The Runaway Daughter Page 18

  Vita was delighted that Nancy was so pleased, and even more delighted that she was going to show her dressmaker.

  ‘What’s the bee’s knees?’ Betsy asked, coming through the door and flinging her bag on the chair.

  ‘This,’ Nancy said. ‘This shirt has never sat right, but now I have a secret weapon.’

  ‘Secret weapon?’ Betsy asked, intrigued.

  ‘Vita’s Top Drawer underwear,’ Nancy said. ‘Ta-da.’ She lifted her shirt with a flourish.

  Jane, Betsy, Emma and Jemima – and even Wisey – were all suddenly clamouring to take a look. And the more they fussed over Vita’s creation, the more confident she felt. And Nancy, of course, was in her element, showing off.

  ‘Can I have one in blue, to go under my silk blouse?’ Jemima asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Vita laughed, ‘but you’ll have to wait your turn.’

  ‘And she’ll charge,’ Nancy said, decisively.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t—’ Vita began, but Nancy cut her off.

  ‘You absolutely will charge,’ she said sternly. ‘Come on, let’s get out front. This calls for a drink.’

  They were all chatting about Vita’s potential business out in the bar, when Percy joined them. Matteo opened another bottle of champagne.

  ‘What am I missing?’ Percy asked.

  ‘We’re toasting her fabulous creation,’ Nancy said. ‘See – doesn’t this look so much better?’ She stuck out her chest at Percy, and Vita smiled as she sipped her drink.

  ‘I told Vita that she’s on to something,’ Percy agreed.

  ‘I know. Mystic Alice says she’s going to be wildly successful.’

  Vita looked at Percy over the top of her glass. ‘Don’t ask,’ she said.

  ‘Well then, yes – I guess – a business has been born,’ Percy said, clearly amused. ‘Although can I just point out that there is a world of difference between making one brassiere and selling lots.’

  ‘Only a bit of hard work,’ Nancy said, perfectly seriously. ‘To Top Drawer!’ she proposed, raising her glass to the others. Vita clinked glasses with her, laughing. ‘And don’t you dare forget who put you up to this,’ Nancy told her.

  ‘Oh, believe me, I won’t.’

  56

  The Café de Paris

  Nancy had taken Mr Connelly’s advice to heart and had decreed they should hit the town to check out the competition, and said she’d heard there was a new cabaret on at the Café de Paris. Vita persuaded Percy and Edward to chaperone them on Saturday night after the show.

  Percy had lent Vita one of his leading-lady dresses from the rail – a slinky champagne-coloured dress that made her feel every inch a starlet. Nancy was also dressed up in a sparkling gold dress made entirely of fringing, causing Edward to joke that if the two of them lay over each other, they’d look like rather a fetching settee.

  ‘Go on,’ Nancy urged Vita, as they sat in the back of Edward’s car. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Say it again, say it again.’

  ‘’Ey up, our Percy. You’d better hurry up and get down t’pit,’ Vita said, in her deep, gruff voice, putting on her best over-puffed Yorkshire accent. ‘I’ll pay yer half yer wages, and double yer hours.’

  ‘That is too funny,’ Nancy laughed.

  ‘Oh . . . oh, do Scottish again,’ Percy urged. ‘You’ve got Mrs B spot-on.’

  ‘Hang on, we’re here.’ Edward pulled over and parked by the kerb. As they got out of the car, Vita reached her arm out for Percy.

  Edward had assured them that he knew a chap called Poulsen, who used to be head waiter at the Embassy Club and would be able to get them in on the guest list. But seeing the crowd outside the Café de Paris now, Vita wasn’t so sure.

  She looked up at the front of the club, with its distinctive signage and ornate revolving door, and raised crossed fingers to Edward as he squeezed his way to the front of the queue, tipping his black top hat to some people he recognized.

  A line of well-dressed men and women waited patiently outside, their perfume catching on the breeze, along with the beat of the music coming from inside. Vita counted up the fur stoles and sparkling dresses, and the tailored suits of the handsome young men. It was a rather more salubrious crowd than the one that graced the Zip.

  Vita took Nancy’s hand as Edward reappeared on the other side of the revolving doors and waved for them to go inside.

