by Lily Baxter
‘Oh.’ She studied his expression in case he was teasing, but it was clear that he was deadly serious. She crumbled the cake between her fingers. ‘Really?’ She bit her lip. That was a feeble thing to say, but she was suddenly at a loss for words.
He seemed to understand her confusion and he reached across the table to hold her hand. ‘Yes, really, Meg. I like you a lot and I’m kicking myself for not coming home more often. We might have met up in very different circumstances.’
She swallowed hard, staring at their intertwined fingers. Gerald’s were long and slim, pale and slightly ink-stained from constant use of a fountain pen; hers were smaller, square-tipped and suntanned. She raised her eyes to his face and her heart did a funny little hop inside her chest. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again as she saw a familiar figure teetering towards them on high heels. ‘Oh dear. Adele’s come to find me. I said I wouldn’t be long.’
Gerald rose from his seat as Adele reached the table. ‘Miss Colivet, I must take full responsibility for keeping Meg talking. Won’t you join us?’
Adele acknowledged him with a curt nod of her head. ‘No, thank you. I came to find my sister.’
Meg patted the seat beside her. ‘Sit down, Addie. Do you know who this is? It’s Gerald. I didn’t recognise him either.’
Adele cast him an appraising glance. ‘Hello, Gerald. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognise you, but …’ she clasped her hanky to her lips, ‘I’m not feeling too good. You’ll have to excuse us.’ She eyed Meg with a meaningful frown. ‘Are you coming?’
‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay here and finish my cup of tea.’ Meg met her sister’s imperative gaze with a lift of her chin. She loved Addie, but she was tired of being treated like an irresponsible juvenile. No one in the family seemed to take her seriously, and Gerald had treated her like a grown-up and an attractive one too.
‘It’s not seemly,’ Adele said stiffly. ‘Mother wouldn’t approve of your being seen in the company of a young man.’
‘That’s so old-fashioned.’
‘Yes, it is, but I don’t make the rules.’ Adele turned to Gerald. ‘You understand, don’t you? It’s nothing personal.’
‘Yes, Miss Adele.’
His expression was carefully controlled but Meg wished that the deck would open up and send her shooting down to the hold with the cargo for the rest of the journey. She felt Gerald’s humiliation as keenly as if it were her own, but anything she said now would only make matters worse. She rose to her feet. ‘Thanks for the tea and cake, Gerald. Good luck with everything.’ She held out her hand.
He held it for a second or two longer than was strictly necessary. ‘I hope we meet again soon, Meg.’
‘Yes, I hope so too.’ Meg was surprised to find that she meant what she said. It was not merely a platitude. She would have loved to stay and chat, but she knew better than to make a fuss. Reluctantly, she followed Adele back to their cabin. ‘Why did you do that?’ she demanded once they were out of earshot. ‘We weren’t doing anything wrong.’
Adele glanced over her shoulder. ‘I know that, but at least half those people in the lounge know you if only by sight. What would Mother say if she heard you were consorting with Gerald LeFevre?’
‘We weren’t consorting. We were talking about old times.’
‘I expect you were, but Mother put me in charge and I’ll be the one to get it in the neck if she finds out I wasn’t doing my bit to keep the wretched family name as pure as the driven snow. I know it’s crazy, but while we live at home we have to obey Mother’s rules.’ Adele quickened her pace as they neared their cabin. ‘Oh, heavens, I think I’m going to sick up again.’
Meg thrust the door open and Adele made a dash for the hand basin. ‘Is that why you’re so eager to get married, Addie? I mean, is it a husband you want or a reason to leave home?’
Resting her forehead on the china lip of the basin, Adele groaned. ‘Both, I think. Pass me a clean hanky, please. And stay with me until we get to Weymouth. I don’t want to fall asleep on the ferry and end up back in Guernsey.’
‘All right. I won’t leave you alone again. Try to get some sleep.’
It was early evening when the taxi pulled up outside the Shelmerdines’ large Victorian house in a well-to-do area of Oxford. A soft pearly dusk gave the wide avenue a magical look and the street lamps cast a hazy orange glow on the pavements. Scatterings of cherry blossom lay like confetti in the gutters and a breeze rustled the tight green leaf buds on the plane trees which lined the street. The houses in Danbury Avenue were all of the period when the emerging professional and merchant classes vied with the academics for their place in the city of dreaming spires. Solid red brick and slightly Gothic in appearance the villas had been designed to house large families and a small army of servants to attend to their needs.
