The Year It All Ended (11 page)

Tiney had never realised what a tonic the idea of a party could be. For two weeks, the Flynn sisters talked about nothing but the
Alstons’ ball. Even Mama put down her embroidery and helped with their costumes. Minna had made a special arrangement with Mr Timson, the cloth merchant, providing extra lessons for his daughter in exchange for lengths of cloth, and now the sisters were busy designing their own outfits. Even Thea was excited. So often, Thea politely declined invitations to parties and retreated to her studio. But from the moment the Alstons’ invitation arrived, she’d begun counting the days until the masque ball.

It was Thea’s idea that they should all go as Commedia dell’Arte characters, Harlequin, Pierrot and Columbine. She found a beautiful postcard of the trio and set it upon the dresser in her bedroom for inspiration.

Minna sewed pink and black diamond-shaped pieces of material together to make Harlequin fabric for herself. Tiney was to go as Pierrot and Thea as Columbine.

They made their fancy-dress masks from cardboard and plaster of Paris and Thea painted these carefully to match their outfits. Mama lent her ‘special’ sewing box, filled with tiny beads, coloured threads and feathers. She even showed Tiney how to make black pompoms to sew onto her Pierrot outfit.

On the evening of the ball, Tiney stood before the mirror admiring her silky-smooth white costume. Minna had helped her make white ruffs for the collar, sleeves and ankles and sewn a few artfully placed black circles on the shining satin. Tiney gathered up her long blonde hair and tucked it under a black skullcap. With her face painted white, her lips a small red bow and her features carefully highlighted in black, she looked like a perfect Parisian Pierrot.

Minna had surprised them by coming home with her hair cut
into a sleek bob. Mama gasped in horror but Tiney and Thea clapped their hands in admiration. On the night of the party, Minna trained a dark lock on her forehead into a kiss curl. She wore a full black skirt and black leggings topped by an elaborate sleeveless blouse fashioned from the Harlequin fabric. A luxurious pink-and-black checked turban with a long swathe of fabric was draped like a scarf across her shoulder.

Thea was annoyingly secretive about her Columbine outfit and was still sewing rosettes onto the skirt when Thea and Tiney were ready to leave.

‘You go ahead,’ she said, waving them towards the door.

‘We can’t go without you,’ said Tiney.

‘Papa will walk me to the party when he takes his evening stroll. Don’t worry, I won’t be far behind you.’

Tiney and Minna set out to walk the few blocks to the Alstons. The evening was unusually warm for May and Tiney wasn’t surprised when Minna stopped and took off her coat. But then Minna hung it over a fence and proceeded to take off her skirt.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Tiney.

‘Mama would have scolded me if I’d left the house without an underskirt but I designed the blouse to work as a skirt. It’s much more stylish without all those layers of fabric.’

Minna stripped off and stuffed the black skirt into her raffia basket, then adjusted the folds of the pink-and-black diamond blouse so its pocket-handkerchief hem reached just above her knees. The carefully draped folds of fabric made Minna look svelte and stylish.

‘Is it too risqué?’ asked Minna, suddenly less brazen.

Tiney paused. ‘You look like a French postcard, like a flapper
crossed with someone from the Moulin Rouge.’

Minna laughed and struck a pose, her hand on her hip, the raffia basket swinging wide. Then she dropped the basket and put one hand on Tiney’s shoulder.

‘You won’t tell, will you?’

‘Some matron will spread rumours about you, but you know I won’t.’

Minna had a new shimmy to her walk once she’d rid herself of her skirt. When they reached the gates of the Alstons’ mansion, she took their masks from the raffia basket.

‘Here, let me adjust yours for you and then you can do mine,’ said Minna.

Tiney’s was a simple, close-fitting black mask decorated with jet-black beads and white sequins to mirror her black-and-white costume. Minna’s mask was pink and black with sharp, winged sides and a V between the eyes that highlighted her perfectly slicked-down kiss-curl. They walked up the Alstons’ gravel driveway hand-in-hand, a small Pierrot in glowing white and a glamorous Harlequin.

Ida opened the door. A rush of disinfectant made Tiney’s eyes prick with tears but it was Ida’s costume that made her blink. Ida was swathed in pale green fabric and wore a crown of flowers and vines in her curly auburn hair.

‘Are you a fairy?’ asked Tiney.

