A new PAGE

In a run-down house, with just a cat for company, Paige wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake

THE STORY SO FAR

Losing confidence after her partner Alex persuaded her to give up her job as a home carer, 45-year-old Paige has started burlesque classes with her friend Orla, who she met volunteering in a charity shop. The classes build Paige’s self-esteem, which is given a boost when she is offered a Saturday job in The Book Haven, a second-hand bookshop run by her childhood sweetheart Russ. Despite not seeing each other for years, reconnecting with Russ stirs up old feelings.

After a row with Alex, Paige storms off and spends the night in the bungalow bequeathed to her by Louie Lovejoy, who was one of Paige’s home-care clients. There, she discovers Dita, Louie’s beloved cat, who has been living feral. Paige reflects on recent events. And with her burlesque showcase performance looming, can she find the courage to venture further out of her comfort zone?

Paige awoke with a start, forgetting at first where she was. Turning, she felt a jolt of pain as her chestnut shoulder-length hair caught in the sleeping bag zip. She rolled off the sofa with an undignified thump.

‘Ow!’ she yelped, dislodging Norwegian Forest cat Dita, who had been curled up in a fluffy ball by her shoulder.

Disentangling a strand of hair, Paige stared at her dilapidated surroundings, at the dusty furniture and sprawling mess. With the bungalow almost falling apart around her, Paige wondered if she’d made the right decision.

‘What have I done, Dita?’ Sighing, she crawled out of the sleeping bag. The contrast between the queen-sized bed she shared with her partner Alex in his immaculate, modern apartment couldn’t have been greater.

There was so much to do now. And she needed help.

But the immediate priority was getting Dita to the vet for a check-up. After living rough, her coat was in poor condition and she needed attention.

Remembering where Louie had kept the cat carrier, Paige anticipated some trouble loading the lively tabby, but Dita seemed happy to be transported in Paige’s car to the veterinary practice.

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Thankfully, Dita was in better shape than Paige had thought. While flea and worming treatments were administered, she sent a text to Orla and grabbed a coffee from the machine in the waiting room.

When they returned to the bungalow, Orla was standing by the broken house-name sign that read Blue Belle.

‘I never would have believed it, but you’ve proved me wrong,’ said Orla. ‘You’ve left Alex?’

‘A trial separation,’ Paige corrected her.

‘And does he know that?’

‘It wasn’t a discussion,’ replied Paige.

‘OK. Enough said. I’ve brought cleaning stuff and my toolkit.’ Orla twisted her raven black hair into a ponytail, securing it with a vintage polka-dot headscarf. ‘Where do we start?’

Once they’d removed the

‘What about Peaches Dee-lite as a name?’

dirty metal shutters from the windows, natural light flooded in, dust motes dancing cheerfully across the rooms.

‘Such a contrast to last night, when I was pretty spooked,’ said Paige, smiling as Dita basked in the ribbons of sunlight. ‘I’ve phoned the water company and electricity supplier and arranged to be reconnected, which will make it more habitable.’

‘You can stay with me until then,’ Orla offered. ‘So can Dita, of course.’ She patted the purring puss.

‘Thanks. The money that Louie left me is enough to cover my bills for six months if I’m careful,’ Paige calculated. ‘Plus, I also have the Saturday job at The Book Haven.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Orla said. ‘I’m meeting Russ in the park later to walk his dog, Flower. Such a cutie. Shall I ask Russ to give us a hand with some of the jobs that need doing? I reckon

we could do with all the help we can get.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Paige, trying to ignore a pang of envy that Orla and Russ were spending more time together.

‘Cool,’ Orla smiled. ‘So, there’s just one other thing we need to sort out – choosing your burlesque name. I had some thoughts. I remember you liked Ruby – Ruby Shimmer has a nice ring to it. Or Peachy Glimmer. Ooh, what about Peaches Dee-lite as a name? Stop giggling, Paige, this is serious business.’

‘Sorry. And those are all fun names. Since red is my favourite colour, maybe Crimson something. Miss Crimson?’

‘Hmm. Needs more sparkle,’ Orla frowned. ‘How about

Miss Crimson Kiss?’

‘Perfect. You’re a genius.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ teased Orla, giving her friend a hug. ‘Can’t wait to see more of the new Paige.’

✱ ✱ ✱ ✱

The next week was spent cleaning, repairing and decorating the bungalow. It was exhausting but satisfying – volunteering part-time in the charity shop, practising for the burlesque showcase and enjoying the occasional treat at Naughty but Nice, their favourite vintage tearoom.

There were layers of floral-patterned wallpaper to strip in every room, some going back to the 1950s. Once the kitchen and bathroom walls were repainted white, Paige chose rich shades of leafy green for the living room and hall, and midnight blue for the main bedroom, which created a pleasing contrast.

