Ellie (65 page)

‘I can’t actually see anyone as pretty as us two,’ Bonny said immodestly. They had put a lot of effort into their appearance tonight: face masks, manicures, to say nothing of sleeping in curlers and spending a couple of hours on arranging the artful waves and curls which cascaded over their bare shoulders. ‘I suppose you’ve got to be old and ugly to be rich. Maybe you can’t have it all.’

The girls lapsed into silence, just observing. The air was rich with scents, French perfume, cigars and flowers. A pianist was playing softly in the background, but he was almost drowned by a buzz of conversation. Gleaming polished wood floor, velvet drapes at the sparkling windows, silver trays clinking with fluted champagne glasses carried by waiters in tailcoats – it was all so luxurious.

Ellie looked up at the huge chandeliers and saw they acted like a kaleidoscope, each sparkling crystal picking up the vivid colours of the women’s dresses beneath it. She wondered whether they’d left it there during the war; it must have made such a noise jingling when the doodle-bugs came over. She wondered too who cleaned it and for a moment she imagined herself back in the lawyers’ offices in the Temple scrubbing stairs. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Bonny was right – everyone was old, hardly anyone less than thirty. The men wore their age better than their wives, a few wrinkles and grey hair seemed to give them more character. Yet she wondered, if they were stripped of their dinner-jackets and bow-ties and put into ordinary working men’s clothes, whether they’d still manage to look so distinguished.

Ellie thought Magnus looked splendid. He was at the far end of the ballroom, talking animatedly to a small group of men who’d broken away from their wives. She could understand exactly why Bonny was so crazy about him. His height, broad shoulders, bronzed skin and sun-bleached hair were at odds with their anaemic faces and puny physiques. She wondered which of the women was his wife. She could see a tall blonde woman with a bony face looking across at him: if that was Ruth, it was hardly surprising he had a mistress!

Last night, when he called round to the borrowed flat in Pimlico, he’d given them a lecture, warning them Ruth would be there and telling them both to stay well away from her. She had no idea it was he who’d put their names forward for the cabaret, and if anyone else should question them about it, they were to be vague and say they thought it was Mr Dyson in Brighton who had arranged their booking.

Ellie overheard him giving Bonny a further warning later.

‘Please just think of it as just a job,’ he said. ‘I got you it, not to have you close to me, but in the hopes you might get spotted by someone in the entertainment business. So forget me, Bonny, dazzle everyone else and make the most of the opportunity. Don’t make me regret it.’

The evening was intended to raise funds to help refugees and people displaced by the war. Earlier the girls had looked at a collection of photographs pinned to a screen of camps set up in Germany by the Red Cross for these people. Ellie had been quite disturbed by the scenes. Somehow until now she’d imagined the people in Germany were no worse off than they were here in England. Now she felt a little guilty that she and Bonny were getting paid for tonight.

‘Tables and chairs had been set up around the stage, though as yet most people were just standing in groups chatting. The auction of donated goods would start soon, followed by the cabaret. The girls had taken part in a dress rehearsal in the afternoon. They were to open the cabaret with ‘Keep Young and Beautiful’. The comedian would follow them, then the magician, before the girls did their second number.

Maria Dolenze was the star act, a singer who had appeared in many West End musicals, and she was to go on last. Finally, before the tables were moved back for dancing, there was to be a tombola.

Ellie wasn’t particularly nervous about their numbers, for they knew them inside out and the band was excellent. But she was growing ever more nervous about Sir Miles Hamilton. She had no idea which of these many middle-aged men he might be, or even how she could find out. Now that she was here, intimidated by posh voices, expensive clothes and the glossy aura these people exuded, she wasn’t sure if she had the courage to speak to anyone.

‘I thought it would be exciting,’ Bonny said indignantly as they made their way off to change. ‘But no one took the least interest in us!’

‘It will be different after the show,’ Ellie said hopefully. She was just as disappointed as Bonny. The only person who’d spoken to them was a waiter and he’d only asked if they’d like a glass of champagne.

‘I couldn’t work out which was Ruth either,’ Bonny said, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes.

‘Nor me,’ Ellie agreed. ‘But stop thinking about her or Magnus. It will just put you off.’

The room they’d been given as a dressing-room was tiny, but grand by their standards, with a washbasin and a well-lit dressing-table. The ballroom was only down the corridor and as they changed they could hear the auctioneer calling out the bids.

