We made the right noises. Pam, ever the cheeky one, began to hum ‘Someday my prince will come’ from Snow White. Lily ignored her. Instead she turned towards the very young cloakroom assistant and gave the girl a brilliant smile.
‘Hullo, Doris,’ she said. ‘Remember me? I’ve just been married.’
‘That’s lovely to hear, miss,’ replied Doris patiently. ‘Would you like me to assist in any way, miss. I mean, madam.’
‘She’s more than just madam,’ said Pam. ‘She’s the—’
‘Madam will do,’ said Lily, freezing her with a look. ‘I’m plain old Mrs Vassilikov, and very happy to be so.’ She applied lipstick, smoothed her lips and smiled at her reflection happily. ‘Wasn’t it the loveliest wedding?’
Frances and Annette looked down, avoiding her eyes. Outside the register office I had heard them whisper that it was the plainest wedding ceremony they had ever attended. Katherine and Pam exchanged looks. Only last week Katherine had said how unhappy she was at the thought of Lily not being married in a proper wedding dress with a veil.
Katherine needn’t have worried. Lily had another wedding when the war was over, and it was the most elaborate I have ever attended. It took place in a glittering Russian Orthodox Church. Wedding crowns were held above their heads. Lily and Jim sipped wine from the one cup, and walked together around the Gospel on its elaborate stand. The priest bound their hands with his stole. A pair of crystal glasses was smashed into smithereens. There was music and dancing and many toasts. And Lily wore an exquisite gown and a long lace veil.
But that was years away, after the war and all its enmities were over but not yet forgotten. In the cloakroom of the Dorchester that evening, with the muted thunder of the Hyde Park guns as a backdrop, I sat on the chair beside Lily and smiled at her.
‘It was a lovely wedding,’ I said, and meant it. ‘It was absolutely perfect.’
We followed the waitress through the crowded room to our table, which was near the dance floor. Around us was a sea of uniforms. Jim ordered champagne, and when it arrived we toasted the couple. He stood, looked at his bride and cleared his throat nervously.
‘I don’t want to make a speech. You all know very well how jolly lucky I am to have convinced Lily to marry me. Lily Vassilikov, would you do me the honour of accepting our first dance?’
Soon they were whirling around the dance floor. Jim was a good dancer and managed the height difference well. The two married RAF couples soon joined them. Then Peter Creighton asked Katherine to dance, and Gerald Wilde asked Pam. That left me alone with Simon.
He looked at me across the table. I met his gaze with what I hoped was cool indifference. He met mine with what I knew was amusement.
‘Your name’s Cecilia?’ he said. ‘Is that right? Pretty name.’
He had called me that when we were together in the dark, ruined cellar, before he knew who I was. It was an olive branch, I supposed.
‘Actually, it’s Celia,’ I replied, and smiled a little.
‘Still a pretty name.’ He gestured at the dance floor. ‘Care to dance?’
‘Thank you. Yes.’
He took my hand, led me on to the crowded floor and swept me into a waltz. I looked past Simon’s face at the dancers in the room and saw Peter steer Katherine into another couple. Her frown of annoyance was quickly suppressed. I couldn’t stifle a laugh, because poor Peter had always been an awkward dancer.
Simon’s eyebrows rose at my laugh, and I flicked a glance towards Peter and Katherine. ‘I have the better dance partner,’ I said, and he gave me a smile in return. Then I remembered his look of contempt when I had woken him after the Bank Station disaster and looked over his shoulder again.
I had eaten very little that day and the champagne I had drunk made me feel a little dizzy as I relaxed into the dance. Being held in the circle of Simon’s arms felt surprisingly comforting. I supposed that was because he had looked after me when I was ill. And because he was a giver of life, rather than a taker. Most of the men around us had been trained to kill and wound in our fight against Hitler. Simon, however, had been trained to defeat Death, rather than the Nazis. I glanced at his hand, holding mine with just the right degree of firmness, and remembered how cool it had felt on my feverish skin, how gently he had dealt with my wound.
‘It’s Cesia in Yiddish,’ said Simon. He pronounced the name T-sees-i-yah.