The carpets fell apart when they were taken up, fortunately revealing an oak floor that looked great when polished and adorned with cheerful rugs. Threadbare curtains, sun-bleached and tatty, were removed and the windows were transformed with roller blinds and velvet drapes. Paige was discovering DIY skills she never knew she had.

All the salvageable furniture was repainted pink and orange, and a sagging sofa and mattress replaced. Finally, the broken nameplate on the gate that read Blue Belle was replaced with a shiny new one.

Paige felt she had respected Louie’s vision when she moved in, while adding her own personal touches to make it her home. She enjoyed rediscovering and reinventing herself, and seeing the bungalow gradually being transformed too.

‘It’s like Blue Belle and me are improving together, bit by bit,’ she murmured to Dita, while preparing for the task of repainting the antique wardrobe candyfloss pink.

Dita blinked lazily, sunning herself on the windowsill as Paige emptied the wardrobe, stacking boxes that were treasure troves of Louie’s clothes and memorabilia.

Each day, Paige had uncovered surprises as she sorted through the things Louie had left behind, like the trunk of costumes, wigs and props. It was a delight to sift through the primrose frills and violet satins, the lilac lace and sumptuous velvet. And the collection of jewelled corsets was a revelation.

A dog-eared photo album and a clutch of handwritten letters bound with a scarlet ribbon shed light on Louie’s career as a much-celebrated burlesque performer, as well as a string of relationships with both men and women.

Paige felt guilty as she read, yet, at the same time, it drew her closer to Louie, who, born in 1927 in London’s East End, had lived a long and eventful life. When Paige came across a pile of crumbling diaries at the bottom of a drawer in the wardrobe, she felt a tingle.

‘What should I do, Dita? What if they harbour secrets that should stay hidden?’

Dita trotted over, fluffy tail waving, pushing her furry head against Paige’s hand and purring affectionately until the top diary fell open. Paige took a deep breath and began to read…

She learned how Louie’s sweetheart Sid tragically died in a London air raid in 1943 when they were both just

16 – and was astonished to discover what appeared to be a birth certificate tucked away between the last pages. Her heart thumped as she slowly unfolded the yellowing paper, which revealed that shortly after losing Sid, Louie had given birth to a little girl, Izzy.

‘But Louie never mentioned a daughter, always said she had no surviving family,’ gasped Paige in astonishment.

A subsequent heartbreaking diary entry revealed how Izzy was forcibly taken away from Louie and placed with an adoptive family in Canada, after Louie’s parents had disapproved of the pregnancy and disowned her.

Paige blinked back tears as she read… I’ve begged, but no one will tell me where in Canada my daughter is, my precious little Isabelle. Why are they so cruel?

Then a later entry… Finally, they gave me a post-office box number to write to the adoptive parents in Canada but no address. I keep writing but do they ever pass on my letters?

Flicking through later diaries, Paige knew there would be no happy ending as she saw the words, Perhaps this is for the best, dear Izzy. I couldn’t have provided stability for you. But I will keep writing and I will never forget. I think about you every single day.

The last diary Louie kept started when she moved to the bungalow… Today I sent what will be my final letter, dearest Izzy. I hope you are happy and having a good life. I won’t write again.

Reeling from the impact of this secret tragedy, Paige tried to process what she had just read. ‘Goodness, Dita. I wonder if Izzy is still alive.’ Doing the calculations in her head, she added, ‘She’d be 80 years old.’

Sensing Paige’s distress,

Dita snuggled beneath her chin, gently headbutting her with worried chirrups.

Putting the diaries back in the drawer, Paige decided the wardrobe could wait another day to be pink.

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Over the following week, Paige wondered about trying to track down Izzy, but apart from not even knowing her surname, she wasn’t sure if she shouldn’t leave things as they were.

It preyed on her mind, so she was glad of the distraction of her Saturday job in Russ’s bookshop. She loved the work and spending time with him but decided that if she still felt

She blinked back tears as she read

a spark between them, it was clearly only on her side.

‘I’m so glad you introduced me to your friend Orla,’ said Russ, wiping his steel-rimmed glasses and pushing a hand through his neat dark hair, which silvered at the temples, mirroring the specks of grey in his goatee.

They had just finished unpacking a box of books from the storeroom and were taking a coffee and biscuit break.

Russ continued, ‘She’s made the window displays look amazing. And it was her idea to redesign the layout of the shop. I honestly don’t know how I would have managed without her help. She’s so creative.’

‘Orla is very talented,’ Paige agreed. ‘You two seem to have really hit it off.’

‘She’s easy to get on with, and I love her sense of humour,’ said Russ. ‘When we met up last night for a drink, she was telling me all about the burlesque showcase, invited me to come along. It sounds fun.’

