself along the floor and starts blowing. Percy flutters down the carpet. ‘You're supposed to shout some encouragement.’

‘Up school! Up school!’ Mrs. Bates cries.

‘Come on, Liz!’ Roz's nose is inches off the carpet in front of me.

‘Get out of the way!’

‘Sorry.  Watch out!  Miss Price's gaining on you!’

Miss Price's face is plum-coloured with the effort of blowing her Percy across the room. Suddenly it flutters high in the air and lands inches away from the finishing line TG has drawn on Roz's expensive carpet.

‘Jolly good, Tilly. You always were good at sport in school.’ Mrs. Bates shouts to Miss Price who is now using the cunning technique of pretending to be a steam engine and puffing Percy towards the line.  I blow steadily towards Miss Price.

‘Opposition at the rear, Tilly!’ Mrs. Bates trumpets.

Miss Price briefly stops puffing to glare at me. Suddenly she sighs deeply. The draught lifts my Percy into the air; it floats on a gentle thermal towards the fireplace and disappears up the chimney.

‘That’s cheating!  She ought to be disqualified!’ I glare at Miss Price and TG.

‘It's only a game, love.’ T G smiles, knowing she’s got me hooked.

Miss Price puffs her Percy gently over the finishing line, then turns to smile beatifically at everyone.

‘Well done, Tilly!’ Edna shouts. ‘I knew you could do it!’

‘So did I,’ says Tilly Price with triumphant modesty. ‘What's my prize, Mrs. umm...’

Everyone stops puffing their Percys across the room and sits down, exhausted with laughing.

‘Well, I'll tell you something,’ Mrs. Bates says to TG. ‘This is definitely the most interesting evening I've spent on wild life so far this year.’

‘But what about my prize,’ Miss Price says petulantly.

‘And the prize is ...’ TG lingers theatrically over the last word.  ‘Your choice of the fabulous lingerie which Mrs. Walton has kindly allowed me to put in one of her bedrooms.’ TG smiles at Miss Price. ‘So if you lot follow Mrs. Walton, she'll show you -  The Wonders of the Night.’

I suddenly realize where Roz gets her tiger-skin tie-up chemises from. ‘You wait ‘til you see what's in the bedroom,’ she whispers to me as I walk up the stairs with her. ‘It'll knock your socks off.’

We troop into one of Roz's palatial bedrooms and gasp. Spread over every surface is an Arabian night of exotic lingerie and dresses in a kaleidoscope of colours: raunchy zipped cami-suspender sets; PVC padded bras and matching thongs, tiny maid's outfits with G-String backs and detachable aprons; little wench outfits with black briefs; underwired Basques with flock embossing and ribbon ties; a multitude of satin chemises; corsets with ribbon tie fronts, hook and eye backs and detachable suspenders, transparent body stockings.

‘What bright colours, aren't they,  Edna?’ Miss Price turns excitedly to TG.  ‘What exactly do you do with them, Mrs.…umm?’

                                                                        *                                         

I eventually find TG sitting on the toilet drinking whisky from a hip flask. ‘Medicinal, love.’

‘Everyone's waiting for you. Especially Miss Price. She hasn't had her prize yet.’

‘Oh Gawd - who invited the old trout anyway?’

‘Well, I did as a matter of fact. She doesn't get out much these days.’

‘Oh me heart's bleeding, love. Go on then. Lead us like a lamb to the albatross.’ TG's breasts wobble as she snorts with laughter. ‘Charlie always said I should be in comedy... Do you know my Charlie?’ She tries getting up from the toilet seat and falls back again. ‘Left me yesterday.’ TG's make up starts running in rivulets down her face as the sobs tear from her.

Why me? I think. There's nineteen women back in that bedroom enjoying themselves, but I have to be the one to find her. All I want to do is change my life and here I am in a bathroom with a woman who looks like a redundant clown.

‘I'm sure he'll come back soon, TG.’ The initials are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

‘What’d you call me?’

