So far it was working, she decided, as she locked her flat and ran down the stairs of the large house on Holland Park Avenue in which she lived. The house was owned by the bank and was laid out in six small self-contained flats. Hers was on the first floor at the rear of the house, overlooking the gardens shared by several other houses. Sometimes it made her feel slightly claustrophobic being so close to the other houses. At night if the curtains weren’t drawn, you could see right in people’s windows. But then space was at a premium in London and accommodation expensive. She missed the garden in Ranelagh. Although she’d probably go sunbathing in the big park down the road, it wouldn’t be the same. Still, the flat itself was very comfortable. She had a sitting-room cum dining-room, decorated in cream and coral, with high ceilings and a tall window, and a sofa that converted to a bed for visitors. There was also a tiny kitchenette. A small, blue-tiled bathroom and a cheery lemon-painted bedroom which contained a double bed, built-in wardrobes, a dressing table and a little desk, completed her living accommodation.
The joy of it all was that she was only a brisk twenty-minute walk from her job in Kensington High Street. It had been a great stroke of luck for her to get the flat. The girl who was leaving it had been transferred to the Liverpool branch, and two of the people who had the option to take the flat already had accommodation that they were happy with. Not having to commute made life so much easier. Lots of people she knew had to get up at six or earlier to be in time for work in the city. Even Aileen, who lived in Wembley and worked in Mayfair, had to be up early to travel into the city by tube each day, although, as she had explained to Cassie, she was on the Bakerloo line and she didn’t have to change trains to get to her destination.
Cassie, whose nearest station was on the Central line, was going to have to change to the Jubilee line at Bond Street to bring her to Green Park station near the Ritz Hotel. It was here she was meeting Aileen. It was going to be a new experience because she had never changed lines before. The tube was very handy, but because she had been in London only just over a month, she still didn’t know where she was going half the time and lived in fear of her life of getting the wrong line. Going tubing, as she called it, was still an adventure! Aileen, of course, knew her way around like a native.
It was great having Aileen here, Cassie thought, as she walked towards the tube station. It was a dark miserable Friday night and the rush-hour traffic was still heavy although it had eased off considerably from its peak. Come the spring, she was going to buy a bike for herself and cycle around London to get to know it. She had been studying her map of the city and saw that on a bike she would have a pretty direct journey into Oxford Street via Notting Hill Gate and the Bayswater Road. Then she could shop and sightsee to her heart’s content. Most of the famous-name shops were in Oxford Street: C&A, Selfridges, Debenhams, John Lewis, Top Shop. What a time she was going to have, ably abetted by Aileen, who adored shopping. Or else she could cycle along Kensington Road and on through Knightsbridge, around Hyde Park Corner and along Constitution Hill to Buckingham Palace. There were lots of places she wanted to see and so much she wanted to do. The thing was to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t have a minute to think about Robbie.
What was he doing now? Was he out drinking with his mates or had he gone back to AA? A shroud of loneliness enveloped her, loneliness that pierced her heart and made her want to weep. Had she walked away from him in his hour of need? Had she let him down when he needed her most? Should she have gone to see him in the hospital that time?
Stop it! she ordered herself sharply as she stood on the platform waiting for the train. He let you down so why should you be feeling guilty? Typical! Well, she lectured herself sternly, you’re not going to ruin your night out with Aileen, weeping and wailing. She had taken this path and that was that. There was no looking back, no guilts, regrets or recriminations. She had to get on with it and make the best she could of her life and if she didn’t start concentrating on where she was going she’d miss her stop.
When the train arrived, it was packed, so she caught hold of a strap and stood swaying in the crowded aisle trying to read her small underground map. She had only five stations to go; her stop was the one after Marble Arch.
After the relatively easygoing pace of city life in Dublin, the rush and frenzy of London still took Cassie’s breath away. It amazed her to watch people running up and down escalators, the speed of the trains slamming in and out of the stations, the never-ending traffic. It was all go, go, go. And there were people of so many different cultures: Asians, Arabs, West Indians with their dreadlocks and fabulous reggae music. Cassie loved watching the Indian women in their lovely exotic saris and their children who were so beautiful. Everything was fascinating to her, from the bowler-hatted businessman standing beside her reading his neatly folded paper, despite the swaying of the train, to the young Japanese girl on the other side of her who had the shiniest silkiest black hair that Cassie had ever seen.