‘Have I got ten pounds?’ they heard. ‘Ten over there. Any advance on ten pounds? Ten guineas. Eleven pounds. Any more bids for this lovely bracelet? Surely it’s worth more than eleven pounds?’

‘I can’t imagine anyone bidding for that rubbish,’ Bonny said churlishly, sticking out her lip. ‘Horrid old paintings, jewellery that looks as if it’s from Woolworth’s. Who wants that?’

‘I don’t think any of it’s rubbish.’ Ellie shrugged her shoulders, guessing her friend was only being spiteful because she was disappointed and worried about Ruth. ‘Anyway it’s for a really good cause. Imagine if we had to live in one of those camps.’

‘Don’t get any ideas about refusing our five pounds,’ Bonny sniffed. ‘We’re displaced too. We won’t have a job or a home next week.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ Ellie turned her back towards Bonny so she could zip up her costume.

‘I look like Shirley Temple.’ Bonny stood beside Ellie at the mirror, pulling a silly face at herself. Their costumes were short white tennis dresses with matching knickers. They both had ribbons in their hair and white tap shoes and they looked very young. ‘Mum would be proud of me. I’m wearing two pairs of knickers at last.’

Magnus wished he could clap as loudly as everyone else when Bonny and Ellie smilingly curtsied to their audience at the end of their first number. But he didn’t dare draw attention to himself with Ruth beside him.

She looked very nice tonight in a green taffeta dress, even though she’d laughingly said she looked like a country mouse compared with these smart Londoners. Green gave her pale skin a luminous quality and he liked the sophisticated chignon the hairdresser had given her; at home she always wore her hair loose. She was thirty-seven now, but to Magnus she had a timeless quality. She would probably look just the same at sixty.

The evening was going very well so far. Ruth knew a few of the other women and she’d found the confidence to leave his side and chat to them. He just hoped Bonny would stick to her side of the bargain after the cabaret.

But Magnus felt very proud of both Bonny and Ellie. They had worked on the act he remembered from Oxford: the choreography was vastly improved and they were slicker, even more self-assured. Bonny’s tap-dancing and gymnastics were faultless, Ellie’s voice more powerful.

‘They were really good.’ Ruth tucked her hand through Magnus’s arm, her soft brown eyes twinkling with pleasure. ‘I thought we’d see stuffy acts tonight, not something like that.’

Magnus gulped hard. One of the things which had attracted him to Ruth when they first met was her lack of guile and her delight in the sort of things his pompous family found ‘vulgar’. Over the years it was this quality in her which endeared her to him more than anything. She laughed a great deal, she sang while she worked about the house, she found time for everyone, regardless how busy she was. She was a truly happy person and he loved her; yet he still couldn’t help hoping she’d want to go home to Yorkshire on the first train tomorrow morning, so he could have a couple of days in London with Bonny.

The girls swept off their battered top hats, letting their hair tumble down, and bowed deeply at the rapturous applause for ‘We’re a Couple of Swells’.

‘You
are
a couple of swells!’ a hearty male voice called out. ‘Bravo!’

The girls grinned at this voluble admirer, hitched up their ragged tramps’ trousers and bowed again.

‘We were sensational,’ Bonny said as they skipped off through the wings to change.

‘Utterly sensational,’ Ellie agreed. ‘Bravo!’ she added in the upper-crust tones of the male admirer.

‘I feel all sweaty,’ Bonny giggled as they got inside the dressing-room. ‘I hope there’s some hot water to wash. I don’t fancy dancing with anyone smelling like this.’

‘You don’t smell too bad to me.’ Ellie grinned. ‘But then I’ve got no intention of sniffing round you. Anyway, there must be hot water here, we’re not exactly in the pits.’

As Bonny washed they could hear Maria Dolenze singing ‘We’ll Gather Lilacs’. Ellie began to join her in an exaggerated falsetto.

‘Stop it,’ Bonny laughed, one foot in the washbasin. ‘I can’t bear it.’

‘Magnus looked proud of you.’ Ellie broke off from removing her stage make-up and tweaked Bonny’s hair playfully. She felt exhilarated by their performance, quite giddy and silly. ‘I noticed you were a good girl and kept your eyes off him. I hope you can keep it up?’

‘The only person I looked at was the tall, dark man by the stage,’ Bonny said, drying her feet. ‘Did you see him? I like men with moustaches, I might flirt with him later and make Magnus jealous. I think he’s on his own.’