‘For the audience,’ Paige joked. ‘I’m so nervous, I can hardly bear to think about it.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be amazing,’ reassured Russ and, for a moment, his warm eyes held her gaze before he said, ‘Best get back to work. These books won’t stack themselves.’

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The evening of the showcase came round quicker than Paige expected. She and Orla had practised incessantly but, even so, Paige had butterflies. And she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of Russ.

‘I’m having second thoughts about tonight,’ Paige admitted, while Orla made the final adjustments to Paige’s lustrous fox-red wig as they got ready.

‘Trust me,’ said Orla. ‘Now close your eyes and let me finish doing your make-up.’

‘Ouch!’ Paige squeaked as Orla tweezed out a stray eyebrow hair. ‘I can’t do it, Orla. This is a bad idea.’

‘No, it’s not, and yes you can,’

Orla reassured. ‘You’re a total babe, it’s a great routine and you’ll smash it. There.’ She stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘Take a look’

Paige gulped as a barely recognisable glamorous auburn siren with cherry lips stared back at her. ‘Is that really me?’

She felt a frisson of excitement and anticipation. Maybe she secretly liked the idea of showing off her body. Pretending to be someone else was a way to free her inhibitions. Burlesque was tapping into a hidden part of her she didn’t know existed.

‘I think it’s a full house,’ muttered Orla, peeking through the curtains at the audience.

Peering over Orla’s shoulder, Paige groaned. ‘Oh no! Alex’s here. In the front row too. He told me he hated burlesque.’

‘Well, he’d better not start heckling,’ growled Orla. ‘Or he’ll have the voluptuous Countess Duvitski to deal with,’ and she strode confidently on to the stage to open the show with a raunchy, risqué routine, which she clearly loved every minute of performing – as did the audience, judging from the rapturous applause.

Watching from the wings, Paige felt sick with nerves, her stomach churning, until it was her turn. Could she really go through with this?

Then the music started and Paige heard Angel, their burlesque teacher, proclaim, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, for your delight, please welcome Miss Crimson Kiss!’

Taking a deep breath, Paige stepped tentatively on to the stage in her shiny heels and body-hugging satin-peach gown. What if she tripped over her heels? Or forgot the choreography she and Orla had created together?

Forcing a smile, and determined to avoid Alex’s gaze, Paige began the playful yet simmering routine, her hips swaying as she slowly and deliberately peeled off her long red suede gloves, finger by finger. The trick was to be sensual and cheeky, the emphasis on saucy tease.

Suddenly, something stirred inside her, and Paige started to enjoy herself as the audience reacted and her adrenaline surged.

Before she knew it, the sizzling routine was over and the crowd was whooping.

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After the show, Alex came over, his eyes on stalks. ‘That was amazing, Paige!’

‘Thanks,’ she replied, awkwardly. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.’

‘I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few weeks.’ He hesitated. ‘The truth is, I’ve missed you, Paige. I realise that I should have been more supportive and encouraging. And if you’d consider giving us another go, I promise I would.’

For a moment, Paige was speechless. ‘The thing is, Alex, I feel like I’ve moved on in every sense, and I love my new life and independence.’

Before he could respond, she continued, ‘I’ve decided to follow my dream and train to be an instructor so I can teach burlesque and help other women to discover ways to boost their fitness and self-esteem.’

‘Good for you!’ said Russ, who was standing nearby with Orla.

‘I’d have to learn tons of stuff about health and safety,’ Paige went on. ‘How to put together routines, legislation, anatomy, first aid, not to mention accounts and marketing. But if I complete an intensive course, I could be ready to teach in three months.’

‘Go for it, girl!’ Orla

His warm eyes held her gaze

encouraged, giving Paige a big hug as a rather shocked Alex walked away.

Paige felt grateful for Orla’s support. Although they’d only been friends since they met after both volunteering in the charity shop, they’d connected from the start. Orla really got her. And that made it harder to witness what Paige thought was a developing attraction between Russ and Orla, when her own feelings for him were growing stronger.

But it was too late now. She wouldn’t get in the way of their blossoming romance – or jeopardise her friendships. Paige just regretted insisting to Orla that she didn’t have feelings for Russ when she had first introduced them.

✱ ✱✱✱

The next day, Paige was just sitting down to an early supper when there was a knock on the door. ‘Better not be Alex,’ she mumbled to Dita.

But a middle-aged blonde woman in purple leggings and a calf-length baggy shirt hovered on the doorstep. Something about her smile was eerily familiar.

‘May I speak to Louie Lovejoy?’ the woman asked, tentatively.

Paige was taken aback. ‘I don’t want to sound rude, but who are you?’

‘I’m Anthea. Louie’s granddaughter.’

TO BE CONTINUED

Jane Ayres