Wartime at Liberty's

by Fiona Ford

  As she walked along Argyll Street towards Liberty’s the following week, flakes of cold February snow landed on her face but Flo didn’t care. She felt as if she had a renewed sense of purpose. She wanted to make things right in her world, and she knew just how she was going to do it.

  ‘Rose, are you here?’ she called, making her way through the corridors towards her friend’s broom cupboard of an office on the top floor.

  ‘I’m in here,’ came a tinny voice.

  Whirling around Flo saw that her friend was on hands and knees in the stationery cupboard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Flo asked, looking at the trail of pens that lay on the floor.

  ‘Trying to find last year’s accounts for Mr B.,’ Rose grumbled, standing upright. ‘And let me tell you it’s not easy when you’re partially sighted. It’s like the blackout in that cupboard.’

  Flo smiled at her friend. ‘Here, let me,’ she said, gently pushing her towards her desk.

  It didn’t take long to find them – right at the back sandwiched between a box of envelopes and some headed notepaper. As she handed them to Rose, she felt a pang of guilt. For the past few months, they had all been treating Rose as if everything was back to normal, and her restricted sight was no longer the disability it had once been, but perhaps they had been wrong, perhaps Rose needed more help than she let on.

  ‘Are you all right, Rose? she asked hesitantly. ‘I mean, really?’

  Rose smiled at Flo. ‘I’m fine. It’s frustrating to no longer be able to see as I used to, but I’ve got used to it for the most part. It’s when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be, like these accounts’ – she sighed, pushing them across the table – ‘and of course not everything is duplicated in Braille, so if I do stumble across some normal paperwork then I’ve no idea what it is.’

  ‘That’s frustrating,’

  Rose shrugged. ‘It is, but what can I do? I’ve got to make the best of it, Flo. We none of us are having an easy time of it. So many are coming back from the war now having lost something – whether it’s their sight, a limb or even their sanity – but we forget that. We think about the war effort as a whole, which is right of course, but more needs to be done for those people.’

  Flo sat on the wooden chair opposite Rose and thought for a moment. As ever, the younger girl was right. More did need to be done for those at home as well as those fighting abroad. Suddenly an idea dawned.

  ‘How do you feel about us doing another fundraising night?’

  Rose raised an eyebrow behind her large round glasses. ‘We’ve just done one, Flo, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how it turned out.’

  ‘I know that. But look, we could do one to recoup the money, only this time we could raise funds for both the war effort and for charities closer to home. Liberty’s has always been very philanthropic; maybe it’s time to raise money for those here in England.’

  ‘Like charities for the blind,’ Rose said, her eyes shining with excitement at the possibility.

  ‘Exactly,’ Flo said triumphantly.

  ‘But what can we do?’ Rose asked. ‘I mean, it was a big draw getting Max Monroe last time – I can’t imagine he’ll want to perform for us again.’

  Flo laughed. ‘Maybe not, but I’ll see if I can persuade him. If he won’t, I’ll sing. It won’t be the same, but at least you’ll have someone there who can hold a tune.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Rose gasped.

  ‘Quite sure.’ Flo nodded with a smile. ‘Neil’s dad gave me a letter that he wrote to him just a few days before he died. To cut a long story short, it turns out he wasn’t as angry with me as I thought and all he wanted was for me to be happy – and singing makes me happy so I want to do this, Rose. For you, for me and for Liberty’s.’

  Sitting back in her chair, Rose looked at Flo in astonishment. ‘Well then, how could anyone refuse? There is just one question though: how are you going to persuade Max Monroe?’

  Flo got to her feet and tapped the side of her nose. ‘Leave him to me.’

  After work that day Flo turned down the offer of a quick drink in the French Pub with the girls. Much to their surprise and disappointment, she insisted she had somewhere else to be, and after waving them goodbye with promises to have one for her, she had stepped on to the Tube at Oxford Circus and made her way west.

