Louisa fixed this conversation to memory as she listened: it would be noted down as soon as she could discreetly do so. What would Diana arrange for this German, so interested in British fascism?
‘I was not, but perhaps, Frau Guinness, I will make some plans in due course.’
Unity was less able to hide her glee at this than her elder sister.
‘Not all your fellow countrymen are this sympathetic. Must you be careful to whom you discuss this matter?’ Wolfgang asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Diana airily. ‘It depends on the circles you move in. All our friends are anti-Bolshie. Fascism is the only real choice to make if you have half a brain.’ She stopped, as if tired of the subject. ‘Now, we had better push on. There are shops we must go to and I would like to catch up with Mrs Fowler.’
Louisa thought she detected a small reaction from Wolfgang to Mrs Fowler’s name but couldn’t be certain if it was good or bad.
‘Absolutely. I have had more than my fair share of your delightful company. Perhaps we might meet tonight? There are cocktails, I believe, being served in the Blue Bar for the first-class guests.’
‘Yes, we’ll be there,’ said Diana. She signalled to her mother, and to Louisa, and the four of them left the cool of the museum and entered the blazing midday heat and bustle of the market streets.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The port town of Livorno was mostly clustered on a hillside, and it was a weary Lady Redesdale who dragged behind her daughters and Louisa after two hours of their darting in and out of various shops that sold things designed to please tourists, and no one else. It didn’t help that she had to also constantly navigate between Diana, who had the money to buy whatever she pleased, and Unity, who had no more than pocket money. Louisa had no lira in her possession yet couldn’t help but admire the linen and lace, the painted plates, the traditional dresses made miniature for babies, the porcelain trinkets and the postcards of donkeys. Diana picked up toys for her young sons, Jonathan and Desmond; Lady Redesdale bought a linen tablecloth; while Unity dithered over a carved wooden sheep – ‘for Decca, it’s just like her pet lamb, Miranda’ – and a set of Bakelite napkin rings for Nancy, ‘to tease Muv with’. Lady Redesdale’s resistance to napkins was legendary, having begun as nothing more than an economic measure with the laundry when she had lived in London as a new bride.
Eventually, even Diana could not ignore the pale look that had come over her mother and suggested they stop at a café in the square, to sit in the shade and drink fresh lemonade.
‘You’ve never had anything this delicious,’ Diana insisted, when her mother tried to protest that she wanted to return to the ship. They sat down at a table, their shoes dusty from the arid pavements, their paper bags of shopping bundled on another chair, and ordered the limonata. It arrived in a tall glass jug and Louisa drank it gratefully, the sour tang and the sugary drops crystallising on her lips.
As she was putting her glass back down on the table she happened to glance at a shop doorway that was almost out of her sightline, on a side street that led off the square. She couldn’t see what the shop was beneath its smart black awning, but it wasn’t that which had drawn her attention. It was Mrs Fowler, looking far happier than when she had left them earlier in the restaurant; she looked almost giddy, in fact, having exited the shop with quick steps and turning around as if she was dancing a waltz. Louisa then saw the steward from the party – Jim, wasn’t it? – emerge from the same shop, carrying several large bags and packages. He seemed more hesitant, looking about him. Nor was he wearing the civvies Louisa might have expected, the sort of thing that Guy might wear by the coast in the summer, but a cream suit that was spanking new, shiny brown leather brogues and a panama hat that sat, it had to be said, at a jaunty angle to set off his good-looking face.
Unity spotted them too and called out, ‘Mrs Fowler!’
Ella looked around and when she saw their party she blushed a deep red that was obvious even in the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat.
Diana waved her arm to them. ‘Come and join us.’
Lady Redesdale leaned towards her older daughter. ‘Are you sure that’s suitable?’
‘Don’t be stuffy, Muv,’ said Diana. ‘Louisa, would you fetch another chair?’
Louisa got up and picked up a nearby chair, but as she carried it over, Ella had almost reached them and put out a hand to Louisa, indicating that she should put it back down.
‘I’m sorry to do this again, but I can’t stay.’
