Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  A pile of sacks and dust sheets with a few newspapers on top was all he could find. But as he laid them down he saw that Bonny had already torn off her dress and was holding out her arms to him, wearing nothing but a pair of pink camiknickers.

  He grabbed her, pressing her up against the wall, mouth pushing aside the delicate material to suck on her breasts, his spare hand pulling off his trousers in fevered haste.

  ‘Long and hard,’ she murmured as his fingers thrust deep inside her. ‘I want you to make me scream aloud.’

  Memories of making love in the Oxford hotel had tormented him on so very many nights. But when he flung her down on to the makeshift dusty bed, the smell of new paint and plaster seemed to zoom him into an even wilder, desperate plane. She was so hot and wet, clawing at him, rolling on him, begging for more all the time in a way he’d known no other woman do. He knelt between her splayed legs, licking and sucking at her sex until she went into spasms of delirium, tossing her head from side to side, screaming out his name. She rolled him over on his back and slowly slid down on to him, making Magnus gasp with pleasure. She rode him, head thrown back, eyes closing in ecstasy almost as if she were alone with some inanimate, penetrating object. Magnus held her thighs, and wallowed sensuously in the delight of seeing a woman using his body so wantonly.

  Her hair smelled of lemons when she finally bent forward to kiss him. He felt he was drowning in the scent, bewitched by the silkiness of her skin, every nerve ending pulsating as she devotec her attentions to pleasing him. He wanted to prolong the total bliss, yet felt himself being sucked into a vortex where he would surrender his life, heart and soul, in exchange for release.

  ‘I love you Magnus,’ she screamed at the moment of climax, clawing at his shoulders and grinding herself hard against him.

  Magnus looked at her face as she lay curled against him and he felt he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. Such soft, sweet lips, still swollen from kissing, cheeks with an apricot blush and eyebrows just a glint of gold.

  Dust danced in sunbeams through the french windows, playing on her tanned legs and small, white buttocks. She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘You’ll always be mine here now,’ she said, one finger tracing round the outline of his lips. ‘Every time you come in here you’ll see me, smell me, feel me.’

  Magnus had no reply. He knew she was right. The memory of today would make it harder and harder to return to Yorkshire to be a husband and father. But he loved Ruth too. He could never turn his back on her and his children. He wished he’d never met Bonny and brought this torment on himself, but at the same time he felt so alive inside he knew he couldn’t give her up.

  Ellie and Bonny were still in their nightdresses, sitting either end of the bed drinking tea, even though it was eleven in the morning and the sun hot outside. It was a week since Bonny had come back from her weekend with Magnus and it seemed to Ellie that she couldn’t talk about anything else.

  Their boarding-house in Brighton was in Western Road, a tall, narrow, terraced house which had little to recommend it but its position, close to the shops and just a short walk to the Palace Pier and the theatre. Their landlady, an old widow called Mrs Parret, was very fond of telling them about the ‘nice families’ who came here before the war for their holidays, claiming if she could just get some paint and a man to ’do’ the outside of the house, these families would come flocking back. Both girls doubted they would. Practically all the boarding-houses in Brighton had ‘Vacancy’ signs up, even though it was the high season, and most of them were far nicer houses than this one.

  It had a weary, sad look as if it knew it was past its Edwardian prime, clean but shabby: chipped ornaments and saggy chairs in the lounge none of the residents bothered with; the dining-room obsolete because Mrs Parret was too old to feed her guests any longer. Their small room was at the back on the second floor, gloomy because the window overlooked a brick wall, and cramped because it was only intended as a single room. Ellie was trying to control her mounting irritation with Bonny, not only for her untidiness, but for the way she seemed to be living in some fantasy world.

  ‘Magnus won’t leave his wife, Bonny,’ Ellie said in exasperation. ‘I don’t doubt he’s fallen in love with you. But he loves his wife too and men like him are too responsible to abandon their home and children. You can never be more than his mistress.’

  ‘I can make him leave her,’ Bonny pouted. ‘He’s got all those houses, we could live in one of those.’

