Paper Doll (2 page)

‘Tosh, and more tosh!’ Irene Curruthers had said to that idea. ‘What do you think all those sensations churning inside you are for? It’s lust, pure and natural, my dear. People like your grandmother secretly enjoyed the attention, they just wouldn’t admit to it because they were told that they shouldn’t.’

‘You think so?’

‘Of course. It’s best to lose your virginity as soon as possible. It’s fashionable to have a lover, you know. A wicked man is just the thing, since he knows how to make a woman feel too wicked to want to stop him, and he has enough sense to protect her.’

Julia remembered with shame the little damp rush of pleasure Irene’s words had brought. ‘Protect her?’

‘From getting herself knocked up . . . by using a French letter for protection, you ninny. You do know what that is, don’t you?’

‘Of course,’ she lied, her mind scrambling to her schoolgirl French. ‘It’s a billet-doux.’

Irene had shrieked with laughter. ‘How gloriously droll of you, darling. I can’t wait until I tell Charles. Never let a man near you without a frenchie. They are so careless about such things, so it’s up to the woman.’

Julia managed to hide her mystification. ‘Oh . . . perhaps I’ll just wait until I wed.’

‘What if you never marry, you don’t want to go through life being a virgin, do you? How absolutely dreary that would be. I could probably fix you up with my brother, Charles, if you like. He’s just oozing with lust and experience, but I warn you, don’t fall in love with him because he’s rather louche, and definitely not the marrying kind.’

‘As if I would. Actually, I have no intention of marrying until I’m at least thirty.’

‘Then I’ll have to invite you to the country for New Year, when Charles is home from Oxford. You should trot over to the Marie Stopes clinic in Marlborough Road; she give lectures about birth control, which scandalizes certain people no end, of course.’

Julia grinned at the thought of changing her image, and of having Charles Curruthers as a male friend. There would be a certain glamour attached to it because, as Irene had pointed out, her brother was quite a prize. If she were to lose her virginity for the sake of fashion, why not to Charles? He was as lithe and lean as a leopard and had a laconic sort of charm. He’d also had other leopard attributes the last time she’d set eyes on him. ‘Does Charles still have spots on his face?’

‘Good God, no! Charles is the cat’s whiskers now. He’s doing well with his studies . . . and he’s learned to fly. Women adore him. I first did it when I was eighteen with one of Charlie’s friends.’

‘Which one?’

Irene had slanted her head to one side and her eyes had narrowed. ‘That would be telling.’

Which didn’t seem quite fair to Julia and she pointed out, ‘But you would know who I’d lost my virginity to.’

‘It’s not exactly the same, my dear. I was only offering you my advice, since you’re not actually fast by nature, and are really quite naïve for your age. One doesn’t usually discuss intimate affairs, one just gets on with them and enjoys them for what they’re worth. Take my word for it, everyone, but
everyone
, is doing it now, even the most unlikely people.’

Julia had gazed upon her father with some fondness and thought, not everyone, since her father was too old, and anyway, he didn’t have a lady friend.

This morning Julia and her father, already dressed in his business clothes, breakfasted together in the dining room of their serviced mansion flat in Earls Court. The flat looked out over the road. Not that the traffic could be seen today and the sound was partly smothered by an overnight, but thinning, pea-souper of a fog.

Dear daddy, he was so old-fashioned. Julia felt a rush of love for him. ‘I do wish I’d been born a boy, then I wouldn’t have to bother about tiresome things such as marriage and producing children. I could just run the factory for you. As it is, I’m absolutely hopeless with figures.’

‘You don’t have to worry. I’m interviewing a new manager today.’

‘Oh, I see. What’s his name? I might know him.’

‘I doubt it, dear. His name is Martin Lee-Trafford, and he’s a doctor of medicine. His family hails from Hampshire . . . Bournemouth I recall.’

‘He’s a doctor. How odd. Why would a doctor want to manage a factory?’

‘He practised his profession during the war. He saw too much and it affected him badly. He’s been recovering, and as yet doesn’t feel able to return to his former profession.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You mean that he’s mentally ill? Good Lord, Daddy, be careful; some people can be quite violent. I saw a man begging outside a chemist shop the other day who had eyes staring out of his head, and he was shaking fit to bust. The poor thing; I dropped a shilling or two into his cap, of course.’

