by Joanna Rees
He ran his hand over his hair.
‘You remember Nancy,’ Vita said, not meeting Nancy’s eye. ‘She helped get the order. Oh, Archie, you should have seen their faces.’
‘You should have,’ Nancy confirmed. ‘We’re having a celebration later, after the show. You’ll stay, won’t you?’
‘Maybe; it’s just that I can’t stay for the show. I have some things to do first. That’s what I came to say.’
‘Surely they can wait. We need to celebrate. Please don’t go.’
‘Come on – out, out,’ Wisey said, bustling into the changing room. ‘No gentlemen out the back. You know the rules.’
Archie tipped his hat to the girls, who blew him kisses. At the door he turned round and looked at Vita. For a moment he held her eyes, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
‘I love you, Vita,’ he whispered. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘Come on, break it up,’ Edith called, watching them. ‘In case you’d forgotten, we have a show to put on.’
‘I’ll see you afterwards,’ Vita said.
He turned and headed back down the corridor to the stage door.
‘Is he always that serious?’ Jane asked.
‘Come on, stop gossiping and get ready,’ Edith said.
‘And you’ll have to make the most of me, darlings,’ Nancy said. ‘This will be one of my last.’
100
Clifford Court
In the cramped bathroom of the hotel suite in Clifford Court, Clement pressed himself into the shower stall, his skin crawling with revulsion when he thought of the kind of activities that must go on in this very room.
As it was, he could hardly bear to be in the same space as the chap Rawlings had found. He pressed himself against the wall, trying to distance himself from the young man, who was dressed in a flimsy silk robe, the tattoo on his neck visible above the collar. Rawlings had termed him a rent boy and had picked him up in an insalubrious part of town. How old was he? Clement wondered. Probably no more than twenty, but his eyes were old and knowing as he glanced at Clement now.
Rawlings seemed to be handling the situation well, talking calmly to the young man, but now Rawlings held his fingers up to his lips for them all to be quiet.
Clement heard the door to the hotel suite opening.
‘Woody? Are you here?’
It was Percival Blake.
Clement listened intently, wondering if Blake was reading the note on the bed. It was typewritten: Get in and get comfortable.
He heard a low chuckle. ‘I’m not sure why you’re being so mysterious,’ Blake called out. ‘If you’re even in there. But, yes, I’ve missed you, too.’
Clement cringed, hating the affection in Blake’s voice. He gave him a few more minutes.
‘All right. You can come out now,’ he heard.
Clement nodded to the young man, who opened the bathroom door. Rawlings went next with the camera, catching the moment. Hopefully he got the perfect shot of the naked young man walking towards an equally naked Percival Blake in the bed.
‘What are you doing? What is this?’ Blake cried. ‘Where’s Edward?’
Clement came out of the bathroom as Percival Blake clutched the covers to him. Rawlings kept on taking pictures as Blake held out his hand in front of his face.
‘Stop it. Stop!’ he shouted.
Rawlings nodded to the young man, who went back into the bathroom wordlessly to get dressed.
‘We want some information about Anna Darton,’ Clement said, approaching Blake in the bed.
‘It’s you. You . . .’ Percy let out a cry, recognizing his voice. He scrambled against the green headboard with the covers clutched to his chest.
Clement leant in and threw the copy of Vanity Fair on the bed, with the picture of Anna and the Prince of Wales circled. ‘Her – that’s Anna. Tell me where she is.’
Blake’s eyes widened in recognition. He looked pathetic now as he shook his head. ‘I don’t know her. I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘God damn it, man. Tell me what you know. I need to find her.’ Clement clasped his hand around Blake’s throat, but still the man shook his head.
‘I don’t know anything,’ he said.
Rawlings put his arm on Clement’s, and Clement let go.
‘Mr Blake. Think about this. We have evidence of you meeting a young man to commit a sexual act.’
‘I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
‘Do you know what will happen, if we have you arrested?’ Rawlings continued. Clement saw Blake’s eyes well up with tears. ‘And to your friend, Sopel, too.’