I dragged my mind into the present and regarded him with surprise. ‘What is?’
‘Your name. In Yiddish it’s Cesia.’
‘I like the sound of it.’ As I repeated ‘Cesia’ I felt the tap of my tongue on my teeth, the small exhalation, the sibilant and the satisfying yah sound to end it. It was a tactile name; Celia was a smooth name.
Simon whirled me around with dizzying precision, out of the path of a very large man in a kilt, whose partner wore a long-suffering look.
I laughed. ‘My full name is a mouthful, actually. I was christened Celia Rosamond Constance Grace Irene Palmer-Thomas.’
‘Plain old Simon Maximilian Levy am I,’ he said.
‘When I was ten, a man with spotted handkerchief around his neck told me my name should be Penny.’
‘Because of your hair? It’s the colour of a copper penny.’
‘Yes.’ I made a face. ‘I hate the colour of my hair. Reminds me of dried blood.’
Simon hesitated, as if searching for the right words, then he looked at me and shook his head. I thought I saw a smile behind his eyes.
‘It’s nothing like dried blood, and I’m an expert, remember. Spotted-handkerchief man was right. A new copper penny. You must know how beautiful it is.’
It was warm on the dance floor, which probably accounted for the heat in my cheeks. Simon cleared his throat slightly and changed the subject.
‘So, you’re a girl of many names.’
‘And I’m not defined by any of them.’ I went on without thinking. ‘And certainly not by the name Ashwin.’
For a moment his grip tightened, then it relaxed.
‘Glad to hear it,’ he said.
I pondered this as my body followed his in the steps of the waltz and the music rose and fell around us. Could I change my name back to Palmer-Thomas when, or if, Cedric divorced me? Perhaps I’d remarry and change it that way, but remarriage seemed improbable. Anyway, I reasoned, it was crazy to think of remarriage before I was actually divorced.
‘My mother adores you,’ he said, breaking into my thoughts.
I laughed. ‘Because of Leo? It’s Bobby she should adore.’
‘It’s good of you to let Leo visit.’
‘It’s really no bother. Sunday always is my full day off.’
‘I suspect my mother will be begging you to let Bobby go.’
‘No need to beg. I think that he and Leo are made for each other.’
It was worth losing Bobby for the look of gratitude in Simon’s eyes.
‘But we should wait until the bird is entirely recovered before Leo takes him for good,’ I said.
When the dance was over his arms fell away from me, and I felt almost bereft. As he led me back to the table, threading through the crush of people, a man barrelled into me. Anger flared in Simon’s eyes, as he pulled me away from the clumsy fellow.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘A shade tougher than Dresden china, remember.’
‘I do remember that.’ He smiled. ‘You’re more than a shade tougher than most soldiers, actually.’
I stopped walking and let the crowd jostle its way past us as I gave him a straight look. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a rotten patient. I must have seemed shockingly ungrateful. It’s just that – well, I despise weakness and inactivity.’
‘I didn’t take it personally,’ he said. ‘In truth, I suspect you were still suffering from concussion, which meant you weren’t thinking all that clearly.’ His voice became brisk. ‘And as I recall, I was rather brutish towards you at times.’
His mouth firmed, as if he had made a decision. Then he held out his hand to me.
‘Pax?’
My heart lurched and heat flooded my cheeks as I took hold of his hand. His grip was firm, and his hand cool.
‘Pax,’ I repeated, smiling.
He gave me a firm nod and a slight smile in reply. For the second time that day I felt completely happy.
It lasted less than a minute.
‘Unhand my wife, varlet.’
It sounded good-natured. I knew better. There was real anger behind those six syllables, said in that voice with its drawling vowels and air of command. And yet, Cedric had never commanded anything other than some brigades of black-shirted boys and men, who saw in him a way to recover Britain’s lost glory.
Simon’s hand dropped away from mine. His face resolved into what I can only describe as a mask. There was a cool remoteness now in his expression and watchfulness in his eyes. I assumed my own disguise before I turned to face my husband. Head high, walk tall. My shoulders straightened and my chin went up and in my mind I disappeared into the bluebell glade by the river, where no one could hurt me.