‘Tina. It's my new bridge,’ I say, pointing to my mouth.  ‘I think we ought to join the others, don't you? Perhaps you'd better do a repair job first.’

TG looks into the bathroom mirror and groans. ‘Gawd - Charlie'll never come back if I look like this.’

I want to scream: Of course he bloody won't! But I’ve been brought up in a convent school. ‘He's not going to see you like that, is he? You've got all the tricks of the trade in that suitcase.’

TG's tragic mouth turns towards the light. ‘You're right, love. I have. You just give me five minutes and you won't recognize me.’

I rush out and find the women dressing up in the bedroom. Suddenly the air is punched out of my body. In front of me stands 76 year old Mrs. Bates, dressed from head to toe in black leather and carrying a whip.

‘What do you think, Tilly?’ She calls over to Miss Price.

Miss Price looks over at her leather-clad friend. ‘No, I don't think it's quite you, Edna. I hope you don't mind me saying so. It's a little extreme, isn't it?’

Mrs. Bates reluctantly takes off the leather jump-suit while Tilly Price zips herself into a tight fitting puce evening dress with a slit up to the thigh on one side. She parades up and down the room in front of us which is highly disturbing as she always wears a brown tweed skirt and a twin-set in the post office.

‘What do you think everyone? Isn't it lovely?’

Mouths open and close like goldfish, but no one can find the right words.

‘Mrs. Hopkins? What do you think? You were kind enough to invite me here this evening. Now tell me the truth - it does suit me, doesn't it?’

I think of the dying words of Auntie Mildred. Those who tell lies, Elizabeth, never go to heaven. Remember that if you want to see me again. 

‘Umm - yes, it is a lovely dress. What do you think, Mrs. Bates?’

‘Well, I've never thought puce was your colour, Tilly.’

Miss Price's lower lip starts to tremble.

‘Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Bates. I think it suits Miss Price very well.’ I look at Roz for support. ‘Don't you agree, Roz?’

‘Oh, I'm colour-blind, Liz… you know that.’

So much for friendship, I think. TG suddenly appears at the door, her face reconstructed into a semblance of beauty.

‘Oh, yes,’ she drawls to Miss Price.  ‘That's you, all right. Just your colour… isn't that right, girls?’

We all nod in unison and the puce dress, which everyone knows Miss Price will never wear, is wrapped up in sludge-coloured tissue paper which complements the dress beautifully.

‘Just one thing,’ TG adds. ‘Get rid of the black lace-up shoes, love. They don't help the overall effect. Know what I mean?’

Miss Price nods. ‘I knew something wasn't quite right, Mrs.… er... You certainly know how to advise people, don't you?’

‘Years of practice, love. Believe me, you'll knock the men dead with that dress.’ TG pats Miss Price's arm fondly.

I imagine the vicar’s face as Miss Price walks up the aisle wearing a dress with a slit almost up to her navel.

‘So - has every one chosen something naughty, but nice?’

‘Well, I haven’t had time.’ I know I sound childish.

TG smiles at me. ‘You can take all night, if you want, love. We girls must stick together, eh?’ She gives me an enormous wink with one of her newly stuck-on false eyelashes. It’s unnerving.

Roz is standing in a corner of the bedroom wearing a tiny piece of material around her crutch and a leopard-skin padded bra. She looks stunning. Why can’t I look like that? I think, feeling incredibly depressed by my underwear.

‘You can't beat navy knickers from Marks & Spencers,’ Ivor says, every December when he brings home my surprise Christmas present.

‘Go on, Liz. Try on a thong.’ Roz throws a tiny piece of material at me from a pile on the bed.

‘But there's nothing to cover the... you know.’  I say, holding the thong at arm’s length in case it’s infectious. ‘I don't like it. It's not...’ I can’t think of the right word.

‘That's all right, love,’ TG looks at me with understanding. ‘Thongs are not everyone’s cup of tea. You know what I can see you in? A body stocking. A lovely red body stocking and I've got just the one for you.’

