by Joanna Rees
110
The Getaway
She knew the minutes were precious. Backstage, she ran for the corridor and grabbed Wisey. ‘Don’t let anyone come back here. Do you hear me?’
‘Whatever’s wrong, Vita? You look quite crazed.’
‘I have to get away. I have to get away.’
She raced through the door of the dressing room. Edith was packing up the last of her make-up from the dressing table.
Vita slammed the dressing-room door and pressed herself against it.
‘Fuck,’ she said. ‘Fuck!’
‘Vita!’ Edith exclaimed, watching now as Vita paced towards the dressing table and away, pulling off her feather headband and throwing it to the floor.
‘Oh, Edith,’ Vita said in a shuddery breath. ‘He’s alive.’ A startled sob escaped her. She put her hands to her head. She had to think. ‘Oh God.’
‘Who?’
‘Clement,’ she said in a shuddery breath. ‘My brother. I thought he was dead. I thought I’d killed him, but now he’s found me . . . You don’t understand. I’ve got to get away,’ Vita said, with a sob. ‘I’ve got to run.’
‘Vita, calm down.’
‘I can’t calm down,’ she cried. ‘You don’t understand. You don’t understand what he’s like. What he’s capable of. He’s the one – the one who has hurt Percy.’
‘I heard Percy got arrested.’
‘And it’s my brother’s fault. He’ll do anything to get at me. To destroy me. He threatened me . . . He’ll hurt me, and everyone and everything I care about,’ she said with another sob. She picked up the carpet bag. ‘Poor, sweet Percy. You know, this is all we’ll have left. Our patterns and our plans. This is what Percy and I have worked so hard for. And now I’ve got to get away. Far away,’ she said, grabbing her coat. ‘So if Clement comes in here, please do one thing for me and stall him.’
‘Stall him how?’
‘I don’t know. Any way you can think of.’
‘Where are you going?’ she asked as Vita hurriedly put on her coat.
‘Anywhere. Just as far as I can get. But, Edith, I want you to know that you were right all along.’
‘About what?’
‘About everything. About Archie and how he would use me. I was such a fool. Such a naive little girl when I got here, and you let me stay and for that I will always be grateful.’
Edith blinked, looking shocked.
‘Good luck in Paris, Edith. Say goodbye to Nancy.’
She made for the door, but Edith sprang across it and blocked her path.
‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling you won’t get very far. At least not without these.’
Edith held up her ticket and passport.
Vita met Edith’s cool gaze, her heart pounding as she thought of the lifeline Edith was offering. And Edith meant it. She could see it in the way her eyes were shining.
Vita looked again at the passport and the ticket. The ticket to Paris – another world away. ‘But . . . why? Why would you give me those?’ Her eyes met Edith’s.
‘Because you have something I want in return.’
‘What?’ Vita asked, truly perplexed.
‘That,’ Edith said, jutting out her chin at the carpet bag. ‘I don’t really want to go to Paris. I want a fresh start, that’s all. A way to support myself that doesn’t involve dealing with the likes of Jack Connelly. I was so envious of you at that presentation.’
‘You were?’ Vita couldn’t believe Edith was saying this.
‘Don’t you see? I want what you have: the orders and the patterns. Give me Top Drawer, Vita, and you can have these.’
Vita gasped and then took the ticket. ‘But Nancy . . .’
‘Nancy wanted you to go all along. Not me. She’ll be thrilled you’ve taken my place, believe me.’
Vita wasn’t so sure, not after the way Nancy had been behaving, but there was no time to argue. She leant forward and kissed Edith’s cheek and then, checking the corridor, headed for the stage door and ran.
111
The Blonde
Clement felt his head throbbing with panic as he pounded on the door of the dressing room with his fist.
‘Just a moment.’ He heard a girl’s voice.
