Six of the Best by Michael White

Author:Michael White [White, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EDP
Published: 2014-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

The Lipstick Girls

My name is Sheila Teresa Roberts and I’m a lipstick girl. Or at least that’s what some people call me. Others can be just a bit more brutal. To hell with them, I say, though I would say it quietly, and perhaps under my breath because believe it or not, I was brought up to be, and am, a good Catholic girl. I work in the big fancy department store in Liverpool. Not the one with the statue above the door where it seems like everyone in town decides to meet. The other one. The posh one. I’ve worked there for nearly thirty years now. Always on the makeup and perfume department. It kind of suited me really, and even though I’m not one to bang my own drum I’d say I’m still a bit of a looker. Still got it. Helps with the job. No doubt about that. More than a few wrinkles perhaps, but presentable. Yes, presentable. That’s me. Sheila Teresa Roberts, the presentable lipstick girl.

Of course, if you work on the makeup and perfume counter then you have to have a certain look about you. A lot of the other girls on there (and I use the world “girls” very lightly) wander around with their noses in the air. Not me. Though I can do haughty as well as any of them. Especially when someone comes shuffling in five minutes before we close and wants to try every bloody lipstick that we have. Then I can do haughty, believe you me. Most of the time however I just speak as I find. Someone looks down on me as if I’m something stuck on the bottom of their shoe and they get the same back. The only difference is I smile when I do it. It’s a good smile, and I use it whenever I get the chance, even if I don’t actually feel like smiling.

So. Thirty years. Well, actually, twenty nine years, ten months and four days. I’d give you the minutes if I was sad enough to want to work it out, but I’m not going to. We’ll round it up. Thirty years will do. Nearly three decades and still a shop assistant if I want to be dramatic. Do you know? I’m not sure if working in the same shop for that long is a bad thing or not. I get fed up of it. Who wouldn’t? But most of the time I simply don’t think about it. Check my bank every payday, sort out the bills; make sure that the rent is paid. Life goes on. Yet where do the days go? Seems to me these days that once Tuesday is out of the way it’s very nearly Friday again. Sometimes I think that perhaps I should be more ambitious. Well. Maybe. I never really seem to think that way, though. Couldn’t do with all the hassle and the false smiles and arse licking. I leave that to Mr Georges, the manager

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