by Joanna Rees
It was a gift, clearly, and they both knew it might be from Archie. ‘It came earlier. I saw the delivery boy. Said it was for you, Vita,’ Jerome said.
‘Oh, so I see the strike doesn’t apply to some people,’ Nancy commented.
Vita unwrapped the bow, wishing she wasn’t being scrutinized by Jerome and Nancy. And now Wisey stopped in the doorway to see what was going on.
Inside the box was some crisp tissue paper and, below that, something soft. Vita lifted the mink coat out of the box and held it up, as Nancy let out a slow, impressed whistle. She held it up, pressing the impossible softness to her cheek. This must be because of what she’d told Archie. About wanting to own a fur coat.
‘Blimey, that’s something,’ Wisey said, leaning back on the doorframe.
‘I can’t accept it,’ Vita said, suddenly putting the coat down.
‘I’ll take it,’ Jerome said. ‘I could sell it for a month’s wages.’
Seeing Vita’s desperate stare, he turned and left with Wisey, who laughed as she went out.
‘People will think . . .’ Vita began, hoping Nancy would understand.
‘People will think what? Everyone knows you and Archie are together. They assume you’re lovers. The least he can do is buy you a fur coat, for ruining your reputation.’
‘We’re not lovers,’ Vita said, suddenly indignant. But then she remembered Annabelle at the American Bar. Nancy was right. Annabelle had assumed they were lovers.
‘You’re not? You mean you haven’t done it?’
‘Of course not. If I had, I’d have told you.’
Vita felt wrong-footed. Had going out with Archie changed things so much between her and her friend? Had Nancy really thought Vita would keep something that big from her?
‘Why ever not? What are you waiting for? A proposal?’
And now Vita understood what a fool she was being. Everything between her and Archie felt so wonderfully noble. But from everyone else’s point of view . . . well, she was just a dancing girl being courted by a handsome, rich man for his own amusement.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Vita said.
‘Wouldn’t I? Aren’t you forgetting that I know all about you?’ Nancy said. Her eyes narrowed and Vita realized she was referring to the bath. ‘I know you in ways he never will.’
‘Stop it,’ Vita said in a panic. ‘You said you’d – I mean, you wouldn’t . . .?’
‘Calm down. I’m not going to break up your little romance,’ she said. ‘But I don’t see what the hold-up is. If you want him, why haven’t you taken him?’
Vita stared at her, amazed that Nancy could think that way. That people could simply be ‘taken’. But then, she supposed, why wouldn’t she think like that? Nancy got whatever she wanted. She prided herself upon it.
‘Perhaps you haven’t given him the right signals?’ Nancy suggested.
‘What kind of signals?’
‘I don’t know, but this is a pretty big signal that he’s serious,’ she said, stroking the coat. Vita saw a look of envy cross her face. ‘He wouldn’t buy you a fur coat if he didn’t want you, would he?’
‘I guess not,’ Vita said.
‘So go get your man.’
Vita laughed. ‘Just like that?’
‘Yes, oh, but wait. You’d better take this,’ she said, delving in her handbag. She pulled out a small paper bag.
‘What is it?’ Vita asked, looking inside.
‘Birth control.’
‘Birth what?’
‘Just be practical. Get him to wear it. It’ll stop you getting pregnant.’
Vita felt herself blushing furiously. How could Nancy be so matter-of-fact? So brazen about something so shocking?
‘What?’ Nancy said. ‘It’s the modern way. Always stay in control, kiddo,’ she said, tapping Vita on the nose. ‘Remember that.’
‘I can’t. I mean, I wouldn’t know how to even begin to ask . . .’
‘Stop being so English,’ Nancy said. ‘You don’t have to apologize to anyone. Be bold. You can do it.’
Could she? Vita felt herself quaking now. Much as she wanted Archie, this seemed far too real. What would it be like, if things went further than a kiss? But Nancy gave her that look – the look that forced her into being Verity Casey, the girl who had come from nowhere and was living a dream life. The look that told her she had to grab hold of life and live it to the full. She took the bag now, with a nod. ‘I can do it. You’re right,’ she said, trying to believe it.
