Archie offered an arm to Caroline and she took it. He offered the other one to Fleur but she swiftly skipped around the back of him to walk beside Caroline.
No thanks!
Fleur had been to cinemas in Vancouver with Delia Gethin and her mother, but none of them had been as grand as this one. The foyer was as big as a ballroom and chandeliers hung low from very ornate ceilings. Everything seemed to have been dipped in gold – the backs of chairs, the frames of all the pictures of film stars lining the walls, and the pedestal on which a huge palm in a pot balanced, somewhat precariously, Fleur thought.
‘Amazing, isn’t it? Caroline said. ‘And you can be part of it. From the inside, as it were. And now, if you’ll excuse me. I need the powder room.’
And with that Caroline glided elegantly across the foyer, slipping in through a door to the right of the desk. ‘Left luggage’ it said in thick black lettering at the top of the door. Perhaps that’s where the powder room, or the ‘Ladies’ was, too – Fleur wouldn’t know because she’d never been in a cinema like this one before. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Archie, and now he was without Caroline, he seemed to have lost the art of conversation, too. He was looking anxiously across the foyer as though willing Caroline to come back soon. Ah, there she was coming out of the door – thank goodness for that. But no … it must have been the wrong door after all because Caroline scurried off and in through another door, too far away for Fleur to see to read the lettering on it.
Caroline seemed to take an age to come back.
And she was the one hurrying me up just now.
Ah, there she was, clutching her bag to her in both hands. Thank goodness for that because the film was about to start any minute. And they hadn’t got any tickets yet!
‘Mission accomplished,’ Caroline said to Archie and he reached out a hand and put his fingers to her cheek.
‘My little peach,’ he said.
‘No problem, you teddy bear, you,’ Caroline said.
This was cringe-worthingly embarrassing. But something to tell Delia about when she telephoned her. How Delia would giggle over it, especially if Fleur were to mimic their accents. Fleur sent up a silent prayer her ma wouldn’t query the cost of the telephone bill when it arrived – all those transatlantic calls she’d been making to Delia would probably cost a mint.
‘Ticket time, I think,’ Archie said, dragging Fleur’s thoughts back to the here and now.
He took off his coat and draped it over one arm, then he walked towards the desk to buy the tickets. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet because he kept bumping into people as he went, as though he wasn’t nimble enough to skirt around them. Fleur saw one man turn round swiftly and glare at him as he made the return journey.
He wasn’t a pickpocket, was he? Surely not. A shiver of unease rippled across Fleur’s shoulder blades. But how would she know? Pickpockets were, Fleur could only assume, skilled at what they did, and she would never have seen one doing what he did, would she?
Archie came back with not only the tickets but a huge box of chocolates tied with a purple ribbon, too.
How bad could it be with a box of chocolates to share? Fleur’s ma was forever going on about not eating too much sugary stuff and how it was bad for her teeth. Well, she wasn’t here and she wasn’t going to know, was she? But …
‘How long is the film?’ Fleur asked anxiously. The last thing she wanted was for her ma to ring Signor Cascarini to say she was coming over to pick her up and take her home, even though she’d said she would be the one making the call.
‘Stop fretting, little one,’ Archie said, patting Fleur’s arm. She jerked it away.
‘Long enough.’ Caroline laughed.
And what’s that supposed to mean?
And then Fleur saw him. Paolo. With a girl with long fair hair, hanging onto his arm. They were looking at one another and laughing. Fleur went cold inside and then hot again. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She knew her eyes had gone round and wide with the shock of it and she couldn’t take them off Paolo. She doubted he would sense her looking at him, though, because he only had eyes for the girl he was with. She turned her back so Paolo wouldn’t see her if he did turn around, but she was shaking, she knew she was. The rat! All her instincts told her to run over and confront him, call him a two-timing so-and-so but she could hardly do that seeing as she’d lied to her ma about being with him, when she wasn’t – well, not exactly not being with him, because they were in the same cinema now, weren’t they? She was in a fix, wasn’t she? She’d have to find a public telephone to call her ma the second the film was over and then walk down to the seafront and wait outside the ice cream parlour. She couldn’t risk Caroline and Archie taking her home.