Meg climbed out of the cab, stiff and tired from the long journey, but her physical discomfort did nothing to allay the excitement that bubbled up inside her. She felt like a bottle of lemonade that had been shaken up and was about to explode. The prospect of a holiday with Aunt Josie was thrilling. Still young and beautiful, and more than twenty years younger than her half-brothers, Charles and Bertrand, Josie was the over-indulged only child of their father’s second marriage. This, she often said, was virtually guaranteed to turn her into a rebel, and at the age of nineteen, while staying with an old school friend and her family in Kensington, Josie had met Paul Shelmerdine, a newly qualified lawyer. Their whirlwind romance had culminated in a dash to Gretna Green where they married against the wishes of both families. Meg never tired of hearing the story told and retold with Josie’s inevitable dramatic embellishments. She often said that she had missed her vocation. She could have acted Merle Oberon and Vivien Leigh off the silver screen had she not fallen in love and devoted herself to helping her husband build his career.
Meg waited impatiently for Adele to find the right amount of change to tip the cabby, but his expression when she dropped the coins into his outstretched palm was not one of overwhelming gratitude. Meg shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She had intended to wait for their luggage to be disgorged from the boot, but at that moment Josie’s maid, Freda, came hurrying down the garden path, relieving her of that necessity. Meg turned and saw her aunt silhouetted in the doorway with light pooling around her.
Josie Shelmerdine could have been posing for a fashion shoot. Her figure was arrow slim and her dark hair hung about her shoulders in a pageboy style that complemented her oval face and classic features. In Meg’s opinion Disney’s Snow White might have been modelled on Aunt Josie, and, of course, Uncle Paul was the handsome prince.
‘Darling, how lovely to see you again.’ Josie enveloped her in an affectionate hug and a cloud of Mitsouko perfume. ‘Come inside, Meg. It’s still chilly in the evenings.’
‘Addie’s just insulted the taxi driver by under-tipping him.’
‘No matter, darling. Freda will sort it out. Go and warm yourself by the fire in the sitting room and I’ll wait for Adele.’
Shrugging off her linen blazer, which was stiff with salt and probably ruined after her excursion on deck, Meg hung it on the coat stand. She wandered into the sitting room, which was furnished in an ultra-modern style. It was, she thought, just like the illustrations in the expensive magazines that Mother bought and left lying on the occasional tables when she was entertaining ladies from the various committees of which she was a member.
The carpet was cream with a geometric design in black, and the fawn leather sofa and armchairs were art deco in style. Although, if Meg were to be entirely honest, perhaps the rather theatrical décor might seem a little at odds with the high Victorian ceiling, the ornate plasterwork on the cornices and ceiling rose, and at variance with the black marble fireplace inset with tiles decorated with flowers and seashells. She moved closer to the hearth and flopped down on one of the armchairs. The leather expelled air like a sigh, or something slightly more embarrass
ing.
Josie ushered Adele into the room. ‘Make yourselves comfortable, girls. You can tell me all the latest gossip from home while I pour the drinks.’ She moved with the grace of a ballet dancer to the Japanese lacquered cocktail cabinet.
‘Where’s Uncle Paul?’ Adele glanced round the room as if half expecting him to materialise from thin air.
‘Unfortunately he’s had to work late at the office, so it’s just us for dinner tonight. It’s such a bore and he works far too hard, poor sweet.’
‘When will we see David?’ Meg asked eagerly.
‘We’ll meet him in town for lunch tomorrow, but before that I’m going to take you shopping. Muriel has given me the task of finding you gowns for the May Ball. Isn’t that exciting? Now what will you have to drink? You first, Adele. Gin and tonic, darling?’
Adele sank down on the sofa. ‘Might I have a gin and It, Aunt Josie?’
‘Of course. I keep forgetting that you’re a young lady almost out of your teens now, Addie. No doubt you’re the belle of the ball in St Peter Port.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Adele murmured modestly. ‘But we do have quite a lot of parties, especially at Pearl’s house. You must know the Tostevins, Aunt Josie. They live on the Grange.’