TG forages under the pile of skimpy garments on the bed and brings out a red velour body stocking with key-hole detail in the front. She passes it to me reverentially.

‘Let's forget about the upset with the Stallion, shall we? After our little chat in the bathroom.’ She winks at me again and her eyelid quivers in its effort to lift the laden lashes off her cheek.

‘Try it on, love, while I wrap things up for the other girls.’

‘Please - can I buy these?’ Renate asks, holding up a pair of skin-tight fly-front bootleg trousers in stretch PVC and a tiny matching top.

‘Course you can, love - £80 each - though I wouldn't wear them near Superman, if I was you. You'll never be able to walk straight!’ TG snorts with laughter as she packs up the trousers and top.

I undress in a secluded corner of the room and suddenly Renate is standing at my side.

‘I used to be a hairdresser in Germany, Liz. Do you mind?’

She lifts up my hair and fixes it with two pretty tortoise shell slides, then stands back and smiles at me.

‘I knew,’ she says, before moving off to pick up her parcel.

I ease myself into the red body stocking; too frightened to look into the bedroom mirror. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turn round.

‘What do you think, Roz?’

I can’t understand the stunned expression on her face as she looks at me. ‘Bloody hell!’

‘Who's that brazen hussy in the red-nothing over there?’ Mrs. Bates says, polishing her glasses. ‘I didn't see her come in.’

‘Shhh, Edna. That's Mrs. Hopkins. The lady who invited us.’

‘Don't be ridiculous, Tilly. Mrs. Hopkins looks like your late Aunt Gertie.’

‘But it is, Edna. Honestly.’

Edna Bates' jaw drops as she put on her glasses. ‘But… but...’ she splutters. She rushes over to the black leather jump-suit on the bed. ‘I've changed my mind, Tilly. I'm buying this, whatever you say.’

‘Well, I'm buying one of those padded bras, then,’ Tilly Price says.

‘This is the most exciting wild-life evening I’ve ever been to,’ Edna Bates says breathlessly.  ‘What about the whip, Tilly? Shall I get that too?’

‘Get what you like, Edna. That's going to be my motto from now on. Life's very short, isn't it?’

‘You're right,’ Mrs. Bates answers, picking up half of TG's stock from the bed.

                                                             *

‘You know something, girls? Didn't think I'd sell a bloody thing tonight, but after the old dears ... nothing's left.’

Roz and I, still dressed in exotic lingerie, are the only ones left trying to cope with TG who has celebrated her outstanding salesmanship by polishing off all Roz’s whisky.

‘Bastards - all of them.’

‘Who?’ I say, trying to lift her off the floor.

‘Men.’ TG suddenly opens one of her spidery eyes and looks straight at me.  ‘Know something, love? Sitting on a goldmine. Make a fortune in London dressed in one of those …. Can you dance?’

‘Well, I'm not bad at the fox-trot as a matter of fact.’

TG sits up slowly and leans against the bath. ‘Not a lot of call for fox-trot dancers in Solo, love. Fashion, I suppose. Of course, in a couple of years all the girls might be stripping to the fox-trot. Who knows?’

‘Stripping? I never said I stripped.’

‘Must have done once or twice for hubby. Or do you do it with your clothes on?’ She snorts with laughter before sliding down the side of the bath.

I can’t see anything to laugh at. The only time I’ve ever put on something sexy for Ivor, all the lights fused and he'd spent the night in the loft trying to electrocute himself.

‘That's it!’ Roz suddenly shouts.  ‘Use your body to change your life, Liz.’

I shudder at the horror of fat, ugly men pawing me.

‘I don't mean prostitution - far too sordid.  Erotic dancing! Men love it.’

‘But I don’t know any erotic dances.’

‘WellforChrist’ssakelearnsome!’ Tina Tushmore slurs, before snoring into the bathroom tiles.