For an hour they spoke little apart from Nell's questions about cars and Paul's explanations and instructions. He was, she decided, immensely patient, and that must be why she was finding it so easy. Gwyneth had confessed that after her solitary and hair-raising drive back to Edgbaston from Timothy's house she never wanted to drive again, but Nell was sure that with Paul as a teacher she would find it quite easy.
Soon afterwards they reached Warwick and parked in the main street. They walked to look at the ancient town gateways, and Nell stared in amazement at the castle, spread out on its cliffside for what seemed like miles along the bank of the river.
'It's huge! Is it bigger than Windsor castle?'
'I doubt it, but I don't really know. It's one of the best-preserved medieval castles in England. Not in the least like Kenilworth, which is little more than a few walls on the top of a hill.'
They returned to the car and set off for Kenilworth, along peaceful country roads filled with the sound of birdsong, where the verges were covered with primroses and other spring flowers. Driving into Kenilworth Nell stared in awe at the ruined sandstone keep, rearing gaunt fingers up to the sky.
'I can imagine an army fighting here,' she said slowly.
'Yes. Now look in front, round this bend.'
Nell glanced at him, but he was smiling to himself. As they rounded the bend they came to a stream which flowed across the road, and she gasped then laughed as he drove straight into it.
'Aren't you afraid of getting stuck?'
'No, it's a shallow enough ford at the moment, though it's in a dip of the road. It can get too high to pass. I used to love driving through as a child. I just wanted to share it with you. Now we're going to visit my mother for lunch. She lives in a house just off the High street.'
'Your mother?' Nell was suddenly apprehensive. 'Is she expecting us – me?'
'Yes, I telephoned her this morning. I often drive out to see her on Sundays. She moved here after my father died, saying she no longer wanted a big house to run, and I suspect to leave me on my own. She wouldn't have wanted to feel her presence restricted my life in any way, and when – if – I'd married, she would have gone anyway.'
Nell was quiet as he found his way through narrow lanes and eventually drew up outside a small, but elegant Georgian house. She wondered apprehensively what Mrs Mandeville would say when she realised that her son expected her to entertain a girl from Ladywood, and to make it even worse, a stage dancer. The only time she'd seen his mother had been after that first performance at Endersby's, and she'd had the impression then the older woman had disapproved of them, not quite liking the fact that Paul had danced with her.
Mrs Mandeville was affable, however, kissing Paul and greeting Nell with a bright smile, and leading them right through the house to sit in a sunny conservatory which had been added to it half a century before.
'Although it's May now it's too cold to sit outside, but we can have sherry in comfort, in the sunshine. I spend every sunny morning here, it does my old bones good to feel the heat. Tell, me, how is Kitty? Has she tired of this stage dancing yet?'
Nell gradually relaxed. A pretty maid served them with lunch, and afterwards they sat in a delightfully feminine drawing room where the walls were covered in decorative tapestries and water colour landscapes.
'You can see how I spend my time, my dear,' Mrs Mandeville said, gesturing to the paintings. 'I paint in the summer, and work at the tapestries in the winter.'
'They are lovely,' Nell said. 'May I look more closely?'
'Of course. Does your mother have similar hobbies?'
Nell was thankful she had risen to her feet and had her back to Mrs Mandeville. She hadn't meant to be cruel. She couldn't know where Nell came from, or that her mother hadn't time or money for the decencies of life, let alone hobbies of the sort Mrs Mandeville and her class took for granted.
'Mrs Baxter has a large family, she is very busy,' Paul said smoothly, and Nell flashed him a glance of gratitude. It wasn't a lie, but she shrank from having to explain her circumstances to this elegant woman. Mrs Mandeville, she surmised, was a good fifteen to twenty years older than her own mother, yet she looked much younger. That was what poverty and excessive childbearing did to women.
It wasn't, Nell told herself, that she was ashamed of Ma. Then she paused. Wasn't she? Hadn't she often wished her mother would be more assertive, stand up to Pa, especially when he beat the children? Was that a form of shame? And she would hate it if Mrs Mandeville were to go into her old home. She was becoming a snob. That was what living with Kitty, meeting her wealthy friends, mixing with men like Paul and Timothy, had done to her.
