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American.”
    This caught the girls’
attention and four pairs of enthusiastic eyes collectively swung to
Sibyl.
    It was Sibyl’s turn to stare at
her friend, her eyes round, her eyebrows raised.
    “ And,” Jemma dug Sibyl’s
hole deeper, “she’ll help you with outfits and dance steps
and everything .”
    Sibyl made a choking noise but
swiftly hid it and smiled warmly at the girls. She was going to
kill Jem, or maim her for life, or, at least, never speak to her
again. Jemma was very artistic, knew all the latest songs and was a
natural at choreography. Sibyl loved music, loved to dance, but had
always done it to the beat of her own drummer and wouldn’t know how
to create a choreographed dance if someone was forcing her to do it
by shooting at her feet with pistols.
    Nevertheless, the girls
excitedly agreed to this new development, happy to spend more time
with their American Goddess.
    “What have you done to me?”
Sibyl hissed at her friend as the girls scattered and Jemma
motioned for the next act to come to the stage.
    “Relax, I’ll pick the song,
I’ll choreograph the dance moves, you just have to teach them,” Jem
assured her then finished. “I’ll help, of course.”
    “You better or I’ll make those
girls a laughingstock.”
    “I’m already thinking of
something.” This, Sibyl could believe. Jemma was sharp as a tack
and nothing got by her.
    As the next act prepared to
begin, Sibyl got up.
    “Off for your afternoon chat
with Meg?” Jemma enquired, sorting through CDs to put the next
act’s in the player.
    Sibyl spent Bingo Afternoon’s
with her favourite pensioner, Meg. Meg was her most favourite oldie
(an affectionate term everyone at the Centre had for the members of
the Pensioners Club of the Day Centre).
    Meg had paper-thin, soft skin,
was diabetic but ate with gusto and was at least five stone
overweight. Her eyes, nose and mouth collapsed happily into each
other whenever she smiled, which was a lot.
    Meg was the first oldie to give
Sibyl a welcoming, encouraging smile on her first day on the job.
Sibyl hadn’t even known she needed that smile but she’d been so
homesick Meg’s smile had touched her heart and Sibyl had never
forgotten it. She found herself often ensconced in corners with the
old lady after their luncheon was done, shooting the breeze in
happy companionship. Even though they’d get together often, Meg and
Sibyl always set aside Bingo Afternoon to have a chat before Meg
took the minibus’s second trip round the estate to her lonely home
at the end of the day.
    Bertie’s parents had both died
before he left England. Mags’s parents had lived long enough to
meet and love their grandchildren but not long enough to see them
grow and mature into beautiful, young women. Meg was the closest
thing to a grandmother Sibyl had. Every time Meg looked at the
younger girl, Sibyl felt awash with her love and this wasn’t
surprising. When she was younger, Meg told Sibyl she used to take
in orphaned babies and children while they were being placed into
other homes, raising them from days to months and, on a few
occasions, years, before they found a permanent placement. Sibyl
had no problem believing this, Meg had a lot of love to go
around.
    “I just wish, Sibyl my love,
that one of them would come to see me now that I’m in my old age.
Just one of them,” Meg had said to Sibyl some days before. “So I’ll
know they’re all right.”
    Without anything to say to make
her feel better, Sibyl had just patted Meg’s hand and knew from
experience that the babies likely didn’t even know that Meg was a
part of their lives. The older ones, Sibyl had no excuses for.
    Now, Sibyl smiled at Jemma.
    “Yeah, Jem, can’t miss my dose
of Meg,” Sibyl told her friend. “See you later.”
    Jemma nodded and shouted to the
group of boys on stage, “Ready?”
    At their affirmative nods,
Jemma flipped a switch and rap music filled the air.
    Sibyl opened the doors to hear
Marianne yelling,