by Joanna Rees
She held her breath, watching as Percy paced away from her, then back again, rubbing his jaw. He was clearly furious. But the young man with him simply smiled at Percy’s distress. Not cruelly, but amused. He didn’t seem to mind this awful situation at all. Instead, he buttoned up his shirt calmly.
But how could he be so calm? This was awful. She’d heard of men . . . of certain men . . . who – she didn’t even know the right words to describe what it was that they did – men who kissed . . . who kissed each other like this.
There’d been talk of it at the mill once. Her father had had a man whipped, she remembered, and had called him a ‘faggot’, and he’d disappeared shortly after that. And there was the case of Oscar Wilde, too, which was so often referred to in the papers. Clement had talked of homosexuality as absolutely the worst kind of sin.
But what she’d stumbled upon here wasn’t bad and sinful, surely? Because this was Percy. Dear, lovely Percy, who’d been so kind to her today.
She saw in his expression such shame – and such longing for understanding – that her heart ached. Did Percy think she might hurt him in some way?
It was the young man who broke the tension, and his deep-blue eyes were fixed on Percy as he did up the buttons of his shirt. ‘So you know our secret, pretty face. What’s yours?’
He turned his gaze suddenly on her and, caught out, Vita stared at him and then at Percy, seeing what was required here. Some sort of return for the information she now knew. A secret. They wanted a secret from her. And it sprang into her mind. Big and bold.
The truth about what she’d done. Who she was. What she’d run away from. And why. Because the truth was what they deserved. But she wouldn’t tell that secret. Not to anyone.
But they needed something. And fast.
‘I can’t dance.’
Percy suddenly looked punctured, his shoulders slumping as he stared at her. ‘What? That’s it? That’s all you’re prepared to trust us with?’ He said it like she’d betrayed them. Like she would betray them.
‘You don’t understand,’ she blurted. ‘What I mean is: I’m a liar – an imposter. A fake. I made everything up. I lied to Nancy, and I’ve never even been in a theatre before, or a club, let alone been a dancer.’
‘I’m confused.’ It was the other man, who held up his hand for Vita to stop. ‘Enlighten me, please.’ He had a fine accent and very fine skin, Vita noticed. In fact he was quite beautiful. Where she came from, she hardly ever saw men up close, and the ones she did see had dirt under their nails and phlegm in their lungs. But this man looked like he’d stepped out of a Renaissance painting. Like he could have been the model for an angel.
‘This is Vita. The little seamstress I told you about, who helped me. Somehow – God knows how – she got a job today with Connelly,’ Percy said.
‘And you really can’t dance?’ said the man, a smile now wrinkling his bow-shaped lips.
‘Not properly. Not like they think I can,’ she said. ‘I’m certainly not a dancer.’
She should never have told them, never revealed what a liar she was and how much she’d betrayed Percy’s trust. He had every right to blow the whistle on her. Tell Mrs Bell and the girls. He could get her thrown out of the house. Tonight even . . .
‘Well, well.’ It was the young man. He bit his bottom lip, as if making a decision. ‘Then maybe we can trust one another to keep each other’s secrets safe, after all. But,’ said the man, ‘if we’re going to keep you out of trouble, too, then I suppose the least we can do is teach you. And fast.’
‘Teach me?’
‘Yes. There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to go out dancing. What d’you say, Percy?’
She noticed a charged look between the two men.
‘Fine! Come on then,’ Percy said suddenly, making a decision. He turned to the clothes rail in sudden furious concentration. ‘Get dressed.’
‘What – now?’ Vita asked, stunned not only at his suggestion, but because this meant that he’d somehow forgiven her – for her intrusion and for lying. Because they were now equal. Because they really were friends now.
‘Yes, now,’ Percy said, pulling a peacock-blue dress off a hanger on the rail and looking it up and down critically, then at Vita, as if sizing her up. ‘Edward’s right. You’re going to have to learn by tomorrow morning – otherwise, believe me, those girls will have your guts for garters.’