She came to herself with a start. She had been so busy watching her neighbours she’d forgotten to look out at the passing stations. Was the last one Queensway or Lancaster Gate? They whooshed into Marble Arch and she knew that the next stop was hers. She could have got a taxi, she supposed, but that would have cost a fortune and besides it was the coward’s way out. If she were going to live in London she’d better get to know it, and getting used to the tube was one of her main priorities.
Cassie was feeling quite proud of herself as she walked up the steps of Green Park station a short while later and headed in the direction of the Ritz, following the directions Aileen had given her. It was just a couple of minutes’ walk and Aileen was waiting for her in the magnificent foyer of the famous hotel.
She looked stunning! Her auburn tresses were pulled back off her face in an elegant chignon and she wore a sophisticated black dress that showed off every curve of her shapely figure. Her make-up was, of course, flawless. Cassie had to admit she had never seen her friend looking so well. Training to be a beauty therapist and coming to work in London had been the making of Aileen. She had been working late and that was why they had arranged to meet at the Ritz as it was just five minutes from where she worked.
‘You look terrific!’ Aileen exclaimed, as she gave Cassie a hug. Cassie was glad she had gone to a bit of trouble with her appearance. She hadn’t taken too much notice of it since she had broken up with Robbie, but coming to London and seeing all the beautiful clothes in the boutiques in Kensington High Street had aroused her interest in spite of herself. Then, the offers in the January sales had been more than a mortal could resist. The previous weekend Cassie had got her hair cut in a becoming bob and gone on a little spending spree. She had treated herself to a new pure wool coat in a gorgeous royal blue. Around her neck she wore a beautiful silk Hermès scarf that had cost a small fortune, but she didn’t care! A soft Italian black leather bag and expensive suede shoes added the finishing touches to the ensemble. Underneath she wore a glamorous pink angora jumper and a pair of tailored trousers that fitted her like a glove and looked the height of elegance.
‘Isn’t this posh?’ Cassie gazed around in admiration as a smiling waiter glided silently towards them to take her coat. As she walked with Aileen towards one of the grey marble-topped coffee-tables Cassie understood for the first time what it felt like to sink into a carpet up to your ankles.
‘I thought we’d have a couple of drinks here to start off with, just to put us in the humour. They’ll cost an arm and a leg, but who cares? This is our night out. Then we’ll go to another lovely hotel just across the road which won’t be quite as expensive, but Cassie, the food there is absolutely mouthwatering.’
‘Suits me!’ Cassie grinned, beginning to perk up.
‘What are you going to have?’ Aileen was busy perusing the drinks list. ‘I think I’ll have a kir royale.’
‘I’ve never tasted kir,’ Cassie admitted.
‘Oooh, it’s lovely! You’d like it. Have the royale, it’s got
champagne in it. I’ll treat you. I got a big tip from some Saudi sheik’s wife today,’ she added with satisfaction.
They ordered their drinks and sat back in their comfortable dusky-pink chairs, enjoying themselves. In the background someone was softly playing a piano, and Cassie, who loved examining décor, gazed admiringly at the huge sparkling gilt-edged mirrors and the gold-filigreed ceiling, which was supported by magnificent marble pillars. The walls were decorated in a honey tone which gave an air of warmth and brightness that was most appealing although the room was huge and ornate.
‘Wouldn’t Barbara give her eye teeth to be here?’ Aileen smiled wickedly as she began to make inroads into the bowl of savoury nuts the waiter had brought them.
‘Could you imagine the detective here?’ Cassie grimaced. ‘What she sees in him, I cannot imagine.’
