Debutantes: In Love (9 page)

WILL MEET TRAIN STOP WHAT TIME
AND STATION DOES IT ARRIVE STOP

‘Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve – twelve words,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘Father is so used to economizing that he won’t be surprised that there is no name signed. He wouldn’t want to spend more than a shilling himself.’

‘Why didn’t the silly chump say the time in his telegram?’ Poppy tried to remove some of the worst tangles from her waist-length hair with her fingers.

‘Think ourselves lucky that he didn’t telephone.’ The telephone at Beech Grove Manor was forever going wrong. She hoped this was one of the frequent occurrences of trouble on the line. ‘He probably didn’t like to ask if Elaine would meet her and keep her overnight,’ she added. ‘You know what he is like about asking for favours. If he told the time and station then it would be like he was expecting her to be met. Now I’m off.’

‘Just going down to the post office, Tellford,’ she said, meeting the butler in the hall.

‘Yes, my lady,’ he said respectfully, opening the hall door for her. ‘Just down the road and then turn left.’

To her relief he showed no sign of thinking it odd that she went to the post office by herself. It’s 1924, not before the war when women wore long skirts and girls daren’t step outside their gardens without a chaperone. And it’s London, not down in the country in Kent, she told herself as she walked quickly down the pavement, looking at girls everywhere, alone, many of them running for a bus or driving cars. Living down in Beech Grove with two elderly Victorians, one forgot how the world had changed. The thought gave her courage and she dictated her telegram in a steady voice, then bought a
Daily Mail
for a halfpenny from newspaper boy outside the post office.

She needed to be back in the house at Grosvenor Square before a telegram was delivered, or, horrors, a phone call came from Kent. The newspaper would give her an excuse to sit in the hallway and await developments.

I wonder, could I persuade Poppy to see a film with me this afternoon? she thought as she unfolded the paper and perched on a seat beside the telephone in the hall. There was
The Kid
by Charlie Chaplin – she would love to see that, but would Poppy? There was another film that she wanted to see:
The Iron Horse
; her godfather, Sir Guy Beresford, had told her about that. As a film-maker himself, he kept a close eye on what rival companies were producing. Her eye went down the line of cinemas. Goodness! London was full of them, she thought, and then jumped as the doorbell rang.

Resisting an impulse to answer it herself, she waited for Tellford.

‘Two telegrams! Your lucky day!’ Daisy liked the brisk sound of the boy’s cheeky voice as he handed the telegrams to the butler. The post-office boy back home would never have dared to address Bateman in anything other than tones of deep humility. London was so modern, she thought as she rose from her seat and held out her hand for the telegrams.

One of them, she noticed, as Tellford reluctantly handed them to her, was addressed to Elaine; the other just had 12 Grosvenor Square on the envelope.

‘Thank you, Tellford,’ she said, resuming her seat and trying to look as if the hall were her favourite place to read the newspaper. She opened the Grosvenor Square telegram first. That would be from the ship.

ARRIVING THREE PM TODAY EAST INDIA
DOCKS STOP NELBOROUGH

‘Oh, good,’ said Daisy, ‘they’re arriving today, Tellford. They must have fixed the engine trouble more quickly than expected. My sister and I will meet them with our chauffeur, and . . .’ she hesitated and then thought of what Great-Aunt Lizzie would say, and finished bravely, ‘and I’m sure that I can rely on you to have everything ready for them.’ She had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself laughing into his affronted face.

‘Yes, my lady,’ he said in a wooden fashion, but she knew that he was bursting to tell her that he knew perfectly well how to welcome the returning travellers.

‘That will be all, thank you, Tellford,’ she said, still in Great-Aunt Lizzie mode. He would be unlikely to know what age she and Poppy were; and the older the staff imagined them to be, she thought, the less likely tales would be carried to Sir John. She gave him a haughty nod and waited until he had gone back downstairs before she moved. She certainly did not want to open the telegram addressed to Elaine in his presence or in front of the maid who had appeared to polish the brass knocker on the front door, so she took it and the newspaper up to Poppy’s room.

‘Well, thank goodness, you are dressed. How do you feel?’