21
Pilchards
It was half an hour before they were ready to leave. Vita had quickly washed and changed in the bathroom into the dress that Percy had given her, as quietly as she could, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. He really had given her a chance, and now that feeling she’d had on the train was back. That feeling of tumbling head-first into her future, with absolutely no control.
Back in Percy’s room, Edward whistled when he saw her, and Vita held out the skirt of the dress and did a curtsey.
‘Suits you,’ Percy said, raising his eyebrows.
Edward quietly slid open the sash window.
‘Shhh,’ he whispered. ‘Mrs Bell is right below. Follow me.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘We’re not going out of the front,’ Percy said. ‘He’s not supposed to be here.’
Vita remembered Mrs Bell’s stern warning about gentlemen callers, as she watched Edward put one leg over the windowsill and onto the brick ledge running away from the window outside. He put his lit cigarette between his lips and held out his hand for her.
She stared round at Percy, who was now dressed in a light tan jacket and a boater hat. He patted his pockets, as if checking the whereabouts of his things, and then turned out the lamp by his sewing machine. She saw him lift a couple of pillows from under the bed and arrange them under his eiderdown into the shape of a sleeping body. He opened the door to the corridor an inch.
The dress that Percy had chosen for her was tight, and she hitched it up now as she tried to get over the window ledge in the most ladylike way possible, but it wasn’t easy. Percy had pinned the dress at the back so that it would stay in place, and she was terrified it would tear. God only knew how much a garment like this cost. More than she could afford to replace, that was for sure.
Percy put his fingers to his lips for Vita to be quiet and gestured for her to follow Edward.
Outside, the night was cool and her arms puckered into goosebumps, but it was also adrenaline making her teeth chatter. The high wall was just a brick wide, with a long drop on either side. Edward held her hand as she sidestepped along it, until she’d reached the safety of the roof of a large shed.
‘There’s a knack,’ Edward whispered. ‘Watch.’
He skittered down the sloping roof to the wide ledge at the bottom and she followed suit. He caught her at the last minute.
Soon they reached the low wall at the back of the alley. Edward jumped down, and Vita jumped down into his arms and he stood her softly on the grassy cobbles.
‘Where’s Percy?’ she whispered, alarmed that he hadn’t followed them.
Edward nodded up at the window. Percy was straddling the windowsill and scooping out something into a bowl. Even from down here, Vita could hear the thrumming purr as Casper licked the spoon.
‘Pilchards – that’s how he keeps in with Casper. And because Casper thinks he’s the bee’s knees, Mrs Bell does, too,’ Edward said and Vita laughed. No wonder the greedy cat was so enamoured with Percy. ‘Come on. My car is just along here.’
She looked towards where he was pointing with his cigarette, to a maroon Crossley under the street lamp.
22
Blanchard’s
The debate about where to go carried on during the short journey in Edward’s car into town, but Percy decided that Vita would get the best tuition from listening to the Ginx Five, the house band at Blanchard’s, a club where Edward was a member. They stopped the car outside a building that looked, to Vita, like a bank.
Light spilled out onto the pavement, where
men in top hats and overcoats escorted women in fur shawls through the entrance. The doorman greeted Edward warmly and smiled at her, as if it were perfectly plausible that she was one of his friends. She felt a frisson of excitement. Hadn’t this been exactly what she wanted, when she’d come to London? To find people of note? People who mattered? She felt even more thrilled when Edward and Percy linked arms with her and escorted her through the door.
There was a large hallway and Percy explained that originally the building had been a coaching house. They walked towards the top of a richly carpeted staircase so that Vita could see the scene below.
There was a main ballroom and dance floor below, filled with couples dancing. It was an impressive room, with high ceilings, and everything was attractively decorated in brown, silver and grey. Coloured lights in rainbow pastels lit up the walls, which had mirrored panels in them, while mirrored columns supported the high ceiling.
She hadn’t for a second expected to find anywhere so glamorous – or so lively. And the people! There were people everywhere. This late at night. In such fantastic clothes. Just dancing. Dancing like the world was ending. And it was simply wonderful.