Jim waited at the corner of the side street and the square, looking uncomfortable with the unwieldy parcels.
Diana looked over at him, then at Ella. ‘I say, what are you up to?’
Ella gave a shake of her head. ‘Nothing at all. Joseph needed some new clothes and, as he was busy with his meeting, I asked the cabin boy to help me out.’
‘It looks as if he’s wearing the new threads.’ Diana was laughing.
Lady Redesdale hid her disapproval behind a large gulp of lemonade.
‘Oh, well, they’re the same sort of measurements, you see, so I asked him to try the things on. You know how it is in these foreign shops, you can’t rely on them to give you the right size.’
Louisa had only met Joseph Fowler briefly, but she was fairly certain he was a good few inches taller than Jim.
‘I see,’ said Diana, but she arched her back as she regarded Ella.
‘Anyway, we had better get back to the ship. Jim is on duty soon and I had better not get him in trouble with the first officer. You know how it is.’
‘Not really,’ said Diana, a smile still teasing around her mouth.
‘Don’t mention it to Joseph, will you?’ Ella said, looking at each one of them. ‘It’s a surprise. It’s his birthday soon.’
‘When is his birthday?’ asked Unity.
‘What?’
‘When is his birthday?’ she repeated, cow-like eyes looking up at Ella.
‘Soon,’ said Ella firmly. ‘Now, I must be off. So sorry to miss you again. I’ll see you on the ship later?’
‘Naturally,’ said Diana. They watched Mrs Fowler walk away, Jim scuttling after her down the side street. ‘What do you think that was all about?’ she mused when they had disappeared.
‘I’d prefer that you didn’t discuss it in front of your sister,’ said Lady Redesdale.
‘Muv, I’m almost nineteen years old.’
‘You are not married.’
‘Diana was married at my age,’ Unity fired back. Louisa almost expected her to perform her old childhood trick of disappearing under the table when the conversation went the way she didn’t like.
‘Yes, well.’
Diana sat up at this. ‘“Look at how that turned out” – is that what you meant to say?’
Her mother said nothing to this but placed her hands carefully on her lap.
Louisa looked at her watch. ‘It’s time we got back to the ship, too, if you would like time to bathe and change for dinner.’ Trying to resolve the bickering between Lady Redesdale and her daughters was the least enjoyable aspect of her work, and usually the least successful. Predictably, Louisa’s comment simply turned the antipathy in her direction.
‘I will decide when we return to the ship,’ snapped Diana, but her mother interceded gratefully.
‘I think it would be better for all of us if we retired from this heat,’ said Lady Redesdale, standing as she spoke. ‘Louisa, come with me, if you would. Unity, you too.’ No mention of Diana. The message could not have been clearer if she had written it on a note and put it in a bottle.
As it turned out, Lady Redesdale had been struggling more than they had realised. When they returned to the cabin, she complained of a violent headache that soon turned to a migraine. It was decided that she would spend the evening lying on her bed in the dark and silence, while Louisa would chaperone Unity to the cocktail party that was being held in the Blue Bar that evening. Louisa had brought one suitable dress, cut close to
her slim figure and made of dark orange velvet. It was made by neither seamstress nor couture but bought from the ready-to-wear department at Selfridges. Guy had told her she was the most beautiful woman in the room when she wore it. She held onto that memory when neither Unity nor Diana commented on it but continued to fuss over their own dresses and jewellery, complaining that it was ‘frightfully difficult’ to maintain standards on the ship and make one’s dress look different on three separate occasions. At last they were satisfied and at seven o’clock they all made their way to the party.
As usual, there were around sixty people in the room, dressed in black tie and sipping dry martinis.
‘The same dreary bunch every time,’ complained Diana as they walked in. ‘I’ve remembered why I don’t like cruises.’
‘Why come on this one, then?’ said Unity.
‘Because I’ve got to keep away from the Leader while the divorce goes through, idiot.’
