The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets (24 page)

‘You
look more beautiful than words can say.’ he said. It was as though I wasn’t
there at all. Charlotte’s eyes welled up.

‘Don’t,’
she said weakly.

Help,
I thought, and busied myself studying the menu. ‘Ah,
but it’s the truth, girl. The truth, for once.’ He pulled his hand away again
and got his comb out from his pocket. ‘So how’s that auntie of yours?’ he asked
her. ‘Still grooming you for Prince bloody Charles, is she?’ But there was no
bitterness in his voice now. Charlotte grinned, at once more like her usual
self.

‘Oh my
good gosh no,’ she said. ‘He’s not
nearly
rich and sophisticated enough.’

We sat with Andrew for
well over an hour. He was funny and charming, considerate and sweet, and if he
minded that Charlotte had brought me along too, he never once showed it. The
place filled up around us, all these velvet-collared boys, deep in their own
world, talking records and clothes and riots in the streets. What struck me
most of all was how
young
they all were. I mean, where were their
mothers? People walked past the caff and peered in at us, which made me feel
dangerous and safe at the same time. It was a nice feeling, an exciting
feeling, a sensation that I had never got with any of the dull boys I was used
to. I wanted everyone to see me — I wanted Hope Allen to think that I too could
talk to the Teds.
This is living!
I thought proudly.

Soon
after our arrival, two of Andrew’s friends came and squashed up on our table.

‘We
heard he was meetin’ you, Charlie,’ said the first, a good-looking boy with
bloodshot eyes.

‘Had to
come and say hello,’ said the other.

‘Digby.
Ian — how are you both?’ asked Charlotte delightedly. ‘This is my friend
Penelope.’

They
gave me a thorough looking over. The one called Ian spotted my lecture notes
bulging out of my bag.

‘I
prefer the flicks to reading books,’ he said sagely.

‘Have —
have you seen anything good lately?’ I stammered.

‘This
an’ that.’ He shrugged. ‘Brando. I like Brando.’

Perhaps
he admired Brando’s ‘good arms’ like Mary. I thought.

‘I like
your jacket,’ I said admiringly.

‘I only
wear the best.’

‘My
brother would love it.’

He
looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Your brother could prob’ly afford it. Hang on.’
He rummaged in his front pockets, and pooled the contents in front of him on
the table; a rusty razor blade, a bag of tobacco, two combs and a tub of
grease, a bicycle chain and three chocolate wrappers appeared before the stub
of a pencil. ‘Got anything to write on?’

I
pulled the Italian dictionary that Hope Allen had wrecked out of my bag. ‘Use
the back page of this.’

‘Italian?’
asked Ian incredulously. ‘Now you’re jus’ showing off, girl.’

I
laughed, light-headed with the attention he was paying me.

‘Here,’
he said, scribbling fast. ‘This is the address of the bird who knocks up zoot
suits for all us lot. Genuis, she is. Used to work on Savile Row. Charges us a
quarter of what she used to charge the toffs. Tell your brother to tell Cathy
that Ian Sommersby sent ‘im. Cathy’ll give ‘im the best deal in London. All
right? Ian
Sommersby.
Don’t forget the name.’ He ran his fingers through
his DA and looked so serious, I nearly giggled.

‘Thank
you,’ I said, pocketing the address.

‘What’s
he called, your brother?’ asked Digby.

‘Um —
Inigo.’

‘Indigo?’
Digby cracked up, his whole face creased with the
amusement of it all.

‘Bloody
queer name, that,’ observed Ian.

‘I
suppose so.

Andrew
nodded at me. ‘Charlie knows how to dress,’ he said. ‘For a toff, she knows her
threads.’

‘And
for someone with no class, no job and no money you brush up very well indeed,’
said Charlotte drily.

Andrew
laughed loudly. ‘Sod off,’ he said good-naturedly.

I
blanched a little. I had never been told to
sod off
by anyone, least of
all a boy in jest. Charlotte just smiled.

Half an
hour later, she reluctantly decided that we should leave. Andrew grabbed her
and pulled her into a kiss and a few boys wolf-whistled.