They walked down the stairs and Edward ordered some drinks from a passing waiter, and they sat on a padded settee with a good view of the dance floor. When the drinks arrived, Vita took a deep breath and picked up the glass in front of her on the table, grinning nervously at her companions. This was it then, the latest part of her initiation.
‘Take a sip,’ Percy yelled over the wail of the clarinet and the splash of the drums.
‘It’s a Gin and It,’ Edward added close in her ear, as she took a sip. She recoiled from the taste of the oily liquid in her glass. ‘And you’d better get used to it, if you want to fit in. Down that one. I’m off to get us some more.’
Vita nodded, patting her chest with the shock of the alcohol. She’d barely ever drunk before – just a shot of brandy and lemon now and then, when she’d had a cold; a sip of mulled wine at Christmas perhaps. Nothing at all like this.
But this was going to be her drink from now on, she decided, storing away the information. Everything Percy showed her tonight was vital to her survival. He’d told her that, on the way here, and she believed him. She wouldn’t let him down. Not now that he was giving her a second chance.
During all those grey, dreary long, cold nights at Darton Hall, when she’d read books, the silence punctuated only by the slow tick of the grandfather clock, she’d always suspected that there was life out there in the world. Proper life – happening somewhere. Not the kind of life her parents led, but the happy, hedonistic, real kind. And she’d been right all along, because here it was in all its colourful glory.
The jazz music coursed through her and she tapped her feet excitedly on the floor and knew that, if everything caught up with her and she was to die tomorrow, then everything had been worth it, to experience this.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she gushed. ‘Oh, Percy!’
‘Well, you’re here to learn. Pay attention,’ he said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, and she wondered whether he’d really forgiven her. ‘See her,’ he added, picking up his Martini glass, eating the olive and then pointing the cocktail stick.
Vita followed Percy’s gaze towards the crowded dance floor, where a woman in a gold dress, adorned with jangling loops of fringing, was dancing the Charleston, her feet and hands kicking out, her eyes half-closed. She didn’t seem to care that her skin was covered in a sheen of perspiration, as she raised her knee up and hit it with the palm of her hand, then twisted her leg to hit her foot. She had an air of total abandon about her as the long rope of beads glittered and jumped on her chest. Vita watched in wonder as her dancing partner – dancing in perfect unison with her, from behind – kissed the curve of her neck. They seemed completely absorbed in one another. And they certainly didn’t give a hoot who was watching them, or what they thought.
‘She’s got It. Whatever “It” is. You can see that right away, can’t you?’ Percy said in her ear.
Vita nodded, entranced, the gin making her head light. She imagined herself doing the move the woman was doing, like she was running on the spot. It wasn’t so different from the dances she’d made up to songs on the wireless. She was a good mimic, she remembered, watching the woman closely. How hard could it be?
‘It’s about self-belief,’ Percy continued. ‘It’s confidence. See?’ he added. ‘Just be like her. Dance like you’re doing it for yourself – for the love of it. And don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. The key is not to be self-conscious.’
‘But I’ve never danced. Not really. I mean, I’ve pretended. But it’s not the same.’
‘If you pretend hard enough at anything, you’ll find it becomes real,’ Percy said. ‘Come on.’
He took her hands and lifted her out of her seat, before remembering his hat and chucking it onto the seat. He pulled her towards the crowd. Vita threw a nervous glance back at Edward, who was on his way back to their table, but he just winked and raised his glass.
‘It’s simple,’ Percy said, spinning her round to face him on the dance floor. ‘Right foot in front, then behind.’
Vita held on to his shoulder, concentrating hard on their feet. She followed his brown-and-white shoes moving slickly on the sprung floor, desperate to get it right.
‘Now look up,’ Percy instructed, lifting her chin. ‘See if you can do it without looking down. Ow!’ he exclaimed as she trod on his foot.
‘Sorry. Sorry!’ Vita gasped, mortified, but Percy simply grabbed her hand tighter in his.