‘Sir – please, sir. I don’t allow any gentlemen back here,’ the older woman said, trying to block his way, tugging at his jacket. He turned and shoved her, startling her, and she staggered backwards against the bar along the wall. ‘Well I never,’ she said. ‘In all my—’
‘Where is she?’ Clement shouted, before the door opened and a blonde girl leant against the doorframe, as if she had all the time in the world. She was quite striking, Clement noticed. She was wearing a pink silk gown with lace trim, loosely opened. Despite his fury at losing Anna, he felt something stir within him.
‘Hello. I don’t think we’ve been introduced,’ she said calmly.
‘Have you seen Anna? I mean Verity. Vita?’
‘Vita? Oh yes, she’s around somewhere,’ the blonde said. There was something about her. Something about the way she wasn’t afraid that he found most distracting. He had to force himself to look away from her eyes. She was quite mesmeric. Like a cat.
Remembering himself, Clement pushed past her through the door, but the blonde girl was alone in the dressing room. ‘Where is she?’
‘Oh. I thought she was here. She must have left,’ the girl said with a casual shrug. ‘And you are . . .?’
‘Clement Darton. Her brother.’
‘Her brother? How fascinating. She never mentioned you.’ She barred the door with her arm, now that he tried to get out. ‘She’s naughty. Hiding someone so handsome.’
Clement felt himself blushing. Nobody had described him as handsome before. And the way she was staring at him: boldly, brazenly, but powerfully, too. He thought of all the women he’d taken, but none of them had made him feel like this. She was quite unsettling. And now he was stuck. Normally he would have used force – hit her, maybe – but he couldn’t bring himself to behave as he normally would.
‘You look quite tongue-tied, Mr Darton,’ she said teasingly. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me my name?’
‘Yes . . . I mean, Miss, I really have to go.’
‘It’s Edith. Edith Montgomery,’ she said. ‘You can find me in the directory.’
Clement blushed furiously at her wanton advance, then he remembered himself and why he was here.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, pushing past her. He ran out of the door, knocking aside the older woman to get to the stage door, but it had been locked from the outside. He threw himself against it and it gave slightly, but was blocked by some kind of bar.
‘Damn it,’ he yelled furiously. He should never have let Anna out of his sight.
Back in the club, he stumped across the stage. ‘She’s gone,’ he growled to Rawlings, who was looking around for Anna over by the band.
Rawlings was faster and Clement let him go ahead while he grabbed his coat and, ignoring Mr Connelly who had bought him a cocktail, made it up the stairs and onto the Strand, scanning the pavement left and right.
And then he saw the girl in the fur coat and heels. She was running along the pavement. A man was chasing her. It was Rawlings. He’d almost caught her.
Clement held his breath, watching, but at the last moment Anna jumped off the pavement and ran straight across the road, holding her hand up to a bus. Rawlings barrelled after her.
Clement heard the horn and a loud thud, as the bus made contact with Rawlings. He turned his head away, but not in time to avoid the blood-splatter against the front of the bus, up the windscreen. A woman on the pavement screamed as the bus hit the lamp post.
Clement moved as fast as he could into the road and looked past the bus, to the other side, trying to see his sister.
But she’d gone.
112
Le Train Bleu
Vita walked as calmly as she could down the passageway of the moving train, s
earching for the carriage number on the ticket that Edith had given her. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass, as the train gathered speed out of Charing Cross.
She couldn’t believe how much she’d transformed herself since the last time she’d been on a train. Back then, when she’d been Anna Darton coming to London for the first time, she’d longed for everything about her to be different, but now she felt a pang for that innocent little girl. She’d wanted so much to be flagrantly immoral and now, still in her smudged stage make-up and fur coat, she looked exactly that.
She shuddered at the thought that she’d only just got away. She couldn’t stop picturing the man who’d been chasing her. The sound of the impact of the bus hitting him behind her seemed to resonate deep in her bones. She wondered if the man – undoubtedly connected to Clement – had survived the hit. She doubted it.
