‘How did you come to be an actress?’
‘I’d always liked to sing and dance, and I was a proper little show-off when I was a child. I wanted everyone to look at me! When we left India and went to live in Dorset, I nagged and bullied Rose until she let me join a down-at-heel provincial theatre company, when I was fifteen.’
Daisy smiled and shook her head. ‘Poor Rose and Alex. I was such a horrid brat, but they’ve always been the best of parents. Come along now, darling. We must go and show you to the boys.’
‘Cass, you look unbelievable,’ said Robert.
‘You’re like a princess in a fairy tale.’ Stephen spun her round and made her billowing skirts fly out in clouds of gossamer and gauze. ‘It never ceases to amaze me, how you girls can change your faces.’
‘But I don’t look all that different, do I?’ Cassie asked them, anxious now.
‘No, just much more beautiful,’ said Ewan gallantly.
‘Well, that’s all thanks to Daisy, because she did my make-up.’
‘Of course, old Daze knows all the tricks.’ Robert picked up the evening wrap his sister had found for Cassie to borrow and put it round her shoulders. ‘You smell delicious, too.’
‘It’s Arpège by Lanvin,’ Daisy told him.
‘I didn’t think it was Vim,’ said Robert, grinning. ‘Let’s go and show you off.’
‘Stephen, love,’ said Daisy, ‘could you go and find a taxi?’
In the taxi, everyone was crammed up close together, and Cassie let herself dream for a moment, to imagine these good-looking, generous people were her real family.
The twins teased Daisy for a while, then made sarcastic comments about Ewan’s latest film. This was some Elizabethan costume drama in which he had had to wear a velvet doublet, a codpiece and silk stockings.
‘At least he has the legs for stockings,’ Daisy told them, sticking up for Ewan.
‘Yes,’ said Stephen, grinning. ‘The world will be a better place for seeing Fraser’s knees.’
Ewan shook his head and lit an expensive-looking black cigar, glancing briefly at the twins as if they were a couple of scruffy little kids he’d caught stealing apples but couldn’t be bothered to clip around the ears.
Then the conversation turned to Denham family matters, and Cassie pinned her own ears back.
‘What’s all this about Mum and Charton Minster?’ Robert asked his sister as they bounced and bumped over the potholes, and the taxi’s mostly blacked-out headlamps threw narrow beams of silver on the dirty, rutted streets.
‘Well, she wants to buy it back,’ said Daisy. ‘It’s going to rack and ruin, the roof is falling in, but that sod who owns it won’t pay for the repairs.’
Daisy shrugged inside her satin wrap. ‘The kids who live there now are hopeless cases,’ she continued. ‘They’re boys from prisons and reformatories, all of them bad lots. They’re wrecking it inside, so Mrs Hobson told me. One of her grown-up children does some casual gardening there, and he’s appalled at how the kids behave. But Mum thinks she could save the place.’
‘But she can’t afford to buy it, can she?’ Robert put his arm round Cassie, hugged her tight, and Cassie snuggled warmly up against him.
‘I was thinking I could help her out.’ Daisy shrugged again. ‘It’s partly down to me she lost it in the first place.’
‘But would she
let
you help her out?’ asked Stephen. ‘You’ve tried to give her money before, but she would never take it.’
‘What would she do with Charton Minster, if she got it?’ put in Robert.
‘God only knows. Maybe she and Dad could go and live there.’ Daisy lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew out smoke. ‘It means a lot to Mum, and if she wants it, I’m going to see she gets it.’
‘That’s fighting talk, my darling.’ Ewan Fraser hugged his wife. ‘I know who I’d put money on. Well, chaps, it looks like this must be the Florida.’
They got out of the cab. Ewan paid the driver, and then they went inside the club. Cassie saw there were several girls in various forces’ uniforms, but these looked like drab sparrows compared with those in evening gowns of emerald, ruby, gold. The men wore uniform or black, blending into the smoky background as the women swooped and fluttered, like so many birds of paradise.
Daisy and Ewan knew everyone, it seemed, and spent the first ten minutes walking round, kissing and being kissed. But then they got a table.
‘Champagne, Cassie?’ Robert took the bottle from the bucket and poured an ice-cold glassful.
‘Not too much, Rob,’ Daisy cautioned him. ‘She isn’t used to it.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a rotten spoilsport, Daze,’ said Robert, frowning. ‘Go on, Cassie, try it. Do you like it?’
‘It’s a bit like Tizer.’ Cassie took another sip. ‘I like the way the bubbles go up my nose.’ Then she took a hearty swig, and giggled. ‘Blimey, Rob, it’s got a kick to it! But it’s delicious.’
‘That’s my girl.’ Robert topped up her glass, and from then on he kept it full, in spite of Daisy’s frown.
After they had listened to a black girl in a gorgeous silver sheath dress singing jazz, Ewan said it was time to make a move, and that they should go on to the 400.
This turned out to be a dimly-lit and claustrophobic cavern, the walls of which were draped with blood red silk, with red plush seating and a wine red carpet. ‘What do you think?’ asked Stephen.
‘It’s very red,’ said Cassie, hiccupping and giggling and wondering why she felt so very strange – floating outside herself and seeing lots of flashing colours, glittering lights. As she’d stumbled from the taxi, she’d been very glad to cling to Robert for support.
Now, she stared in wonder at the women, most of whom were laden down with jewels and wearing fabulous evening frocks. They danced with handsome officers, tossing back their perfumed hair and laughing at their escorts’ jokes. They sat at little tables lit by just one glowing candle, flirting while they drank champagne. This is what I want, thought Cassie. This is how I want to live.
Ewan didn’t care how much he spent. He smoked the best Havanas, ordered bottle after bottle of champagne, and later there was caviar, served with ice on dainty little plates.