  Ellie sighed. Bonny had drawn pictures of his houses, raved on about how clever Magnus was. It was all getting so tedious. ‘He’s built those houses to sell, to make enough money to move on to bigger projects. I can’t see a man like Magnus, used to a big country estate, living in suburbia with a girl less than half his age.’

  ‘But they’re lovely houses,’ Bonny argued. ‘What’s wrong with suburbia anyway?’

  ‘Nothing, not for people like us who’ve lived in places with outdoor lavvies and no gardens. But he’s what Marleen would’ve called a nob – they don’t go for that type of house. Now, did you tell him you’ve got the sack from the show?’

  Bonny’s face darkened. ‘Why bring that up?’ she snapped, snatching up a pair of shorts from the floor and pulling them on.

  Ellie arched her eyebrows. ‘Because I can’t keep you for ever, Bonny. The show’s ending in September. We can’t count on getting another job together, not after the way you blew this one. So if I get offered something good in London I’m going to take it and you’ll have to look out for yourself.’

  Ellie had been feeling very bruised when they arrived in Brighton. She was grieving about Marleen, and thinking about Charley, off to Australia. She found it hard to forget that Bonny hadn’t come to Marleen’s funeral with her, but spent the day with Magnus instead.

  Bonny had acted like a spoilt child when she found they couldn’t do a double song and dance act together. If she hadn’t been so sulky and rude, Mr Dyson the producer might have come round. But instead she got up to her old tricks again, going out every night after the show, missing rehearsals, being mean to the other dancers and generally making a nuisance of herself until Mr Dyson lost patience and sacked her.

  With hindsight, Ellie should have distanced herself and let Bonny sort herself out. The chances were she would have gone back to her parents in London once she’d had to leave the digs Mr Dyson had put them in. But Ellie felt sorry for her, so she left the digs too and rented this room for them to share, fully expecting Bonny to find a job and support herself.

  It was just like being back in Stacey Passage, trying to make a meal on one gas ring, sharing a small bed and falling over all Bonny’s belongings, while she was out half the night being wined and dined. She had made no attempt to find any work and expected Ellie to provide food as well as paying the rent.

  If it wasn’t for Bonny, everything would have been wonderful. After quiet Oxford, Brighton seemed as exciting as London. There was the inevitable war damage, the same shortages as everywhere, but the town bustled, the little shops in The Lanes were intriguing, and it was fun to be amongst jolly holiday-makers.

  The two solo numbers Ellie had been given were ideal for showing her comic ability, and now Edward was here too. He was playing the piano in The Place, a smart night-club where all the influential people danced and drank. On top of that it had been a glorious hot summer. The barbed wire had been removed from the beaches at last, and the fun fairs stayed open until late at night. Brighton was a fun town. But Bonny had spoilt everything.

  She bristled every time Ellie mentioned Edward, or the show. She had droned on and on about Magnus even before she met up with him again last weekend, despite going out with other men continuously. And Ellie was short of money now because Bonny was draining her.

  Bonny whisked off her nightdress, pulled on a sleeveless blouse and shoved her feet into sandals. A spiteful, tight expression warned Ellie she was intending to go out and stay out, to make Ellie fee
l bad about having criticised her.

  ‘Get a part on your own,’ Bonny snapped as she flounced off towards the door. ‘I can manage without you. But as it happens I was just going to tell you that Magnus has invited us both to a party in London in September. It’s some sort of charity do and he wants us to do a turn in a cabaret. Just about everyone who’s anyone will be there. Perhaps I’ll do it on my own.’ She swept through the door, slamming it behind her.

  Ellie began to tidy up. She didn’t believe a word of what Bonny had said and her indignation grew as she picked up dirty underwear, finding used cups and plates under the bed and an overturned ashtray under a pile of magazines.

  It was as Ellie picked up a couple of letters that she found the invitation. It was a thick, expensive-looking card with gold lettering. As it wasn’t in an envelope, she had no compunction about reading it.

  ‘You are cordially invited to attend a Gala Evening at the Savoy Hotel on Saturday 18th September, to raise funds for the Red Cross.

  Ellie smirked at it, wondering why Bonny hadn’t shown her this the moment Magnus sent it. She glanced at it again, reading the smaller print at the bottom.