‘Concentrate,’ he scolded, but he was smiling, clearly having fun, too.
She’d got through today on pure adrenaline, not really believing that tomorrow would happen, not thinking that she might really get that far without being found out, but with each step, she realized that Percy was dancing her into the future. And if he believed it, then it must be true. That she would be back in the club tomorrow with the girls. That she was Verity Casey – a proper member of their troupe.
But to make it happen, she knew she had to believe it, too.
And so she danced like her life depended on it.
23
The Best Teacher
It wasn’t long before Vita had mastered the knack of not looking at her feet, and Percy was impressed that she was such a fast learner. She only felt her confidence grow as she danced the Charleston for the first time and nobody around her noticed that she was a novice. All of those boring ballet lessons must have paid off, after all.
But when the music changed after the sixth song, Percy collapsed against her, his knees sagging.
‘Can we sit down for a minute?’ he begged. ‘I need to get my breath back.’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, and look at the time. The show will start any minute.’
‘The show?’
‘The “Midnight Merriments”. There’s usually dancers or this funny chap, Eddie, who juggles.’
Back at their table, he ordered two more drinks and a carafe of water from the waiter. The merriments, however, involved a barbershop quartet, who started singing in close harmony. Their song was called, ‘I’m falling in love, one kiss at a time’, and Vita listened, entranced by their voices. She was almost within touching distance of these exotic-looking men. Her father would be horrified at the mere thought of her being so close to ‘Negroes’, as he’d call them. He had a pathological hatred of anyone who wasn’t white and English and rich, but Vita thought these men were simply wonderful. One of them caught her staring and winked, and she grinned back.
Across the club she saw Edward, his head thrown back, laughing. She watched Percy watching him for a moment, as he flitted to another group, who greeted him with hoots of delight.
‘He’s fun,’ Vita said, following Percy’s love-struck gaze. ‘And so very handsome.’
She glanced across at Percy, who blushed as he patted his forehead with a folded-up h
andkerchief. ‘You mustn’t think, Vita . . . I mean, about earlier. Don’t judge me, I—’
Vita put her hand on Percy’s arm. ‘I would never dare,’ she said, meaning it. ‘Really. I’m sorry I walked in.’ She paused, smiling, as he gave her his handkerchief and she pressed the square of it into the sweat on her forehead. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. I’m not in the slightest bit sorry, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’
She shuffled back into her seat, closer to him. Percy was still watching Edward across the club.
‘You really don’t mind? I mean, you don’t find it . . . shameful?’
‘Why would I? You’re both perfectly decent fellows. How you feel, and what you do, is up to you.’
Percy looked overcome with emotion for a moment, then smiled and let out a relieved laugh. ‘I wish more people were like you. I wish everyone else wasn’t so damned judgemental.’
‘Oh, believe me, I know enough about judgemental people. Enough to know that I will never be like that myself.’
‘Good. You stick to your guns, Vita. Don’t ever change the lovely ways you have.’
Did she have lovely ways? She flushed, so touched by his compliment. She longed to blurt out that whatever ‘ways’ she had, it was all brand new. Instead, she watched Percy watching Edward again.
‘Are you two . . .? I mean, it’s none of my business.’ She didn’t know which word to use. Together? Permanent? Friends?
Percy sighed. ‘Yes. We are – whatever that is. The awful thing is that I love him,’ he went on, adding a wry laugh. ‘I haven’t told anyone else that. Especially not Edward. I don’t even know why I’m telling you. Only perhaps because I’m so grateful to you.’
‘Grateful? Why?’ Vita asked, shocked.
‘He uses me dreadfully,’ Percy said. ‘We meet in secret, but I never know when he’s going to turn up. Usually I’d never get to come out dancing with Edward. We have to meet separately, and half the time he stands me up, or ignores me completely till the end of the night. And then, just when I’m losing heart, he’s there waiting outside work, and he gets me to sneak him into my room; or he sends a message for me to meet him at the room he keeps in a hotel, and I’m sucked back into his web. But you being here makes it all legitimate.’