‘Darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Caroline said. ‘You need a little snifter to settle you.’ Caroline tapped her capacious bag hanging from her arm. ‘This is all a new experience to you, isn’t it?’
A snifter? She meant alcohol. Spirits. Was her bag full of alcohol? It did seem to be pretty full. Her ma would go mad if she went home stinking of drink, she knew she would. Well, not mad because her ma didn’t lay down the law too much or shout and scream but she had a way of letting Fleur know when she wasn’t best pleased with her.
Well, she’ll be pleased I refused a single drop of alcohol, when I tell her I’ve been offered it, won’t she?
‘A box, ladies,’ Archie said. ‘We’ve got a box. No expense spared for our little miss here, eh?’
What was he talking about? The chocolates?
‘You always did spoil me,’ Caroline simpered and giggled. And then she reached for Fleur’s arm and spun her round. Fleur expected to come face to face with Paolo but she didn’t. He must have hurried on into the cinema. And now Caroline was propelling Fleur across the foyer and up a wide set of marble stairs. Dress circle, it said in very ornate letters. Gold-edged. An usherette greeted them at the top of the stairs and guided them along a narrow corridor with lots of doors on one side. She opened one of them.
‘Enjoy the film,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in the interval to take your orders for refreshment.’
Interval? This was going to take hours. Even with the promise of seeing Louise Brooks on the screen, and a box of chocolates to eat, Fleur was beginning to regret not making a fuss about coming now. Caroline seemed to be two people – kind and caring one second, hostile and very scary the next. And then there was the fact she’d seen Paolo … hmm, maybe it was just as well she knew now he was two-timing her rather than later. But still it wasn’t a very nice feeling. How could he do that? How could he prefer that silly girl who was hanging onto his arm over her?
The ‘box’ turned out to be a balcony way up in the roof space of the cinema. There were just four seats in it. Red velvet seats with very ornately carved backs. The light was dim but Fleur just knew they would be gilded.
‘You sit here, Fleur,’ Caroline said, indicating an end seat. ‘You’ll be a little nearer the screen there.’
‘Thank you.’
As Fleur settled in her seat, Archie sat in the one next to it, with Caroline on his other side.
‘A rose between two thorns,’ Archie said, with an affected laugh. He put an arm around the back of Fleur’s seat, but not touching.
And you’ll find I scratch if you so much as dare to touch me.
The lights dimmed – the sign that the film was about to start. An organ began to play down in the orchestra pit. The sound seemed to go right through Fleur’s stomach. She had a feeling she’d got herself into something and was digging herself in deeper every second.
‘Haven’t you forgotten something, Archie?’ Caroline asked.
‘The key?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have it here,’ Archie said, taking a key from his pocket and waggling it at Caroline. ‘Sleight of hand!’
‘Ssh,’ Caroline said.
Fleur felt sick. She didn’t need to be a gen
ius to know that the key in Archie’s hand was the key to the balcony door and that they were locked in.
‘What if I need to go to the Ladies?’ Fleur asked.
‘She’s a bright one!’ Archie said. ‘Well, little darling that will stand you in good stead.’
‘You’ll have to wait,’ Caroline leaned across in front of Archie and hissed at her. ‘Won’t you?’
Fleur could practically see the ice in Caroline’s eyes. She didn’t want to believe this woman had given birth to her. Had Emma told her it was all lies and that she, Emma, was truly her ma then she would have believed her.
Fleur’s blood ran colder in her veins than it had when she’d seen Paolo just now. She wondered if she would be able to see him if she leaned over the edge of the box. She doubted if Paolo would have been able to afford a box. His pa didn’t pay him very much.
The only thing stopping Fleur from yelling, ‘Help, I’ve been locked in!’ was the fact the usherette had said she’d come back in the interval. But when would that be? And there was a film about to start which she’d been wanting to see for ages. Delia was going to be so jealous when she told her she’d seen it because films took forever to make it to Vancouver.