  ‘Isn’t he a wizard?’ Nancy trilled happily, as they shouldered their way through to the front of the crowd. She clearly enjoyed the fact that they were turning heads – that the people waiting thought they were important somehow – but Vita pulled a face at Percy, who found it just as laughable as she did.

  ‘Please, enjoy yourselves,’ the host urged them, mistaking them, as everyone did, for two couples. Nancy threw an amused glance at Vita, reaching up to kiss Percy’s cheek ostentatiously. ‘See you at the bar. Be a darling and get us some fizz.’

  In the cloakrooms, Vita and Nancy powdered their noses in the fancy gilt mirrors that reflected the marble washbasins and gold taps. Then Nancy winked at Vita in the mirror. The attendant had left for a moment and she reached into her velvet clutch-bag.

  ‘Look what I’ve got. Fancy a dab of snow?’

  Vita watched as she tipped out some white powder onto the dip at the base of her thumb, or her ‘snuff pouch’ as she liked to call it. She felt torn: half of her, the good half, wanted to get out of taking any more drugs with Nancy, as they inevitably led to trouble, but the other half – the one so desperate to be daring and outrageous – won. She didn’t want to let Nancy down, or for her to think Vita was prudish.

  ‘That’s it. Straight up,’ Nancy encouraged, holding her hand out to Vita. ‘Toot-toot.’

  Vita checked once more that they weren’t being watched and then dipped her head forward and sniffed up the powder, before rubbing her nostril as the acrid snow stung.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were wide from all the champagne she’d had so far tonight, but this felt so good. Then immediately she felt guilty. Because surely it was sinful to have this much fun? What if it all ended? What then?

  ‘Look at you,’ Nancy said, standing behind her. She ran her hands down Vita’s sides and over her hips, in the slinky satin dress she was wearing. ‘Did I tell you yet? I do so love this.’

  Vita felt herself shudder at Nancy’s touch, but as soon as the moment came, it passed, and Nancy’s eyes flashed with mischief in the mirror. Then she grabbed Vita’s hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go and have fun.’

  It could have been Nancy’s potent white powder, but Vita felt a heady, other-worldly feeling and a definite tingling up her spine as she leant on the balcony. Above them, a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was ruched with silk. Opposite them, a double staircase curved down on either side of the stage where the band played. Way below on the dance floor, elegant couples were dancing. Further back, the tables were crowded with guests drinking cocktails. Standing here, it felt to Vita as if they were right on the pulse of London.

  ‘They say this place is a copy of the dance room on the Lusitania,’ Nancy said, leaning on the rail by her side.

  ‘The ship the Germans sank?’

  ‘Yes. Wouldn’t you love to go on one of those grand ships?’ Nancy said. ‘Sail away somewhere? Think of all the parties.’

  ‘Not when they sink,’ Vita said and Nancy laughed.

  ‘Oh, look, look! We’re just in time for the cabaret.’

  The compère was introducing the next act, who called herself Delysia. The lights dimmed, then a spotlight appeared at the top of the staircase and a woman in a sequinned sheath-dress descended the stairs, waving an ostrich-feather fan, and Vita remembered a similar fan in Percy’s studio. She wondered if it might be the same one: very probably. She was starting to see how interconnected everything was, amongst the clubs and bars. Even here, where the audience was of a more salubrious nature, it was still the same type of per
son. The type she loved being.

  Vita could soon see why Mr Connelly was insecure about the entertainment at the Zip, however. Everyone was staring as Delysia began to move, kicking out her gorgeously long legs as she descended one step at a time, her plumed headdress fluttering.

  Then she started her bawdy song in a deep alto voice. It was called ‘Does Your Father Know You’re Out?’, and Vita heard spontaneous applause and laughter from the crowd below, many of whom were now facing the opposite side of the balcony.

  ‘Look – it’s him!’ Nancy gasped, nudging her in the ribs.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Prince of Wales,’ Nancy whispered, her face lit up with excitement. ‘Over there. Look!’

