Ellie (60 page)

They were both beautiful; slender yet curvaceous, with long legs and tiny waists. The dark girl’s face was reminiscent of an old movie star, with angular cheekbones, smouldering eyes, fleshy, succulent lips. The blonde’s eyes dominated her face. Even from his seat well back in the stalls he could see the bright blue irises, fluttering thick eyelashes and delicate eyebrows.

By concentrating on each of them in turn, Magnus realised that the dark girl had the best voice, while the blonde was the best dancer. Yet the interaction between them somehow made them as one. Magnus listened to the dark girl’s husky, contralto voice, and watched the blonde girl. Her feet moved so fast it was just a flash of glitter, her hair shone like gold satin under the lights, a smile as warming as summer sun. The choreography was disastrous, the band scratchy, yet these two girls managed to pull something remarkable out of nowhere.

When the curtain closed on them Magnus settled back, somehow expecting more surprises in store. But he was disappointed. One sad act followed another and Basil guffawed beside him. It was tempting to get up and leave. But they stayed, nudging each other and sniggering as ‘The Great Gonzalis’ dawdled over a magic trick that a child of six could see through. They smirked at an awful rendition of ‘Danny Boy’ from ‘The Northern Songbird’, and Magnus found himself drifting away from what was on the stage, and thinking instead of the piece of land in Staines beside the Thames he’d bought that morning and the houses he intended to build on it.

It could well turn out to be a disaster. In the last few weeks Magnus had discovered that all builders had to get a licence, then permits for certain materials like timber. On top of these hindrances, the government were insisting that only a certain percentage of new houses built could be sold on the open market; the rest had to be sold back to the local council for people on their waiting lists. Other builders had informed him he would be bogged down by red tape and a mountain of paperwork, because Attlee and his party were trying to prevent speculation in property. But Magnus felt he had to give it his best shot. He wasn’t a speculator, he just wanted to build homes.

Both men’s interest in the show was re-awakened when the two girls came back singing ‘Keep Young and Beautiful’. This time they were in tight spangly shorts with tiny matching tops which gave a tantalising view of their flat, firm abdomens. The blonde’s costume was midnight-blue, the dark girl’s bright red, but as before, it was the way they interacted together which created the magic, not the set or their costumes. Now Magnus could see the dark girl’s comic talent as she preened in front of a looking-glass, catching the essence of all those postures women made when they thought they were unseen. The blonde did a faultless string of cartwheels, seemingly with no effort, and her smile remained as vivid throughout the last frenetic tap-dance as it had been at the beginning.

‘
Keep young and beautiful
,’ Basil droned as they came out of the Arcadia to find it still raining. ‘What shall we do now, old bean?’ he said, pausing to turn up his raincoat collar.

‘My hotel for tea.’ Magnus grinned. ‘Let’s cut out all the banter and talk about the important issues, like how it is for you back in teaching after the rough and tumble of the RAF. And I’ve got a few plans of my own I’d like to chew over with you.’

It was around ten that night when Magnus and Basil found themselves in the Cabana, a small drinking club above a gentleman’s outfitters, just a stone’s throw from the Royal Oxford where Magnus was staying. It was reminiscent of many of the clubs in London’s Soho: candles in wax-congealed Chianti bottles on each of the bare wooden tables, tarnished gilt-framed mirrors on the tobacco-coloured walls and a half-hearted pianist playing in one corner.

The men propping up the small bar had a striking similarity to the soldiers and airmen Magnus had drunk with on many a night in London, except they were all in badly fitting demob suits instead of uniforms. Most of them were young and at varying degrees of drunkenness. They leaned on the bar watching a few fresh-faced girls dancing together, from time to time shouting ribald remarks then turning to each other and laughing uproariously.

Both Magnus and Basil were a little tight. They’d had a couple of drinks before dinner at the Royal Oxford, a bottle of wine with their roast beef, then a couple of brandies as they switched back from their plans for the future and their families, to reminiscing about their student days.

It had been Basil’s idea to find somewhere else to go. Magnus was happy just to stay drinking in the hotel, then let Basil get a taxi back to his school. But Basil had said, ‘What we want is a place with a few fillies and a spot of dancing.’