She must have read the letter from him by now. It didn’t seem as if he’d said anything in it to improve her mood. Would it be in the bedside drawer, tied up with the others? Had Diana noticed the missing letter? Louisa hadn’t yet found an opportunity to return it. Every time she thought about the letters she had the same lurching sensation as she did when looking down from a great height.
Diana had gone quiet, and Louisa couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She didn’t like Mosley, nor the fact of Diana’s leaving Bryan, who she thought was a good and decent man, and it was all the more puzzling when Mosley’s reputation as a philanderer was ironclad.
Nancy had told Louisa that one night he had confessed to his wife all his affairs during their marriage. ‘Thirty infidelities in twelve years, and those were the ones he admitted to,’ she had told Louisa in her urgent whisper, reserved for the best gossip. ‘And Cimmie apparently said, on hearing this long list of names, “But they’re all my friends.” No wonder she died soon after.’
At any rate, Louisa thought, the likelihood of his having completely changed his ways was minimal. Perhaps the letter had made Diana question the wisdom of giving up so much for Mosley.
Louisa looked around the room. After only a few days, the faces were already familiar. Ella Fowler was talking to the man her husband had been having lunch with earlier, Sir Clive. He was leaning in towards her and his manner seemed flirtatious, but Ella was an attractive woman – he could hardly be blamed. Her husband, Joseph, was sitting down – the only person in the room who was – holding a full tumbler of whisky. She hoped it had been mixed with soda water or he’d be drunk by the time he got to the bottom of the glass. But the surprise was when she saw Wolfgang von Bohlen, standing beside his companion, Herr Müller. Unity saw them at the same time and gave an audible gasp.
‘Louisa, do look. He’s in uniform. Have you ever seen a more handsome man?’
Indeed, it was a uniform. Black, with knee-high leather boots over his trousers, a belt, a leather strap that crossed over his torso and a striking red and white armband with a symbol on it.
Unity had followed Louisa’s eyes. ‘It’s a swastika,’ she said, ‘the emblem of the Nazi Party. It’s funny because I was conceived in Swastika.’
‘What?’
Unity smiled. ‘It’s a place in Canada. Where Muv and Farve went prospecting for gold. They didn’t get any, of course.’
‘Hmm,’ said Louisa. Something about it unsettled her. Perhaps it was no more than Unity’s reaction to Wolfgang in his uniform, a combination of naivety and sexual ardour that sat uncomfortably side by side.
A waiter came up holding a tray of martinis. Unity took one and Louisa, swept along, took one too.
‘I see,’ said Unity, ‘you’ve come out to play.’
Louisa looked at her glass, as if surprised to see it in her hand. ‘Just the one.’
‘That’s what they all say.’
Diana had left them and gone over to talk to Ella.
‘Let’s go and join them,’ said Unity. ‘I ache to talk to Herr von Bohlen, but I’d better wait for him to come to me, don’t you think?’
Louisa had taken her first sip and felt the heady rush of gin. It was not unpleasant.
‘Yes. Better that.’
They walked over, but Louisa stood to the side. It was not her place to join the conversation, and besides, she was not used to such strong drink. She needed to gather herself.
Ella introduced Sir Clive Montague to Unity while Diana grabbed a second martini from a passing tray. Louisa had seen her like this before, when her youthful impetuousness overrode her usual elegance. It didn’t usually lead to much good.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Blue Bar had large glass doors that led directly onto the deck, wide open tonight as it was such a warm evening, even with the ship travelling at speed through the dark sea. Louisa was grateful. It was crowded with guests, and though there was not the same heightened excitement as the first night of the cruise, there was still a lot of loud chatter and cigarette smoke in the air. She positioned herself to catch a breeze that was coming in, while she stood and listened to the conversation between the group before her: Ella, Diana, Unity and Sir Clive Montague. The introductions had been made, but Diana, it was clear, was not going to indulge in the small talk that the guests usually made when they first met.
When Sir Clive asked Diana if she had been on the Princess Alice before, she replied abruptly, ‘No, and I shan’t think I’ll do it again. Three weeks of no plays, no nightclubs and the same people at the same table for every luncheon and dinner.’ Belatedly, she seemed to realise what she had said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude.’