She’d always expected to be caught out for what had happened on the day of the hunt, but she hadn’t expected that it would be Clement himself who would track her down. She thought now about how he’d hit Percy’s cane against her knee. How she’d known, with absolute certainty, that he’d do whatever he could to destroy her and anyone she cared about.
Like Percy. Her poor, sweet Percy. She thought of Percy’s black eye. That must have been Clement. Why else would he have Percy’s cane? He must have taken it when he attacked Percy.
She let out a sob when she thought of Percy in the police infirmary. Running away like this wouldn’t help his cause at all, but her need to get away from Clement had been stronger than her desire to help Percy. She hoped Percy would forgive her one day or that she could somehow find a way to help him. She didn’t know how yet, but she would.
She put her hand in her pocket to see if there was a handkerchief to mop her tears, but instead found the envelope Wisey had given her earlier. She’d forgotten all about it.
Taking a big, shuddering breath, she ripped it open. Inside was a piece of paper folded into three. She opened it, her hands shaking. It was then that she saw the pressed daffodil taped to the paper, and another, smaller piece of paper fell out. It fluttered to the floor and she picked it up, seeing that it was a banker’s draft made out to cash. The signature read: ‘A. S. Fenwick’.
Archie.
She pictured his face when she’d given the daffodil to him. Did this mean that, after everything, he still believed in her? In her business?
The business that she’d now given to Edith.
Or was it some kind of guilty pay-off? Consolation money, for treating her like a whore? But somehow she couldn’t find it in her heart to be angry with him.
I think I can safely say that I will always love you, no matter what. His words echoed in her mind. What if Archie really had meant them? What if he still meant them? He’d been manipulated by his family and forced into agreeing to marry a woman he didn’t love, simply because Maud was rich and she could save Hartwell. She resented Archie for being so weak, but she couldn’t hate him. She couldn’t hate him because she loved him, too. Even though she’d lost him now, for good.
She jolted as the door behind her opened. Nancy was standing in the compartment doorway.
‘Oh, my goodness, Vita!’
‘Surprise!’ Vita said sadly.
‘Look at the state of you.’
‘Oh, Nancy.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I had to run.’
‘Run? What are you talking about?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Vita said. Mr Wild yapped and jumped up on the seat. Vita stroked him and he licked her hand. Nancy slid the compartment door shut and they were alone.
She let out a sob. ‘Oh, Nancy. Everything that could go wrong has . . .’
Nancy put her arms round Vita. ‘There, there, kiddo,’ she said. ‘You cry it out. Everything will be just dandy. You’ll see.’
Vita broke then. She cried for Percy, and for herself and for Archie. She cried for the loss of the Zip Club and her friends. And she cried from relief, too, that Clement was alive and that she wasn’t a murderess. And relief too that, once again, by the skin of her teeth she’d got away from him. She was still so angry with Nancy for betraying her, but her arms felt like such a comfort and, as Nancy soothed her, she felt herself calming down.
‘Have you got anything to drink?’ Vita asked eventually, when she’d finally managed to curb her tears. She shook her friend off, annoyed that Nancy had comforted her.
‘Of course. Matteo gave me a farewell bottle of champagne.’
‘That’ll do,’ Vita said, wiping her face. She took a deep, long breath. ‘Although, to be honest, you are really part of the problem. I’m so upset with you.’
‘Oh, don’t be a sourpuss,’ Nancy said, taking the bottle and the champagne glasses out of her bag.
‘There’s nothing to celebrate.’
‘You’re quite wrong. You’re here. That’s enough.’
‘Well, I might not be for long. I’m not sure I’m going to get away with being Edith Montgomery.’ Vita looked at Edith’s picture in her passport, thinking of the logistics of lying once again about her identity.
‘Oh, I’m sure you can pull it off,’ Nancy said. ‘After all, you’re not even called Verity Casey.’
Vita looked up, her heart thudding.
‘What? You knew?’
‘Of course. You told me everything that night in the bath.’
‘Did I?’ She felt her cheeks pulsing as Nancy nodded. She couldn’t have, could she? Vita hardly remembered what had happened after their kiss. Only waking up the next day.