‘You
want one?’ Ian grinned.

‘Oh, I’m
fine, thanks,’ I muttered.

‘Not
posh enough for you, is he?’ Digby laughed.

‘No. I
mean, yes. I mean—’ I felt hot and silly. ‘Aw, leave her alone,’ ordered Andrew
idly.

It was dark by the time we
left the place. Andrew vanished with Ian and Digby and Charlotte and I decided
to walk home. Charlotte didn’t talk and I didn’t think to make her. I was quite
happy; I wanted time to think myself. Then, just as we got to Marble Arch, a
face appeared out of the window of a Jaguar, waving at us and ordering the
driver to pull over, which he did, to the consternation of the bus driver
behind him. It was Kate and Helena Wentworth. Charlotte was forced out of her
silence as they spilled onto the pavement.’

‘We
thought it was you! No one else in London has legs that long and hair that
thick!’ exclaimed Helena. ‘We’ve just got into the car after lunch, would you
believe it? We’ve been at Claridge’s since midday. Sophia G-D’s birthday do.
Possibly the most mind-numbingly dull experience of my life thus far.’

‘Sophia
with the rubies,’ I remembered. ‘We saw her at the Hamiltons’ party, Charlotte.
Marina was terribly rude to her.’
And hark at me!
I thought, giggling
inside.

‘Oh, we’ve
only met her a couple of times ourselves,’ said Kate quickly. ‘She seems a
sweet thing. Such an unfortunate face, poor lamb. She was embarrassingly
pleased we had turned up at all, actually. Marina was there, under sufferance
and drinking like a fish, and George too, looking larger than life. But it was
your cousin Harry who made the whole ordeal bearable,’ she went on, blushing
slightly.

‘Really?’
asked Charlotte grimly.

‘He was
our after-dinner entertainment.
Such
tricks! Gosh, he’s improved since I
first saw him at Clara Sanderson’s coming out ball last year. I was longing to
find out how he does that marvellous one with the cigarette and the ten
shilling note, but as soon as lunch was over, he vamoosed. Said something about
getting back to some cove called Julian Mac Something.’

Charlotte
snorted.

‘He is
just
so
talented!’ Kate went on gushingly. ‘I could watch him performing
for hours on end. He did the sweetest thing with his napkin, folded it into a
mouse shape and made it run up everyone’s arms, it was
killing!’

Methinks
Kate has a thing for Harry,
I thought in
astonishment. What on earth was it about him?

‘So
what have you two been doing this afternoon?’ asked Helena, smiling at me in a
very friendly way (being seen with Charlotte not just once, but twice, clearly
merited acceptance).

‘Are
you out to dinner? We were thinking of heading straight to Sheekey’s for an
early dinner,’ said Kate.

Sheekey’s!
Charlotte was in love with the place, I knew,
because she talked about it whenever she was hungry. I could sense her
considering the downside of Kate’s suggestion — spending another couple of
hours with the Wentworth girls — against the upside — a plate of Dover sole
that she probably wouldn’t have to pay for. She didn’t take long about making
her decision.

‘Yum,’
she said decisively. ‘We’d love to join you.’

‘Wonderful!’
said Helena delightedly. ‘Do jump in!’

‘To
Sheekey’s, Bernard!’ ordered Kate.

So off we went to St
Martin’s Lane, Kate and Helena talking nineteen to the dozen, Charlotte moving
smoothly into the gossipy, flighty mode that I had seen her in during the
Hamilton party. She didn’t mention that half an hour earlier we had been
sitting in the caff on Tottenham Court Road with A the T and company; in fact,
I began to wonder whether it had happened at all. Sitting in Sheekey’s, gulping
down Pol Roger and listening, wide-eyed, to the twins’ chatter made me feel
quite dizzy. Was this the same city, I wondered. Was I the same person with
these girls? Was Charlotte? People looked over at our table and nudged each
other; they recognised Kate and Helena, and fell quiet from time to time to try
to hear what they were saying, which wasn’t difficult, as neither girl thought
to keep the volume of her voice within the confines of our table. Charlotte
asked a lot of questions, many of which she already knew the answers to, so she
didn’t have to talk much and could focus her attention on what she was ordering
and eating. She was clever, though, throwing in the odd scandalous snippet of
gossip just to keep our end up and make the twins feel they were getting their
money’s worth out of their evening, then it was back to the fish and the
sautéed potatoes. We left just before midnight. The girls were very friendly
with me, especially after Betty Harwood, who wrote Jennifer’s Diary for the
Tatler,
came up to say hello and asked to be remembered to Mama. I could have
hugged her.