Sir Clive laughed at that, a rumble that came from deep in his chest. ‘The trick when meeting the same people is to draw something different out of them each night. That’s what makes these trips compelling for me.’
‘How do you do that?’ Unity asked with genuine interest.
‘Well, my dear,’ said Sir Clive, who didn’t have a moustache but looked as if he should have one and should be stroking it, ‘you simply ask questions. Ones that people tend not to expect to have to answer.’
‘Why did you ask Diana if she’d been on the ship before, then? Everyone asks that question.’ A fair point from Unity.
Louisa took another small sip of her martini and awaited the answer.
‘One can’t leap into the deep waters of another’s soul. You must take some gentle laps in the shallows first.’
‘You’re gaining their trust, in other words,’ said Diana, who looked piqued in spite of herself.
Ella had been watching them as she finished her half-full glass in a single mouthful. ‘I need another drink,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it time to go into dinner now?’
‘Shortly,’ said Diana, turning back to Sir Clive. ‘Tell me, why are you in the business of diving into the deep waters of people’s souls? It sounds like dangerous work.’
‘I’m an investor,’ he replied congenially. ‘One must always, however, invest in the person, not the business. Businesses come and go, but the people may reward over a lifetime.’
‘Not my husband,’ snapped Ella.
‘Oh?’ Louisa saw Diana scent something juicy. ‘Tell me more.’
Sir Clive demurred. ‘It has been charming to meet you and your sister. I do hope we will encounter each other again. For now, if you will excuse me, I had better go to dinner. I do believe they are about to sound the gong.’
He walked away and Diana raised her eyebrows. ‘I say, Ella, you must tell us what that was all about. It was maximum behaviour.’
Ella gave a sigh. ‘He sank a lot of money into one of Joseph’s projects – some education centre attached to Blenheim Palace, of all places. But the other investors didn’t come through, and it was called off. By the time my husband realised, Clive’s money had already gone, spent on producing the plans, wining and dining councillors and god knows who else. Now he wants it back.’
Listening to this, Louisa suspected Ella had drunk one ma
rtini too many. It was all very indiscreet. Everyone hung on her words.
‘Naturally, Joseph doesn’t have it. He hasn’t got a chance of repaying a penny. It’s no coincidence Clive’s on this ship. It’s how we met him in the first place and he’s been trying to chase down Joseph for months. He must have found out he’d be on here now. Someone’s in his pay, but I don’t know who.’
Louisa knew this wasn’t the story that Iain was after, but she was drawn in nonetheless. Who on the ship was passing information about the Fowlers’ whereabouts to Sir Clive?
‘What will happen if Joseph doesn’t come up with the cash?’ asked Diana.
Ella rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. He’s been asking me to soft-soap him, but I don’t see why I should. I think I’ll divorce Joseph soon.’ She took a step back, a slightly wobbly one, knowing she’d pulled the pin out of a grenade and needed to get out of the way of the explosion.
‘Oh darling, I’m doing that now and it’s ghastly. Are you sure that’s the only way out?’
‘I’ve done it once before.’
Now she had Diana.
‘Have you?’ Diana clicked her fingers and a waiter came over. ‘Two martinis, dry. Quickly.’
Ella gave Diana an impish grin. ‘Joseph is my third husband. I married when I was eighteen, first of all, and went with him to England—’
‘Where did you go from?’ Unity interrupted.
‘British Columbia. I grew up there.’ The drinks arrived and Ella took one. ‘But he was killed in the war. In the meantime, I had joined an ambulance unit that worked behind French lines. I was awarded the Croix de Guerre with Star and Palm for my bravery.’
Diana raised her glass as if to toast the achievement. ‘Go on.’
‘After the war, it was … hard. You were probably too young to remember, but everything felt different and we were all too sad. I married an American – a captain – and we moved to his hometown, but we separated almost as soon as our son was born. We shouldn’t have been together a week; we were never going to last a lifetime.’
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