‘Edward?’
‘Yes. He was the one who set this up for us.’
Clement watched the shock register on Blake’s face.
‘We only want to know where she is.’
‘I don’t know,’ he said in a whisper.
‘You do.’
Percival Blake shook his head vehemently. ‘You can beat me again, if you have to. But I’m not telling you anything. Do you hear me?’
Clement looked at Rawlings.
‘Very well,’ Clement said. He nodded to Rawlings, who picked up the telephone next to the bed. ‘Operator, can I have Paddington three-o-five?’
Clement raised his eyebrows at Blake. There was still time for him to give up what he knew about Anna, but Clement saw a stubborn defiance in his eyes.
‘Inspector. I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s an incident at Clifford Court. A gross act of homosexual indecency. I suggest you get one of your officers here to make an arrest. Yes, sir. The man in question is Mr Percival Blake.’
101
Make It Real
After the show Vita felt the exhaustion of the past few days and the excitement of today hit her. It felt overwhelming that she’d made such a big commitment to W&T, and she didn’t feel right celebrating without Percy.
As she wiped off her make-up, she had to smother a smile. They’d really done it. They’d really got an order from a department store. She wanted to patter her feet in jubilation. And Percy! He was going to be thrilled.
And Archie would be, too. She thought of him earlier and how he’d told her he loved her. Why had she ever been worried? she wondered. Everything was perfect.
She hurried out to the front of the club to find him.
‘He’ll turn up soon enough,’ Nancy announced as they stood by the bar. Matteo gave them a bottle of champagne, but Nancy insisted on shots, too. She was clearly intent on getting smashed.
‘Only two more shows and that’s it. I’m off on the train to Paris from Charing Cross right after the show on Saturday,’ she told everyone. ‘I’ve still got a spare ticket, if any of you want to come, too?’ Nancy pulled a blank face at Vita. She was still annoyed that Vita wasn’t going. And now, as Nancy gushed on about how fabulous Paris was going to be, Vita couldn’t help feeling offended. How could Nancy leave, without so much as a backward glance? Wouldn’t she miss them all? Miss her?
‘I’ve a good mind to go with you,’ Edith confided.
‘You would?’
‘He’s never going to commit,’ Edith said, flashing her eyes over in the direction of Jack Connelly. ‘And who knows what will happen to this place. It’s a miracle it’s still open.’
Vita remembered now when she’d first come here with Nancy for the audition and there’d been a fracas at the back.
‘You think it might close?’
‘I know it will. It’s only a matter of time. I’ve seen the books. And I know he’s cooked them. It’s simply a case of when he’s found out. You know, Vita, I wish men weren’t so damned dishonest.’
Vita stared at Edith, amazed by this confession.
‘Oh, don’t look like that. I don’t need your pity. Besides, you’ll be all right,’ Edith said. ‘You and Percy have your business. You can do that. I just want . . .’ She sighed heavily. ‘I want a fresh start, you know?’
As the hour after
the show ticked by, a sense of uneasiness crept over Vita. Percy and Archie should be here to celebrate with them, yet there was no sign of either of them. She kept looking around the smoky club, seeing how much it had filled up and willing Archie to walk through the door. She remembered his earlier declaration of love, but now she also remembered how sad he’d seemed.
But as soon as she was dancing in his arms, everything would be perfect, she told herself. In the meantime, she set about dancing with the girls, savouring every moment they still had together, until Nancy grabbed her.
‘You remember Marcus, don’t you?’ Nancy shouted, pulling Vita off the dance floor.
Vita felt her skin bristling as the journalist turned his attention towards her, looking her up and down.
‘So you’re not just a dancer, I hear,’ Fox said.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Vita asked.
‘A new business?’
Vita felt annoyed. She didn’t want Marcus Fox to hear about Top Drawer. Not yet. Not until she was ready. But it seemed the cat was already out of the bag. How could Nancy be so indiscreet?
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Allow me to do you a favour. A mention of your new enterprise in my column will boost sales no end.’