  Vita followed her gaze across the balcony to where a handsome man in a grey suit with a silk cravat was laughing with other people, as he listened to the cabaret.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Vita exclaimed, feeling herself blushing with the thrill of witnessing such a moment. Mrs Bell would die, when she heard about this! And how gloriously cheeky of Delysia to sing such provocative lyrics. It was no secret that the King disapproved of his son’s prodigious social life.

  ‘Isn’t he quite the cat’s pyjamas,’ Nancy said, grabbing Vita’s wrist and making off around the balcony. ‘Come on. Let’s go and meet him.’

  ‘We can’t. I mean, we can’t just go up to him. Can we?’ Vita said.

  ‘Yes, we can. We can do anything.’

  Vita relented, delighted as ever to go along with her friend.

  ‘I dare you,’ Nancy said as they got nearer. ‘I dare you to talk to him.’

  Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe they could do anything. After all, they were here, weren’t they? With all the Bright Young Things. With the future King of England. And what did she have to lose? Especially if it meant impressing Nancy.

  57

  Saying Hello

  Egged on by Nancy, and not wanting to back out of the dare, and also because she was now feeling completely high, Vita made her way around the balcony with Nancy to where the Prince of Wales and his entourage were standing.

  Delysia was still singing and had the attention of the whole room, so it was easy to move amongst the crowd. Soon they were only a few people away from the Prince.

  ‘Go on,’ Nancy urged, pushing Vita forward.

  A young man standing next to her noticed Vita and she saw him looking her up and down appraisingly, before smiling and standing aside to let her get through to the Prince. She was glad she was wearing Percy’s starlet dress, but even so, she tugged at the neckline, worrying that she was revealing far too much cleavage.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, shouldering her way through. She could see Nancy in the crowd, holding her hands up in applause.

  And then quite suddenly there she was, standing right next to the Prince of Wales. He glanced at her and looked away. Then he glanced back.

  For a split second she felt absolutely ridiculous, colour creeping up her cheeks as she realized that she not only had the Prince’s attention, but that of others around him, too.

  ‘Sir . . . I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ she said, wondering if she should curtsey. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. The man talking to the Prince nudged him and smiled over in Vita’s direction. The Prince looked both amused and confused.

  ‘Have we met?’ he asked Vita.

  ‘Oh no . . . sir . . . Your Highness,’ Vita stuttered. ‘It’s just I wanted to say . . .’

  What did she want to say? What did one say to the Prince of Wales? There was a pregnant pause as the Prince and his friend stared at her.

  ‘It’s really very rude of me,’ she said, deciding that the truth was the only option, ‘but you see, I’ve rather got myself caught in – well . . . a dare.’ She pulled an embarrassed smile and the Prince chuckled.

  ‘A dare?’

  ‘Yes, sir. To . . . to greet you. To say hello.’

  The Prince laughed again, amused at her discomfort. ‘Well, hello,’ he said and Vita extended her hand. He took her hand and kissed it, his blue eyes staring into hers.

  ‘It’s an honour,’ she said.

  ‘The pleasure is all mine. What is your name?’ he asked, one eye now on the crowd, then back to her. He had to raise his voice.

  ‘Verity. Verity Casey. My friends call me Vita.’

  ‘And what do you do, Vita?’

  ‘I’m a designer,’ she said confidently. ‘Of women’s underwear,’ she added.

  ‘Oh!’ he said, sounding both shocked and amused.

  He gave her a smile, and then Delysia had finished her song and the crowd erupted into whoops and cheers and the Prince turned his attention away from her.

  But at that moment a man stepped forward with a camera and there was a bright flash as he caught the Prince, who didn’t flinch. He must be used to it, Vita thought, the bright light making dots appear in her vision.

  She ducked down and scuttled back through the crowd to Nancy, who stared at her, her mouth open wide.

  ‘Well? What did he say?’ she gushed, clinging onto Vita’s arm.

  Vita laughed, looking back up at the crowd to check that the Prince wasn’t watching. ‘Nothing much. He just . . . well. Oh, Nancy!’

  She couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

  ‘This calls for champagne,’ Nancy said, steering her towards the stairs. ‘Wait until the boys find out.’

  Clutching onto each other, giddy with what had just occurred, they made for the staircase, following in Delysia’s footsteps.