84
The Prototype
Vita made her way from the theatre up the alley to Percy’s studio with difficulty, as she was carrying the coat in the box. She stopped, remembering kissing Archie in this very place, and looked up at the thin sliver of blue sky way above, feeling her tummy tingling. ‘Oh, Archie, what have you done to me?’ she said out loud.
She was still suppressing a smile as she pushed through the door into the studio.
‘Ah, there you are. Just in time for tea, as usual. So what do you think?’ Percy said, as she manhandled the box onto the workbench. He was standing by the kettle, his back turned to her, and she saw him put out his arm towards the mannequin. ‘For the presentation.’
There, in its full finished glory, was the latest brassiere. Only Percy had embellished it according to the girls’ suggestions and had made the ribbons pink. It was wonderful. Stylish, practical and yet feminine, too.
Vita rushed over, all thoughts of Archie and the coat forgotten.
‘That’s it. That’s absolutely it, although I’d go slimmer still on the straps,’ she said, fingering the silk and pinching it in. ‘Maybe. But it looks wonderful.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
It was only now, as Percy turned round with two cups, that she saw he had a black eye, and that one of the lenses of his glasses was missing. She gasped and covered her mouth, rushing over to him.
‘Percy! What on earth happened?’
‘Oh, that,’ he said, putting the tea down and gingerly touching his cheekbone.
She put her hand over his. ‘Percy?’
‘I walked into the door. Stupid, really—’
‘Was it Edward?’
‘No! Of course not. Some stranger attacked me. I can’t really remember much about it. Only that he took my cane.’
‘The one with the ivory top?’
Percy nodded sadly. She knew it had been a gift from Edward. ‘Did you call the police?’
He gave her a look. ‘Me? No! Besides, I didn’t see the man. There were a lot of drunks about. The strike has made everyone go crazy. But I’m perfectly all right,’ he said, putting both his hands on her shoulders.
‘Promise?’ she asked, feeling worried.
‘Promise. Now you have work to do. Try it on.’
Vita frowned, but realized Percy really did want to let the matter drop. She slipped behind the curtain that Percy had rigged up in the corner of the studio and tried on the brassiere, enjoying the way it felt on her body.
‘Do you want to see?’ she called to Percy.
‘Of course.’
She smiled, pulling back the curtain.
He stood back. ‘Oh, Vita,’ he said, clapping his hands together with a satisfied grin.
‘Do you think people will like it?’ ‘They’ll love it.’
‘I love it, too,’ Vita said, admiring herself in the mirror, placing her hands on her slim waist. ‘If we get the order from W&T, then we could make some and start selling them straight away.’
Percy let out a short frustrated laugh. ‘Yes, but how? That took hours. You and I are at breaking point, as it is.’
‘So we need to find an investor. So that we can afford to pay someone to sew them.’
‘But that would involve people – other than me – seeing how good it looks. And that might be difficult.’
She pressed her lips together, an idea forming.
‘Archie,’ she said.
‘What about him?’
She tapped
her forefinger on her lips, spying her own silken curves through narrowed eyes. ‘His mother wants him to go into business.’
‘So?’
‘So what better business than this?’
‘Well, I hardly think . . . I guess you know him better than me,’ Percy said, rubbing the remaining lens of his glasses on his jumper.
‘He’s our best shot. So I’m going to show him,’ she announced, Nancy’s dare suddenly making perfect sense.
‘What? Now?’
She went over to the box and pulled out the fur coat, and Percy whistled, impressed.
‘Why not? Seeing is believing. We want him to invest. I’m going to show him what he should invest in.’ She took hold of Percy’s wrist and looked at his watch. ‘I’ve just about got time before I have to be back for the show, but it’ll be tight.’
‘I’ll drive you,’ Percy said. ‘I don’t know what you’re planning, but I have my suspicions. And they’re not good. Come on. I still have Edward’s car.’
