by Lily Baxter
Felicia had said she disliked babies, but was clearly besotted with Marina from the first moment she saw her. Anthea was equally enchanted when she came to spend a weekend. David was on duty and she did not want to stay alone in the cottage they rented close to the airfield. It was like old times in the flat, especially on Friday when there was no matinee and Felicia was able to join them for lunch of meatloaf, boiled potatoes and cabbage. She produced the last bottle of wine from the supply she had brought back from France, and Marianne kept them entertained with highly exaggerated accounts of their escape from Paris. ‘You’d think I was Mata Hari,’ she said, laughing. ‘I didn’t realise I was so important that the Germans would want to kidnap me.’
‘You wouldn’t be laughing if they had,’ Elsie said drily. ‘You might have suffered the same fate as Nurse Cavell and many others.’
‘I wasn’t a spy,’ Marianne protested. ‘I was just doing my duty for king and country, as were you. To be honest I thought that the troops on the front line were the only ones in danger, not insignificant little me.’
Felicia raised her glass. ‘Darling, you were never insignificant, and neither could you be described as little before Marina was born.’
‘I know, and I don’t begrudge her an ounce of the weight I put on. Marina is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, apart from Henri, of course, but then she’s a part of him as well as me. He would have been so proud of her.’
Anthea turned to Elsie with a sympathetic smile. ‘You’re the last one of us to be a single girl. Have you heard from Guy lately?’
‘I had a letter about a month ago and it had taken weeks to get to me, so I try not to worry. I’d hear soon enough if it was bad news.’
‘Of course you would,’ Marianne said, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to Guy and all the other brave men and women who’re risking their lives to save us from the Hun.’
‘The war can’t go on much longer.’ Felicia clinked glasses with each one in turn. ‘Here’s to us, the backroom girls. Let’s hope we aren’t the forgotten ones when historians chronicle the war.’
They drank the toast and there was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of the baby crying. Marianne put her glass down and leapt to her feet. ‘She’s hungry again, bless her. My charlies will be down to my knees by the time she’s weaned.’
Felicia shuddered visibly. ‘Don’t. I feel quite ill at the thought, never having gone through the process myself.’
Marianne blew her a kiss as she left the room and Felicia reached for the bottle, refilling her glass with wine. ‘Who would have thought that Marianne had a maternal side to her nature?’
‘Well, I can’t wait to be a mother,’ Anthea said with a beatific smile. ‘What about you, Elsie?’
‘I expect so, but I haven’t thought that far ahead. I need to find a job and earn some money. I can’t expect Felicia to keep me.’
Felicia eyed her over the rim of her wine glass. ‘You mustn’t worry about that, darling, but if you really want to do something for me you could do my hair for me. I’m thinking about having a bob.’
‘Of course,’ Elsie said eagerly. ‘It would suit you down to the ground.’
‘I could put you in touch with some of the female cast who’d kill for the Irene Castle look, but the days of having a personal maid are long gone, except for the very rich, and long hair is such a bind.’
Elsie pushed her plate away, leaning her elbows on the table. ‘You’ve given me an idea, Felicia. I could open up a salon for ladies to come and have their hair styled. Like a barber’s shop only for women.’
‘And they wouldn’t need a shave,’ Anthea said, giggling. ‘Oh, dear, I’m afraid this wine has gone straight to my head.’
‘Do you know, that’s not as wild as it sounds,’ Felicia said, frowning thoughtfully. ‘You could rent premises in Mayfair and make a fortune out of fashionable women who want the latest look.’
Elsie shook her head. ‘It’s a lovely idea but it would take money, which I haven’t got. But I’ll be happy to come to the theatre and do the actresses’ hair. It would be fun.’
‘Me first, darling,’ Felicia said, draining her glass. ‘There’s no time like the present. Get your scissors out and start cutting.’
Felicia’s bob was an instant success and Elsie found herself inundated with requests from the female cast who wanted the latest hairstyle, and what was even better they were prepared to pay handsomely for the privilege. She was kept busy, which helped her to get through the days without news of Guy. The mere sight of a telegram boy was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat, but somehow she kept going. Having Marina in the flat had wrought a huge change in their lives. The airing rack in the kitchen was a forest of damp nappies, and the drawing room was littered with rattles and books on parenthood. But there were disadvantages to living on the third floor of a building without a lift, and manhandling a pram up three flights of stairs was out of the question.