‘Oh, good for you, my dear. Those men had a terrible time of it.’

‘The chemist came rushing out and shooed him away. He told him he was frightening the customers off. The man swore horribly, and the chemist told me he was shell-shocked, which was a sort of madness brought on from being at the front. He was terribly unkempt and had a notice around his neck saying he was looking for work. But I doubt if anyone would employ him acting like that. The way he acted was quite frightening.’

‘I would have. He could have worked on the packing bench.’

‘Well, I suppose.’ Julia hoped she didn’t sound as doubtful as she felt. Her father was too soft-hearted for words and she hoped he wasn’t going to allow himself to be taken advantage of. ‘Surely you can find someone better to manage the factory. What would a doctor know about toys . . . or management come to that?’

‘Can you think of anyone with a better character than a man who cared for fallen soldiers in their time of need. Lee-Trafford won a DCM with bar.’

When she raised an enquiring eyebrow her father sighed. ‘Didn’t they teach you anything at that expensive school you went to?’

‘Not manly things, but I can cook a soufflé and talk about nothing.’

This time he laughed. ‘One of your strong points, I might add. The DCM is short for the Distinguished Conduct Medal. Besides which, Martin is the son of an old friend of mine. I went through school with David Lee-Trafford. He manufactured domestic goods before his retirement. David is gone now. Spanish flu took him, the same as your mother. Lee-Trafford practically grew up on the factory floor. He has solid ideas, and what could be better than that?’

‘You mean he’s a fuddy-duddy like you.’

‘I mean nothing of the sort. If I take him on, which is likely, he can start work on the Tuesday after New Year.’

‘But a doctor in charge of a toy factory . . .’ She gazed dubiously at him. ‘Wouldn’t he consider it beneath him?’

‘Having a job and feeling useful – no matter how humble that job – gives a man back his pride. So if you come across that poor damaged man again, you send him round to see me and I’ll try and fit him in somewhere.’

‘Actually he was rather churlish; he didn’t even thank me, or look me in the eye come to that.’

‘Having to beg wouldn’t sit well with most men, especially one who had served his country well. Can you blame him?’

‘I see, well, you know best, I suppose. Now . . . could I bother you for a small advance? Please say yes.’

Her father smiled indulgently at her. ‘My past experience of that statement suggests that you’ve spent your allowance for this month.’

‘Most of it, but you know how expensive the Christmas season is. I saw a darling little beaded evening bag in the window of La Belle Moderne the other day, and with a matching headband. I’ll just die if I can’t have it. It was wildly expensive. But there . . . If we’re hard up then I must learn to go without these things. It will do me good.’

‘You know very well that a little evening bag for my favourite girl won’t make much of a dent in my overdraft,’ he said, and chuckled. ‘Take some money from my safe; you know the combination.’

‘More tea, Daddy?’

‘Yes please. You haven’t any plans to go away for Christmas, have you?’

‘And leave you moping here all alone with only thoughts of Mummy for company? Good Lord, what do you take me for? We’ll go to the midnight service together, as usual, and we’ll visit Mother’s grave. I’ve been invited to a weekend party at the Curruthers’ country house in Kent for New Year though.’ She didn’t tell him that Irene and Charles’ parents would be staying in the city.

‘I see.’ He gave a bit of a worried frown. ‘I can’t say I approve of the Curruthers girl. She’s a bit scatty. What does her father do?’

‘Oh, investments, I think. And he’s met King George and Queen Mary at a reception so is perfectly respectable. He’s a Baron or something. Irene is tremendous fun, you know. She said that Charles has invited Edward, Prince of Wales, to the party. It will be thrilling if he turns up.’

‘I should imagine it would be, but don’t count on it,’ and he smiled. ‘I understood the Prince was on an overseas tour. India comes to mind.’

Julia hid her disappointment with a shrug. ‘Yes, well . . . Irene is disposed towards exaggeration, I suppose.’

‘And her brother, what’s he like?’

‘I’ve only met him a couple of times and Irene says he’s doing frightfully well up at Oxford. He has a motorcycle and a sidecar, and will pick me up on Friday evening. I’ll be home on Tuesday, the following year.’

He smiled at her. ‘You’re chattering, Julia.’

Gently, she said, ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m old enough to take care of myself, you know.’

