‘Did you say debutantes!’ exclaimed Scarlett. ‘Surely not!’
‘Oh yes. There are balls where it is de rigueur to be seen, where girls in white dresses are led in by their parents to find rich and suitable young men—’
‘Your wife then,’ said Scarlett, ‘is she very – very old money?’
‘I suppose so, yes,’ said David, with a sigh. ‘But please can we not talk about her?’
‘All right. But you know I’m not, don’t you? I’ve made my own way and I’m proud of it. And I know underneath I’m not really up there at all.’
‘To me you are, my darling. Very, very high up there. Beautiful, amusing, chic, and sexy. What more could anyone possibly ask? Now how about we go upstairs and you take some of those – no, all of those – chic clothes off. And I show you how important you are to me.’
He was irresistible: absolutely irresistible. Even while she could see, and with hideous clarity, how stupid she was being, that was what she found him. And – what harm were they doing, after all? Making each other happy. Nothing worse than that.
The evening at the Establishment hadn’t begun too well; Eliza, Charles and Juliet had arrived together to find a message from Jeremy.
‘Mr Northcott says to tell you, he’s very sorry,’ said the girl on the reception desk, ‘but he’s been held up in a meeting. He’s ordered a bottle of champagne for you, and there’s a table reserved. He’ll be about half an hour.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Charles, taking Juliet’s hand, ‘come along darling. Eliza?’
‘Yes, coming.’
Forty minutes later, there was still no sign of Jeremy.
‘I think it’s rather extraordinary, I must say,’ said Juliet. She often used this phrase, as if it conferred some kind of originality on what she was saying. ‘Quite rude, really. I mean, why make an arrangement if you’re not going to keep it. And it’s very late for a work meeting, surely? Half past nine.’
‘Not at all,’ said Eliza briskly. ‘I know exactly what those sort of advertising meetings are like. Complete nightmare. They end when the client wants them to.’
‘Well, all I can say is, I’m glad I’m not in that business,’ said Juliet.
As if she would be, Eliza thought. She looked at Charles, who was clearly mildly embarrassed, anxious himself at the turn the evening was taking. He couldn’t stand upsets of any sort.
Various people Charles and Eliza knew came over to say hello; Juliet sat silent, sipping at her juice.
‘Eliza, ’ow’re you doin’?!’
‘Rex! Hello, how lovely to see you.’
‘You too, darlin’.’
Rex was a photographer she’d worked with once or twice. She had no idea what his surname was, he never used it. He was tall and skinny and always wore tight jeans, Chelsea boots, and some kind of variation of a dinner jacket over white shirts. He had a strong South London accent and told her he’d gone to a secondary modern and hadn’t even passed his eleven plus which surprised her, since he was clearly very bright. When she asked him where he’d grown up he said ‘sort of Surrey way’. And discouraged any further discussion on the subject. She supposed he was embarrassed about it – although she couldn’t think why he should be, it was so old-fashioned, all that stuff, and he was very successful, he’d done work for Queen and Vogue and lots of advertising campaigns, and had a studio just off World’s End. She’d thought he might be queer, until she’d turned up early for a session one afternoon and found him having sex with the model on a couch at the back of his studio, behind the great rolls of background paper. Eliza had been embarrassed; neither Rex nor the model had cared in the least.
‘You on your own?’ she said now. She was so relieved to have met someone she knew and someone so eminently suitable for the occasion, a brilliant example of the new classless, talented London she worked in, she could have kissed him. She did kiss him.
‘Yeah, just for the minute. Waiting for some mates.’
‘Come and have a drink.’
‘Yeah, well, thanks.’ He sat down, smiled rather coolly at Juliet; she was rather gratifyingly thrown by him, Eliza noticed, pleased. Anything that upset Juliet was all right by her.
‘Haven’t seen you for a bit,’ she said to Rex. ‘How’s it all going?’
‘Good, yeah. Done a session for Vogue last week.’
‘Rex, that’s great. I’m so pleased.’
‘Me too. Ciggy?’
‘Oh, yes, thank you.’
He pulled a pack of Gauloise out of his pocket, offered them round. Charles took one, Juliet shook her head rather over-emphatically. Silly cow, thought Eliza.
