“What on Earth do I wear to a place like the Admiralty?” she asked the other girls in the salon. Nobody had a clue, but they spent the rest of the afternoon making wild guesses. ‘A tiara and a chastity belt’ was the best answer she got. ‘Something smart’ was the eventual consensus. Gigi swapped her last client, so she could leave work early. She flew home in an absolute stew, and pulled everything out of her wardrobe. Adele and Maude walked into the middle of the mess. Maude winked at me and I gave her a thumbs-up signal.
“Fancy coming to the flicks with me..?” Adele began, then she saw the state of the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for something to wear. I’m going to a party at the Admiralty tonight and all my clothes are horrible, cheap and nasty!”
“The proper Admiralty? Where they run the Navy?”
“If it was a pub called ‘The Admiralty’, I wouldn’t be worrying.”
“Who asked you to a place like that?”
“His name’s James. I met him today at the salon.”
“Dishy?”
“He’s good looking, even in a suit and tie.”
“Sounds like a civil servant to me. They all wear suits. It’s their uniform.”
“Funny you should say that - he is. He seems to know the right people. His friend lives in the Admiralty.”
“Well, you’ve got to look the part, that’s for sure.” Adele opened her wardrobe and produced a brown velvet mini-dress with deep lace ruffles on the sleeves and round the neck. “Will this do?”
Gigi jumped up and held the dress against herself, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“Oh how lovely, just right. Do you mind lending it to me?”
“Not if he's a good cause, but it's new, so I’d like it back in one piece. Don’t burn any holes in it with your ciggy.”
“I won’t. Thanks a lot." Gigi pulled a pair of orange heels and a matching bag from the debris on the floor. “Do these go with it?”
“They’re fine. Get showered and I’ll do your make-up for you.”
“Would you? You angel!”
“Oh no, she isn’t,” Maude whispered to me. “A saint in the making maybe, but not an angel.”
“Distinct lack of wings,” I giggled.
“Well Gigi’s met Boyfriend Number One now. Did you meet his Guardian?”
“I certainly did.”
“And what did you think of the gorgeous Ivan?”
“‘Gorgeous’ is the word I’d use too.”
“So he’s added you to his list of conquests? You’d better beware; he’s got half the Heavenly Host falling all over themselves for him.”
“I’m not surprised. He does rather take your breath away. He’d have been super in the movies.”
“Pity they hadn’t been invented in his day, but I agree with you. He’s stunning, although the blighter knows it. He’s even interesting, if you forget his appearance and listen to what he says.”
“He talks?”
She laughed. “He’s got a real sense of humour when he’s not flirting, but he thinks people expect him to flirt.”
“I haven’t flirted for such a long time; I need all the practice I can get.”
“Well, flirt with Ivan. You’ll be together for quite a while on this job.”
“Good, I deserve a bit of luck.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. Don’t fall for him, unless you want to spend your time fighting off his other admirers.”
“I’ve no intention of falling for anyone,” I said primly. “I wasted years of my life on Michael and missed a lot of fun. I won’t make that mistake again for a long time. Maybe even an eternity!”
“If you forgive the phrase.” We both giggled.
“Hush. Gigi’s coming back.”
We watched the transformation. Adele is a true artist with make-up.
“He won’t know me,” Gigi gazed at herself in the mirror. “The pan-stick makes my skin glow.”
“What do you think of your eyes?”
“They're so much bigger.”
“If you smudge white eye shadow underneath your eyebrows, they open out. The eyelashes help too.” Individual false lashes had been glued between Gigi’s own, making her brown eyes seem enormous.
“You took ages doing those. Thank you for taking the trouble.”
“Tell you the truth I wanted to find out what you’d be like with proper make-up on for once. I’m glad I did. You're smashing.”
“I'm not me anymore. Now I know why you get up so early and take such a long time getting ready in the morning.”
Adele smiled. “I look like a witch when I first wake up. Without make-up and one of my wigs, I’d frighten everybody to death. Anyway, you're all set now.”
The short brown dress and high heels revealed Gigi’s long slim legs. The pretty lace made her skin glow. Her curls rippled smoothly and her make-up was perfect.
“I can’t thank you enough!”
“Be good, and tell me all about it when you get back.”
“I will.”
I’d taken far less time than Gigi to get ready. I’d chosen deep blue velvet hot pants and dangerously high-heeled boots. I’d never have worn them if I’d been alive. They were hard enough to walk in now.
“Have a good time,” Maude said to me.
“With the gorgeous Ivan, how can I fail?” I replied.
8th September 1967, Friday evening, London.
The Admiralty is a big square white building on the corner of Whitehall. James had arranged to meet Gigi just outside the door.
“Hi, Beautiful,” he said as he kissed her, under the interested gaze of the policeman on guard duty. She smiled up at him, thinking how different he looked now. He wore a bright green shirt and tan leather jacket - clothes straight from the cover of a fashion magazine.
Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Surely he should be with James? I’d been thinking about him all day and I felt disappointed. He couldn’t be too far away, though. I peered through the other people. No sign of him.