‘I saw him,’ Ellie groaned, remembering the dark, rather serious-faced man who hadn’t taken his eyes off them. ‘You are incorrigible, Bonny. You’d find a man in a nunnery.’

‘I just wish Magnus could creep in here to say hello,’ Bonny sighed, her face instantly forlorn. ‘It’s only his approval I want.’

‘You’ll get it tomorrow.’ Ellie patted her shoulder. ‘I think I’ll clear off for a couple of days. I don’t think I can bear to hear you two at it again!!’

The tombola was over, the chairs and tables moved aside for dancing, and the band playing a foxtrot as the girls swept back into the ballroom.

Two elderly couples had taken to the dance floor, but aside from a few of the older ladies who sat on the sidelines watching, almost everyone else was at the far end of the room where a bar had been opened.

The tall, dark man Bonny had spoken of strode across the empty expanse of dance floor towards them. His purposeful manner suggested he’d been watching for them to emerge.

‘Let me get you both a drink?’ He smiled at them both but Ellie knew he was only interested in Bonny. ‘I did enjoy your performance. Do tell me which show you are from?’

‘We aren’t with one. Not at present,’ Ellie said quickly before Bonny could make up a story. ‘We’d love a drink, thank you.’

As he went off to the bar, Bonny looked at Ellie and smirked wickedly.

‘You are a witch,’ Ellie giggled. ‘He’s already spellbound.’

‘He might be good for a “reserve”.’ Bonny wrinkled her nose as she watched his back view at the bar. ‘I’ll know for certain by what drink he gets us. Did you notice he didn’t ask?’

When he came back with two glasses of champagne, Bonny winked at Ellie. He’d passed her test with flying colours.

‘I’m John Norton.’ He smiled rather shyly. ‘I know from the programme your names are Helena Forester and Bonny Phillips, but which is which?’

‘Make a guess?’ Bonny turned her turquoise eyes on him and fluttered her lashes. She could see Magnus talking to a group of people and guessed he was watching her over their shoulders.

‘I think you must be Miss Phillips,’ he said, looking right at Bonny, but then glancing almost nervously at Ellie. ‘Am I right?’

‘You don’t think I look “Bonny” then?’ Ellie said to tease him.

During the time the girls had been partners, Ellie had seen many men react to Bonny as this man was doing, and she felt for him. She sensed he was a rather staid man who under normal circumstances was too shy and reserved to make a play for a woman. He was very personable, a real gentleman, but most definitely not a ‘stage door Johnny’ who made a habit of pursuing showgirls. She guessed he was around thirty, and he was almost handsome with soft brown eyes, a generous mouth and a neatly trimmed moustache. Only his habit of frowning, which underlined a serious nature, spoilt him.

‘You are both so beautiful,’ he said blushing furiously. Ellie knew she’d read him correctly. ‘But Bonny just sounds like a blonde’s name.’

‘Well, you are right,’ Bonny said, putting her hand on his arm and looking at him provocatively. ‘Now what do you do, Mr Norton? Shall I guess?’

‘You won’t be able to,’ he said gravely.

‘I can.’ Bonny fluttered her eyelashes. ‘You’re a lawyer!’

Ellie thought this was a good guess, for it was exactly what he looked like. Very restrained, bookish, careful. She was sure he was single, and that his long tapered fingers certainly never lifted anything heavier than a pen.

‘No, not a lawyer, though sometimes I think I ought to be,’ he said, smiling now and showing very even white teeth. ‘By profession I’m a chemist, but not the sort who dishes out medicine. I’m in the oil business.’

‘How interesting,’ Bonny said, very insincerely. If she had yawned she couldn’t have made it more plain.

‘Do you know many people here, Mr Norton?’ Ellie asked, wishing to spare him further embarrassment.

‘Some of them,’ he said. ‘Lady Penelope Beauchamp is my godmother and she drags me along to these dos. I see the same faces again and again and know who they are, but I can’t say I know many of them well.’

Ellie could sense Bonny was trying to edge away, but she was determined to continue the conversation a little longer.

‘Lady Beauchamp is one of the patrons, isn’t she?’ Ellie asked. ‘Which one is she?’

‘Over there, in pink.’ Norton pointed her out.

Ellie didn’t dare catch Bonny’s eye: it was the woman they’d laughed about in the too-tight dress. ‘Which one is Sir Miles Hamilton then?’ she went on quickly. ‘Is he here?’