  ‘8.00 p.m. until midnight. Buffet, cabaret, dancing, auction and tombola. Tickets two guineas. Black tie. Patrons: Lady Penelope Beauchamp, Sir Roger Turnball and Sir Miles Hamilton.’

  Ellie dropped the invitation as if she’d been scalded as she came to the last name. She sat down on the bed with a bump, so stunned she had to put her head down between her knees for a moment.

  Since looking up Sir Miles in Burke’s Peerage, she hadn’t attempted to find out anything further about him. Had she found herself anywhere near Hampshire she might have gone to look at his house or make some local enquiries, but there had never been an opportunity. Now here, when she least expected it, was an invitation with his name on it.

  It was tempting to look for the letter from Magnus that accompanied it. Did he know Sir Miles? Was he really intending them to ‘do a turn’, or was Bonny making things up again? He was certainly taking a risk in allowing Bonny’s name to be linked with his. Ellie felt Bonny was incapable of being discreet about their relationship. It was this aspect of Bonny’s nature which had prevented Ellie from ever telling her about her mother and Sir Miles, and she certainly wasn’t going to admit it now. But if Magnus really was serious about involving her and Bonny it could be just the perfect way of discovering a little more about her father. He might even be there!

  A cold chill ran down Ellie’s spine. Romantic little dreams of being embraced as a long-lost daughter were a pleasant way of whiling away a sleepless night. The reality of approaching a total stranger who might not want reminders of the past was something else. ‘There’s no point in agonising about it,’ she told herself as she put the invitation back. ‘For one thing, you might not even get to the party. Just wait and see what happens.’

  Three weeks later, Ellie was rummaging through her few clothes in the wardrobe, panic rising as she realised nothing she owned was smart enough even to walk through the doors of the Savoy in, much less to catch the eye of a West End producer.

  ‘What am I going to wear?’ Ellie turned round to look at Bonny, who was lying on the bed reading a magazine. ‘The only evening dress I’ve got is the red one, and it’s so shabby.’

  It seemed to Ellie that fate had nudged her towards a crossroads and she was scared of taking the wrong turn. The invitation she had found was real; Magnus really had suggested to the organisers of the Gala that she and Bonny take part in the cabaret. Now, just days before the Brighton show ended, everything, costumes, props and, music, was arranged. They were going to do the ‘Keep Young and Beautiful’ number from the Oxford show and ‘We’re a Couple of Swells’ and they’d rehearsed them diligently with Edward accompanying them on the piano each afternoon.

  While Bonny could see no further ahead than this one glittering night and was thrilled that Magnus had arranged accommodation in London for them, Ellie was afraid.

  The accommodation was only temporary, to tide them over between the Brighton show, the Gala and finding another job. Bonny seemed to think their turn at the Gala would shoot them into a West End production overnight, but Ellie was less optimistic. None of the girls she’d been working with had been offered further work; there wasn’t even a whisper of auditions for shows coming up. She had only a few pounds saved and she had no suitable dress to wear at the Savoy for before and after their act.

  Bonny had a beauty – turquoise chiffon which she looked sensational in, bought by Magnus. Ellie couldn’t bear the thought of putting on the red dress and looking like a poor relation beside her.

  ‘Wear my black one!’ Bonny suggested. ‘Or go and buy something new. What about that midnight-blue one we saw in The Lanes?’

  ‘I can’t afford seven guineas,’ Ellie sighed. She needed the little money she had saved to live on until she got another job.

  ‘Well, it will have to be my black one then,’ Bonny said with hurtful indifference.

  Ellie turned to Bonny, anger flashing up out of nowhere. Bonny was lounging on the bed in a new pink dress her mother had made her. She’d had her hair cut and set that morning and had even bought a new pink lipstick and matching nail varnish, while Ellie could barely afford to buy a bar of soap.

  Clothes rationing and post-war shortages didn’t affect Bonny. While Ellie altered drab second-hand clothes, mended her underwear and sometimes even put cardboard over the holes in her shoes, Bonny somehow managed to get everything she wanted.

  ‘If you were to pay me back all you owe me I could afford a new one,’ Ellie snarled at her. ‘After all, you can go and stay with your parents in London if nothing turns up. I haven’t got anyone.’