September flew by and October brought rain and fog. Marianne worried that she could not take her baby for walks in the park, and the inclement weather only added to her growing desperation. One afternoon she pounced on Elsie the moment she walked through the door. ‘It’s no use; I can’t bring up my daughter in London. I suppose I’m a country girl at heart and I hate being cooped up like this. It’s bad for Marina too.’ Marianne glanced at the window, the view obscured by a thick veil of fog. ‘It’s not good for her little lungs. I’ve decided to go home.’
‘To Darcy Hall?’ Elsie stared at her in surprise. ‘But I thought you hated living there with your aunt and uncle.’
Marianne put her hand in her skirt pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. ‘It’s a letter from my father. He’s been invalided out of the army and he’s coming home.’
‘Is he ill?’
Marianne pulled a face. ‘Gout,’ she said tersely. ‘He’s had one attack too many and because of his age, I suppose, the army has decided he should retire on a full pension. He seems to think that it’s all coming to an end and he’s more than happy to come home. My aunt and uncle have been persuaded to return to their flat in London, so it will just be Papa, me and Marina.’
‘What about your in-laws? Won’t they expect you to live in France?’
‘I’ll take Marina to see them every summer. She’ll love Provence just as I did, but I can’t abandon Papa, and you’d be more than welcome if you wanted to come and live with us, Elsie.’
Elsie sank down on the nearest chair. ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll stay in London.’
‘Of course, you want to wait for Guy. I understand that, but I’m sure we could find you a cottage on the estate if you and he didn’t want to live in the city.’
Elsie smiled and shook her head. ‘Thanks, again, but I’m building up a clientele, and if I could afford to rent premises I’m certain I could make a go of hairdressing.’
‘But if you marry Guy you won’t need to go out to work.’
‘I don’t see myself as just a housewife. Not after all we’ve been through.’
Marianne sat down on the sofa, curling her legs under her. ‘Perhaps that’s why I’m finding it so hard to settle down, but at least I’ll have plenty to do at home and Papa will need someone to run the house for him.’
‘We’re a new breed, Marianne. We’ve had to be independent and it’s not going to be easy to give it up. Women have been earning money doing men’s jobs, and although that might change when the war’s over I don’t think we’ll ever go back to the old ways. Who knows, we might even get the vote.’
‘I never had you down as a suffragette, Elsie.’
‘I was too busy surviving to think about such things, but now I can see what they were getting at. Who would have thought that Elsie Mead would learn to drive an ambulance and shoot a gun, not that I ever fired one except at a target. I’ve learned all sorts of things about myself and I’m sure I can run a successful business, given half a chance.’
‘I’m sure you
can too,’ Marianne said wholeheartedly. ‘I’ll miss you and Felicia, but when Marina’s a little bigger we can pop up to town for a few days and go shopping, and of course I’ll have to have my hair done in your new salon.’
‘That’s a pipe dream at the moment.’
Marianne leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Not necessarily. I’m a wealthy woman, Elsie. Would you like a business partner?’
‘A business partner? You?’
‘A sleeping partner, darling. I could put up the money for you to rent a shop in Mayfair and install whatever you need. I suppose you’d have to have a couple of wash basins and chairs, all that sort of thing, and you can pay me back when you’re in profit.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Elsie said thoughtfully. ‘What happens if I lose it all?’
‘You won’t. I know you too well, Elsie. Once you’ve set your heart and mind on something nothing will stop you.’
Elsie found premises in Hay Hill close to Berkeley Square. It was a prestigious address and it was Felicia who had heard from a friend of a friend that the shop was up for rent. With Marianne’s financial backing Elsie found herself in business. Marianne and the baby left with Colonel Winter for Sutton Darcy two weeks before the hairdressing salon was due to open. Elsie missed them terribly, but was kept fully occupied supervising the plumbers and workmen who were installing cubicles so that the clients could have privacy while their hair was styled. Felicia put the word around and Elsie started to receive bookings. At first it was the faithful from the theatre, but word spread quickly and at the end of her second week she had a full appointment book.
At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month the armistice was signed and the war was over. Elsie and Gerda joined in the celebrations with Joe and his wife at the church hall in Hackney, and Gerda and Niels announced the date of their wedding. It was a joyful occasion for all but there was still someone missing and Elsie left early, taking a hansom cab back to Cromwell Road despite the expense. She knew that Guy was safe, but she had no idea when he would arrive back in England. It was going to be an agonising wait, and the man who returned might be different from the person he had been when they parted. She had seen men suffering from shell shock and the effects of poison gas, and had read accounts in magazines of couples who met as strangers after several years apart.
