Kitty, my hands have disappeared.
Pardon?
I woke up this morning and they wereā¦ In the night I could feel them seeping away. I woke up, held them up to the light shining through the blinds and there they werenāt.
But how are you holding the, you know, phone?
I can still touch. But they arenāt there. Theyāve gone.
How do you feel?
Frightened.
And itās just your hands?
Do you think theyāll come back?
Must admit, this is the first time, to be honest, youāve thrown me a bit.
Not the reassuring answer I was hoping for.
You got to admit Iām not really qualified ā
Whatām I going to do?
Jimmy, no offence, but Iām a phone-sex worker ā
But youāre going to be a psychologist, you said.
Maybe put the phone down and try calling one-one-one?
When did Jimmy start to disappear?
This isnāt just about Jimmy, thereās Kitty ā
And thereās Mallary, altruism, robbery and losing your place in life and living with your mother, aspirations ā
Turning invisible.
Fine. Okay. It started when Jimmy was at, uh, the start of it, I suppose, was at the drive-through doughnut ā
No. Before that.
Getting the sack? Again.
Before that.
Ummm ā
Masturbation.
Ahhh right. Fair enough, it goes back to that.
At precisely 7.30 p.m. on an unusually warm night in November, Jimmy picked up his Samsung Galaxy and ā
Jimmy had considered having phone sex for a while.
In place of real sex?
Not really āin place ofā because the last time was, uh, a while ago.
He was, actually, quite nervous.
But quite erect.
A thirty-four-year-old man sitting in his motherās house in Newport ā
Rita, his mother, was out ā
She goes to the Salvation Army on Stow Hill; you know, the one next to the pet shop that has lizards in the ā
Sheād often try to get Jimmy to go with her ā
God serves up a taste of hope for needy souls, Jimmy; thereās free samples every Sunday.
Wednesday night was choir night at the Sally Army.
Jimmy was just glad to have the house to himself.
He set up the phone next to the bed.
Along with the business card heād found in a phone box in Newport ā
(One of the very few phone boxes in Newport town centre to still have a working phone in it.)
And a roll of toilet tissue.
Not exactly Andrex but soft enough and strong enough ā
When Kitty answered the phone ā
Good evening, this is Kitty ā
He was already on the verge.
What should I call you?
Jimmy, the night before, had watched Troy on Film 4.
Umm, Hector.
From Kittyās point of view what followed was all very typical. Little did she know this was the start of a story for her too.
What you wearing?
Um, underwear. Bra, panties, you know?
What colour are they?
Red.
Has the thong got a lace trim?
Uh, yeah, itās very lacy.
You know I like those on you, right?
I knows it.
I need you to grab your titties.
Slow down, big ā
Can you lick your own nipples?
Iāll give it a go ā
My hands are gliding across your skin. Tell me how they feel.
They feel good, they feels so, so good.
Yeah, thatās what Iām talking about. Now, I need you to take your right hand and start playing with yourself. Can you do that for me, babe?
Iām doing it, Iām doing it.
You wet?
I got a lady boner.
Okay, I want you to ā
Standard stuff.
Kitty was not wearing a thong.
She was, in fact, wearing sensible underwear.
The tracksuit she was wearing was not lacy.
She was definitely not āwetā.
She did not have a lady boner.
While clients thought of her, Kitty thought of the cash.
She hated being called ābabeā.
Jimmy rang the sex line every Wednesday at 7.30 p.m.
The same line.
While his mother belted out āOnward Christian Soldiersā on Stow Hill ā
Speaking to the same woman. Kitty.
I know, not a particularly seductive name.
Kitty.
She felt it sounded vaguely exotic without being too threatening.
Kitty had built up a regular clientele:
Dennis was a Thursday as his wife had joined a netball team in an attempt to recapture her school days.
Maxi had access to a phone line working nights on security at Tredegar House.
(He would eventually be sacked after they got a two thousand and seventy-eight pound phone bill for the quarter.)
Jimmy was every Wednesday at 7.30 p.m.
It always started the same way.
What you...