  When there was no sharp retort, Ellie felt a little deflated.

  ‘Well? Cat got your tongue?’

  ‘Don’t mention my parents while we’re in London,’ Bonny said in a small voice, her eyes downcast. ‘I told Magnus I hadn’t got any.’

  Ellie was so shocked, her anger faded. She flopped down on the bed, stunned speechless. ‘But why tell such a lie?’ she managed eventually.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Bonny shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘But it’s such a wicked lie.’ Ellie was aghast. ‘I know your mother gets on your nerves, but she doesn’t deserve that! Was it to gain sympathy?’

  Bonny’s face crumpled at her friend’s sharp tone. ‘You don’t understand,’ she bleated. ‘I want Magnus to marry me, I did as soon as I met him. I really do love him, Ellie, and it’s tearing me apart. I don’t want to be a dancer any longer. I want to be in a little house with him and have babies. I want to cut everything from my past. I want a new start, all bright and shiny.’

  ‘Wanting to marry a man you love is understandable. But I can’t see for the life of me why pretending you’re an orphan would help it along,’ Ellie said tartly.

  ‘I don’t know why I said that really, I didn’t have a reason. It just came out when your auntie died.’

  ‘It just came out!’ Ellie sniffed. ‘I can live with you telling people your Aunt Lydia is a countess, making out you’re twenty-two instead of seventeen. I didn’t even mind when you told me your dad was a Japanese prisoner of war. But I draw the line at killing off two people who love you.’

  ‘I don’t lie to you.’ Bonny lifted her head. She was beginning to cry and it made her look like a schoolgirl. ‘Maybe that’s because I know you love me for myself.’

  There was a great deal more Ellie wanted to say, but that last line of Bonny’s pulled her up sharply. It was true. Bonny didn’t lie to her – she had stopped it after her abortion – but Ellie had never considered why that was, until now.

  ‘Then you mustn’t tell Magnus lies,’ she said. ‘Everything is stacked against you two, your ages, his marriage and position. The only thing you’ve got in common is love. But if you intend to fight to keep him, fight fair, for goodness’ sake. Don’t tarnish what you feel for him with cheap tricks to
try and hold him.’

  Once Ellie had gone off to the theatre for the afternoon matinée, Bonny began to think more about her friend’s words. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and wishing she could cut out the piece of her that made her tell lies.

  She knew why she did it. She wanted attention, anyhow, any way. The real Bonny wasn’t very bright, she came from a dull home and had dull parents. What she did was add colour to an otherwise beige background. Edward could talk about his grandmother, his public school and his parents being killed in a motoring accident. Ellie might have been dreadfully poor but she spent her childhood in a theatre surrounded by talented, amusing people. Everyone Bonny knew had colour in their early lives, except her.

  But she’d found colour now. The weekend with Magnus was golden, tinged with scarlet passion. When she looked back it was like looking into a vivid painting, startling in its intensity; the deep green of the overhanging trees as Magnus had rowed her up the river, the water silver in the sunshine, with a canopy of turquoise sky above them.

  At dinner in the hotel he’d worn a dark suit and white shirt, his wiry hair suppressed with Brylcreem. To everyone else in that dining-room, he was a sedate businessman. Only she knew the body beneath that suit was deep brown from the sun, rippling with taut muscle. Their fellow diners might look at her and admire her pretty face and hair, but in Bonny’s eyes Magnus was the more beautiful. Thick springy hair the colour of butter and tender blue eyes flecked with greeny brown. A broad brown nose and wide forehead, fleshy lips that could soothe with gentle kisses, or in turn be as thrilling and as hard as a savage wild dog. His face and his nature were of a country boy, pure at heart, yet often as tempestuous as the weather. He was strong, yet so very sensitive. No other lover had ever taken her to the gates of heaven as he had, or so completely fulfilled her.

  Bonny doubted that Ellie had ever been to that particular paradise, otherwise she wouldn’t be pouring cold water on it now. But it wasn’t just the making love – that she could probably get with other men. It was the way Magnus made her feel inside, more exciting than being up on the stage in a spotlight; sweet and fresh like seeing the first primrose in spring, yet scary too because it could all be snatched away so easily.