‘I hear Lindy’s leavin’. Shame. You gettin’ the job, then?’
She laughed. ‘God no, not me. Not nearly important enough.’
‘You should. You got talent, girl.’
‘Well – thank you, Rex.’
‘Bin here before, have you?’
‘No, never.’
‘It’s pretty good. Yeah. Very funny cabaret. You’ll like it. Bit near the knuckle mind, but—’
‘Eliza! Hello. So sorry I’m late. Charles, old chap, great to see you and you must be Juliet, I’ve heard such a lot about you.’
Juliet had revived suddenly from her silent disapproval of Rex and started blushing and fluttering her eyelashes.
‘It’s wonderful to meet you,’ she said, ‘and I’ve heard a lot about you too!’
‘Not all bad I hope?’
‘Oh, goodness no. All about what fun you had at school and in the army and what friends you and Charles are—’
‘All quite true,’ said Jeremy, smiling at her – God he really was charm on legs, Eliza thought. ‘Now, let’s get some more champagne shall we, and – God, Reggie,’ he said to Rex, ‘I didn’t see you for a minute, how are you? And your brother – how’s he? Charles, you must remember the Hon. Don, as we used to call him, he was Reggie’s big brother.’
‘I do remember Don, yes,’ said Charles, ‘but not Reggie here.’
‘Well, he was just a little squirt and he looked pretty different of course, his hair was much lighter, and quite curly, but – well, it’s really great to see you Reggie. How are you doing? He was my fag at Eton,’ he added to Eliza.
‘I’m fine,’ said Rex, looking at Eliza slightly awkwardly, ‘yeah. Good, really good. I’m doing photography.’
‘Fantastic! You must come and see us at the agency.’
‘Love to. Which one’s that, then?’
‘KPD.’
‘That’d be great.’
His accent was changing already, admitting its true origins. Eliza looked at him.
‘Secondary modern!’ she said. ‘Honestly, Rex.’
‘Well, Eton is a secondary school,’ said Rex.
‘And we did sometimes call it Slough Secondary, it’s true,’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s great to see you, Reggie. Shall we get some more champagne? Ah, and here’s Emma. Hi, Emma darling.’
Emma, thought Eliza, who for heaven’s sake was Emma?
‘Everybody, this is my sister Emma.’
Eliza felt dizzy with relief.
Emma, who was meeting some friends later, it turned out, was an editor at a publishing house, very tall and rather beautiful; and great fun. Just like her brother, Eliza thought. She sat down at their table.
‘They used the spotlight yet?’ she asked, taking a slurp out of Jeremy’s champagne.
‘The what?’ said Juliet.
‘Oh, they have a wonderful thing here, idea of Peter Cook’s, he owns the place, you know, a spotlight they can turn on any table, usually during the cabaret, if they think anyone specially interesting’s here.’
‘How scary!’ said Juliet. ‘Not on me, I hope.’
‘Pretty unlikely, I’d say,’ said Rex.
‘Rex!’ said Eliza warningly. He winked at her.
‘Sorry.’
He didn’t seem too impressed by Juliet; it was another point in his favour.
They di
d have fun; even Juliet, bowled over by Jeremy’s charm, giggled and fluttered her way through the next hour. Charles sat beaming at her, laughing at her feeble jokes, topping up her drink, occasionally leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek; he did seem to be a man in love, Eliza thought, fighting off her resistance to the notion.
The crowd was very what would once have been called Bohemian, very non-establishment, actually, Eliza thought, which was the whole point of the place of course, lots of arty-looking men, and rather serious-looking girls with heavy black eye make-up.
‘There are the Ormsby-Gores,’ said Emma. ‘Look Jeremy, you know them, don’t you?’
Two girls sat together at a table; they were both dressed in long lace dresses, and wore a mass of necklaces and rings and large, elaborate hats over their wild dark curly hair.
‘Amazing clothes, aren’t they?’ said Emma. ‘They always dress like that, genuine vintage. They’re huge fun, ever met them, Eliza?’
Eliza shook her head.