‘Titania, Queen of the Night,’ said Ida. She flung her arms in the air and spun about so they could admire her from all angles. A huge pair of gossamer wings were fixed to the back of her gown, and her silver mask was covered with small diamantes.

Then Ida took in what Minna was wearing.

‘Is that really Minna Flynn or some flapper from America?’

Did Minna blush? Tiney realised it was hard to tell what anyone was thinking between their masks, makeup and costumes. On a hallstand behind Ida, dozens of masks were laid out for guests who arrived without one.

The Alstons had a small but elegant ballroom with doors that opened onto a side terrace. The terrace was lit with acetylene gas lamps and crowds of soldiers, some in uniform, some in costumes but all in masks, stood beneath the golden glow, smoking. More gas lamps were positioned in the ballroom for when the electricity was cut off at ten o’clock. Ida had said that not even coal shortages could stop her party, once she’d made up her mind it must go ahead.

Every doorway was decorated like a victory arch with the name of a famous battle: Passchendaele, Bullecourt, Fromelles, Pozières, Gallipoli, Villers-Bretonneux. Minna and Tiney found it hard to decide which battle they should stand under. Tiney felt suddenly shy and childish. So many of the other guests were dressed as princess and fairies that her demure Pierrot seemed too boyish.

Every time a new man entered the room, Minna’s eyes would flick over him. It was only for a moment and her face gave nothing away, but Tiney had the feeling Minna was waiting and watching for someone, someone in particular.

Then she stiffened and turned her body, bending towards Tiney.

‘Talk to me,’ hissed Minna. ‘Talk to me as if we’re having a very interesting conversation.’

‘About what?’ asked Tiney.

‘About anything. Just frown a lot too, as if it’s very serious and extremely private. George McCaffrey just came in.’

‘He couldn’t possibly recognise you, especially not from behind.’

‘You don’t know George. He’ll study every woman in the room until he’s found me,’ said Minna, her voice tinged with despair.

Tiney tried to help Minna out, talking about how awful the punch tasted and furrowing her brow, but it didn’t work.

George tapped Minna on the shoulder. He wasn’t in costume but in ordinary civilian clothes. He hadn’t even bothered to pick up one of the masks in the hallway.

Minna shut her eyes momentarily, took a breath and turned to face him.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘I’d imagined you wouldn’t recognise me.’

‘You filled your dance card?’ he asked. His voice sounded odd, and Tiney could smell the bitterness of ale on his breath.

‘I haven’t filled mine up,’ said Tiney. ‘I haven’t pencilled anyone in yet.’

‘I didn’t ask you,’ said George. Tiney felt hot with embarrassment.

‘Mine’s full,’ said Minna, not batting an eyelid, though Tiney knew she hadn’t a single name on it.

‘Let me see,’ said George, putting out his hand.

‘No,’ said Minna, pressing the card to her chest.

George grabbed her elbow and twisted her arm towards him in one quick movement, reaching to pluck the card from her hand. Minna let out a gasp of anger.

‘Is there a problem, ladies?’ A tall, elegant man dressed in black feathers appeared beside Tiney. He was startlingly costumed with a pair of huge black wings on his back and a
crow’s head and beak perched on his head. Hundreds of ebony feathers shimmered on his close-fitting black leotard. He lifted off his mask and smiled at them with intense brown eyes from beneath a thick mop of blond hair.

George stared hard at the stranger.

‘We know each other, don’t we?’ said the stranger. ‘You were at Ypres, Menin Road? I was with the Twenty-seventh Battalion, Second Division.’

George didn’t reply. He turned away from them and pushed his way into the crowd.

‘So rude,’ said Minna, rubbing her arm where George had grabbed it.

The stranger stared after George’s disappearing back. ‘I don’t think he remembers much of anything,’ he said before turning to Tiney. ‘I’m sorry, ladies. I should have introduced myself. I’m Sebastian Farr. You must be Dorothea’s sisters.’

‘How do you know our Thea?’ asked Minna.

‘I’ve been admiring her work at the Society of Artists. Is she here yet?’ asked Sebastian.

‘She should be, any minute,’ said Minna, glancing around the ballroom. ‘She doesn’t usually like to come to dances but she made an exception for tonight.’

