Читать книгу Life & Death In an American Harem - L. M. Ollie - Страница 3

It was 1969, the summer I turned sixteen and for the first time I was going to visit Susan in the U.S. For some reason the Warwicks decided not to take the cottage that summer so, as Susan put it, the mountain came to Mohammed; whatever that means.

We had a great time together and, as always, her parents were terrific. They trusted us totally and we never betrayed that trust, except … One day we took the bus into Boston, just the two of us. That bus trip would turn out to be a major turning point in my young life although I didn’t know it then.

Just after finishing lunch at a posh little sidewalk cafe, Susan made a telephone call.

‘I’ve just called my sister Barbara. She’s home and she’s invited us over. Come on, it’s not far; we can walk it.’

I had already noticed admiring glances earlier but as we crossed the Boston Common there were more; lots more. Maybe Susan and I asked for it because we were wearing mini-skirts, tight-fitting blouses and stiletto heels; around my neck, a brightly colored silk scarf. That was one of the first things I learned about men. They like women who wear scarves; why I don’t know. Gold bangles clattered on our wrists and matching hoop earrings dangled either side of my face, tickling me. We thought we were the “cat’s whiskers” and I guess, thinking back, we were.

Oh, to be sixteen again, and innocent.

It took every cent of my babysitting money but I managed to chemically eradicate the strawberry out of my hair which was long. Usually I wore it in either a ponytail or pigtails but today it hung loose and free down my back almost to my waist; a beautiful pearl blonde color. Fair hair, blue eyes, pale skin; my parents got all that right at least. When I entered puberty my freckles disappeared. What a relief that was!

Barbara Warwick’s apartment was just one street back from the Common. It was beautiful but more than that, it was elegant. For a sixteen year old this was absolute heaven. Shag pile carpets, glass top tables, a chandelier in the entrance hall and another over the dining room table, crystal lamps and a bed that was huge. The color scheme was white on white with splashes of color in the wall paintings, the throw pillows and the silk flower arrangements. I wondered about keeping it clean. Barbara must have picked up on that because she told us that she had a housekeeper who came in twice a week and did everything including the washing and the ironing.

When I asked Barbara what she did for a living, she smiled then quickly changed the subject. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to talk about it. That would come later.

Barbara suited the apartment because she was beautiful and elegant too. Just like her sister, she had long black hair and amazing blue eyes. When she opened the door she was dressed in a white silk negligee. Quite a bit of skin was showing and all of it was pale and flawless. She reminded me of Elizabeth Taylor, only taller.

Susan and I stayed for about an hour. Barbara was going out soon so she had to get ready and we had a bus to catch back to Concord.

*****

I returned to Huntsville a week before school started. I was miserable. Everything around me was depressing; everything and everyone. The day school started, I left town with all my worldly possessions stuffed in one small suitcase. I should have said goodbye but I didn’t possibly because I stole the money for the bus ticket from my brother Tom’s secret stash. He was saving up to buy a motorbike. As far as he knew, he had nearly enough.

‘Sorry Tom, I promise, one day I’ll pay you back, with interest.’

I had lots of time to think as the miles ticked by. I remember seeing a movie called Butterfield 8 which, coincidentally stared Elizabeth Taylor. I can’t remember the character’s name but she was a call girl in love with a married man. The story was kind of silly and the ending stupid but, the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that Barbara was a call girl too. It made sense.

It was nearly six in the evening when I rang her apartment, hoping against hope that she would be home. She was.

‘What are you doing here Liz? I thought you had returned home.’

‘I did just long enough to realize that I didn’t want to be there anymore so I … I ran away. I ah … I was hoping maybe you could ah … I need a job and a place to stay. I don’t know anyone and … and I certainly wouldn’t want to bother your parents because they’ve been so kind to me and …’

‘Liz, you’re sixteen years old! You can’t just walk away. Your parents will be frantic by now.’

‘No they won’t. My absence means one less mouth to feed and that’s all.’

Barbara frowned. ‘Look, I was just getting ready to go out. I won’t be back until late. You’re welcome to sleep in the spare room. Tomorrow we’ll talk, okay?’

I smiled. You can’t imagine how relieved I was. ‘Thank you Barbara, so much.’

She returned my smile. ‘Get yourself something to eat.’