‘Did I seem a bit drunk last night?’ Poppy yawned and then thirstily drained the glass of water on her bedside table.

‘You are just so stupid,’ said Daisy severely. ‘How could you have taken that much wine? Lady Cynthia—’

‘Never mind about Lady Cynthia,’ interrupted Poppy. ‘Did Bob Morgan notice anything?’

‘What does that matter?’ said Daisy impatiently.

‘Of course it matters,’ snapped Poppy. ‘He threatened to throw Edwin out of the band if he got drunk again. “
You don’t drink when you’re on duty
” – that’s what he said to him – “
and you’re on duty when you are playing in my band
.”’ Tears came to Poppy’s eyes and she put her hand to her forehead. ‘I’ve got such a headache. And I didn’t drink much.’

‘Yes, you did,’ said Daisy unsympathetically, but then she relented. ‘I’ll have a word with Morgan and tell him that you thought the punch was only lemonade or something.’

‘Thanks!’ Poppy cheered up. ‘He likes you and thinks that you are sensible. He’s much more likely to believe you than me.’ She turned to the mirror and began to comb her hair.

‘I’ve got a great idea,’ she began, but Daisy interrupted her.

‘Prepare for a shock – no more wild parties.’ She held out the telegram from Sir John and Poppy scanned it, pouting heavily.

‘Oh, bother,’ she said. ‘Still, there’s always lunchtime – and of course evening visits to Violet. Who’s the other telegram from?’

‘Father, I hope,’ said Daisy. She held the gummed strip on the envelope to the warmth from Poppy’s teapot and carefully separated the flap from the back of it. Then she peeled it away and pulled out the post-office form.

‘Oh, good; it’s about Rose’s arrival,’ she said, and held it out to Poppy who read it aloud:

TUESDAY VICTORIA 2PM TELEPHONE OUT OF
ORDER WIRE SHE CAN STAY OVERNIGHT

‘
Wire she can stay overnight
– what does the man mean?’ puzzled Poppy.

‘He’s trying to save a shilling,’ said Daisy. ‘He means to say
send a telegram if she can stay overnight here in London.
You know what Father is like about spending money on telegrams. I’m going to spend another shilling though, and you can pray that everything is going to work out.’ Daisy grinned at her sister and added bossily, ‘Now if you want to go out, take Morgan with you and stay with him. Tell him about meeting them at the East India Docks at three p.m. – tell him that first of all so that he can plan.’

She raced down the steps, trying out the words in her mind. There must be exactly twelve so that her father would not wonder about the lack of a signature.

WILL MEET ROSE ON TUESDAY AND
KEEP HER FOR A WEEK STOP

Once the telegram was sent she could relax. She and Poppy would meet Elaine and Sir John at the East India Docks, explain about the lost telegram, implore them to say nothing to the Earl about it in case the unfortunate postmistress got into trouble and then they both would enjoy their time in London and be discreet about their activities.

Chapter Ten

Wednesday 2 April 1924

The East India Docks were crowded with people welcoming travellers after their long journey from India. Morgan parked the car at some distance and then made a way for them through the crowd until they were so near that the ship loomed high above their heads. After a moment they spotted Elaine, pretty in furs, standing against the railings of the ship, and Jack, the newly dubbed Sir John, by her side.

But on the other side of Elaine was a young man. And once she had seen him, Daisy looked no longer at the woman who was her real mother.

‘Wow!’ she murmured.

He was the most devastatingly beautiful man that Daisy had ever seen in her life.
Love at first glance
, she thought, seeing the words written on a film title board. But this was no film and her heart was thudding inside her warm coat.

Beside Elaine at the ship’s railings was the man of her dreams. Not tall, half a head shorter than Sir John, very slim. The three were standing just above the dock, so near that she could even see his eyes – gorgeous eyes, huge and dark. Daisy’s fingers itched for her camera. What a face! A perfect mouth, half open, made for kissing, thought Daisy, a straight nose, masculine, but of such a faultless shape that it looked as though it had been taken from a Greek statue. And hair as blue-black as a magpie’s wing.

‘Elaine looks different,’ said Poppy’s voice from beside her.