‘I hope she’s hiding a secret love of dancing that she’s kept from her sisters. I intend to dance with her all night. ‘

Minna looked thunderstruck and Tiney let out a shout of laughter.

‘You must be Martina,’ said Sebastian. ‘Thea said you were the cheekiest of her sisters. Would you do me the honour of the first dance?’

Tiney blushed. ‘You should dance with Minna, she’s a much
better dancer than me. Besides, you’re so terribly tall and I’m so short, we’ll look very odd on the dance floor.’

Sebastian turned to Minna. ‘Shall we?’

Minna glanced over her shoulder, frowning at Tiney, as she followed Sebastian onto the dance floor. Had Tiney committed a terrible faux pas? What if Sebastian decided he liked Minna more than Thea? How could he not like Minna more? She was so beautiful. Then Tiney saw Thea passing under the archway of Fromelles. Her costume of apricot silk and tiny pink rosebuds shimmered in the gaslight. Her hair hung loose and curling around her shoulders. Tiney had never seen Thea look so softly feminine. When the song came to its end, Minna and Sebastian crossed the floor to Thea and the three of them stood together, the handsomest trio in the ballroom.

Tiney felt a stab of self-pity. She had probably passed up her only invitation to dance for the evening. Sebastian wouldn’t ask her again as he’d be too busy with Thea. Minna would quickly find another dance partner. Tiney would be doomed to spend the evening as a wallflower. She almost wished she was in her Cheer-Up uniform, ladling out glasses of punch. Anything was better than standing alone in her Pierrot costume while the party whirled by.

Then she saw Frank McCaffrey looking miserable in an ill-fitting costume as he stood beneath the Pozières archway. Tiney skirted around the edge of the dance floor to join him.

‘Frank, you look dashing. But who are you meant to be?’ asked Tiney.

‘Aramis, you know, one of the Three Musketeers,’ he said, uncomfortably adjusting the floppy feather in his broad-brimmed hat. ‘I’m not sold on this masque ball idea. Is this the Alstons’
going-away party, or our welcome home? I’d heard they’re off to Europe.’

‘They are going – eventually,’ said Tiney. ‘But between the flu and the Germans refusing to sign the treaty, everything’s on hold.’

‘The Germans would be mad to sign.’

‘So you don’t agree with Mr Hughes?’ asked Tiney.

Frank lowered his voice. ‘He made a lot of noise over there at the Paris Peace Conference but he’s not doing us a lot of good. He should come home and sort things here. Let Europe clean up her own mess. We’ve done enough for her. We need to get on with our lives. There are a lot of men that need help and they’re arriving by the shipload.’

‘There’s the soldier-settler scheme. Ray got land without any trouble.’

Frank frowned. ‘I hope Ray and Nette took a good look at it before they signed up.’

Tiney thought of the uneasy tone in Nette’s letters, the thinly veiled anxiety about their future in the Riverina. She didn’t want to tell Frank that Nette and Ray were living in a tent. It made her heart clutch with anxiety.

‘I’ve been lucky,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve got a job as a clerk at a good law firm, and I’m studying too. Not like poor George.’

Tiney felt her heart sink. Now they would have to discuss George and how the war had broken him and then Tiney would start to feel guilty on Minna’s behalf, because Minna could never love George. Tiney saw the evening stretch out before her, a long night of thinking about her sisters and worrying about the state of the world. Then she realised she was being rude, not responding to Frank’s conversation.

‘I’m sorry, Frank. Did you just ask me a question?’

Frank smiled. ‘Martina Flynn,’ said Frank. ‘Would you mind dancing with a digger – or a musketeer – with two left feet?’

‘You want to dance?’ asked Tiney. ‘With me?’

Frank took hold of Tiney’s hands and led her onto the dance floor. They spun out onto the smooth marble as the band struck up a foxtrot. Tiney looked up into Frank’s face. The lights glanced off his glasses, making his eyes appear an even deeper blue.

Sebastian and Thea passed by as Frank guided Tiney through the crowd of dancers. Minna, dancing with a new partner, smiled and waved. It was a long time since Tiney had seen such an expression of easy happiness on Minna’s face. But then Tiney turned her gaze back to Frank. Frank and Tiney. Tiney and Frank. She liked the way their names sounded, sitting side by side. For the first time in months, Tiney felt a flutter of hope, like a small bird testing its wings, move inside her.

Lost and found