Cassie tried a mouthful. ‘I don’t think I like this,’ she said, and puckered up her face. ‘It’s much too salty, and it’s slimy. It makes me think of fish paste that’s gone off.’
‘Then we’ll no’ be wasting it on
you
,’ said Ewan grimly, and took her plate away. But then he smiled to show he wasn’t cross, and Cassie giggled back at him.
Cassie danced with Robert, Ewan and Stephen, and then some more with Robert.
Then the room began to spin.
‘We need to put this girl to bed,’ said Daisy, as Cassie slumped down next to her and yawned behind her hand.
‘Yes, I’m really sleepy.’ Cassie turned to Robert, fell against his chest, gazed up at him. ‘Your sister says we have to go to bed.’
Stephen and Ewan stood up at once. ‘Come on, Cass, let’s get you home,’ said Stephen.
‘No, I don’t want you and Ewan, I want to go with Robert,’ Cassie told them, hanging on to Robert.
‘Get her in a taxi, Rob, and take her home,’ said Daisy. ‘Mrs Jimp will be back now, and she’ll put Cass to bed.’
So Robert picked up Cassie’s wrap and then he helped her totter to the exit, holding tightly on to him.
The doorman found a taxi, and between them he and Robert helped a very drunk but merrily giggling Cassie into it. Robert was aware of thumps and bangs – a raid was going on somewhere – but all Cassie seemed to feel was happiness and calm.
She laid her head on Robert’s shoulder, and he put his arm around her waist. ‘Rob, I’m having such a lovely, lovely time,’ she whispered, as she snuggled up to him and hiccupped. ‘I’ve never been so happy in my life.’
‘Oh, Cassie, you’re so sweet,’ said Robert, laughing.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ demanded Cassie, frowning.
‘You’re sloshed, my darling.’ Robert held her as the taxi lurched over the ruts and bumps. ‘You’re in the middle of dirty, dangerous London, in an air raid, but you’re having a lovely, lovely time. You’re sloshed, but very sweet.’
The flat was dark and chilly after the light and warmth of the 400. After he’d checked the blackout curtains, Robert put on some lights, and Cassie blinked because they were too bright.
‘Got to go to bed,’ she muttered as she kicked off Daisy’s silver shoes, then staggered off along the passageway.
‘Yes, you must,’ said Robert, catching her as she fell against the dado rail and scraped her elbow painfully, then righting her again.
‘Robert, you come with me.’ Cassie wound her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Come and tuck me up and cuddle me?’
‘Oh, Cass, I can’t do that,’ said Robert.
‘Why not?’ pouted Cassie.
‘You don’t know what you’re asking me, that’s why.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Just the same, you need to sleep it off, all by yourself.’
‘But I’ll be so lonely.’ Cassie rubbed herself against him, smiling up at him with big, round eyes. ‘Robert, will you come and put my light on?’
‘Yes, all right,’ said Robert, then half-walked, half-carried Cassie to the bedroom.
‘You’ll have to help me get undressed,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll see if Mrs Jimp is back from fire-watching yet, then she can help you into bed.’
‘But I don’t want Mrs Jimp,’ sulked Cassie. ‘Robert, the only one I want is you.’
Then Cassie sat or rather fell down on the bed. She flopped against the lacy pillows. ‘Rob,’ she whispered softly, ‘will you take my stockings off for me?’
‘You must take them off yourself.’
‘But I can’t,’ said Cassie. ‘You do it, Robert – please?’
So Robert did as Cassie asked him, rolling down her fine silk stockings, carefully turning them around her ankles so as not to ladder them, then slipping them off her feet. She had such tiny little feet, he noticed now, and the urge to kiss them was almost overwhelming.
But he didn’t – couldn’t – it would not be fair.
‘I love you, Rob,’ said Cassie, as he stroked her ankle. ‘I love you more than anything.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Robert sighed. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I’ve been such a fool. I shouldn’t have made you drink all that champagne. You’ve gone a really ghastly shade of green. I think we need to get you to the bathroom.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re going to be sick.’
Chapter Eight
Cassie couldn’t remember very much about what happened next that evening. She had some vague, embarrassing recollections of being in a cold, white bathroom, making awful noises, and then of someone putting her to bed.
Later on, she must have dozed a while, she thought, because she woke up lying in a little pool of dribble. Both of her eyes were glued together with mascara, and she felt very ill.
The blackout curtains were still closed, but the bright morning sun had somehow found its way between the curtains and the window sill, and a shaft of light had sliced the room in two. The tiny gilt alarm clock on the bedside table said the time was half past eight.
‘Holy Mother of God!’ Cassie started up, fell out of bed, scrambled to her feet again and grabbed her army uniform, which – thank you, Blessed Virgin – someone had put neatly on a hanger and hung up from a hook behind the door.
She tore off Daisy’s crumpled evening dress, and started pulling on her shirt and skirt and horrid lisle stockings, fastening her suspenders and buttoning her jacket.
But – Holy Mother – where had she left her cap? On the sofa in the sitting room? Or had the butler hung it on the hallstand when he’d hung up Rob’s and Steve’s? Please, God, let it be there!
‘What’s all the rush?’ asked Daisy’s husband, who was in the dining room, reading the morning paper, eating toast and drinking coffee. Ewan was in uniform today. Perhaps he was in ENSA? ‘Sit down, Cassie,’ he continued calmly. ‘What would you like for breakfast?’
‘I ought to be in Piccadilly! I have to take a bridagier to Alsherdot. Please, is there any coffee?’ she gabbled, wondering why she felt so bloody awful and couldn’t seem to make her words come out the way they should – was she sickening for something, maybe? Did she have any spots?