‘No, but I’ve heard about them, of course. They own “Granny Takes a Trip”, don’t they? You know, that shop at World’s End.’
‘It seems a bit of a funny idea to me,’ said Juliet, ‘wearing someone else’s old clothes. Is it to save money or something?’
Emma gave her a cool, rather gracious smile.
‘I wouldn’t imagine so. They are both hugely rich.’
‘Even odder,’ said Juliet, ‘don’t you think so, Charles?’
Eliza watched Charles struggling between loyalty and embarrassment; loyalty won.
‘Possibly,’ he said finally.
The music was wonderful, Eliza thought, provided by the Dudley Moore trio; he was her favourite from the Beyond the Fringe quartet. ‘He’s so so sexy, and so sweet,’ she said to Emma; Emma smiled.
‘Totally,’ she said, ‘complete nympho, though. Or so they say. Wish I could speak from more experience but one lives in hope.’
Eliza smiled at her; she really liked her. She seemed very sophisticated. And not married, or even engaged; that was a big plus.
And then the cabaret began, dark and sharp and at times very crude; the Establishment being a club, there was no censorship of any of the material. That was what you came for, of course. Nothing was sacred, no word unspoken; even to Eliza, determined to be totally sophisticated and broad-minded, there was a shock element; even Jeremy, she noticed, occasionally didn’t laugh.
After a while, she became aware that Charles was looking anxiously at Juliet. and that she was certainly not laughing, but frowning down into her lap. Silly girl. Well, it served her right. Eliza wasn’t sure why it served her right, but she was enjoying her discomfort.
She didn’t enjoy it for long, for Juliet suddenly stood up and made her way rather ostentatiously away from the table, towards the cloakrooms. Charles kept craning his neck looking for her, but she didn’t return.
‘Eliza! Would you mind just checking on Juliet, see if she’s all right.’
‘I would, yes,’ she hissed back. ‘I’m enjoying this, he’s brilliant.’
‘Please, I’m so worried.’
Reluctantly, she went, and found Juliet, flushed, standing alone in front of the mirror.
‘Oh, Eliza, there you are. Isn’t it awful, so disgusting, I’m simply hating it. I can’t stay in there, but I don’t want to seem rude.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Maybe – maybe you could just tell Charles I’m feeling a bit dizzy or something. I – well, I could wait for him outside. I really would quite like to leave. It just makes me feel so uncomfortable. I’m just a bit old-fashioned, I suppose. Silly, I’m sure. Would you mind, Eliza?’
And so it was that by the time the cabaret had ended, Charles and Juliet had gone, Rex had joined his model, Emma’s friends had arrived and she was chatting to them, and Jeremy had suggested a foray to the Saddle Room.
‘If you don’t mind it being just the two of us.’
Eliza said she didn’t mind at all.
Chapter 10
‘Engaged! But that’s – well, it’s – it’s – wonderful. Of course. Yes. Goodness. Congratulations. When – how – that is?’
‘Oh – only just happened. Last night. Just couldn’t wait to tell you. You are pleased, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course I am. It’s – like I said, wonderful.’
How could she be doing this? How could she be saying she was pleased, that it was wonderful, when she just wanted to burst into tears and scream and kick the furniture and then go out and get terribly terribly drunk, and then go round to see him, and beg him not to do it; or just quite simply ask him why, why her, when there had been so many other lovely girls he had seemed to like and who were so much more suitable, why mealy-mouthed, cliché-talking, old-fashioned, just not-up-to-his-standard, totally unsuitable Juliet …
‘I’m so glad. I want you to be happy for me. And, well, I do know she’s not quite your sort of girl, but I know she’s right for me, and I know we’ll have a terrific life together, she says she can’t wait to give up work and just look after me …’
Nice dig at me there, thought Eliza. There’d be plenty more where that came from.
‘And that’s what I need. Getting on a bit now, after all, twenty-six next birthday, time I settled down.’
‘Of course. Of course. It’s – no, it’s lovely, Charles. It really is. Um – have you told Mummy and Daddy?’
‘Not yet. We thought we’d go down on Friday, tell them then. Could you come too?’
