Ellie (55 page)

‘It’s a bit more ritzy than I expected,’ Bonny whispered behind her hand to Ellie, noting the wide staircase, thick red carpet and small, twinkling chandelier. She wondered how they’d managed to keep it so nice when no one else could get paint, and wallpaper had disappeared from the shops at the start of the war.

‘Me too,’ Ellie agreed. She was impressed that dropping Marcel’s name produced such deference from the doorman. The bar was on the right-hand side of the hall and music was wafting out from another room to the left. ‘I hope we’ve got enough money for some drinks between us.’

‘I’ll get them,’ Edward said. The two pounds ten shillings a week they got in wages was soon gone, but he had just got his monthly allowance from his grandmother and he was feeling flush. The bar, with its low couches, subdued lighting and tasteful furniture, was much more to his taste than the sort of pubs they usually frequented.

There were five or six middle-aged men, all smartly dressed, sitting here, two of them chatting to younger, very pretty women. A voluptuous blonde in her midto late-thirties served them with a drink, informing them that the first was always on the house. Smiling, she said she hoped they would enjoy themselves as there was dancing across the hall.

‘I wish you’d suggested this earlier,’ Ellie said in a low voice to Edward. ‘I’d have put on something smarter.’

Two women were just being helped out of their coats in the hall, and a glimpse of cocktail dresses made Ellie extremely aware that her pink cotton dress was better suited to afternoon tea than a posh club and that her shoes had run-down heels.

But before Edward could reassure her she looked prettier than anyone else, Marcel swept in. ‘Well, hello.’ His rather high-pitched voice was loud enough to make everyone look up. ‘What a surprise! My favourite dancing duo and our talented pianist.’

Marcel’s parents were French and although he was as English as Edward, having been sent to boarding-school here, he retained his Gallic charm and appearance, with black hair, olive skin and very white teeth. They were so used to him being in clown make-up and costume that it came as a shock to see him as himself in a dark lounge suit. He wasn’t exactly handsome – his eyes were too close together and his nose too large – but he was striking, even though he was now in his forties.

‘I hope you didn’t mind me bringing the girls?’ Edward said quickly, looking a little anxious. ‘Perhaps I should’ve asked first?’

Marcel hesitated for a split second before replying. Ellie thought perhaps he was worried they were too young to be in such a place.

‘Two beauties like these are welcome anywhere.’ Marcel took Ellie’s hand and kissed it flamboyantly, reassuring her his hesitation was due more to surprise than reluctance. ‘You’ve made my evening, Edward, and I’m sure everyone else’s. Now let me introduce you to my friends.’

Twelve o’clock passed, then one, but Ellie wasn’t thinking about the time. She was slightly tight; she’d danced with just about everyone and she couldn’t remember when she’d last had such fun.

But although not one of the twenty or so men in here seemed anything less than a gentleman, she was wary. She was keeping her eye on Bonny, who was flirting with a tall, dark man. Always observant, she’d noticed enough odd things to know this place wasn’t entirely a straightforward drinking club.

The balance between the men and women was all wrong. All the men were middle-aged. The cut of their suits, good leather shoes, their upper-class accents and good manners united them all as being officer class or professional men.

In contrast, the women were much younger, the eldest less than thirty and, with just one or two notable exceptions, working-class girls disguised by expensive clothes, manicures and glamorous hairstyles. Three or four of them were exceptionally lovely. One in particular, who’d been introduced by Marcel as ‘Saffron’, had dusky skin, jet-black sleek hair and dramatic, dark, flashing eyes.

As Ellie had danced and chatted to the men, albeit in most cases briefly, she’d had the distinct impression that each one of them had come either alone, or with a male friend. Considering that most were probably married, it seemed rather suspicious. Furthermore, they all appeared reluctant to reveal anything personal about themselves, and she had a feeling that even some of the names they gave were false.

Having been brought up knowing how Marleen avoided work yet still had nice clothes, Ellie had to assume the women here tonight survived in much the same way. She wasn’t shocked by this, nor did she particularly care if married men were out looking for ‘a bit on the side’, but it was baffling as to why such a beautifully appointed club didn’t attract
any
married couples or groups of friends out for an evening.