She was subdued on the drive home, and Paul, imagining she was tired, insisted on driving and left her to her own thoughts.
'I'll see you at the party next Sunday,' he said briefly when they reached The Firs. 'Sleep well, my dear.'
*
It had been decided that Nell would not rejoin the troupe for another week. Then she would have a week before the engagement away from home. Once more she went to see Ma, while Pa was at work, to find Mrs Baxter much improved, sitting up in bed and complaining that she felt well enough to get up and do something.
'Yer fancy docter won't let 'er,' Eth said resentfully as Nell went down to the kitchen ready to leave. 'An' 'e sent Fanny back ter school, made me stop off work ter look after Ma. 'Tain't fair! I don't get me wages, an' if I'm off much longer I'll lose me job an' all!'
'Eth, I'm sorry! Look, I brought ten shillings. That'll help, and keep some of it for yourself to make up for what you've lost. Ma used to let you keep a shilling each week, didn't she?'
Instead of being grateful Eth was outraged. 'Lady bloody Bountiful! I don't want yer blood money! Yer thinks yer can live with yer fancy friends, an' givin' us a couple o' bob'll pay us off!'
'Please yourself!' Nell said angrily. 'Let Ma have it, she'll be grateful!'
'Yer drove Danny an' Sam away, an' Amy ran off because of yer bleedin' money!'
'That's not true! It was before I had any money! Danny and Sam were drunk, but they should never have tried – what they did! You were as frightened as I was, and as glad not to have them here!'
'Well, they've gone, they're no 'elp with Ma. An' Ned's gettin' wed, 'e ain't got no time neither.'
'Ned? Getting married?'
'Next week.' Eth had relapsed into her normal sullenness after the brief show of bitter anger. 'Gal from up Lozells way. Me name's Florence,' she added, mimicking a refined accent. 'Won't let us call 'er Flo like everyone else. 'Er's breedin', but they was waitin' fer 'ouse near where 'e works. 'Er dad's on railway, an' got our Ned a job porterin' at New Street,' she added proudly. 'Yer needs someone ter speak fer yer ter get on railways. Ned says 'e'll 'ave chance ter be shunter next year.'
'Tell Ned I'm pleased for him,' Nell said quietly. 'And cheer up, Eth, Ma looks a lot better and you'll be able to go back to work in a few days.'
*
Although he wore his best dark grey worsted suit with his new double breasted matching waistcoat Tom looked and felt out of place in Kitty's drawing room. He knew he was stiff and uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he were overdressed, because several of the men wore dinner jackets. Nor was he underdressed; a few of the more bohemian sported velvet smoking jackets. It was just, he thought with an unaccustomed flash of insight, that they all seemed much more at home in their clothes.
Nell looked ravishing in a virginal white satin dress, trimmed with pale blue ribbons, a matching blue bandeau round her head. Then Tom felt a blush stain his cheeks as he realised that the skirt was above her knees. How could she! It was positively indecent, and when she was married to him he would forbid such disgusting clothes.
She seemed quite at home amongst the swells, too. When he'd been shown in Nell had been at the far end of the room, in the midst of a group of laughing young men and girls. She seemed to be joking with one of the men, and the others added occasional comments, laughing all the while. Sh
e hadn't looked his way, and he felt a slow stirring of resentment. She ought to have been aware of his presence. She must have known Kitty had invited him, and should have been waiting to greet him, introduce him to her friends.
Then he forgot Nell as Kitty swooped down on him, called him 'darling', and led him swiftly into another room where a long table was laid out with the sort of food Tom had seen only on cinema screens.
'Champagne?' Kitty asked, and pushed a brimming glass into his hand. 'Drink up, Tom, you're way behind everyone else, and need to catch up or you won't enjoy the party.' She seized a plate, rapidly filled it with elegant bite-sized morsels, and took Tom's arm to drag him towards an armchair set inside a deep bay window embrasure. 'Sit down,' she ordered, pushing him into the deep chair and then, rather to his horror, perching herself on the arm with her toes tucked under his knees.