‘You told me everything about . . . what was it? Locking your brother in the stable and running away, before they made you marry someone ghastly?’
‘I told you that?’
‘Oh yes. You were most insistent that you’d killed your brother, but by all accounts, it sounded to me like it was the horse’s fault, not yours. Not that I could persuade you of that. And you may think I’m an incorrigible gossip, but I didn’t tell a soul. I didn’t even let on to you that I knew, when I realized you had a memory blank.’
Nancy had known all along who she was? Vita rubbed her forehead, trying to take it all in. But Nancy couldn’t now claim some kind of moral high ground, after all the trouble she’d caused. ‘But you told Georgie. About us . . . and the bath.’
‘Only to prove that you were up for some fun.’
‘So that you could set me up with Archie?’
‘Oh, Archie, yes. I had to. For my own sanity.’
‘Your sanity?’
‘I had to do something drastic to stop being so in love with you.’ Nancy pushed a strand of hair over Vita’s ear. ‘And don’t worry. It worked. I’m over you,’ she said, with a sigh.
Vita held her breath, suddenly remembering how jealous Nancy had been of Archie and how it all now made sense.
‘Oh, Nancy, I—’
‘Don’t say any more about it. I’m fine.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘I know. But I’m still sorry Archie hurt your feelings. That wasn’t my intention. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun to get you over being so hopelessly naive, before coming to Paris.’
Vita was reeling. ‘Wait! How did you know I would come to Paris with you?’
‘Because you had to. Because it was your destiny. Our destiny.’ She twisted the cork on the champagne bottle.
Vita shook her head. Nancy was crazy. Was this because of her obsession with Mystic Alice?
‘Which is why I told Edith to give you her ticket.’
‘You did?’
‘And for a moment there I didn’t think she would, which would have been awful. You know how much I wanted you to come along.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dear Vita,’ she said, making Vita hold a cut-glass flute and pouring the fizz into it, ‘you are like me. You’re an adventurer. Only, unlike me, you are exceptionally talented.’
‘Talented? What are you talking about?’
‘Top Drawer, of course. The business. Your talent.’
‘But I’ve given it to Edith.’
‘Did you? Damn. That wasn’t part of the plan.’ Nancy bit her lip. ‘You didn’t bring the samples?’
‘No. I gave them to her.’
‘Well, no matter. She won’t do anything with them. She’ll be embroiled with another unsuitable man before she knows it.’
‘Nancy, I don’t understand?’
‘Don’t you see?’
‘See what?’
‘Think of how much you’ve achieved with next to nothing. With your vision, you can make a fantastic success of yourself. With my help, of course. That’s why we need to go to Paris together. Because that’s the home of lingerie. That’s where we’ll make it big.’
‘But I have an order? Had an order,’ Vita said, struggling to take in everything Nancy was saying.
‘A tiny one. Anyway, we can write to Mr Kenton from Paris.’
Despite everything that had happened with Clement and Percy, Vita felt a glimmer of hope. Nancy really meant it. She really believed in her.
‘So,’ Nancy said, ‘what do you say? To us – and to Paris. Let the adventure begin.’
113
Free at Last
Clement walked in through the door to Darton Hall, his stick clicking on the tiles. He hung his hat up on the peg, thinking how exhausted he felt. He’d just come back from the mill, where his father had addressed the workers and laid down the law. There would be no insubordination from now on. It almost felt as if life had got back to normal. Except that, after what had happened in London, it would never be normal again. Not when it all preyed on his mind so much.
Not when his sister had gone. And Rawlings, too. The poor man. Clement had grown fonder of the detective than he liked to admit, but at least his death had meant that he hadn’t had to pay him. But he still wondered if Rawlings had any family. They must have been informed by the police by now.
He placed the blame for Rawlings’s death firmly at his sister’s door and, as the days ticked past after she’d slipped away, Clement’s indignation only grew and grew.