Ellie’s eyes were drawn to Saffron again and again, especially when Edward began to dance with her. She was very tall and willowy, wearing a floor-length red dress. Most of the women showed a great deal of flesh, but although Saffron’s dress was high-necked and long-sleeved, she looked more naked than any of them. The dress was made of a fine crêpe, which clung to her almost feline body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination and certainly no room for underwear.

Edward was a better dancer than Ellie had expected. She watched him leading Saffron to ‘When They Begin the Beguine’. He had lost all his stiffness, his body almost melting into hers. Ellie smiled. He had changed so much since their time in London, was so much more relaxed and happy. She hoped this exotic-looking girl might unbend him a little further.

It was nearly half past one when Ellie came out of the powder room to see Bonny standing alone in the hall, their coats over her arm.

‘Can we go now?’ she asked.

Ellie had never known her friend to be the first to suggest they went home. Usually she had a job to drag her out, particularly when men were plying her with drinks.

‘What’s the matter?’ Ellie noticed she looked very pale suddenly.

Bonny leaned closer to whisper in her ear. ‘I’ve got the curse. My tummy’s aching too.’

‘Okay, I’ll just get Edward,’ Ellie said.

‘Don’t worry about him.’ Bonny caught hold of Ellie’s arm, digging her nails into it as if in extreme pain. ‘He’s with that girl in the bar and I don’t want to explain. Let’s just go, he can get home alone.’

Before Ellie could reply, Bonny was out of the front door and down the steps into the rain.

‘Will you tell our friend Edward that we’ve gone?’ Ellie asked the doorman who suddenly appeared again in the hall.

‘Certainly.’ He nodded, but there was no smile or even an invitation to come again. It seemed odd after his welcome when they’d arrived.

‘Bonny, it’s not normal to lose that much blood,’ Ellie said as she helped her friend into bed, tucking the blankets round her. It was even further home than they’d imagined and they were wet through. Bonny had almost passed out as they came up the stairs and when Ellie had helped her into the bathroom she was horrified to see that her underwear was soaked. ‘You’ve got to see a doctor tomorrow!’

‘You’re a worry-guts,’ Bonny murmured sleepily. ‘It would happen though just when I was having such a good time. That man I was dancing with was so nice. He’s coming to see the show tomorrow night.’

‘He’s married,’ Ellie said tartly.

‘So!’ Bonny opened one eye. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of fish?’

Ellie shook her head in despair. ‘Go to sleep,’ she said. ‘You’ll see a doctor before you even think about getting up to anything else.’

Ellie sat at the dressing-table, slowly taking the pins out of her wet, bedraggled hair. She felt quite sober now and very anxious. She felt Bonny’s trouble was something more than a bad period, that it must have something to do with the abortion. What if she wasn’t well enough to dance tomorrow? They had only another week and a bit in Great Yarmouth before the show finished and although Archie had said he could probably put them in touch with another theatre owner, if Bonny couldn’t finish their contract here he might change his mind.

Turning on the stool, Ellie looked at Bonny. She was sound asleep already, her mouth slightly open, one bare arm outside the covers. Bathed in the soft light from a small lamp she looked angelic, her stray wet curls falling loose on to the pillow, her skin as smooth and pinky beige as the inside of a sea shell.

These weeks had been such a happy time, with so much laughing and sharing, from clothes to dreams and money. After the tiny airless room in Stacey Passage it was wonderful to smell sea breezes, to have a bed each, a wardrobe for their clothes and meals cooked for them. But as Ellie looked at her friend, she knew the happiness came from more than just comfort, fun, or even the knowledge of how good they were on stage together. It was the ever growing bond that filled the once-empty spaces in both of them.

Back at the club, Edward was confused how the evening’s events had suddenly escalated from drinking and dancing to the point where he’d been relieved of ten pounds by the doorman and shown into this room upstairs with Saffron.

‘Let me help you,’ Saffron came closer to him and began to loosen his tie, her dark lustrous eyes looking right into his. ‘You haven’t done this before, have you?’

‘What, undressed?’ Edward asked.

‘No, silly,’ she said, her practised hands peeling off his tie and jacket all in one swift movement. ‘I meant made love to a girl like me.’