85
Surprising Archie
Archie’s house was a white stucco affair in a smart crescent overlooking Regent’s Park. Vita stood on the steps, watching Percy drive away, pulling the collar of her fur coat tightly around her neck and wondering if anyone had heard the bell-pull. This had seemed such a good idea back in Percy’s studio, but now that she was here – wearing only her new underwear, heels and the fur coat – Vita felt her nerve deserting her. It had been such a daring idea. Something she couldn’t wait to tell Nancy about, but now she felt ridiculous. She ran her tongue over her teeth, hoping the bright-red lipstick she was wearing hadn’t left any kind of mark.
What if Archie wasn’t home? Or, worse, what if Archie was the kind of man who didn’t take too kindly to surprises? Maybe she should go and find Percy, who had said he was going to take a much-needed evening stroll in the park for quarter of an hour. She was about to turn away when she heard footsteps and the door opened.
A butler stood in the light, on a polished chequered marble floor. His grey hair was oiled back from his wrinkled forehead.
‘Good evening. May I help you?’ he asked.
‘I wondered . . . I mean, is Mr Fenwick in?’ Vita said, determined to front this out. She flashed her most friendly smile.
The butler remained unresponsive. ‘He’s expecting you?’
‘No. This is an impromptu call.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Fenwick is occupied at the moment.’
‘May I wait to see him?’ she asked, jogging her knee beneath the coat, the chill of the night air reaching the top of her stockings. She almost turned on her heel and ran, but then she thought: what would Nancy do?
Vita seized her moment. She was damned if she was going to come this far to be stopped now. She took two steps up towards the butler, who drew back, alarmed.
‘He will thank you, I promise. My name is Miss Casey. Perhaps you’d be good enough to tell him I’m here.’
The butler relented, opening the door.
The hallway was dominated by a large staircase that wound down towards the marble floor, but there was so much space, it would make the most fabulous venue for a party.
The butler reluctantly showed her through an ornate door on the right into a library. A large fireplace dominated the far wall. The mantelpiece was filled with pictures, and Vita went over to examine them, once the butler had left her alone. There were pictures of Archie and his mother, and a large black-and-white photograph of a stern-looking man in military uniform.
She turned round, surveying the rest of the room. There were two floor-to-ceiling bookcases crammed with books, both modern and old. She thought of her father’s study, and of the last time she’d been in it and had stolen his money. She walked over to the desk and sat in the swivel chair, running her hand over the green leather top of the desk. It felt thrilling to be in Archie’s private space. Was this where he wrote his novel? she wondered.
Suddenly the door opened and she jumped up.
Archie was formally dressed, the bow tie at his neck looking as if it might choke him.
‘Vita! What are you doing here?’
‘Surprising you,’ she said, holding on to the front of the coat. She glanced over his shoulder at the library door. ‘Is your butler still there?’
‘No.’
‘We’re alone?’
He looked flustered. ‘Well, yes. For a minute, but, you see, I’m right in the middle of—’
She ran across the room and kissed him hard on the lips.
‘Thank you,’ she said, pulling back. ‘For my coat.’
He grinned bashfully. She loved catching him off-guard like this.
‘It looks good on you.’
‘But better off,’ she said, opening her coat to reveal her underwear.
‘Oh . . .’ he said. ‘Oh, my goodness.’
‘You like it?’ Vita asked, walking towards him. His eyes were wide, glued to her body. ‘You said you wanted to see me in my underwear,’ she teased.
He reached out for her then, pulling her towards him. She felt his hand around her breast and a deep moan escaped his lips. She felt herself responding as he kissed her hard and deep. Then, after a long moment, he gasped, pushing her away. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, to smear away her lipstick. ‘We can’t.’
His cheeks were pink as he plunged his hands into his pockets.
‘It’s not that I want you to go. Not when you look . . . well, when you look like that. You look incredible.’ He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Jeepers!’
Vita looked down. ‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘I do.’
‘That’s why I’m here. Because, you see, I made it.’
‘What?’
‘I made it. Well, Percy helped me – but this is it. The brassiere I designed by myself. The one I’m presenting to W&T.’
