Kat's Walk

Monday 11th May 1959

Dear Diary: When I got home from school mum said she had a nice surprise for me. She was holding a brown envelope. She said I bet you can’t guess what this is. She was right about that. It said Dear Mr and Mrs Ketling I am pleased to inform you that your daughter Katherine has obtained a place at the local grammer school from next September. The school will contact you directly in due course to explain about the induction period, dress code and provision of equipment.

You’ve made it she said. You’re made for life now.

I’m not sure what she meant by that but I went straight round to my friends house. We sat the eleven plus together I mean we sat next to each other when we did it. I couldn’t wait to tell her the good news. But when her mum let me in it was strange. She looked at me as though I’d done something bad. Then I found out why. Connie hadn’t passed. She wasn’t going. She said we can’t be friends anymore you’re going to the posh school.

I didn’t know what to say or do so I just turned round and left in fact I ran I ran all the way home and when I got there I was shaking and mum said whats up and I couldn’t say and I went to my room and I lay on the bed and shook and cried. Mum came up and sat with me and said that Connie was just upset and that she didn’t mean it and that it would all be alright and the best thing to do would be to write in my diary because if you write in your diary it makes the bad thoughts go away so that’s what I’v done. I don’t think mum is right this time.

Wednesday 29th June 1966

Diary: Yesterday was my first catwalk. When it finished I felt dizzy. Just me under the lights, people applauding and the most way-out beat music playing just for me. It’s the best feeling in the world. My agent thinks I’ve got what it takes. She thinks I could go to the top, be up there with Twiggy and the Shrimp and Anita. I hope so. It was thrilling. All of it, the makeup, the glitz, the clothes. You just can’t imagine what it’s like. I can’t wait to do it again!

After the show, a group of us grabbed a chicken in the basket at a nearby pub and then went on to the Marquee Club in Wardour street. There was me, three other girls and four industry guys. They’d scored us free tickets for The Small Faces. They really are small. I’ve seen them on TV but it was a shock seeing them in real life. No matter, their music’s far out. I just love Sha-la. Absolutely fab live, and Steve’s so cool. So much fun.

I wore a Quant black minidress with a white, man’s-style shirt-collar and cuffs, and knee-high black leather boots. It hasn’t hit the shops yet and I have one! It’s funny how you can actually see envy in girls’ eyes, even when they’re smiling at you. I’d never been to the Marquee before. Let’s be honest, I’ve not been to many places outside of Bungay. How was it? It was sweaty and crowded and noisy. Brilliant atmosphere! That’s why it’s part of the scene.

After the gig, we headed for Murrays. A club is the only way to get a drink after hours. Personally, I don’t drink much. Actually, I’m not old enough to drink at all but I look the part. If you’re pretty, you can get away with anything but I stick to Babycham, and I never finish the second one. Murrays isn’t exactly my kind of place but it was somewhere the guys felt comfortable hanging out and I think they wanted to show us off. We’d been there about half an hour when one of them leant forward and whispered in my ear. “Don’t look now but the man with grey hair at the bar is Frankie Fraser, and the two guys heading for the table over in the corner are Reggie and Ronnie.” Later, I discovered that Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice Whatsherface had worked there before the Perfume Affair. I was right, it really wasn’t my kind of place, although I saw a guy who was the spit of Terry Stamp in one of the booths.

At about one o’clock we called it a night. The guys insisted on seeing us home, which meant beating mine off in the back of a taxi. Why is it that after a few drinks men turn into octopuses? I may be a country girl but I’m looking for more than a concert ticket and a glass and a half of Babycham before I give it up, and, “Come on, doll, all the birds do it,” isn’t the best chat up line I’ve ever heard. Although maybe if it had been Terry I wouldn’t have put up a fight. As it was, I let him do upstairs outside and that seemed to calm him down.

It’s just as well that we turned in early because I had a busy schedule today. For the first couple of hours I had casting sessions for photo shoots. They started early and were all over town. I did five before midday. These days my life is cabs, tubes and buses, over and over again. I reckon that it’s one job for every twenty castings, and that’s a lot of cabs and tubes and buses.

The first one was for Jackie. They’re planning a shoot with The Rolling Stones. There were over a hundred girls auditioning. Luckily, my number was called early. I’ve filed it under maybe. In the last one, I passed Bailey and his wife as I went in. He held the door open for me. She didn’t look like she approved. Apparently, he photographed the Krays last year. I mean, how does that happen?

This afternoon I had a shoot modelling three of Mary’s Op-Art mini dresses. They’re all black and white checks. The one I liked best was made up of panels of white and black with a white Who arrow down the black front panel. And it took an age. I mean, how many poses do you need? The photographer told me that I have a cute bum and I know that he was trying to photograph up my dress. He also told me that my hair reminded him of Jean’s. I’m not surprised, that’s where I got the idea. Mary and Twiggy are too obvious and there’s no way I’d copy Mrs Kennedy. And he kept telling me to look up because it would make me look younger. How young does he want me to be for goodness sake, I’m only seventeen. I was waiting for him to make a pass but in the end he didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered, I was prepared. The first thing my agent did was get me on the pill.

She said, “Kat, baby, I can’t let you go out there completely defenceless.”

I do wonder if it hurts, though. He took three hours to take maybe a thousand photos of me against a white screen and then another thousand against a black screen. I hope he’s up all night developing them, the dirty old git.

After that I had to get my portfolio updated. I took a selection of wigs with me but obviously I had to have one face. Long lashes, lots of mascara and lots of eye shadow, but with three shades of lipstick. Pink, pink and pink!!! And then I had to do a nudie. That was uncomfortable. Increasingly, agencies and designers want to see a girl’s face with no makeup before booking her so they can see what they’re working with. It’s terrifying. Without makeup I feel naked. Maybe that’s why it’s called a nudie.

Today:

“Katherine. Katherine! Is it OK if I come in? I guess that’s a yes. It’s nearly dinner time. I’ve come to take you down.”

Katherine barely acknowledged Nagla; she was still in her world.

“Should I turn this off for you? There’s not many people watch Eggheads with the sound off, I should think.”

Nagla used the remote to turn the set off and then she turned her attention to the old lady sitting silently in a chair.

“It looks like you’ve been busy. Should I take that?” She removed the pen from Katherine’s limp hand and then lifted the diary off her lap. Nothing. Not a single word.

Each day was the same. Blank page after blank page. She placed the pen and the diary on a nearby coffee table and turned back to Katherine.

“It’s chicken tonight. You like chicken, don’t you?”

Katherine looked up at her with watery, distant eyes. “I think.”

“Yes, love, what do you think?”

“I think maybe I had an accident.”

“Oh, Katherine, what are we goin’ t’do with you? Come here, darling, hold my arm. Let’s see.”

Somehow, with Nagla’s support, Katherine eased herself out of the chair and stood.

“Looks like you’re right, sweetheart. Wait a moment. It’ll be alright. We’ll get it sorted in a jiffy.”

Nagla crossed the room, opened the door and called down the corridor. “Lara. Lara! Can you come here for a minute? I need a hand with Miss Ketling.