Back at Kensington Court,
Charlotte peeled off her coat and her shoes and flopped onto the sofa. Aunt
Clare had gone to bed and Harry was nowhere to be found.

‘Probably
still bringing people back from the dead at Sophia Garrison-Denbigh’s,’ said
Charlotte. ‘Gosh, Sheekey’s is good. I could have eaten those pancakes three
times over.

‘Was it
strange?’ I blurted. ‘Seeing Andrew again.’

I
thought she wouldn’t answer, but eventually she did. ‘It’s silly, isn’t it?
Andrew’s no good for me because he’s too common and too poor. Marina’s no good
for Harry because she’s too rich and too vulgar. Was there
ever
a
condition so idiotically pathetic as that of the penniless toff?’

‘Worst
of all worlds,’ I said dully. ‘Losers, all of us.’

‘At
least you have Magna to give you some semblance of wealth.’

‘Not
much good when there’s a high possibility of the ceiling collapsing on all
potential suitors.’

Charlotte
gave me the ghost of a smile. ‘What are we going to do?’ She buried her face in
her hands.

I was
part horrified, having never ~seen Charlotte with her guard down like this
before. ‘A the T — he
was
nice. You were quite right to say that about
him,’ I said quickly. ‘And
so
pretty. I can’t think why Aunt Clare
objects so much. Surely—’

‘Did
you hear what he said about his parents?’ she asked heavily.

‘Yes,
but—’

‘It’s
not fair on Aunt Clare,’ said Charlotte dully. ‘She’s waited all her life for
me to marry the right man. And she’s right about one thing. It would never
last. A the T — he’s the boy you fall for before your
real
hero comes
along. He’s too young for me, too. I realised that today. I need someone older,
someone to keep me in line.’

‘Is
that what you think, or Aunt Clare?’

‘What
does it matter? He’ll do his National Service next year. That sort of thing
changes a boy like Andrew. I’m not sure I’d want him after that.’

I didn’t
say anything, but I wasn’t convinced and neither was she.

We sat
in silence for a while, listening to the tick-ticking of the clock. Charlotte
stared straight ahead of her, frowning, knotting her fingers together. It was
the first time I had felt cold in Aunt Clare’s study. Eventually. I spoke up. ‘Mary
thinks Marion Brando has good arms.’

Charlotte
stared at me as though I was mad. Then she started to laugh and suddenly we were
all right again.

Harry arrived back soon
afterwards. He jumped with surprise to see Charlotte and me still up.

‘What
on earth are you two doing?’ he demanded. ‘Waiting for Godot?’

‘No,
just you,’ said Charlotte. ‘We’ve heard from reliable sources that you’ve been
whooping it up
chez
the nouveau-riche.’

‘I
nouveau-wishe,’ snapped Harry. ‘It’s been a painful day. I got stuck with the
Wentworth twins for longer than is healthy for any man.

Charlotte
looked at me and grinned. ‘We just had dinner with them.’

‘You
did? Well you’re gluttons for punishment, then.’

‘Gluttons,
certainly.’ said Charlotte. ‘We went to Sheekey’s.’

‘They
paid?’

‘Naturellement.’

‘Well,
I suppose that’s something. I don’t know what it is about those two, but every
party I’ve been to in the past year has involved sitting next to one of them.
People obviously think we’re kindred spirits.’

‘Kate
seems rather keen on you,’ I said slyly.

‘Don’t,’
said Harry coldly.

‘She’s
jolly beautiful,’ I pointed out.