The credits began to roll and Fleur sat in her seat, as far away from Archie as it was possible to get without falling off the seat.
The film was good. One of the actors – Fleur couldn’t remember his name now – reminded Fleur of her pa, his dark hair, his moustache, his handsome face, although her pa had been a lot taller. The box of chocolates was waved in front of her to take one, but when she refused for the third time she wasn’t offered again. But she was happy enough to lose herself in the story for a while although she was aware that a bottle of something was being shared and that Archie and Caroline were leaned in very close to one another. Kissing? She didn’t want to look.
The interval arrived more quickly than Fleur had expected it to.
There was a knock on the door and Archie got up to answer it.
Should she leave now? Say she wanted to go to the Ladies and then find a telephone and ring her ma? Should she? She’d half expected Archie to put an arm around her – or worse, touch her on the knee – but he hadn’t. And she was enjoying the film.
‘Chocolate ices all round,’ Archie said, pocketing the key again and with three chocolate covered ice creams in silver paper in the other hand.
‘Thank you,’ Fleur said. She unwrapped her ice cream and licked at it. ‘Better than Signor Cascarini’s Italian ice cream.’
‘Is it?’ Caroline said, lightly. ‘You won’t be breaking your heart not to have to work there any more, then, will you?’
‘How … how …’ Fleur stared, horrified at Caroline. ‘I knew it. You have been spying on me?’ She glared at Archie.
‘We had to know you can cut the mustard as the saying has it in the looks department, if you’re to make it in films.’
The ice cream seemed to have turned to ash on Fleur’s tongue. She was seeing things more clearly now.
‘You don’t want me for myself because I’m your daughter do you, Caroline? You only want to make money out of me, both of you! Well, I’m going. Now. Give me that key, please, Archie.’
Fleur jumped to her feet, but Archie gripped her wrist, yanked her back towards him. Fleur pulled with all her might and Archie lost his grip on her. She crashed into the edge of the balcony, looking down. A sea of faces looked up towards her at the noise. Should she scream? Would anyone do anything if she did? Perhaps Paolo would rush to her rescue? It was then that she noticed two policemen walking up and down the aisles.
‘Help!’ she screamed at them. ‘Help me, please! I’m being kept here against my will!’
‘Bloody hell!’ Archie said, jumping up. He grabbed Fleur and put a hand over her mouth, his nails digging into her cheeks, dragging her back into the box. ‘You little fool!’
‘Leave her!’ Caroline hissed. ‘Let’s get out of here!’
‘Bloody hell! Women!’
Archie took his hand from Fleur’s mouth but she was too terrified now to scream again. She was pushed to the floor, and Archie kicked out at her before both he and Caroline made for the door.
She felt sick. And faint.
‘Ma! Ma! Ma, I’m sorry. I love you,’ Fleur said, curling herself up into a ball. Everything her ma had told her about Caroline dumping her on the table in the bakery was true. Caroline had done it then, and she’d done it again now.
‘Well, well, well, what have we got here?’
Fleur looked up. A policeman was standing over her, arms folded across his chest.
‘I’m Fleur.’
‘And I’m not your ma. You’re under arrest.’
Chapter Seventeen
August was busy for Matthew in the garage. Mercifully busy in a way – a thought he didn’t like himself much for because it meant he had little time to drive down to Torquay to see Stella. He’d had six car sales in just over a week and most of those customers had wanted him to teach them how to drive as well. Extra car sales meant more repairs than he and William could reasonably handle so he’d taken on another mechanic, Cecil, who’d come back broken in body from the war, if not in spirit. Now, more than a few operations on, Cecil’s bones had mended and he’d put on muscle again, and he’d got his strength back. He’d been so grateful for a job that Matthew thought for a moment Cecil was going to pay him for the pleasure of working. As Cecil himself had said, if he could mend a lorry or a weapon under gunfire then he could cope with anything. So far, he was proving to be a good mechanic.