  Following her promise to Rose that morning, Flo had spent the day feeling fired up about the idea of singing again. So much so that she had decided to do all she could to make sure this second fundraising evening was a success. Yet, despite her new-found desire to take to the stage again, Flo knew that she wouldn’t be that much of a draw. However, Flo wasn’t above using her connections. After rifling through Rose’s precious filing cabinet she found the information she needed, which was why at just after seven o’clock that evening she found herself standing outside a pretty little mews house in the heart of Chelsea.

  For a split second Flo had second thoughts about coming. Had it been too presumptuous an idea? Should she turn back now before anyone saw her? But in that moment, the heavens opened, and Flo had a feeling that someone had made her mind up for her.

  Quickly she dashed to the front door and rapped her knuckles on the solid wood. Turning up the collar of her grey wool coat for protection, she heard the sound of footsteps and then the door swung wide open, revealing a warm and inviting living room with a blazing fire roaring in the grate.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,’ Flo began nervously.

  ‘Mind?’ Max smiled, his white teeth piercing the darkness of the street. ‘It’s a pleasure. Come on in out of the wet.’

  Flo didn’t need to be asked twice and eagerly crossed the threshold into the warmth of the house.

  ‘I wasn’t sure whether you would be here,’ she began, shucking off her coat and handing it to Max.

  ‘A rare bit of time off before we start a new tour,’ Max said. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Flo said, shaking her head, as she approached the fire. ‘I won’t take up much of your time.’

  Max turned away from her and filled up a glass tumbler with what looked suspiciously like Scotch. ‘I’m having one, and I insist you do too. Medicinal and all that.’

  As she took the glass, she saw his eyes were crinkled with kindness and she took a sip, immediately enjoying the burning sensation of the liquid trickling down her throat.

  ‘So what brings you here on this chilly night?’ Max asked, gesturing her to sit down.

  ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward,’ Flo began nervously. ‘But you know about the money for our last fundraiser?’

  Max gave a small nod of his head. ‘Terrible business, that. Are they any closer to finding out who took the money?’

  ‘No,’ Flo said quietly. ‘There’s an investigation now though.’

  ‘I see,’ Max said gravely. ‘So what does this have to do with me?’

  Flo shuffled forwards to the edge of her seat, her hands clutching the tumbler of whisky. ‘I’ve had an idea, and I was rather hoping you would help me.’

  ‘Go on,’ Max encouraged.

  ‘I want to hold another fundraising evening, to try and recoup the money lost.’

  Max raised an eyebrow. ‘I rather thought it had been stolen.’

  Flo said nothing. ‘It would be good for staff morale, and good for the war effort, but this time I thought that we could also raise money for causes closer to home, such as those who are blind or partially sighted.’

  ‘Like your friend Rose.’ Max said.

  ‘Exactly like my friend Rose,’ Flo echoed. ‘I want to do something constructive. I realise I’ve got a talent and I should be putting it to good use.’

  Max took a sip of his whisky before looking at Flo in surprise. ‘Does that mean you’ll be doing more than playing the piano?’

  ‘I’ve already told Rose I’ll sing,’ Flo said shyly, ‘and she’s taken me up on it.’

  ‘Well, good for you.’ Max g
rinned. ‘I must say it’s about time. That church mouse act you were peddling was doing nothing for anyone. So what changed your mind?’

  ‘Let’s just say I realised that it was important I follow my dreams. I’m going to do that now.’

  Max nodded. ‘And you want my help?’

  ‘If you feel you could spare it,’ Flo said nervously. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, when you’ve already been so generous with your time for one fundraising evening as it is.’

  Draining his whisky, Max set his glass on the table and eyed her carefully. ‘I will help you, but I want you to be prepared,’ he said. ‘Your performance was good when you joined in with me that night – you’ve got raw natural talent, anyone can see that. But you’re out of practice, my girl, and if you really want to get serious about singing you’ll have to give it your heart and soul. You need more practice, more variety, and to experience different audiences.’