James led Gigi down a long dim corridor with lots of closed doors. Their footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor. The Admiralty is eerie in the dark. From here, Britannia once ruled the waves; Nelson received the orders that led to Trafalgar and battles were planned, sending thousands of men to their deaths. You could easily imagine the place alive with ghostly sailors wearing peg legs and tricorn hats. Actually, the corridor was full of ghosts, but they didn’t look like sailors and there wasn’t a peg leg or a tricorn hat in sight. All the Guardians wore Sixties gear and seemed quite ‘normal’. You’d walk past them in the street and never know if you couldn’t see them shimmer. They perched on the window ledges or strolled up and down, chatting. As we passed, I heard them talking about clothes or football or food, not a mention of history or ancient battles. So many Guardians thronged the corridor that Gigi walked through several and shivered as if she suddenly felt chilled. What a strange sight - all these people shimmering in the gloom. The shadows had taken on a purple glow, radiant enough for me to scan the crowd. Ivan still wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so I asked one of the others where he was.
“He’s playing bridge. He always does at parties, if he can make up a four.”
“Shouldn’t he be taking care of his client?”
“Why? Oh, you must be new! That’s what your alarm is for.” He pointed to my bracelet. “You'll have plenty of time to reach the right spot, if you need to. Enjoy yourself while you’re waiting. We wait around a lot in this job, as you’ll find out. It’s all extremes, either complete boredom or panic. I checked with the forecasters. Nothing’s scheduled for tonight, unless one of our clients chooses to do something unexpected, of course. Then anything could happen.”
“Forecasters?”
“Our so-called experts on the future, but sometimes they’re as accurate as weathermen.”
“Oh, dear!”
“They’re not quite as bad. They’re more often right than wrong
. Check with them before you make any plans, so you can relax. We usually leave our clients to their own devices and socialise among ourselves at parties. I’d rather like to socialise with you, pretty lady, come and join me.”
“That line’s as subtle as a JCB.”
“What’s a JCB?”
“What century are you from?” I shouldn’t ask!
“The Fourteenth, such a romantic era. I was a troubadour and famous throughout France. I’ll sing you some of my songs and you can tell me all about JCBs.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I want to find out what a Sixties party is like. My mother had a habit of leaving out the best bits.”
“Mothers do. Those sorts of facts are too incriminating. Catch you later?”
“Perhaps.”
I escaped and followed Gigi. I’d imagined the party would be held in one of the stately rooms where history had been made. No such luck. We climbed several long flights of stairs, each one shabbier than the last, until we heard loud music pouring out of a doorway. The room was so crowded you could hardly move. I had a fleeting impression of a high ceiling and long windows obscured by billowing clouds of cigarette smoke. Everybody smoked in the Sixties – tobacco, as well as pot.
James pulled Gigi after him, as he forced his way through the crowd towards the bar. His friend was acting as bartender.
“This is George,” James shouted to Gigi, over the music.
“Who?”
“George!”
“Pleased to meet you,” she yelled.
“Drink?”
“What’s that?” She pointed to a huge ornate silver punch bowl sitting in the middle of the table. Slices of apple and banana floated on a vicious red liquid.
“Sangria.” Package holidays to Spain had only started in the ’60s and few people had ever tasted sangria. “A type of fruit punch.” George's leer made me sure this version was far from innocent.
“Yeah right,” someone hissed in my ear and moved on in his betraying shimmer of purple light.
The room was boiling, although the long windows had been opened. So many people smoked that the place resembled a scene from Dante’s Inferno. No one had any space to dance. Couples clung to each other and swayed to the throbbing music. The atmosphere was deafening and uncomfortable and wildly exciting. The wooden floor bounced. After a while, everything began to spin around me and I wasn’t even drinking!
Some of the other Guardians asked me to dance and I did, but I couldn’t stop watching Gigi. Beginner’s nerves, I suppose. The party wore on and everyone became drunk with the alcohol, the music and the darkness. Small groups stopped even pretending to dance. They sat in corners, kissing and groping each other. The dancing got wilder as the floor emptied. Gigi was one of the few still left on her feet. She smiled to herself, with her eyes half closed.
When the record stopped, James led her into a corner and they started to kiss. James’ hands pawed her everywhere. Gigi wriggled, looking uncomfortable. I began to get anxious and then a smooth voice murmured in my ear, “Leave them alone, they’ll be fine.”
“Ivan, where have you been all evening?”
“Missed me did you? I just beat the pants off Donald and his partner. Two slams in a row. Don’t think the poor chap realised what hit him.” He sounded smug.
“Good for you. In the meanwhile I’ve been watching over your client as well as mine.”
“Why? They seem to be enjoying themselves. You worry too much. If anything had happened, I’d rush to the rescue, you know.” I wanted to sock him right in his gorgeous face.
Gigi disentangled herself from James and walked out of the room.
“Where’s she off to?” I started to follow but Ivan stopped me.
“She’s only going to the Ladies; she’ll be back in a minute. Let’s dance while we can. I’ve wanted to dance with you all evening.” He wrapped his arms round me and we swayed together.