Daisy looked at her in shock. Perhaps she was teasing; surely Poppy had noticed him too, but no, Poppy looked her usual, slightly indifferent self. She didn’t show any interest in the extraordinarily good-looking young man beside Elaine and Jack.

The three were walking down the gangway now, Elaine hanging on Jack’s arm and the Greek god on her other side, laughing now and displaying a splendid set of white teeth. Daisy felt her cheeks glow. Poppy moved forward and Daisy had to follow. Elaine had seen them now. She waved with her free arm and then pointed them out to the young man. Sir John waved also and nodded to Morgan, who was approaching them, ready to take Elaine’s dressing case from her husband.

‘Darling!’ Elaine flung her arms around Daisy’s neck and held her very close for a long minute. ‘How I have missed you!’ Then hurriedly she turned to Poppy and bestowed the same embrace on her.

‘You’re looking well, Daisy. Grown a bit, I think.’ Sir John broke off his conversation with Morgan about the trunks and the suitcases that were being carried down by a couple of porters.

Idiot, thought Daisy, talking to me as though I were about ten years old, but it didn’t matter anyway. He, the gorgeous man, the Greek god, wasn’t looking at her; wasn’t listening to Sir John. Elaine was saying, ‘Girls, this is Mr Charles de Montfort; Charles, these are my nieces, Lady Poppy and Lady Daisy.’ The Greek god was smiling and his hand was outstretched and his beautiful eyes – now that Daisy was near to him she could see that they were a wonderful shade of dark blue – were firmly fixed on Poppy. And it was Poppy’s hand which he held reverentially, giving her a half-bow and a wonderful smile.

For the first time in her life, Daisy almost hated her twin.

‘Have you been out in India for long, or was it just a holiday?’ Poppy was asking politely.

‘A few years.’ His voice, too, was wonderful. Quite deep and very musical. And his tanned skin suited him, thought Daisy.

‘And this is Lady Poppy’s sister Lady Daisy,’ Sir John broke into the rapture on the young man’s face with a slightly abrupt note in his voice.

‘Lady Daisy.’ He took her hand, but his eyes strayed back to Poppy, who said impatiently to Sir John, ‘Oh, never mind all of this “Lady” stuff, Jack – it’s so old-fashioned. Call us Poppy and Daisy. It’s lovely to meet you, Charles.’

Her tone, to Daisy’s relief, was unemotional and indifferent, but the gorgeous young man continued to stare at her.

‘You and Daisy will have a lot in common, Charles,’ Jack was saying. ‘Charles has been in quite a few films in India, Daisy.’

‘You like films, Daisy?’ His smile was perfunctory – that of an elder cousin.

‘I’m a film director,’ said Daisy coolly, and could have blessed Poppy when she chimed in with, ‘Daisy has a film called
Murder in the Dark
running in a cinema just now.’

Daisy tried to smile modestly and hoped he would not ask where. Somewhere up in Scotland, Sir Guy had told her. ‘I’ve done well out of your film,’ he had added, ‘doubled the price that I paid you for it. But these days the film-going public needs something new all the time. Films only last a few months on the whole.’

‘What films did you star in?’ she asked.

‘Quite a few,’ he said, with a weary air that Daisy thought very attractive, though not as attractive as the boyish smile that followed it. ‘That means nothing that you would have heard of, I’m afraid.’

She smiled back. ‘Perhaps you’d star in one of my films and we’d both make a fortune,’ she dared to say.

‘Daisy’s godfather is Sir Guy Beresford and he owns a film studio,’ put in Elaine. ‘He thinks that she is very talented. I knew that you two would have a lot in common.’ She put her arm around Daisy and suddenly Daisy felt a little thrill run through her. Almost like having a mother, she thought. And then had to smile at herself. Elaine
was
her mother. Perhaps, like all mothers, Elaine was doing a spot of matchmaking. Perhaps Charles was rich – he must be if his mother took a house in London for the season though she did not appear to have a daughter. A Greek god – and rich too! Who minds marrying money, if money comes looking like this? she thought as she smiled up at Charles. He smiled back at her and started to ask questions about her films and did not glance again at Poppy.