Her skirt was even shorter than Nell's, he realised, and gulped, trying to look away from her knees so close to his face. Kitty laughed at his expression, and leaned forward to slide something in between his unresisting lips. It was food, but he had no idea what as he chewed on it, and swallowed hastily as she waved another portion before his eyes.
'Drink,' she commanded, and mesmerised, he obeyed. Somehow she had a bottle within reach, and his glass was never more than half empty. 'Tell me all about yourself,' he heard her say, softly and intimately.
By the time she led him back to the drawing room, where they were dancing to jazz records, and melted into his arms, Tom had almost forgotten Nell. This was a dream. This beautiful, exciting girl, an aristocrat whose grandfather had a title, was clearly besotted with him. He moved in a trance, oblivious of everyone else, and when Kitty took his hand and led him out of the room, along a short passage, and into a much cosier sitting room, he went unresisting. When she shut the door and turned to him, smiling and lifting up her lips enticingly, and stepped close, it was perfectly natural to fold her in his arms and bend to kiss her.
*
'How did you know it was my birthday?' Nell demanded. They could never afford to celebrate birthdays at home, and since her Gran died she'd hardly even thought about it.
Paul laughed. 'Your mother mentioned it the last time I went to see her. I've brought you a present, and I hope you'll come out with me tonight. I thought we might go to the cinema. The West End has a restaurant, we could have dinner afterwards.'
'Thank you,' she said shyly. 'I'd like that.'
'Aren't you going to open your present?'
Nell blinked back sudden tears. 'I've not had a birthday present for three years. Thank you Paul!' She carefully untied the coloured ribbon and unwrapped the paper to reveal an oblong box, with the name of one of the most exclusive stores in Birmingham on it. When she opened the lid there were several layers of tissue paper, and then she lifted out a square-cornered leather handbag. In shiny black leather, it was hand tooled, and the frame was silver. In one corner the initials EB were entwined in silver. She lifted shining eyes to gaze at him, entranced.
'How did you know my real name was Eleanor?'
'Your mother again, Nell. Look inside.'
Slowly she twisted the catch and opened the lid, and gasped again. Inside the handbag was fitted out as a small dressing case, or vanity bag, with chunky cut-glass bottles with gold knobs, a gold compact, and two lipstick holders.
'I hope it might be useful for your stage make-up,' Paul said quietly.
'It's absolutely wonderful! But I mustn't accept! It's too much!'
'It's a small part of what I'd like to give you, Nell. I must go now, though. I'll call for you tonight.'
Before she could protest again he had gone. She carried the bag up to her bedroom and sat looking at it for ages before she could force herself to lift out the bottles, and then she discovered that they contained various lotions, creams, and powders, as did the compact and the lipstick holders. A tiny perfume bottle nestled amongst them, and even two tiny tablets of soap. Nell recalled that day which had changed her life, when she had vowed to buy perfumed soap for herself, and suddenly she began to weep, but whether from sorrow or happiness she could not tell.
She dressed with care for the evening, having bathed using one of the tablets of soap, and sprayed her body with the perfume. When Paul arrived, looking distinguished in his dinner jacket, she was ready.
She never could recall what film they saw that evening, nor what they ate, for she floated in a cloud of enchantment. When Paul drove her home she turned to him impulsively as he halted in front of The Firs.
'I'll never forget this birthday, it's been the most wonderful of my life!'
He smiled down at her. 'The first of many we'll share, I hope,' he murmured, and bent to kiss her fleetingly on the forehead.
*
Nell's return to the troupe was tiring for her, but produced no ill effects. For the week's performance at Stoke-on-Trent the three girls found rooms in a large old house near the theatre, and Nell's fears about her ability to find somewhere to live were finally banished. She was, she knew, far more worldly and sophisticated than when she left home.
For the following month they toured towns in Staffordshire and Derbyshire, and by the end of that time Nell had resumed the speciality spots with Gwyneth. They became used to travelling late at night on Saturdays, returning to Edgbaston for what was supposed to be a day of rest each Sunday.