‘Well, you know, they say opposites attract,’ Aileen said seriously, as she sipped the drink that had just arrived. ‘You know she’s so . . . so . . . opinionated and so eager to be heard, and trying to get a few words out of him is like drawing blood from a stone. It’s like Judy and Andrew Lawson. She’s so gentle and placid and not very sure of herself and he’s so flamboyant and arrogant and self-assured.’
‘Judy’s cracked about him,’ Cassie observed.
‘I know, and it worries me,’ Aileen sighed. ‘Do you think Barbara and Sherlock will make a go of it?’
Cassie laughed. ‘Don’t ask me, but they’ve been together a good while now. She’s even doing his washing for him.’
‘Is the woman mad!’ Aileen exclaimed in disgust.
‘You know Barbara!’ Cassie said drily. ‘I went home one Friday and I wanted to do a bit of washing in a hurry and I couldn’t get near the machine. She was washing his sheets, his duvet-cover and about forty shirts. Using our powder and our electricity and our washing-machine—’
‘Typical!’ interjected Aileen.
‘Well, of course, when I pointed this out to her and told her I hoped it wasn’t going to become a regular occurrence, she got into a magnificent huff.’ Cassie grinned at the memory. ‘Do you know what my dear sister said to me?’
Aileen arched a wing-tipped eyebrow. ‘What?’
Cassie took a sip of her drink. ‘She said, “It’s not my fault if you can’t keep a man and I can, so don’t go taking it out on me.”’
Aileen’s eyes widened. ‘The little bitch! God, what is it with her! She’s had a chip on her shoulder as long as I can remember her and that’s going back. What makes her say things like that?’
‘I don’t know! You know her when she gets miffed! There’s just something in her make-up. Some people are born nasty and she’s one of them. She’s writing this gossip column now for the paper she’s working for, and the things she writes about people! Of course she’s got that Noreen Varling one egging her on and feeding her juicy titbits. You should see them in the Shelbourne drinking champagne. They’re so pretentious. And Noreen’s so big and stout and Barbara’s such a skinny little beanpole, they’re like Little and Large sitting there taking people apart. It really is outrageous the way they take away people’s good names with their innuendos. One of these days they’re going to be sued!’
‘God help whoever is suing Barbara,’ laughed Aileen as she drained her drink. Cassie caught the waiter’s attention.
‘We’ll have two more, please.’
It was after nine when they left the Ritz to stroll back along Piccadilly to Half Moon Street, where they were having dinner in Fleming’s Hotel. It had stopped drizzling and the sky had cleared and the pair of them were quite ravenous.
‘Just look at the chandeliers in here. Aren’t they magnificent?’ murmured Aileen, as they entered the plush hotel. It was much more intimate than the Ritz and Cassie thought the peach-and-green decor was superb. Opposite the reception desk she noticed an ornate gilt mirror and an exquisite marble-topped table, upon which was placed the statue of a black stallion. Although the Ritz had been sumptuous with its marble pillars and huge yucca plants, she far preferred the classical elegance of this smaller hotel.
‘This is lovely and you’re right about those chandeliers – they really sparkle,’ she said to Aileen.
‘Oh this is a real find. I’ve booked a table for us tonight. Wait until you’ve tasted the food. And the staff are lovely. I’ve been here several times.’ Aileen led the way to the dining-room.
‘With anybody special?’ Cassie smiled.
Aileen laughed. ‘What do you think I am? A glutton for punishment? No! Madame Lefeur, the woman I work for, has a nephew Pierre, who is, as you can guess, French. He comes over to London on business quite regularly and he stays with Madame Lefeur. They have this huge apartment over the salon. Talk about posh, Cassie! Anyway, he kind of fancies me, the fool! And he’s taken me out and we’ve had dinner here a few times.’
‘What age is he?’ Cassie asked, intrigued, as they were shown to their table.
‘Thirty and unwed,’ Aileen laughed. ‘And unwed he’ll stay if he keeps on showing an interest in me. I’m not getting involved again for a while.’
‘Me neither,’ Cassie said glumly.
‘Ah, come on, let’s not get depressed,’ Aileen said hastily. ‘Here, read this menu. It would raise anybody’s spirits!’