Poor Stella seemed to be taking an age to get well. The last time he’d seen her she’d had a bit more colour in her face and had become quite animated talking about all the things she and her dressmaker had planned. He hoped she hadn’t spent too much on materials and all the other things needed to make clothes. If she had, then he’d reimburse her, although he had a feeling she wouldn’t want that.
Stella hadn’t mentioned the necklace – Emma’s amethyst necklace – that had become entangled in his fingers on his last visit, and which he’d blatantly lied about, saying it had been his mother’s. He had a feeling she hadn’t believed a word of it but wasn’t going to question his explanation. She’d spoken animatedly – or as animatedly as a sick woman could – about a headdress that apparently Stella and her dressmaker had agreed would look better on a woman her age than a veil. Matthew hoped he’d nodded in the right places as Stella talked excitedly on. But he’d been careful to be non-committal about the wedding. He would have to tell her very soon that there wasn’t going to be a wedding – not his to Stella anyway.
He picked up the letter he’d received that morning from Emma. Definitely his Emma.
… I should be most grateful if you could bank the cheque I left at your office almost three months ago now. Even if you don’t, I like to keep up to date with my finances. While my cheque remains uncleared I’m unable to do that. I have tried to reach you on the telephone on a number of occasions but you are almost never there, hence the need for me to write to you …
He would telephone her now. No, he could do better than that. He’d waited long enough to see Emma. He’d go to her house now.
Matthew called William into the office and told him he was in charge again and then jumped in his car and headed for Paignton, and Romer Lodge.
And Emma.
Matthew drove through the gateway of Romer Lodge, his eyes searching for the car he’d sold Emma, but it wasn’t there as far as he could see. The garage doors were wide open and it was just blackness inside.
A man came running up steps from a sunken garden to the left of the house. A gardener by the look of him. He had a long-handled hoe in his hands and a concerned expression on his face. A face that was vaguely familiar to Matthew, but then he’d seen a few thousand people in his lifetime, hadn’t he? And in all sorts of places.
‘What’s your business?’ the gardener asked as Matthew opened the door of his car a
nd stepped out onto gravel that was neatly raked and totally weed-free. Emma employed good staff, that much was obvious. The gardener placed the rake between himself and Matthew, feet planted firmly on the ground about a foot apart.
Challenging. Good. At least Emma had someone on her side.
‘I’ve come to see Emma Jago. Is she in?’
‘Not at the moment. I’m waitin’ fer ’er to come back before I go ’ome.’
Matthew didn’t think he was doing any such thing, but he had to give the man ten out of ten for quick thinking and loyalty.
‘Then we’ll wait together. Matthew Caunter.’ He offered the gardener his hand.
‘Tom,’ the gardener said, shaking it firmly. ‘Emma and my wife, Ruby, are best friends. ’Er gave me this job. Emma, that is.’
Tom’s eyes were huge round pools of darkness and Matthew thought he saw the sheen of tears in them. How gaunt this man was, and yet how proud he sounded mentioning his wife’s name. And Emma’s. Matthew had a feeling he knew who he was now. He remembered Emma’s friend, Ruby. He’d seen her a time or two when both women had worked at Nase Head House and Matthew had been there visiting the owner, and his friend from school days, Rupert Smythe.
‘You were a gardener up at Nase Head House before the war, am I right?’
‘You are.’ Tom’s eyelashes flickered, and he lowered his eyelids, hung his head, as though he didn’t want Matthew to see what horrors he was remembering behind those eyes.
‘Emma’s daughter – is she at home?’
He rather hoped she wouldn’t be because he wanted this first meeting with Emma to be just them alone. Who knew how it would go? He didn’t think he’d be able to bear it if Emma told him to go away, but in his heart he didn’t think she would. Not if she still felt about him the way she had when last they’d met. When she’d asked him to kiss her. If only he had …
‘No. ’Er went to see the Italian lad ’er’s sweet on. ’Er ’elps out in ’is father’s ice cream parlour. Paul, or whatever the fancy Italian name is fer it. All dressed up ’er was in a fancy frock. Blue it were, like a field full of cornflowers. Women and their frocks, eh?’
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