‘I vaguely remember them,’ Josie said, pouring a measure of gin into a cocktail shaker and adding a generous amount of Italian vermouth. ‘It’s many years since I was part of that particular scene, Addie.’ She gave it a couple of shakes before pouring the contents into a glass. Impaling a maraschino cherry on a cocktail stick, she balanced it precariously on the edge of the glass. ‘There, you won’t get better than that at the Ritz. Now what about you, Meg? Are you allowed anything stronger than ginger beer these days?’
‘I’d like a brandy Alexander, please.’
Josie raised her pencilled eyebrows. ‘Darling, how chic. Is that what you drink at home?’
She could not lie, and anyway Addie was sending her a warning look. ‘No, I’ve never tasted one. It just sounds nice.’
Josie’s laughter tinkled round the room like fairy bells. ‘I think a weak G and T might be more suitable, Meg.’ She poured a small amount of gin over some ice cubes and topped it up with tonic. ‘Try that.’ She watched critically while Meg took a sip. ‘And don’t wrinkle your nose. It’s not considered the done thing.’
‘It’s very bitter,’ Meg protested.
‘That’s the idea, darling. You’ll get used to it. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I know. You were going to tell me everything that’s been going on at home. How is my dear brother Charlie? And what about Muriel? Is she still ruling the roost like Catherine the Great?’
Meg and Adele exchanged wary glances.
‘Mother asked to be remembered to you,’ Adele said tactfully. ‘Pa sends his love, of course.’
‘Dear old Charlie. I do miss him. And how is my brother Bertie and maddening Maud? They had to get married you know,’ Josie said with a giggle. ‘Still in their teens, and then their ghastly daughter, my dear niece Jane, repeats history aged eighteen.’
‘They’re all well,’ Meg volunteered. ‘We don’t see too much of them since Uncle Bertie gave up work for health reasons.’
‘Health reasons, my foot. Charles was heroic to take him on, in the first place.’ Josie sipped the gin and tonic she had mixed for herself. ‘I love Bertie, of course, but he always seemed to think that the world owed him a living. As to Jane, we’re so unalike that I can’t believe we came from the same root stock, and that boy of hers is a freak.’
‘We don’t see her very often either, or Pip. He might be our second cousin but I feel the same way about him as you do about Aunt Jane.’ Adele twirled the cherry around in her glass. ‘Could we change the subject, Aunt Josie? We came here to get away from the family for a while.’
‘Of course, darling. It’s just morbid curiosity on my part. Let’s talk about something much more interesting.’ Josie perched on the arm of Meg’s chair. ‘What sort of ball gowns had you in mind? You first, Addie.’
*
Next morning, after an exhaustive tour of the dress shops in Oxford, even Josie was beginning to flag a little. ‘We’ve left it so late,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘There’s only one tiny boutique that I can think of where we might find something suitable for both of you. It’s not far from here and it’s our last chance, but if all else fails we’ll take the train to London tomorrow and scour the stores in Oxford Street and the whole of Mayfair if necessary.’
‘I never realised it would be such hard work,’ Meg said, frowning. ‘We must have tried on dozens of frocks. If another sales assistant tells me I look lovely in something that makes me look like a marshmallow or a Christmas cracker, I think I’ll scream.’
‘Well, I’m enjoying it,’ Adele said stoutly. ‘I could have chosen several of those I tried on, but Aunt Josie knows best.’
‘That I do.’ Josie stopped outside a shop window with a single gown artistically draped on a headless mannequin. ‘Madame Elizabeth’s is where the top people go, so no funny remarks, Meg. This is serious and with the ball only two days away I’d say it’s critical. Follow me.’
She entered the salon with a determined twitch of her slender shoulders. By this time, Meg had lost all her enthusiasm for shopping. Her feet were sore and she wished that she had eaten something more substantial than a bowl of cornflakes first thing that morning. Josie did not believe in cooked breakfasts, but then she ate sparingly of everything, as Meg had noticed at dinner the previous evening. The food had been excellent but Josie picked at hers, confessing that the thought of gaining an extra pound or two was terrifying in the extreme. Paul, she said with a wry smile, did not like plump women. Meg thought privately that if she married a man who made her starve in order to keep her figure she would divorce him and find someone else.
