Debutantes: In Love (14 page)

Poppy arrived home about half an hour after they did. She had Baz in tow, of course, and Daisy heard them arguing in the hall as she came down the stairs.

‘You do it,’ Baz was saying.

‘Don’t be stupid; you have to do it,’ hissed Poppy. ‘It’s your mother.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ retorted Baz, and there were muffled giggles from both of them.

‘Shh,’ said Daisy, coming on to the landing and putting her finger to her lips. She pointed at the yellow parlour, where the sound of Jack reading a newspaper article to Elaine boomed through the doorway.

‘This is what
The Times
says: “
It is time that those antics ceased. Those Bright Young People and their ridiculous parties are giving London a bad name with their
. . .”’

‘Go on, go in,’ muttered Poppy, and gave Baz a firm push from behind as he hesitated on the threshold. Daisy followed, trying not to giggle at Baz’s expression of horror. On their entry Jack laid aside the newspaper with a slight expression of annoyance crossing his handsome face, but Elaine seemed glad to see them and Daisy suspected that she was tired of being lectured.

‘Card from my mother,’ Baz muttered, after prolonging his greetings for as long as he could. He held out a gold-bordered card with his mother’s name and address on it and then quickly reversed it so the handwritten message on the back could be seen.

Elaine scrutinized it carefully and Jack looked over her shoulder.

‘Well, that’s very kind of your mother to invite the girls.’

‘It’s just a supper party on Monday – very small affair,’ stuttered Baz. ‘Nothing formal – no chaperones,’ he ended, giving Poppy the despairing look of someone who had forgotten his lines.

Elaine looked at him with surprise and Jack with suspicion.

‘You must call on Lady Dorothy, my dear, of course,’ Jack said to Elaine. ‘It would be better to thank her in person.’

And find out what’s
really
happening, thought Daisy, hoping that Joan would manage to prime her rather indulgent mother before Elaine called.

‘What’s this party, then?’ she asked Poppy as soon as they were alone upstairs.

‘Small, informal supper at Lady Dorothy’s town house,’ said Poppy demurely, adding, ‘Why don’t you bring your camera? You know you want to make a film about the Bright Young People.’ Joan will tell you all about them – she’s one of them; she knows all about the treasure hunts and the parties in a swimming bath and things like that. Me and Baz won’t do anything like that though, of course.’

Daisy gave her a suspicious look but decided it might be better not to know too much. Things could not get
too
wild if it really was a party held by Lady Dorothy.

‘Would it be all right if I asked Charles de Montfort?’ she asked casually. ‘He doesn’t really know many people in London and I think he would enjoy it.’

And then, as Poppy looked at her suspiciously in turn, she threw her arms around her and whispered in her ear, ‘He kissed me and it was heaven!’

‘Who?’ Poppy sounded startled.

‘Charles, of course,’ she said trying not to blush.

‘Charles?’

Daisy looked at her with annoyance. ‘Well, who else?’ she asked. She could hear her voice sounding defensive and that irritated her. Who was Poppy to sound so dubious? After all, she, Daisy, had never said a word against Poppy’s plans to marry Baz, though personally, she could not ever visualize spending the rest of her life with someone who seemed so immature and unintelligent.

‘Don’t you like him?’ she asked defensively.

‘You’re not just falling in love with him because he’s rich, are you?’ Poppy gave her a penetrating look.

‘Of course not,’ said Daisy firmly. ‘It’s not about the money at all. I truly am falling in love with him.’ She couldn’t understand why Poppy seemed unable to see how gorgeous Charles was, but she supposed her sister was blinded by her love for Baz.

‘It’s just that it all seems a bit sudden, but as long as you like him . . .’

Of course, Poppy and Baz had known each other for all of their lives and had only recently fallen so deeply in love that they were thinking about marriage. Perhaps her feelings for Charles were a bit sudden. Two days as compared with seventeen years.

Daisy shrugged. Love at first sight was more romantic anyway, she thought, and certainly more cinematic.

Chapter Fourteen

Monday 7 April 1924

Poppy snuggled in close to Baz and then sighed as she heard Joan’s voice from upstairs. The town house belonging to Baz’s family was very tall and narrow with numerous flights of stairs, and the large and noisy family were always tramping up and down them and calling to each other continually. All of Baz’s family, except he and Joan, were married and had their own homes, but as soon as their mother came to London they all seemed to congregate at Belgravia Square.

‘Sometimes I almost wish that we were back at Beech Grove,’ she said, moving away from him reluctantly. Soon all Joan’s friends would be arriving for this ‘informal supper party’ and then they would have no opportunity to be alone.

‘Not taking a dislike to London, are you?’ Baz sounded worried.

‘No, not to London. If only we could just move into your little house – with no fuss, no plotting and planning. Planning makes my head ache. I just want to play music and to be left in peace.’ She stared moodily ahead and drummed her feet on the ground. ‘I’m so tired of telling lies and making up excuses,’ she said apologetically as his arms went around her again. Daisy, she thought resentfully, seemed very happy. She spent most of her days at the film studios and no one questioned that because of Sir Guy being her godfather and a great friend of the Earl; certainly no one asked whether she was going there because of her ambitions to make a film or because she would be with Charles de Montfort. Poppy heard a lot about Charles de Montfort in nightly talks – all about the new film that Daisy was making about India, in which Charles was an Indian rajah, and Violet a young girl just arrived from England. Daisy, thought Poppy, was perhaps a little jealous of her elder sister’s being so close to the wonderfully desirable Charles.