‘Darling,’ Cedric’s smile was forced.
I remembered the look on Jim’s face when he saw Lily come into the register office, and Lily’s smile in response. I’d promised to love, honour and obey the man who stood in front of me, but never had Cedric looked at me the way that Jim had looked at Lily this afternoon.
Cedric turned to Simon and his jaw tensed before he gave him a charming smile. ‘I don’t believe…’
How instinctive is politeness, that need to behave like a civilised person. ‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘Allow me to introduce Dr Simon Levy. Simon, this is Cedric Ashwin.’
Neither man put out a hand to the other; instead a very masculine staring match ensued. Some devil prompted me to take hold of Simon’s arm. I ignored the flash of annoyance in Cedric’s face, and tried not to feel slighted by Simon’s flinch as I did so and the tensing of his muscles.
‘Levy?’ said Cedric. He was too well bred to sneer, but somehow it was there in his voice, the acknowledgement that Simon was Jewish and that Cedric did not approve of him at all.
Simon’s bland mask remained firmly in place. He lifted his hand to cover mine, and tucked it more securely into the crook of his arm. Cedric frowned as he did so, but his face quickly reverted to polite good humour.
‘Yes,’ said Simon. ‘Levy.’ He gave my hand a little pat, just to make the point.
Cedric flicked a glance at me. ‘You work with a man called Levy, don’t you? Is this he? I thought he died.’
Simon’s hand tightened on my arm. I replied with what I hoped was chilly politeness. ‘That was Dr Levy’s brother, David. He – he died in November.’
There was a slight hesitation as I mentioned David’s name and I knew Cedric would pick it up. Because my husband was a past master at deception he easily recognised it in others. So I added, ‘Dr Levy saved my life a few weeks ago, when I was trapped in a bombed building.’
Cedric inclined his head and gave Simon a smile of great charm. ‘Then I am greatly in your debt, Dr Levy. Celia is very precious indeed.’
‘Celia exaggerates,’ said Simon. ‘I did very little.’
Again there was a staring match between them.
‘We should return to our table,’ I said to Simon. Then to Cedric, ‘Jim and Lily Vassilikov’s wedding party.’
‘Please give them both my very best wishes,’ said Cedric. The charming smile shifted to me, but his eyes were pale shards of ice. ‘I was intending to drop by your flat tomorrow. We need to have another discussion, darling.’
Did he want to discuss divorce? I hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t see you tomorrow. I have plans.’
‘Monday?’
‘I’m working all day Monday. And all night.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Tuesday then.’
‘I’m very sorry, but I’m busy all week. I work shifts, Cedric. Twenty-four-hour shifts. And I also work at the charity. The evenings I’m not working I’m exhausted and, of course, it’s difficult with the night raids.’
His expression hardened. ‘Really, darling. Dr Levy will think you’re avoiding me. You must have some time off. Are you free next weekend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Saturday evening. Eight o’clock.’
I did not want to go to dinner with Cedric. Dinner was too romantic, too intimate. ‘Let’s make it a late lunch. Where should I meet you?’
‘I would prefer dinner.’
‘And I would prefer a late lunch. Where should I meet you, Cedric?’
‘But, darling, Quag’s does dinner so well.’
‘I’m sure Quag’s lunch menu is more than adequate. I will meet you there.’
‘Lunch, then. Quag’s at two. I will count the hours.’
I smiled politely. He gave a slight, stiff bow and walked away into the crowd. Why did he want to meet? It had always been difficult to read Cedric. I wished I could talk it over with Lily, but Jim was a complicating factor. I let out a breath I hardly knew I’d been holding and released Simon’s arm. He cleared his throat, and when I turned to him, I found him glowering at me.
‘I would prefer not to be used as a stage prop next time we meet your husband.’
I dragged my thoughts away from Cedric and blinked at Simon. ‘Oh, and you’d never stoop so low yourself?’ I said, annoyed. ‘Patting my hand in that odious manner, just to annoy him.’
He stiffened. ‘Odious. You find it odious when I touch you?’
‘When you misrepresent the situation, I do.’
‘Then it won’t happen again.’
‘What won’t?’