‘Of course.’ She quailed at the thought, at having to smile and look pleased and watch her parents being pleased, seeing Juliet being kissed and congratulated by them, fluttering her eyelashes at her father … but, ‘Yes, of course I will.’
She could hear her own voice, dull and flat; he must realise, he must.
‘Well that’s fantastic. I think – well, I know Mummy will be pleased. She likes Juliet a lot, I know, she told me so. Now – one more thing.’
‘Yes, Charles?’
‘I told Juliet I was going to tell you, but no one else yet. Could you give her a ring, do you think? She’s so fond of you, and so impressed by you, and she’ll be longing to have a chat.’
‘I will if I can, Charles. But I’m out of the office most of the day, nowhere near a phone …’
‘Well, just ring her now quickly. She’ll think it a bit odd if you don’t.’
No she wouldn’t, Eliza thought, she’d think it was exactly what she’d have expected of her. She couldn’t resist arguing with Juliet, challenging her ridiculous statements, and she knew Juliet didn’t like her either.
‘Yes, all right, I will of course,’ she said. ‘I’d better go now though, Charles, I’m running late already, got so much to do before I leave the flat even.’
‘You worry too much about that job of yours,’ he said, ‘there’s more to life than work, Eliza, you know.’
That wasn’t him speaking, she knew, it was Juliet; and this she wasn’t going to stand for. She’d pretend she was pleased, she’d pretend to understand why he was doing this extraordinarily stupid thing, she’d even pretend she liked Juliet, if she had to and when the occasion required it. But she wasn’t going to stand for being told a whole lot of rubbish about her life.
‘Please don’t talk to me like that, Charles,’ she said, and her voice was even colder than she had intended, ‘it’s insulting. I know what my life is about, and it’s my business, not yours, all right?’
‘Sorry,’ he said and he sounded so hurt she felt quite remorseful, to have spoilt his happiness on this of all mornings; she made herself a very strong cup of coffee and smoked one cigarette, lit another and then phoned Juliet to congratulate her.
Juliet simpered down the phone, said how sweet of her to ring, told her how terribly happy she was, how thrilled about everything, ‘and of course I hope you’ll be my bridesmaid.’
‘Your bridesmaid!’ said Eliza, struggling to make horror sound like surp
rised delight.
‘Well, one of them,’ said Juliet, her voice cooing down the phone. Was that a put-down or was she really totally insensitive? ‘I’ll have to have at least eight, seriously, I’ve got so many girl friends. Now I must go, Eliza, I’ve got to ring Mummy. Lovely of you to phone, thank you.’
It was a nightmare.
‘Maybe she’s in the club,’ said Maddy Brown. She had come into Eliza’s office with the clothes from her spring collection; later they were to present what they felt were the most suitable to Lindy for her consideration.
Eliza had come to regard Maddy as her best friend these days, feeling she had far more in common with her than the girls she had grown up with. Maddy cared about the same things as she did, shared all her attitudes; she too saw men as an obstacle rather than a help in her quest for fulfilment. They found the same things funny (and sad), liked (and disliked) the same people, regarded fashion as something of huge importance, rather than a frivolous game, and were both fiercely ambitious. Maddy had met Juliet and been horrified by her, ‘she’s like a sort of send up of herself’, and had also rather liked Charles. In fact at one point, Eliza had harboured a little fantasy where Charles and Maddy might get together, and arranged a couple of evenings, but it hadn’t worked. ‘I mean, I do love being with him and everything, but there’s no – no spark, you know? Can’t really explain it.’
‘She can’t possibly be in the club,’ said Eliza now, ‘she doesn’t believe in sex before marriage. She told me so.’
‘Even so. She could have got carried away.’
‘She could, but I certainly don’t think she’s preggers. She says she wants at least a year to plan the wedding.’
‘Ah. Well – maybe she’s after his money.’
‘He hasn’t got any. I keep telling you.’
‘Yes, I know you do, but I’ve also seen your parents’ house and to someone who grew up like I did, it does kind of spell M-O-N-E-Y.’
‘Maddy, you’ve got to believe me. We don’t have any money. The house is falling down. Anyway, that wouldn’t explain him wanting to marry her.’
The Decision Page 11