‘Madame Elizabeth,’ Josie said with a charming smile. ‘We need your help desperately.’
Meg took a seat on one of the spindly gilt and red plush chairs set out for prospective customers, and allowed her thoughts to drift in the direction of lunch. They were to meet David at the Mitre Hotel, which luckily was only a couple of streets away. She hoped there would be something delicious and substantial on the menu. Her stomach growled and she shot an apologetic glance at Madame Elizabeth, who had somehow managed to pour Adele into a shimmering oyster-satin sheath of a gown that flared out in a fishtail around the ankles. A bit like one of the carp that lived in the lake at home, Meg thought inconsequentially.
Adele hitched the low-cut top a little higher. ‘It’s very tight. I can hardly breathe.’
Madame frowned. ‘It is meant to hug the figure, mademoiselle. Otherwise it might not remain in situ.’
‘It’s really lovely,’ Josie said enthusiastically. ‘That shade is very flattering for someone with your ivory complexion, Addie.’
‘Perhaps Mademoiselle would like to try the green silk organza, madame?’
Thankfully from Meg’s point of view, the green organza received a thumbs down and the oyster satin was sent off to be wrapped in tissue paper by a bored-looking assistant.
‘I’ll take this one,’ Meg said in desperation as she tried on the third gown. By this time she was past caring. Number three was a sickly shade of pink like melted strawberry ice cream, but it was marginally better than the lilac chiffon with a skirt that consisted of frills from waist to ankle and made her look like a bell tent.
‘I don’t think so,’ Josie said, shaking her head. ‘Is that all you have in Meg’s size, madame?’
‘My clientele are usually ladies of a certain age and sophistication,’ Madame said, pursing her lips. ‘There is just one other, but I am not certain that Madame will approve of that either.’
‘Let me have this one,’ Meg begged. She felt light-headed and was certain she would faint if she did not eat something very soon. ‘Who’s going to look at me anyway?’ She hesitated, realising that she had said the wrong thing. ‘I mean, no one will
give me a second look when Addie’s in the room.’
Adele blushed and pulled a face. ‘That’s not true.’
‘We’ll see the last gown,’ Josie said firmly. ‘Then I’m afraid we must hurry, madame, as we have a luncheon appointment.’
Madame seized Meg’s arm in a vice-like grip, and her lips stretched over her teeth in a caricature of a smile. ‘Very well, madame. Come with me, mademoiselle. My assistant will look after you.’
Bearing an armful of gold shot-silk taffeta, the young girl gave Meg a shy smile. ‘Perhaps you’d like to try this one?’
‘Oh, I love that colour,’ Meg said sincerely. She held her arms above her head and shivered with pleasure as the cool silky material embraced her flesh. It was a tight fit. And she had to hold her breath while the assistant struggled with the zip, but the result was stunning. The boned bodice fitted like a second skin and quite suddenly Meg had a figure that, if not exactly hourglass, was what could be described as shapely without fear of exaggeration. ‘I’ve got a bust,’ Meg said happily. ‘And a waist too.’ She did a twirl and the material swirled around her like the petals of a tea rose. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She bundled up the skirts and emerged into the salon like a butterfly bursting from its chrysalis. ‘What d’you think, Aunt Josie? Isn’t it gorgeous, Addie?’
Madame folded her thin hands in front of her. ‘In view of Mademoiselle’s tender years, perhaps it is not quite suitable, madame? The colour is not quite right for an ingénue.’
Josie rose to her feet, taking her cheque book from her handbag. ‘It’s certainly eye-catching, and if Meg feels good in it then that’s the one for her. Shall we get down to the vulgar business of the price, madame?’
‘Pa will have a fit when he gets the bill,’ Adele said in a low voice as they left the shop. ‘That’s my allowance gone for the next twenty years.’
‘Nonsense,’ Josie said, chuckling. ‘The ball gowns are my present to you both. I’ve no children of my own to spoil so I think I might be allowed to indulge my beautiful nieces once in a while. You’ll both look absolutely stunning, and David’s friends will fall at your feet.’