‘Anything.’
He swung around and stalked through the crowd towards our table. I couldn’t work out what had just happened, but it seemed that Simon and I were, yet again, at odds with each other. The band began to play a new tune and couples were streaming on to the dance floor, so it took me a while to push through. When I reached the table Katherine was sitting there alone.
‘I decided to save my poor toes and encouraged the Honourable Peter to ask a young thing sitting at another table for a dance,’ she said, with an amused grimace. ‘Let her suffer, I say. I’m already married and don’t need to pretend it’s an honour to be asked.’
‘Simon is an excellent dancer,’ I said, hoping I had hit the right tone of amused indifference. ‘Where is he?’
‘He found a friend,’ she said, and gestured towards the dancers.
Simon was dancing with a slim girl in a blue WAAF uniform. She had a bright smile and crisp dark curls and they were chatting animatedly together. I flicked them a glance and sat beside Katherine.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Katherine, who was always quick as a cat at picking up social nuances. ‘You and the charming doctor have a tiff?’
I assumed a look of boredom. ‘We barely know each other. I met him less than a month ago.’
She smiled. ‘It can happen in a minute. I knew it was Harry for me within five minutes of meeting him. He says he knew even sooner.’
My answering smile was rather a brittle one. ‘It’s not like that with us.’
Simon returned to the table when his dance finished and began to chat with Katherine. Peter returned and I talked to him. The others joined us and the meal was served. Simon and I doggedly chatted to everyone but each other.
‘Were you speaking to Cedric?’ Jim asked me over dinner.
‘Yes. I think he’s staying here, at the Dorchester. My sister mentioned something of the sort and I’d forgotten until he presented himself on the dance floor.’
‘Forgotten where your husband was staying?’ murmured Simon.
I looked around at the table. Everyone seemed to be watching Simon and me with varying degrees of fascination.
‘I wasn’t really listening when my sister mentioned it,’ I said.
The waiter was at my elbow and I smiled when he offered
to fill my glass. I downed the champagne with gusto. And the next glass, until I felt as fizzy as the drink. Jim asked me to dance, and I kept the conversation firmly on innocuous subjects. Then I danced with Peter, who was as clumsy as I had remembered from my coming-out balls. I danced with both the Australian airmen, and with young Gerald Wilde. I flirted outrageously with all of them. The champagne helped.
Simon danced with all the women and he made them laugh as he whirled them around the floor. I did not dance again with Simon, who seemed to be matching me drink for drink. At one stage I caught Katherine’s eye and her wry smile. She looked at Simon, then at me, and raised her glass in a mocking salute. In response I downed more champagne.
Jim and Lily had taken a suite in the hotel for the night, and left us soon after the local All Clear sounded, just after midnight. The Australian airmen and their wives departed soon afterwards. I was about to leave when Peter spoke in glowing terms of a ‘little place nearby’ that was ‘great fun’, and suggested that the rest of us head over there. Katherine demurred, but Pam and Gerald Wilde agreed at once and somehow Simon, and then I, said we would join them.
My memory is a little hazy after that. I remember following the group out of the hotel into the darkness of the London blackout and shivering in the cold night air. I remember laughter and shouted directions and movement. I remember tottering off after merry voices that were receding at a fast pace, then clinging to a wall, shaking my head to try to clear the fog that was making the world spin around me, and wishing it were less dark.
And that is how I ended up alone with Simon on Park Lane.
‘Where are the others?’ I asked. ‘I can’t see a thing. It’s as black as – as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.’
‘That’s an odd expression,’ said Simon.
‘Cabbies use it. Where have the others gone?’
‘I think they headed off down Deanery Street. What was the name of that nightclub again?’
‘Wasn’t it the Pam Grove?’ My voice sounded thick, and it was difficult to enunciate my words, so I spoke more slowly and a little louder. ‘I mean the Palm Grove.’ Too loud. I moderated my tone. ‘The Tropical Room? I’m sure it’s something to do with the tropics. Or was it Africa?’ I tipped my head back. ‘Is that the sound of planes above us? I didn’t hear the Warning sound again.’
Ambulance Girls Under Fire Page 19