The room reminded Edward of his parents’ room, a place he hadn’t thought of for years: similar, deep pink walls and an almost identical quilted satin cover on the double bed; a washbasin in one corner; a few cosmetics and perfume bottles on the dressing-table, half a dozen books by the bed. But Edward had the feeling these things had been placed here to create the impression that it was someone’s room. There was only one decadent touch: the large, gold-framed mirror almost covering one wall.

He had danced with several women before Saffron, but he’d found himself inexplicably drawn to her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone quite so beautiful. Coffee-coloured skin, coal-black eyes, such a sensuous mouth. As they danced her body undulated against his and though close contact with women normally repelled him, there was something about the tautness of hers which was exciting and disturbing all at once. They had gone into the bar at his suggestion, and almost at once he regretted it as he no longer had an excuse to hold her.

But she was as good a conversationalist as she was a dancer. She told him she was Eurasian, her early childhood spent in Ceylon, but that she’d been sent back to school in England and then stayed on with an aunt and uncle. She drew him into talking about the show and confided that she wanted to be an actress. Then suddenly the doorman had come in and said the girls had left. He’d got up to go too, but Saffron had pulled him down again beside her.

‘You don’t have to go just because they have,’ she said in that wonderfully husky voice. ‘I expect they did it purposely so we could have more time alone.’

They had another couple of drinks, and continued to chat about the theatre and acting. He was just about to pluck up courage to ask her out to dinner one night, when she asked him if he wanted to take her upstairs.

‘Upstairs?’ he repeated, struggling to regain his composure in the face of such a staggering suggestion.

‘Yes,’ she smiled, stroking his face in a manner which made him feel very odd. ‘You sound surprised. Is that because you didn’t expect me to be so forward, or you don’t find me attractive?’

‘Oh no.’ Edward blushed furiously. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, it’s just that –’ He stopped short, completely lost for words.

‘You’re just a bit shy,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll make it less embarrassing for you. I’ll go on up first. Speak to the doorman, he’ll show you the way.’

There was a moment in the hall when he might have ducked out of the front door, not because he didn’t want to pursue Saffron, but from pure fright. But the doorman waylaid him and asked for the ten pounds.

It was pure bravado that made him take out his wallet and pay. He was deeply shocked that a girl as young and lovely should turn out to be a prostitute. But he wasn’t going to let on to a mere doorman, or to Marcel, who stood grinning in the doorway, that he was so naïve he hadn’t tumbled what the club was. In a way paying made it easier too. If the whole thing was a failure he could always pretend he was too drunk, or that he had a girl at home.

‘I’ve never made love to any woman,’ he blurted out now, even though it was the last thing he’d intended to say. ‘I expect you find that strange.’

Saffron looked up at him and smiled. Downstairs she had appeared cool and poised, but now she’d taken off her shoes and shrunk three inches, her shingled hair and an impish look in her eyes made her far less formidable.

‘Sweet, not strange.’ She leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. ‘I’ll just have to teach you. And it will be a pleasure, Edward, because you are very beautiful.’

‘You are beautiful too,’ Edward whispered, sliding his arms around her. He could feel her hip-bones pressing against his through her dress and he liked the sensation.

Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt. Edward watched her red-tipped fingers moving so gently and delicately as he held her. Her short dark hair fell forward, partly concealing her face, leaving only her shapely, fleshy lips exposed.

‘Mmm,’ she murmured, running her fingers over his bared chest. ‘Such silky skin, so young and firm.’

His fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress and he lowered it experimentally.

‘That’s better,’ she purred sensuously. ‘Now peel it off and you can see what lies beneath it.’

Edward bared her shoulders, marvelling at the colour of her skin. As he bent to kiss it her scent brought on images of waving palm trees, white sand and sarongs.

She moved her arms imperceptibly; her dress slid to the floor and she was naked beneath it. Edward gasped.

‘Am I too thin for you?’ she whispered, her lovely face clouding with anxiety.

Edward could only shake his head, stunned that at last he was seeing a female form which did excite him. Firm, small breasts, a tiny waist, slim boyish hips, and long slender legs. Even the mound of curly black pubic hair at the base of her flat belly was inviting. He wanted to touch that golden, almost iridescent skin, to see if it was as silky as it looked.