  Flo swallowed nervously. ‘So does that mean you will sing?’

  Max laughed. ‘If you can get it organised for a month’s time and get yourself some singing practice then yes I will sing again. I ship out with ENSA to Egypt and beyond at the beginning of April and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s all very fixable.’ Max beamed, getting to his feet. Fishing out his wallet from his trouser pocket, he reached inside and pulled out a business card. ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing it to Flo. ‘Pop down to this address next Tuesday night and tell them Max Monroe sent you. Ask for Eddie.’

  Flo ran her eyes across the card: ‘The Kitty Cat Club, Chelsea’. She’d never heard of it, but looking back up at Max and seeing the encouragement in his eyes, she realised that was perhaps the point.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The following Tuesday night, Flo found herself in the heart of Chelsea walking down a dank, dark alleyway. The pitch black of the night was doing nothing to fill her with confidence.

  Following Max’s advice, Flo had promised herself that she would sing at the club he had picked out for her. And so after work, she had taken the Tube and then a bus to Chelsea, expecting to find a glittering club in a well-heeled part of town. The address Max had given her couldn’t be further from her expectations: run-down, dingy, surrounded by boarded-up shops and litter piled high in the street; Flo looked around her and quickened her pace. She felt as if she were about to be mugged – or worse – any second.

  Wondering if she had the right address, Flo stole a quick glance at the card in the half-light of the moon: ‘101B Piccadilly Mansions’. Flo raised an eyebrow; she was definitely in the right place, and if she squinted her eyes she could just about make out number 101B two doors up. Hurrying towards the dark wooden door, she tried to push it open and was surprised to find it locked shut.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sakes,’ she muttered angrily, cursing Max under her breath. What was he thinking of sending her here?

  Even though she wanted to walk away, she knew she had to give it one last try. And so instead she rapped loudly on the door with her fist. ‘Hello, anyone there?’ she called. ‘I’m looking for Eddie.’

  Immediately the door swung open and Flo came face-to-face with an older woman. She was beautiful, Flo thought, tall and dressed in a man’s suit with her hair fashioned into a shiny black bob that hung just past her earlobes.

  ‘Who sent you?’ the woman barked.

  ‘Er, Max Monroe,’ Flo tried again. ‘He told me to come and sing here tonight, to ask for Eddie and tell him that Max sent me.’

  At the mention of Max’s name, the woman’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘Then you must be Flo.’ She beamed, beckoning her inside and slamming the door behind her. ‘Yes, Maxie told me you were coming. Can I take your coat?’

  Flo smiled as she handed it to the woman. ‘Thank you. So this Eddie, is he around?’

  The woman laughed, and offered her hand to Flo. ‘I am Eddie. Actually it’s Edwina, but I much prefer Eddie.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Flo said, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the mistake she had made.

  Eddie waved her concerns away. ‘It happens all the time. Now why don’t you come with me? You’ll sing in about half an hour, if that’s all right?’

  Nodding, Flo trailed behind Eddie. She allowed herself to be led down a steep flight of stone steps. As they reached the basement Flo heard the thrum of the music mixed with the sounds of people laughing and talking.

  Eddie pulled open the door and Flo could see a throng of people surrounding a stage area, all laughing and dancing to a jive band playing on the small central stage. Despite the unassuming entrance, the club itself was beautiful. A large chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, and rich red and black velvet drapes lined the bar area, with exotic and colourful-looking bottles Flo had never come across before lining the glass shelves. Amongst it all Flo could see women dressed outlandishly. Some of the ladies were dressed like Eddie in men’s suits and monocles, while others were dressed in exquisite ballgowns and made up to the nines, seemingly only dancing with one another.

  Flo was only wearing a simple teal dress in a Liberty print. Max hadn’t told her to dress up and she’d assumed it would just be an ordinary singing event like the ones she used to perform at in the Lamb and Flag. She felt wrong-footed as she looked around. Where were the men? She spotted a handful gathered in the corner by the stage. One, sporting a hat with a feather, was drinking what looked like a purple drink, while another wore an elaborate crimson smoking jacket, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since before the war.