Magnus had no interest in either ‘fillies’ or dancing; but when the hotel porter directed Basil to this club, it had seemed a little churlish to refuse, especially when he didn’t know when they’d next have a chance to meet again.

Basil was in fine form. He had always been something of a raconteur and the war had given him a whole new fund of hilarious anecdotes. Now as the drink loosened him up still more, he moved on to tales from his school.

‘I must tell you about the two little blaggards I found drunk in the gymnasium,’ he began – but a sudden hush in the club stopped him short. ‘Wow!’

Basil turned first, his face flushing purple in the candle-light. Magnus’s head swivelled round; he blinked, then stared open-mouthed.

It was the two dancers they’d seen that afternoon, coming in through the door.

Their entrance had the same confidence as the afternoon’s performance and was as deliberately staged. Not for them a peep round the door, or nervous giggling at finding the club full of men. They merely swept in, leaving the door swinging behind them.

The dark girl wore a cream dress, the blonde an identical black one. They floated across the floor to the bar, seemingly unaware of the dozens of male eyes on them, yet at the same time scanning the crowd.

A little warning bell rang in Magnus’s head. He turned back to his drink and tried to pick up the conversation with Basil. He guessed the girls had come here looking for male partners, and though he considered himself far too old to attract their attention, Basil was a good-looking chap and by far the most personable one in the entire club.

‘I’ll have the brunette,’ Basil whispered, leaning across the table. ‘I wouldn’t say no to the blonde either, but she seems to have set her cap at you, old boy!’

Magnus had been married to Ruth for seventeen years and their marriage was strong enough to withstand even the most cunning of predatory women during the war. But as he turned his head involuntarily and met the blonde’s turquoise eyes, looking right into his, it was as if the thinking part of his brain had switched off, leaving only the baser animal instinct.

She was a walking dream. The kind of girl that graced magazine covers, slender, yet curvy and soft. Her mid-calf dress covered those beautiful long legs he’d admired on stage, but it was her face which stunned him. Not just lovely eyes, but a perfect delicate nose and a soft, pouty mouth. Her hair curled on her padded shoulders and her complexion was as clear as a child’s.

‘I’m Bonny,’ she said, putting one hand on his shoulder. ‘Can Ellie and I join you? We’re celebrating tonight and it would be more fun with company.’

The impudence in her voice warned him to make excuses and leave, but Basil, always a ladies’ man, was already jumping up, pulling out chairs and grinning with delight.

‘We saw the show this afternoon,’ Magnus admitted after Basil had gone through the introductory pleasantries and bought both girls a double gin and tonic. ‘You were excellent. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the show, but I’m afraid you were the only stars.’

Ellie blushed prettily, but Bonny locked her eyes into his. ‘It’s only been a temporary stopgap,’ she said with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. ‘We’re off to Brighton next week and then on to another show in the West End.’

She claimed they were both twenty-two. She dropped names of famous show business people into her conversation as if they were personal friends, spoke scathingly of Oxford being ‘too provincial’ and mentioned shopping in Bond Street as if she never went anywhere else. Although Magnus knew all of this to be a pose, he was intrigued by both girls and the bond between them.

It was no ordinary girlish friendship, but something deep and binding. Although Ellie appeared to take a back seat, Magnus sensed she was an equal partner. They had a curious ability to allow each other equal time in the spotlight, backing each other up, almost as if it were a script they’d learnt together.

Yet Ellie made no wild claims as Bonny did. She made them all laugh with an impersonation of Ruth Rivers the Northern Songbird, holding her throat to get the exact warbling voice, and told a hilarious story about her Aunt Marleen during the Blitz, lapsing into a perfect cockney accent. Magnus noticed she mentioned visiting this aunt in Stoke Mandeville Hospital each week and saw a glimmer of real anxiety in her eyes about moving away to Brighton. But when Bonny told her well-embroidered tales, Ellie’s dark eyes glinted with silent amusement.

Seen close up, it was hard to say who was the most beautiful. Bonny was fire and ice, Ellie more earthy; Bonny a doll, Ellie a woman.

Whilst in the gents Basil laughingly likened it to choosing between soft and hard centres in chocolates, both equally desirable, but leaving a different taste in the mouth.

Some time later, while Magnus danced with Bonny, holding her tightly in his arms, breathing in that heady scent of her hair and skin, he thought of her as a strawberry cream, so delicious he could hardly restrain himself biting into her.