There was something about him that made the hairs on the back of Vita’s neck stand up, and the way he’d said ‘enterprise’ was so condescending.
‘Here she is,’ Nancy said and, to Vita’s horror, she saw that Nancy had brought over a photographer to where she was standing.
‘Oh, please,’ Vita said, holding up her hands. ‘Don’t. I don’t want a picture.’
‘Don’t be silly, Vita,’ Nancy said. ‘Marcus can’t do his feature without your picture. You have to sell yourself,’ she said, giggling as if she’d been very clever. ‘Marcus said the newspaper wants more stories about modern young women like you.’
‘But I don’t want a photograph.’
‘Oh, take no notice,’ Nancy confided to the photographer. ‘She’s been photographed with the Prince of Wales.’
Vita winced as the photographer’s bulb popped unexpectedly in her face. Nancy frowned, then fussed around, fluffing up Vita’s hair.
‘Come on, old girl. Don’t be a sourpuss. You’re going to have to get used to it, if you’re going to be successful,’ Nancy went, before turning and smiling at the camera like a Hollywood starlet. ‘Take another one. Vita, smile this time.’
But as she tried to smile, Vita felt terrified. She knew Nancy was only attempting to help, but she wished she hadn’t interfered. Whatever was Marcus Fox going to print in his column now? And with her picture, too?
It was one thing to have been in that picture with the Prince of Wales, where nobody would have been able to recognize her, but this was altogether different. It might not seem so to Nancy, but then Nancy didn’t know how much Vita wanted her face to stay out of the press.
Fox looked at his watch. ‘Just in the nick of time for tomorrow’s edition,’ he said, smiling and beckoning the photographer to go with him. ‘Goodbye, Miss Casey.’
There was something far too final about the way he said it. Vita scowled as she saw the salacious look on his face, but she was distracted by Nancy, who had seen someone she knew.
‘Oh, look, she’s here,’ Nancy said, holding her hand up to wave.
Vita saw a familiar-looking woman come down the steps from the street entrance into the club, and Nancy darting through the crowd to greet her.
‘That’s Nancy’s new friend,’ Jane told Vita. ‘We met her at Nancy’s party. Betsy and I don’t like her.’
‘It’s Georgie,’ Vita said, moving towards where Nancy was now embracing Archie’s friend. How did Georgie know Nancy?
‘Oh, look – it’s you,’ Georgie said, clapping her hands together when she saw Vita.
Vita accepted her kiss on the cheek. She looked at Nancy for an explanation, but her friend looked away. How were Georgie and Nancy suddenly friends?
‘Where’s Douglas?’ Nancy asked.
‘Oh, he’ll be along in a while,’ Georgie said. ‘He had a beastly hangover after going to the club on Saturday night. It was quite a do, I gather. And the poor chap has had to work all week, with everyone on strike. Tough luck, I say. He has to save up for the right ring.’
She jangled her finger in front of Vita’s face.
‘You’re engaged?’ Vita asked. Had this Douglas – her fiancé, by the sound of it – been at the same party at the club as Archie on Saturday night? Perhaps it had been Douglas’s engagement send-off? Odd that Archie hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Let’s just say it’s imminent.’ Georgie exchanged a look with Nancy, who raised her eyebrows, her red lips suppressing a smile. Vita knew that look well. They had a secret, she was sure of it.
Georgie discarded her coat and looked around as she made her way to the bar with Vita and Nancy. Her diamond headband looked far too glamorous for the Zip.
‘So, little birds have been chattering,’ Georgie said excitedly to Vita, linking her arm through hers.
Chattering about what? Vita wanted to know. She looked across at Nancy, who deliberately didn’t meet her eye again. Had she told Georgie about Archie? About the fact that they’d spent the night together?
‘You know, poor Clarissa is in quite a flap,’ Georgie said, leaning her head in towards Vita.
‘About what?’
‘Why, about Archie taking you to Hartwell of course,’ she said.
Her words were gossipy and light, but her eyes were steady and cold as she delivered them.