“Yes, sure!” I did not believe a word he said. Are spirits allowed to lie? I must ask someone. I enjoyed dancing with Ivan and I liked the jealous eyes following our every move. Perhaps he has a fan club? Daggers were not actually coming towards me, but I could imagine them. This, unfortunately, was our only dance; we didn’t have time for another one, because Gigi came back too soon.
James was leaning on the bar to talking to his friend.
“Bit of a raver, isn't she? Known her long?” George asked.
“Only met her this afternoon.”
“Nice bum. Tell me when you’re finished with her.”
“Like hell I will. Find your own girl.”
“She’s had enough sangria even to fancy you.” George watched Gigi, as she weaved unsteadily towards them.
James laughed. “Hope so. I’ll try. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
He didn’t. Few girls jumped into bed on a first date, even in the Sixties, and Gigi proved no exception.
“One more for the road?” James offered her another full glass of sangria.
“No thanks."
The crowd had thinned out, as people started to leave. It was time to go. Gigi wondered what James would do next. Would he try anything on? She didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. She’d already decided she'd like to see him again and she’d be disappointed if he gave her the brush off. Time to find out.
“A shame to break up a lovely evening, but I must go. I’m working early in the morning,” she said.
“Can’t I tempt you to come home with me? We could play some records, look at my etchings, something like that?” He had a smile in his voice and he had given her an easy way out. Perhaps he liked her too.
“Not a chance!” She smiled in return.
He walked her back to the hostel along Oxford Street. They held hands and talked about something and nothing. Occasionally, they stopped and exchanged passionate kisses.
“I’ve never seen you in the salon before,” he said, “why not?”
“I usually have my lunch at twelve. Myra called in sick, so I had to stay late today.”
“Lucky for me she did.”
“Mmmmm.”
Ivan and I followed them. As we turned the corner into Euston Road, Ivan took my hand also. I shivered, but I did not pull away. I didn’t want to. His goodnight kiss tasted kind of heavenly, if you forgive the phrase. I definitely enjoy being a Guardian, with Ivan on the same team. Are there any more like him in Heaven, I wonder? I must look around carefully when I go back.
I felt sorry when we reached the hostel and I had to remind myself that I fell for Michael the first time we met. I’m going to have fun with Ivan but, when this assignment is over, I’ll put him right out of my mind. I hope.
“How did the evening go?” Maude asked me, as I came in. She lounged on the spare bed, with Leilani perching on top of the wardrobe. Both of their clients were fast asleep.
“Not at all like I expected. No grand salon with huge pictures of battles or psychedelic lights. Only an ordinary room, loud music and lots of people getting drunk and kissing.”
“Normal then?”
“The atmosphere was fuggy, because everyone was smoking. I almost choked.”
“What about the gorgeous Ivan?”
“Still gorgeous, but he spent most of the evening playing bridge. We only had time for one dance.”
“Do I detect a note of regret in her voice?” Leilani asked Maude quizzically.
“We did get to walk back together and he held my hand.” After all, why should I tell them everything that happened?
“You only held hands? With the gorgeous Ivan? Leilani, we need to do something about this girl. She’s seriously repressed!”
“Leave me alone, the pair of you. I’m fine. When I want to do something more than hold hands, I will.” ‘And I won’t tell you a thing about it!’ I added mentally.
15th September 1967, Friday, London.
What a week! No time to write in my diary, Gigi and I have been too busy. She’s been working hard and, more importantly, she’s see
n James twice. They went to the pictures, James’ choice - 'Les Parapluies de Cherbourg'. I don’t think Gigi liked the film; she doesn't speak French and subtitles are hard to read when you’re kissing. The picture's strange, because everything is sung, even casual conversation. Gigi soon lost the plot.
I enjoyed myself more than she did. Things moved on apace with Ivan. Being calm, cool and detached didn’t last long. I never could resist temptation. We kissed and I remembered how much I always enjoyed the sensation. Ivan’s even better than Michael, or is my memory faulty? He gave me shivers in naughty places. I keep trying to remember that I’m not going to fall for such a confirmed flirt. Difficult, when I’m with him. He’s far too attractive.
On their third date, Gigi and James went to Ronnie Scott’s, off Oxford Street. Gigi loved the place. She couldn’t keep still and danced for hours. Unfortunately, I found out jazz makes me feel irritable and sort of itchy, which I never realised before. I had an uncomfortable evening, despite the fact Ivan and I danced the night away. This time, I was glad to leave. I hate jazz even more than I like Ivan. I certainly hope Gigi won’t go back there again.
Gigi and James still haven’t slept together yet, but they come closer every time and Gigi’s been thinking hard.
“I’m falling in love with James,” she told Adele and Jane. The three girls were getting ready for bed.
“For Heaven’s sake, you only met him a week ago!” exclaimed Adele.
“Yes, but he’s wonderful and I’m so happy when I’m with him.”
“You slept with him yet?” Trust Adele to ask the crucial question.
“No. He’s asked me, of course, but I’ve been able to put him off so far. I can't much longer. If I’m honest, I want to make love with him. I need to find out how good he is in bed.”
“Is he your first?” Adele asked bluntly.
“No. I went with a boy in Antigua before I came away.”
Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance Page 7