Elsie went about her day to day work with determination but she was anxious, and she missed Marianne. She would have been able to confide in her, but Felicia would not understand. Felicia’s past love life was the stuff of legend, but she had never stayed constant in her affections and had discarded lovers for no better reason than that they bored her, or were too demanding. Felicia would tell her to move on if Guy failed to come up to expectations, but Elsie knew that was not in her nature. She was excited at the prospect of seeing him again but she could not help being nervous, and still there was no news.
Rosemary, Angela and Daisy returned at the end of November and Elsie joined them for a celebratory lunch at Lyons Corner House, Coventry Street. It was a lively party and they promised to keep in touch and meet at least once a month. Rosemary announced that she had given up the idea of being a mechanic as it ruined her hands, and she thought she might train as a nurse instead. Daisy had decided to return home to her family in Oxfordshire, and thought she might start a riding school. Angela winked and took bets on how long it would take for Daisy’s farmer boyfriend to pop the question, which made Daisy blush scarlet and tell them not to be mean. It was altogether a happy occasion and everyone vowed to support Elsie’s new venture, even if they only had a hairdo once a year. They parted with genuine regret, but Elsie knew in her heart that they would always remain friends.
Christmas was just over a week away and Elsie’s appointment book was so full that she had taken on a young girl to wash the customers’ hair, leaving Elsie herself to do the styling. It was Saturday and Elsie closed the shop at two thirty, even though she could have taken appointments to fill the whole afternoon. She gave Olive her wages plus a share of the tips, and locked up. The first two weeks in December had been reasonably mild but rather wet, but the sun was shining for a change and Elsie walked to Green Park station and caught the tube to Gloucester Road. It was a short distance to Felicia’s flat and she greeted Bailey with a cheerful smile. ‘Not long now until Christmas. Are you spending it with family?’
He grunted and his mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Don’t remind me, miss. Thank God it’s only once a year. I can’t wait to get back to my cubbyhole.’
She hurried up the stairs, not wanting to delve further into Bailey’s complicated family affairs. She had promised Marianne that she would travel to Sutton Darcy for Christmas but that would leave Felicia on her own in the flat as there were performances on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. She let herself in and having hung her hat and coat on the hallstand she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Gerda had the afternoon off and was no doubt on her way to Hackney to see Niels, and Felicia would be at the theatre until late that evening. The flat echoed with silence and Elsie would have given anything to hear Marina yelling for her feed or Marianne singing a lullaby as she rocked her baby off to sleep.
She went to the sink and filled the kettle and was about to light the gas when she saw a note on the table written in Felicia’s elegant copperplate.
Guy telephoned to say that he’ll be at Lyons teashop, Piccadilly, at three o’clock. Up guards and at ’em, darling!
Elsie stood on tiptoe, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘I look a positive fright.’ She abandoned the kettle and hurried to her bedroom, where she put on a dab of lipstick, powdered her nose and brushed her hair until it shone. A quick glance at the clock on her bedside table made her groan with dismay. ‘You’ll have to do,’ she said to her reflection in the mirror. She left the flat still struggling into her coat and tore downstairs, her high heels clattering on the marble treads.
‘Going out again, miss?’ Bailey emerged from his cubby hole. ‘Do you want a taxi?’
‘Yes, please, Bailey. Preferably a motor car and not a hackney cab – I’m in a terrible hurry.’
In the end it was a horse-drawn cab, but she had little choice other than to climb in and endure the much slower progress through the crowded streets. It was almost half past three when she arrived at the teashop. She burst in through the door and edged through the packed tables to the one she and Guy had always chosen in the window, but there was another couple there. She was too late.
She was about to leave when someone tapped her on the arm. She turned and found herself wrapped in a passionate embrace. ‘Guy,’ she murmured when he released her long enough to draw a breath. ‘I thought I’d missed you. I thought it was all over.’
‘Never,’ he said firmly. ‘This is just the beginning, my darling.’
She looked into his eyes and realised that nothing had changed. ‘I really do love you, Guy. You know that, don’t you?’
He smiled, and kissed her again.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted inwriting by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Epub ISBN: 9781448135585
Version 1.0
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published by Arrow Books 2014
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © Lily Baxter 2014
Lily Baxter has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Apart from references to actual historical figures and places, all other names
and characters are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by
Century
Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781780890593