Aileen hadn’t lied about the food. After a delicious five-course meal, they were fit for nothing. Stuffed to the gills, they walked out into the night air and back towards Piccadilly Circus tube station.
‘Would you like to go to a nightclub?’ Aileen enquired. ‘We could go to Stringfellows or Jocelyns? I know people who work there so there won’t be any problem getting in.’
Cassie laughed and yawned. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk that brandy. All I want to do is go to sleep!’
‘Me too,’ confessed Aileen. ‘It’s been an awfully long day and my feet are killing me.’
‘A right pair of ravers we are. Barbara would be disgusted with us!’ Cassie yawned again. ‘Tell you what, to hell with the tube. Let’s do it in style and get a taxi home. I love those black cabs. I always feel like the queen when I’m travelling in one of them.’
‘You’re on!’ Aileen flagged one down. They drove back to where Aileen lived in Wembley, as Cassie was spending the weekend with her. It was all hours before they got to bed, because once they got back to Aileen’s and had coffee, they were revived and stayed up half the night chatting.
They spent a lazy weekend together and both of them enjoyed catching up on all the news. Aileen was staying with an aunt who lived in a large redbrick house in Stanley Avenue off the Ealing Road. Her aunt was a jolly woman in her early sixties and she was delighted to have Aileen staying. She had turned over the first floor for her niece’s use as she suffered from respiratory problems and preferred to stay downstairs; so to all intents and purposes Aileen had a self-contained flat.
They had had a lovely lie-in and then breakfasted on juice, croissants, muesli and freshly ground coffee before going out for a stroll. Aileen liked Stanley Avenue. With its tree-lined street and redbrick houses, it reminded her of Griffith Avenue in Dublin. There was a large Asian community so they meandered into some of the colourful Asian shops on the Ealing Road, looking at the saris in the clothes shops and all the exotic fruit and vegetables and spices in the vegetables shops. Cassie bought some star-fruit and passion-fruit and some chillis and a host of different spices. She was definitely going to experiment with her cooking and Aileen was invited to partake of a meal the following week. Then they went up to Wembley High Street and had a ball as they dawdled around Marks & Spencers, C&A and their favourite, Boots. It was all still new to Cassie, and all still a treat. They spent ages in Boots looking at the make-up and toiletries before going to McDonald’s for a Big Mac.
That night they set off again, this time to a cinema on the Tottenham Court Road. They were going to see Star Trek, The Motion Picture and they were so looking forward to it. Having thoroughly enjoyed Star Trek in their youth, like all loyal
trekkies they were dying to see the movie.
They enjoyed it immensely, apart from being disgusted that the film-makers had changed the layout of the Enterprise completely. The new bridge was a disaster and the new uniforms didn’t show off Captain Kirk’s sexy bum the way the old one did. They munched popcorn, ate chocolates and drank Coke and felt fifteen again – only Laura was missing to complete the evening.
The next day, Sunday, was lashing rain and they bought all the Sunday papers and sat curled up in front of a roaring fire reading them. Aileen, whose culinary skills had not improved, was delighted when her aunt invited them to Sunday dinner, roast beef with all the trimmings.
It was a lovely weekend and it had cheered her up no end, Cassie reflected, as she got back to her flat on Sunday evening and began to press her uniform for work the following morning. Just as well she was walking to work, she thought; she’d be putting on stones if she wasn’t careful. For the first time in ages she fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow and she slept soundly.
Twenty-Nine
Gradually Cassie began to settle down to life in London. Her work was engrossing and challenging and she continued to study for her banking exams. She made new friends and she had Aileen, but still at times she would feel a terrible emptiness in her life. Robbie was never far from her thoughts and it annoyed her so much that she wasn’t strong enough to banish him from her mind. Whenever old anniversaries or special days like Valentine’s Day came up or she heard a song that had meant something special, the old feelings would come flooding back and she would get depressed. Then, no matter how much Aileen told her that things would get better – and wouldn’t Aileen know, hadn’t she gone through it herself – Cassie would despair.
Finishing Touches Page 30