Vita felt them plummet into the depths of her belly and, with them, a terrible sense of foreboding. Had Clarissa Fenwick already found out? And if she had, what did it mean? She hated that Georgie was delivering this information. She hated that she and Archie had been gossiped about like this. She felt tainted, as if it were written large above her in lit-up letters that she and Archie were lovers, when what they had shared had been so private and magical.
She forced herself to be bold – and not show how she was churning with emotion. ‘Oh?’ she said as nonchalantly as possible, as they reached the bar and Georgie accepted a glass of champagne from Nancy.
Meanwhile her mind was racing. If Georgie and Mrs Fenwick knew, then did that mean Archie had made his feelings for Vita public? Had he told his mother they were in love? Because if he had, that meant that he’d been true to his word. He did love her. He was going to make it possible for them to be together.
‘My dear, it really is quite a scandal,’ Georgie continued cheerfully, almost gleefully, after she’d taken a slug of champagne, as if this had been Vita’s intention all along.
She grew more suspicious now of Georgie’s tone. What exactly did she mean by a ‘scandal’? Was Archie in trouble?
Georgie looked down at Vita. ‘So? Tell all?’
Vita was damned if she was going to give her anything. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she lied. She didn’t look at Nancy, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She knew, without a doubt, that Nancy had told Georgie everything. She’d always been a gossip, but Vita had never guessed she’d betray her like this. ‘I hear you went to Nancy’s party?’ she said, changing the subject.
‘Oh, yes. You missed an absolute blinder, Vita.’
‘So I heard,’ she said coldly.
‘And did Nancy tell you?’ Georgie continued.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Mother is redecorating, so we’re all moving out for a while. And guess where I’m moving?’ Georgie said.
‘Into my flat,’ Nancy answered. ‘Oh, now you’re here, come and dance,’ she said to Georgie, pulling her away to the dance floor.
‘Oh, I wish I’d been to your Zip Club before. Isn’t it fun!’ Georgie trilled.
Vita shook on the spot where she was, loathing Nancy for being so duplicitous and hating herself for the wave of jealous indignation that she felt. The second she’d turned her back and gone to Hartwell, Nancy had replaced her
with Georgie. And now she was making it perfectly clear where her affections lay.
Well, good riddance to her. Vita was glad now that Nancy was going to Paris. Who needed a friend who wilfully shared secrets, as she so obviously had?
She wanted to cry with fury – and with fear, too. What was happening? What exactly was the fallout from the scandal that Georgie was so pleased about? She had to find out. She had to see Archie right now. Nothing else mattered.
102
Archie Is Not at Home
Out on the street, Vita wrapped her fur coat around and managed to get one of the few cabs on the Strand. She sat in the back, willing the journey to be faster, as she made her way to Regent’s Park. She looked out of the window, thinking about Georgie and Nancy at the Zip Club right now. Would they be gossiping about her? Would they even have noticed that she’d gone?
Her mind was whirring as the cab arrived in Regent’s Park and she asked the driver to slow down, peering up at the houses until she found the right one. Telling the driver to wait outside, she ran up the steps to Archie’s house. There were only a few lights on as she rang the bell. She’d been so sure Archie would be here, it was only now that the possibility that he might not be actually hit her.
It took an age, but eventually she heard movement on the other side of the door and Jenkins opened it slowly.
‘Is Mr Fenwick at home?’ she asked hurriedly, annoyed at the slow butler and his disdainful manner.
‘I’m afraid not, madam.’
‘Who is it, Jenkins?’
It was Mrs Fenwick. She brushed past him and looked down at Vita. Then she looked up the street and beckoned her inside.
At first Vita thought that she was being graciously accepted into Archie’s home. But then, as Clarissa Fenwick closed the door, she realized how mistaken she’d been. There was nothing gracious about the look on Archie’s mother’s stern face.
The butler shuffled away and then they were left alone in the dimly lit hallway. A clock ticked loudly on the wooden side-table next to them. Vita was not invited into the drawing room or the study.
It was now that she remembered Archie’s warning – about how most people were frightened of his mother. She’d laughed it off, but now she felt scared.