The girls had digs in Cowley, and though it made sense for Magnus to walk back to his hotel and leave Basil to escort the girls home in a taxi, then continue on to his school, for some reason Magnus found himself squashed in the back between the two girls.

‘Just meet me for lunch tomorrow,’ Bonny whispered, her tongue gliding around his ear, sending electric’ shocks to his brain. ‘Just to say goodbye. I’d like to talk to you when we’re both sober.’

The one kiss he gave her was his undoing. He felt like he was seventeen again, flying off into space with a million shooting stars all around him.

‘Outside the Black Lion at half past twelve,’ she said as she got out of the taxi, then turned to kiss her finger and placed it on his lips. ‘Good-night, both of you. It’s been a wonderful night.’

Basil was effusive in his praise of both girls as they drove back into town to drop Magnus at the hotel. ‘I’d give my right arm to see Ellie again,’ he said wistfully. ‘But she said she never goes out with married men.’

‘Married men’: the phrase had meant little to Magnus all evening, but as Basil used it, Magnus’s conscience was severely jolted. He could see Ruth’s sweet face before him, her brown eyes soft with reproach, and he vowed he wouldn’t meet Bonny for lunch.

*

‘Weren’t they the biggest dishes we’ve ever seen?’ Bonny giggled as Ellie unlocked the front door at their digs. It was well after two-thirty and they were both quite drunk.

Their story about celebrating their new job in Brighton was true. The manager at the Arcadia had recommended them to a friend of his who ran the summer shows on the pier and they were off to start rehearsing next week.

They were both excited about it. To appear in Brighton was a big step up from towns like Oxford. But for Ellie, delight was tempered with sadness. In the six weeks they’d been in Oxford she’d been visiting Marleen regularly and she had seen a fast decline in her health which was very worrying.

‘Shh!’ Ellie warned her. Mrs Ray, their landlady, was a good sort but she could get very nasty if they woke her. ‘Married dishes,’ she whispered. ‘And Basil was too hearty and old for my taste.’

Bonny’s behaviour had improved a little since they arrived in Oxford. At least she hadn’t actually stayed out all night. Ellie couldn’t be certain whether Bonny was really calming down, or whether it was because Ellie had been persuaded to join her on several double dates and acted as an unwitting ‘gooseberry’. Edward sarcastically claimed in his letters it was more likely she hadn’t found a man with enough money! He was working in Bristol, playing the piano at tea dances by day and working as a cocktail waiter by night. He sounded very demoralised. There was now a glut of men coming out of the forces and jobs went to them in preference to those like Edward who hadn’t seen active service.

‘Magnus is a dream.’ Bonny took a couple of steps towards the staircase in the dark and giggled as she stumbled.

The light was suddenly switched on and both girls froze, looking up the stairs in alarm.

‘I thought you two were never coming home,’ Mrs Ray called from the upstairs landing.

‘Sorry,’ Ellie said quickly. ‘We didn’t mean to wake you.’

Mrs Ray appeared at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a plaid brown dressing-gown, her hair in curlers. ‘I haven’t been to sleep,’ she said, coming down towards them. ‘I’ve been that worried.’

The house was a thirties-style semi-detached, ordinary enough by Bonny’s standards, but Ellie considered it almost heaven to live in a bright, modern house with a real bathroom. Mrs Ray fussed over them in the motherly way Annie King had and Ellie felt guilty when they upset her.

‘I’m sorry we’re so late.’ Ellie tried hard to look sober, bracing herself for a telling off. Mrs Ray’s face looked sunken because she hadn’t got her teeth in and Ellie resisted the urge to giggle. ‘We were celebrating – we’ve got a new job in Brighton.’

‘The hospital telephoned,’ Mrs Ray blurted out, taking the last few stairs towards them in a rush. ‘It’s your auntie, Ellie. They want you to go there.’

For a second or two Ellie could only stare at her landlady stupidly.

‘I’m afraid it sounds serious,’ Mrs Ray added.

Ellie felt an icy numbness creeping all over her. ‘You mean?’ She couldn’t continue.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Mrs Ray said gently, reaching out and putting a hand on Ellie’s arm. ‘They wouldn’t have called so late unless –’ She paused too, unable to say the word they both understood.