  ‘Wasn’t she marvellous? Delysia, I mean?’ Vita said, seeing the cabaret star drift between the tables to receive compliments.

  ‘We could do that at the Zip. I mean, we’re good, but we need to up our game. We could definitely suggest to Mr Connelly having a cabaret act.’

  Vita moved out of the way as a very stylish couple passed them. He was wearing tails, a white silk scarf draped around his neck, and was carrying a silver-topped cane. He paused, tipping his hat to them both. He had the most extraordinary hazel-green eyes, she noticed, as she tried to rip her gaze away.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, but while he was addressing them, his gaze stayed locked on Vita’s and she felt a rush in her stomach, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

  She watched him pass by, smelling the woman’s perfume. She felt a pang of longing. How wonderful it would be to be her. To be with that handsome man with the amazing eyes.

  Then, at the top of the stairs, the man turned and looked back at her, seemingly as surprised as she was that they were both looking for each other. Vita bit her lip, her smile seeming to burst out of her. It felt as if they had shared a secret. Although she wasn’t sure yet what the secret was.

  ‘Oh, look out! Could he be the dark stranger?’ Nancy teased.

  58

  Mrs Clifford-Meade

  Mrs Clifford-Meade, known to her friends as Lulu, was a no-nonsense kind of person. She was in her forties, Vita reckoned, but she looked modern in flared trousers, a waistcoat and a frilly blouse as she met them at the door of her shop in Chelsea. She closed the door and the small bell chimed above their heads. Then she turned the sign round to read ‘Closed’ and ushered them inside.

  ‘Your mother would kill me if she knew you were here,’ Lulu said, kissing Nancy on the cheek. ‘And don’t for one minute think I’m going to make you anything, young lady, when you know full well that your mother won’t pay.’

  Vita was amused by the affection in Lulu’s voice. She clearly found Nancy a force to be reckoned with, too.

  ‘Then don’t tell her.’

  ‘And I told you not to bring that devilish dog.’

  ‘Oh, Lulu, don’t be mean to Mr Wild,’ Nancy said, kissing the dog, which was in her arms. ‘He’ll behave this time, I promise. Anyway, this visit is about Vita – my best friend, who I was telling you about.’

  Vita smiled, thrilled to be described by Nancy as her best friend.

  ‘You’r
e the one who spoke to the Prince of Wales,’ Lulu said, shaking Vita’s hand. There was an amused respect in her eyes, and Vita was glad that her daring moment reflected so well on her now. There had been nothing but talk about the Prince of Wales at the Café de Paris amongst the girls.

  She stared at the mannequins dotted around the small room wearing an array of beautiful gowns, particularly a pink dress with appliqué flowers. Nancy had explained that Lulu’s main work was the bespoke couture that she designed for her ‘ladies’ in the back of the shop, and now they followed Lulu through a curtain into the large room beyond. Vita watched the dressmakers at their desks, confidently cutting patterns. One of them was pinning the most exquisite long evening gown on a mannequin, appraising the shimmering fabric in the light coming from the large windows.

  Vita, mesmerized, longed to stay and watch her, but Lulu led them through another door into a lounge. There was a raised carpeted area, where Vita suspected the models paraded to show off Lulu’s clothes, and below it were some comfortable couches and chairs. Lulu sat with them around a low table and poured tea from a metal teapot. Nancy tried to make Mr Wild sit still.

  ‘I don’t have much time,’ Lulu said. ‘So you’d better tell me what this is all about, Nancy. But if either of you is after a job, let me start by saying that I’m afraid I have no vacancies.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s not that at all,’ Nancy said, then got straight to the point. She described how Vita had made a brassiere – first one for herself and then one for Nancy – and how she had said straight away that Lulu must see them. Vita felt herself blushing as Nancy talked of her ‘great talent’. She really was a first-class saleswoman.

  ‘I could have my girls make these,’ Lulu pointed out, picking up the pince-nez that hung around her neck on a chain and examining the bra that Vita now presented to her from her bag. Seeing it in Lulu’s hand, she realized how amateurish her enterprise must seem.

  ‘But Vita here has the pattern,’ Nancy responded, nodding at Vita to elaborate. ‘And they’ve been tried and tested.’