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of, this Sugar, and bones that poke alarmingly through the fabric of her bodice, she nevertheless moves with more poise, more feminine pride than Caroline. Her head is held high, and she appears to be wholly at one with her clothing, as if it were her own fur and feathers.
    Caroline wonders if it’s this animal serenity that men find so attractive. That, and the expensive clothes. But she is wrong: it’s all to do with Sugar’s ability to make conversation with men like the one you will meet very shortly. That, and never saying ‘No.’
    Now Sugar asks Caroline, ‘How far out from home do you mean to start today?’
    ‘Not ’ere,’ the older woman replies, frowning, and gesturing back towards St Giles. ‘Crown Street, maybe.’
    ‘Really?’ says Sugar, concerned. ‘You were doing all right a few months ago, weren’t you, around Soho Square?’ (Here you see another reason why Sugar has done so well in her profession: her ability to recall the less than fascinating minutiae of other people’s lives.)
    ‘I lost me nerve,’ says Caroline with a sigh. ‘It was a good day, that day I ran into you and was all excited about Soho Square; I’d landed meself two champion customers in a row, and I was finkin’: this is the patch for me from now on! But it was beginner’s luck, Shush. I just don’t belong this far into the good parts. I should know me place.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ says Sugar. ‘They can’t tell the difference, half these men. Put a black dress on, take a deep breath, puff your cheeks out and they’ll mistake you for the Queen.’
    Caroline grins dubiously. In her experience, the great jaded world is not so easy to impress.
    ‘They see through me, Shush. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s arse.’
    ‘Oh, I think you can,’ says Sugar, suddenly serious. ‘It all depends who’s buying it.’
    Caroline sighs. ‘Well, if I keep to my part of town, I find there’s more buyin’ and less refusin’. Every time I try me luck any further west than Crown Street, it’s a struggle.’ She squints up Greek Street in the direction of Soho Square, as if everything that lies beyond the Jews’ School and the house of charity is too steep to climb. ‘Oh, I get foreigners, right enough, and boys from the country, I get a few of those, that don’t know no better than to follow on and on. You keep ’em talkin’ all the way there, “Oh yes, and what brings a man like you to London, sir?” and ’fore they know it they’re in Church Lane and there’s no backin’ out. So they ’as their pound o’ flesh, pays you well for it and just puts it down to experience. But then you also get the ones that keeps on at you: “Is it far, is it far, are we there yet? – you’d better not be one of those Old City sluts.” When they’re like that, sometimes you can still steer ’em into an alley, make ’em settle for a soot-arse, but sometimes they just shakes you off ’alf-way, really wild, and says, “Why don’t you solicit from your own kind?” I tell you, Shush, it really takes it out of you when they do that. You feel so low, you want to go ’ome and weep …’
    ‘No, no,’ protests Sugar, shaking her head. ‘You mustn’t look at it that way. You’ve brought them low, that’s what you’ve done. They thought they were Prince Glorious, and you’ve made them see they don’t cut the figure they thought they did. If their rank was obvious for all to see, why would a woman like you approach them in the first place? I tell you, it’s they who go home and weep – pompous trembling little worms. Ha!’
    The women laugh together, but Caroline only for a moment.
    ‘Well,’ owever they see it,’ she says, ‘it can get me snivelling. And in public too.’
    Sugar takes Caroline’s hand, grey and green gloves locking together, and says, ‘Come with me to Trafalgar Square, Caddie. We’ll buy some cakes, feed the pigeons – and watch the undertakers’ ball!’
    They laugh again. The