‘Seriously?’ Archie looked genuinely shocked. ‘I thought you’d been to a fancy boutique.’
‘I told you: I want to be a designer. I’m setting up a proper business. Selling these.’
‘Goodness.’
‘And that’s where you come in.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You could help me, couldn’t you?’
He looked as if he’d been put on the spot. ‘Well, I don’t know . . .’
‘But you said yourself you were looking for business opportunities.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘If I had a proper plan,’ she clarified, ‘of how I saw the business growing, would you consider it?’
But Archie was prevented from answering, because at that moment the door swung open.
A tall woman in an old-fashioned black dress with a high lace collar stood in the doorway. She looked at Archie and then her stern gaze fixed on Vita, who hastily drew her coat shut, but not before the woman had seen how little she was wearing underneath it.
‘I didn’t realize you had a guest,’ she said to Archie, her look conveying the level of disapproval that she clearly felt.
Vita felt sick.
‘Mother,’ Archie said, bowing his head. Vita could see his cheeks pulsing. So this was Mrs Fenwick? ‘This is . . .’
‘I’m Verity. Verity Casey,’ Vita said, proffering her free hand, while the other one kept a grip on the coat. Mrs Fenwick stayed rooted in the doorway and Vita let her hand drop. Her gaze was still on Archie. ‘My friends call me Vita.’
‘Oh? Would your . . . friend . . . like to join us,’ his mother asked, ‘rather than hiding away in here?’ Her words were friendly enough, but there was a steely edge to her voice that made their meaning perfectly clear.
‘I’m just leaving,’ Vita said, looking at Archie and then back at his mother. The skin around his eyes was drawn tight. Even if his mother intended to honour her invitation, there was no way Vita could possibly stay, when she didn’t have anything on underneath her coat.
‘We were discussing a business matter, Mother,’ he said as an explanation.
&nb
sp; Archie’s mother drew herself up, her lips a thin line, and Archie blushed even more deeply. For a second Vita was confused, then she blushed too, astounded by what Mrs Fenwick had obviously inferred from his comment.
‘An investment,’ Vita explained, widening her eyes at Archie and trying to salvage some dignity. ‘In a business. High-end. You could say . . . the future. For women,’ she spelled out. ‘Your son has been offered the business opportunity first, but if he doesn’t grab it, there’ll be other investors soon.’
‘I’m sure,’ Mrs Fenwick said, finally looking at Vita. ‘But, you see, Archie is in the middle of entertaining, so such opportunities will have to wait until business hours. Archie? The others are waiting.’
Vita didn’t look at him, quickly following Mrs Fenwick instead, as she left the room.
‘Vita?’ Archie whispered, catching her arm.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here,’ she said. She’d been so caught up in getting Archie to see her in her underwear that she hadn’t considered he might be busy. Or that she might have had to meet his formidable mother.
‘Can I see you? Tomorrow?’ he said.
‘The girls and I are going to join the protest in Trafalgar Square.’
‘Then I’ll meet you on the steps of the National Gallery.’
She nodded, but now the door opposite was open and Vita saw beyond it to the dining room, laid up with a full dinner service. A silver platter with a large joint of pork steamed in the middle, and the waft of delicious food reached her.
Two women rose to their feet, one older, the other younger, but dowdy-looking, her dark hair piled into an elaborate bun. They looked at Vita curiously, and then at Archie behind her.
‘Goodbye, Miss Casey,’ Mrs Fenwick said, holding open the front door.
86
At the Club
His father came to London so rarely, it hadn’t occurred to Clement that he might still keep up his club membership, but it had only taken a couple of calls and Clement had been welcomed into the gentlemen’s club and given a tiny single room in the attic for the duration of his stay in the capital.
He leant back on the green wing-backed chair in the club’s breakfast room, going over what Rawlings had told him, eating the remains of his marmalade on toast. He liked the ambience of the bright room, and the men who gathered here. Over the past few days he had enjoyed some rather stimulating conversations regarding the strike, and the suffragettes. It comforted him that he’d found a place where he was amongst like-minded fellows.