‘Of course you are.’ He smiled at her. ‘I keep forgetting that you’re grown-up. Just make sure that girl doesn’t lead you astray. Your mother would have wanted you to keep yourself tidy for marriage.’

She blushed, hoping he didn’t suspect what her intentions were for New Year’s Eve. ‘Daddy, stop it at once, you’re embarrassing me! What’s in the paper, anything interesting?’

He made a show of opening the
Telegraph
, which the maid had brought in. ‘The Anglo-Irish treaty has been signed.’

‘Oh . . . that’s wonderful. I didn’t know we had a treaty with the Irish. How jolly. Does that mean there won’t be any more trouble?’

‘On the contrary, it will more than likely be the cause of more trouble in the long run,’ he predicted rather gloomily.

‘Oh, that really is too bad.’ Picking up his toast she scraped some of the butter off and scolded, ‘You shouldn’t eat all this greasy food; it’s bad for the heart, and you’re getting quite paunchy.’

‘And you were complaining about me telling you what to do.’

They had breakfast sent up from the kitchens that serviced the apartment block, though Julia preferred to cook the evening meal herself in the well-fitted apartment kitchen. ‘I must tell the kitchen not to send so much up.’

‘You’ll do no such thing. The fact is, my dear, you resemble a starving greyhound. There’s nothing like a good English breakfast to start off the day. I enjoy it, and I’m not going to deprive myself of it because of a stupid fashion that directs we all must look as though we’re suffering from intestinal worms and malnutrition.’

Julia nearly choked on a sip of her black coffee. ‘Good Lord, what a perfectly vile thing to say at breakfast! I shan’t stay here and listen to another word of it. I’m going to take my bath; after that I’m doing some last-minute Christmas shopping before meeting some of the girls for lunch at the Popular Café in Piccadilly. They usually have an orchestra.’

‘I took your mother to lunch there shortly after it opened. It’s a very well-patronized venue.’

‘It’s handy for the shops in Regent Street, too. She slanted her head to one side and gazed at him. I do miss Mummy, you know, but she wouldn’t want us to be sad. If you’re good I might buy you your favourite cigar as a treat, though you should really give up smoking. You were coughing in your sleep last night.’

He chuckled. ‘May I remind you again that I happen to be the parent, and you’re the child.’

‘Hardly that any more.’ She rose, and pulling her robe around her she kissed her father’s balding forehead. ‘Good luck with the new manager. I’ll come to the factory to say hello later on. You can introduce us. What time is your appointment with Martin Lee-Trafford, did you say?’

‘I didn’t, but it’s two p.m. Before that I have an appointment with Latham Miller.’

‘Oh, what for?’

‘Nothing that would interest you, dear, just business,’ he said vaguely.

‘Latham Miller is a strange man, quite active in society. I often see him, usually as part of a crowd and at the centre of attention.’

‘He’s very wealthy.’

She laughed. ‘That’s a rather mercenary thing to say. I do hope you don’t put me in that basket . . . but then, I don’t have to marry for money. Besides, Mr Miller is quite handsome in his own way. I’m sure he could attract a woman without having to flash his wallet at her.’

Her father made a quiet humming sound in his throat. ‘Tell me what you think is odd about him.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s because you expect a man of his age to be settled down and married, not hanging around younger people at parties. He must be in his early forties. Irene describes him as filthy rich, and she thinks the sun shines out of his, um . . .
eyes
.’

‘He was married once . . . before the war, to an American woman. She was a very nice woman, who lost her life when the Titanic went down.’

‘Oh, the poor man, how dreadful for him . . . and for her, of course. She must have been terrified.’

‘One can only hope for a more peaceful end.’

Talking of death was unsettling. She kissed him. ‘I’ll drop in at the factory later with your favourite cake for afternoon tea, about three I expect. It will give me an excuse to look Martin Lee-Trafford over. Then I’m coming back home to decorate the Christmas tree. I’ve booked one with the doorman, just a small one for the two of us to enjoy. His brother sells them. He’s a former soldier, so it’s all for the cause . . . and I’m going to cook us a proper Christmas dinner with a turkey.’

‘A small turkey, I hope.’

‘Well . . . it’s larger than the doorman led me to expect. He said there’s no such thing as a small turkey unless we wanted a chicken. Anyway, the poor creature is hanging in the larder. We’ll manage, I expect.’