  She turned to Eddie. ‘I’m sorry, is this some sort of fancy-dress event? If so, Max didn’t tell me.’

  Eddie laughed. ‘It seems Maxie didn’t tell you much.’

  ‘Like what?’ Flo frowned.

  Eddie shook her head. ‘I’ll fix you a gimlet and let Max tell you himself.’

  Without waiting for Flo to ask her what a gimlet was, Eddie pushed her towards the bar, then disappeared behind a red curtain. There, just beyond two women laughing over a drink was Max, sitting alone at the bar and enjoying the music.

  ‘Flo,’ he exclaimed, kissing her on both cheeks as the mysterious gimlet was suddenly placed in front of her. ‘You found it then.’ He smiled, gesturing for her to sit at the bar stool next to his.

  ‘I did,’ Flo replied, gazing around her and absorbing the atmosphere. ‘It’s not what I expected.’

  ‘What did you expect?’

  Flo shrugged and reached for her drink. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere like this before. Everyone seems quite eccentric, I suppose, in all their outfits.’

  Max threw his head back and laughed so hard she could see the back of his teeth. ‘Oh Flo! Do you know, you should be on stage as a comic not a singer.’

  She frowned as she took a sip. She still wasn’t sure what it was, but this gimlet was gorgeous.

  ‘I don’t see why that’s funny. Is this some sort of private members’ club? Do you come here a lot?’

  It was then Max looked at her with a hint of pity in his eyes as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, ‘Flo, this is a club for homosexuals and lesbians, and yes, let’s say I do come here rather a lot.’

  It was all Flo could do to hold on to her drink as she looked around the room in shock. She had heard of homosexuality and knew that it was illegal. But equally Flo wasn’t green enough to think it didn’t exist. She knew what went on behind closed doors, and she knew there were clubs like this one. At the store, they had welcomed enough customers that batted for the other side, as Mrs Matravers had always skilfully called it, but equally Flo didn’t think it was any of her business what people got up to in their private lives. She’d had an elderly uncle who Aggie had told her liked male company more than a lady’s.

  Across the room she saw two people locked in a passionate embrace and realised that although they looked like a man and a woman, they were in fact two women. As she turned away she was su
rprised at the emotions surging through her body. She felt curious, surprised, confused and, if she was honest, a tiny bit appalled. It was shocking to see something that was deemed so wrong by society played out so publicly and Flo wasn’t sure how she felt or indeed how she should feel.

  She turned back to Max and regarded him coolly. ‘So why did you want me to sing here? To shock me? Did you think I was too green, too stupid?’

  At Flo’s outburst, Max looked taken aback. ‘No, that wasn’t it at all. I just wanted you to think about playing in different venues, for different people. If you join ENSA—’

  ‘I’m not joining ENSA,’ Flo said firmly.

  ‘But you said you were going to take your singing seriously now,’ Max replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’m joining ENSA,’ Flo protested. ‘I have a job, a life here in London.’

  Max merely shrugged and took a sip of his drink. ‘All I’m saying is, and this applies whether you join ENSA or not, if you’re going to take your singing seriously you’ll be a better performer if you get used to entertaining a wide variety of people. I thought that getting you to sing in The Kitty Cat Club would give you a new experience, shall we say.’

  Flo nodded and took another sip of her drink. She knew Max was right; if she wanted to get serious about her singing career then she couldn’t always be in the Lamb and Flag. Even so, she wished he had been more honest with her about his motives when she had called on him last night.

  She was about to open her mouth and say as much, when it hit her. Was this Max’s way of telling her that he liked men more than he liked women? Was he trusting her with his secret? She looked into his eyes, searching for some sort of confirmation, but there was none as he sipped his gimlet and gave her a mysterious smile. With a sigh, she was about to ask another question about the club when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. Turning round she saw Eddie smiling at her.