It rarely happened that way. Kitty, with a secret smile, would vanish in the car soon after a late breakfast and not return until midnight. Nell and Gwyneth were left to work and plan with Andrew, as they devised the new act which was to include them all.
'Where the devil does Kitty go to?' he asked on the second Sunday. 'I've driven all the way from Bristol to sort things out, and how can we if she's not here?'
'She doesn't tell us where she goes,' Nell explained. 'She says she's no good at thinking up new ideas, and anyway isn't good enough to dance on her own.'
'She'll have to stay and practise when we've got it all sorted out. We need the three of you for the singing, and some of the dance numbers. I've been talking to some of the hotels in the towns where we've been playing, and I think we could do business with them, in the same way as at Endersby's. They like a brief show during the interval at dances, or during dinner, but it's a nuisance having to arrange with several different acts. One of the new men in the band, the second alto sax, can do conjuring tricks, and I've been working on a comedy routine with him. What I suggest is one long combined act of singing and dancing with the band, which we can offer to the music halls, and a more detailed, separate set of turns as a complete show at hotels and dance halls.'
They spent hours discussing routines, the girls trying out various ideas and learning the songs Andrew wanted to include. He'd discovered a talented young lyricist who was willing to write songs for them, and Andrew composed some of the tunes, including a signature tune for the group. When, after a month, Andrew said he was appearing for two weeks in Blackpool and would not be coming to Edgbaston the following weekend, both Gwyneth and Nell heaved secret sighs of relief.
'But after that you'll have to here too, Kitty, or I'll find someone else,' Andrew threatened.
It was Monday morning, just after breakfast, and he was about to set off on the long drive to Blackpool.
Kitty pouted. 'I'm not at all sure I want to carry on with this dancing,' she replied petulantly. 'It interferes too much with having fun.'
'Let me know by Saturday week,' was all Andrew said, and with a wave drove away.
'Let's have a party next Sunday,' Kitty proposed as they shut the door and went back to have another cup of coffee. 'We'll be performing in Birmingham the following week, and after all this travelling that's something to celebrate!'
She disappeared to write invitations, and Nell went to visit her mother. By now Mrs Baxter was much better, and had insisted on going back to her cleaning jobs.
'Yer nice doctor didn't want me ter go,' she told Nell, 'but we needed the money. I'm a lot
better now, but I do wish I knew where our Amy is.'
'Have you still not been to the police?' Nell asked. 'Even after all this time, they might be able to help.'
'But they'll think it odd I didn't go at once. 'Sides, yer Pa'd go mad, 'e don't 'old with talkin' ter coppers.'
'Shall I go?'
Mrs Baxter shook her head. 'No, luv. It ain't no use. Yer Pa'd find out yer've been comin' 'ere, 'e'd kill me!'
There was nothing Nell could do, and she had to leave soon, for they would be setting off for Worcester immediately after lunch. That was where they'd paused on the first time Paul had taken her out, she thought as she walked back towards the Hagley Road. A reminiscent smile curved her lips. She'd been so terrified of doing something wrong, of using the wrong knife, and she needn't have worried. He'd been so kind, so thoughtful.
When she heard his voice she thought for a moment she was imagining it, still deep in her memories, but then there was a touch on her arm and she turned to find him smiling down at her.
'Nell! I knew it was you. How are you? When will you be performing in Birmingham again so that a busy doctor can come and see you?'
She explained, and knowing that Kitty would be bound to have invited him, shyly asked if he would be coming to the party on Sunday.
'Indeed I will. But have you had any chance to practise driving?'
Nell shook her head. 'No, Kitty says she doesn't feel confident enough to teach me, and her car is different from yours.'
'Then spend Sunday with me and you can have another lesson. Is nine o'clock too early?'
'No, and thank you. I'd like that.'
*
Once more Nell sat in Mrs Mandeville's conservatory. This time the doors were open, and the shades protected them from the July sunshine. Paul's mother had welcomed her with a cheerful smile, and during lunch seemed genuinely interested in how she was progressing with the driving lessons.
Paul set down the delicate Spode coffee cup, and rose to his feet. 'I'd better go now.'
The Glowing Hours Page 19