A Proper Charlie
Everyone sees her as a klutz but Charlie can’t help getting herself into awkward situations and her latest is a biggy.
Charlotte (Charlie) Wallis dreams of being a journalist and being part of a family unit. Life hasn’t been easy for her—born to a junkie mother and brought up in a children’s home—she craves a family life, but her current boyfriend has palpitations at the mention of commitment, and Charlie’s beginning to believe she’s going to be the office gofer forever.
Then she hears of a possible Jack the Ripper style story, which has London in its gruesome grip. Bodies aren’t showing up even though prostitutes are going missing at a rate of one a month.
Without telling anyone, Charlie dons her best fishnet stockings and hits the streets pretending to be a prostitute in the aid of securing a story to further her career.
But seeing her new boss, Ben Middleton, kerb-crawling was the last thing she expected. Then he lets her into his secret, and she not only becomes part of the ‘Jack the Ripper’ story but finds herself in the starring role!
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B004NSV6NK/ref Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Proper-Charlie-Louise-Wise/dp/1908147717/
A short extract to whet your appetite!
A feel-good tale of misconceptions and class divide…
Charlie slowed to a saunter on reaching the red-light area. She itched to pull her red mini down over the tops of her stockings but resisted. Keeping close to the kerb and fixing a smile to her face, she sauntered along the pavement – had to saunter. It was a wonder she was walking at all in the four-inch red stilettos. She’d bought them in a sale a year ago and they’d never been worn until now. She wondered how Victoria Beckham coped with heels; she wondered about David Beckham…
A woman in the distance was leaning against a lamppost, puffing on a cigarette, and Charlie headed towards her. The woman watched her approach, and as she drew near said, ‘Bloody cold, ain’t it?’
Charlie couldn’t disagree. Already her feet were numb, although she couldn’t be sure if that was due to the style of the shoes. ‘Been here long?’ Charlie asked. ‘I’ve just started my shift.’
‘Shift?’ The girl laughed. ‘Never heard it called that before. I’ve been ‘ere a couple of hours. Had two shags and made fifty quid. I might go soon.’
Charlie slipped her hand unseen into her bag and clicked on her tape machine, carefully aligning the microphone so it would catch the girl’s words but still remain invisible.
‘I suppose the cold must be a problem, standing out in all weathers. How long do you normally stay out?’
‘Depends on how well I do. But it ain’t the cold, it’s that posh twat driving around and getting off on abducting us. T’ain’t worth it.’
Charlie was pleased the girl was aware of the danger of the abductor. ‘I think the police are onto him,’ she said.
She snorted. ‘I doubt that very much.’
‘Why wouldn’t they be?’
‘The police are probably loving him. He’s helping them keep us off the streets, after all. They call him the Gentleman Abductor because he’s posh, apparently. Probably stabs you with a diamond-encrusted knife or something,’ she muttered and took a deep drag from her cigarette.
This undercover interviewing malarkey wasn’t as easy as it looked. Charlie wanted to talk about pricings, punters, sexual positions—well, maybe not that, but things that a prostitute got up to in the evenings.