And then she forgot about Daisy as she felt the soft pressure of Baz’s lips on hers.

‘Oh, I say! Too, too shy-making . . . shall I go out and come in again? I can even cough in a tactful way and then tap on the door,’ said a voice from behind them.

‘Oh, go away, Joan.’ Poppy pulled herself away from Baz. She quite liked Joan when she was in the mood for comedy, but just now she wanted to be alone with Baz. Everyone treated them like a pair of kids. She scowled at Joan, and then her eyes widened. For a small, informal party, Joan was very dressed up.

She wore a straight shift of midnight blue, lightened by three panels of iridescent sapphire shimmering against the background of the darker colour. Circles and half-circles of dark and light blue ornamented the bodice, and the hem dipped on both sides and rose well above the knee in the middle. On her head she wore a close-fitting elfin cap with circles of blue beads stitched into the silver lace. It curved around her forehead, finishing in two points on her jawbones, enhancing the colour of her eyes and giving her face an innocent and childlike expression.

Poppy glared at her. She and Daisy were just wearing ordinary tea gowns – after emphasizing how small and informal the gathering was going to be, neither had liked to dress up too much.

‘I say, cheer up,’ said Joan. ‘There was a poem that governess of ours was always quoting: “
To be young is very heaven
”, something like that.’

‘Well, it’s a lie,’ said Poppy fiercely. ‘To be young is very hell. Why should we be bossed and bullied and hemmed in with rules and regulations? We’re adults. I stopped growing four years ago. Why can’t we be treated like grown-ups?’

‘Can’t say it bothers me.’ Joan yawned.

‘Well, you’re lucky then,’ snapped Poppy. ‘You just want to get married to a rich man and your mother wants that for you too so you have no problems.’

‘And have some fun, while I’m waiting for him to turn up,’ said Joan, peering at herself in the mirror and rubbing gently at a spot of excess colour on her right cheekbone. ‘Too, too sickening, making up one’s face in daylight,’ she murmured. ‘Why can’t sun be more like electricity?’ She blinked her mascara-coated eyelashes several times, then shut each eye in turn and peered at the navy-blue lid with satisfaction.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said brightly. ‘Trust me. I will take your affairs in hand and bring them to a satisfactory conclusion. Do you know that Annette is thinking of setting up as a marriage broker? They have them out in India. She says that she has got three clients already. I shall be her rival.’

‘Oh, go away, Joan,’ Baz groaned.

‘Joan!’ Her mother’s voice called from downstairs. ‘Here come some of your young people. Do come down, dear; I never know which is which. These girls change their appearance so quickly.’

‘Just chaperoning the young couple, Mama,’ called back Joan, adding in a whisper, ‘Don’t worry; she’s going out. I persuaded her that having supper with us young things would bring on one of her migraines. She telephoned Sarah and her husband to come and take charge. Funny, isn’t it, that only last year Sarah was just a debutante to be chaperoned and this year, just because she’s married, she’s trusted to take care of her sister and brother and all of their friends.

And then she was gone, ostentatiously leaving the door wide open.

‘Wonder how much she charges for marriage broking – Annette, I mean.’ Poppy tried to smile, but she knew from the gentle concern in Baz’s eyes that the attempt was a failure. She gulped a little and went over to the mirror and painted her lips. She looked pale, she thought, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Still the closely cut black shift dress did look quite nice. Carefully she outlined her lips with a firm stick of bright red lip rouge.

‘Think about tonight,’ he suggested. ‘We’ll just have to endure the supper party. Then we’ll go over to my place and get the music going. Joan has it all fixed. It will just be a few friends.’

Poppy nodded and smiled. Baz kissed her on the forehead and she felt overwhelmed with love. Yes, it would be fun.

‘It would be so good to be married,’ he said wistfully.

‘We’ll manage somehow or other,’ she said fiercely as Joan came running back up the stairs.

‘Now, darlings,’ she said with a businesslike air, ‘let’s try to make you interesting.’

Poppy frowned. ‘Why interesting?’ she asked.

‘Trust Aunt Joan, dear. Tell me about your coming-out dance – you and Daisy.’

‘Going to be huge,’ said Poppy emphatically. ‘Elaine’s husband is insisting on making a big, big affair of it. First it was going to be in the house, but now it’s going to be at the Ritz Hotel. We are going to have very special dresses!’

‘The Ritz, hmm, a bit stuffy, but always worth a story – there’ll be plenty of newspaper reporters and photographers popping flashlights,’ said Joan thoughtfully. ‘You’ll have to make it different though, to every other coming-out dance. These affairs are such a yawn; I’ve been to a million of them and I swear that they are getting duller and duller; I was never more bored in my life than at Charlotte Muskery’s do in the Savoy. We’ll have to think of something exciting. My plan is to make you two the most talked-about couple in town. Get people used to having your names paired together. Then when you get engaged, no one will be surprised,’ she ended, and Poppy looked at her with sudden interest.

‘But more of that anon; now let’s go down to supper,’ said Joan briskly. ‘Daisy and her young man have just arrived. My dear, what does she see in him? He looks and acts like a tailor’s dummy.’

Chapter Fifteen

Monday 7 April 1924

‘I don’t think that I have ever been so happy in my life,’ said Daisy defiantly.

Violet looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Has he got any money?’ she asked. ‘You do know that it’s your duty to marry money? Someone must, and Poppy is flying headlong into this business with Baz, who is the youngest of five brothers! Rose is too young, so it’s up to you to save Beech Grove. How old is he?’