The Runaway Daughter Page 32

  ‘I hope you are not here again about your so-called “business”,’ Clarissa Fenwick started. ‘What was it Archie said?’ She put her fingers to her lips, as if trying to recall. ‘Oh yes. That’s it – underwear.’

  She said it as if it were a horrible joke and Vita felt her face flushing.

  ‘It is very much a business,’ Vita said. ‘We have orders and—’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘It’s true. Ask Archie.’ She forced herself to try and sound brave. ‘He can make his own decisions.’

  Clarissa Fenwick’s eyebrow rose sardonically.

  ‘That, my dear, is not the case. And if he’s told you that, then I’m afraid you have been gravely misled.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And I sincerely doubt he would . . . invest,’ Clarissa Fenwick said scornfully, ‘in the kind of woman who has to bare her body to get money?’ She eyed Vita coldly.

  Vita blushed, remembering how Mrs Fenwick must have seen her in her underwear in the study.

  ‘Oh, don’t think I don’t know everything my son does,’ she said, and Vita was wrong-footed. She said it with such conviction that she knew in that moment Georgie had been right: Clarissa Fenwick knew all about Hartwell and what had happened there.

  ‘But he’s promised to—’

  Clarissa Fenwick held up her bony hand. ‘He’s promised many things to many people, my dear. Not least of all to his fiancée.’ She stared at Vita, her eyes boring into her.

  Had she heard right? Fiancée? Did she just say ‘fiancée’?

  ‘Oh? Didn’t you know? Archie and Maud are engaged to be married.’

  Maud? Georgie’s sister? ‘Married?’ she managed.

  ‘Oh yes. I think you met her – well, almost met her – here, that night you so rudely turned up unannounced and uninvited.’

  Unannounced and uninvited. Her insulting words hit hard, as they were intended to. Archie’s mother drew herself up, her beady eyes staring down at Vita, a glint of satisfaction in them as she saw her aimed barbs hit home, like a pipette of poison, as her revelation sank in.

  It had been Maud dining with Archie that night . . . with the two mothers . . . drinking champagne. They’d all been celebrating Archie’s engagement?

  Clarissa Fenwick, satisfied now, smiled as Vita put her hand to her chest, as if she couldn’t contain the physical pain there. ‘So I really must thank you. You’ve served your purpose very well.’

  ‘My purpose?’ Vita’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  Mrs Fenwick gave her a blistering look, then leant forward to speak confidentially. ‘Why do you think Archie came to see you in that dreadful club of yours? Why do you think he sought out a common dancing girl? Hmm?’

  Her eyes twinkled with menace, but Vita couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t take any more.

  ‘I couldn’t accept my son going into his marriage as a virgin. And I wouldn’t countenance him going to a prostitute. So I found the next best thing . . . you.’

  103

  Georgie’s Threat

  Percy’s studio was locked up and, despite Vita’s pounding on the door, the inside remained resolutely dark. Vita turned and pressed herself against the wooden door, looking up at the yellow street lamp, her eyes clouding with tears.

  She needed Percy. She needed the comfort of his studio, his kindness and his warmth. Only Percy could dispel the poisonous words Clarissa Fenwick had uttered.

  She felt a low, dry sob escape her. She kept telling herself over and over again that it couldn’t be true. Archie wouldn’t do that to her, would he? Not after everything that had happened between them?

  He couldn’t possibly be engaged, could he?

  She thought of how tenderly he’d held her in his arms under the stars at Hartwell and had told her that he’d love her forever. He’d meant it. She knew he’d meant it. He couldn’t be with someone else, could he?

  But the stark facts, illuminated by Clarissa Fenwick’s revelation, reared up like boulders in her path. Like the fact that the party at the club had been for Archie – that’s why he’d had to go back to London so suddenly. He’d left her to go to his own engagement party.

  Which meant that he was already engaged when he’d taken her to Hartwell. He’d used her – just like his mother had said.

  Which is why he’d come the theatre earlier tonight to say goodbye. Because he knew she’d find out.

  Each fact seemed like a physical blow. She dragged herself back to the club to look for Percy, torturing herself over and over again with the thought of Archie and Maud. Together. Engaged.

  She pictured them together, holding hands. Archie touching Maud’s face the way he’d touched hers, slipping a ring onto her finger.

  And she heard Edith’s warning, too, in her mind: he’s probably after one thing. Could she have been right all along? Because she’d fallen for it, Vita realized. She’d given herself away. Given herself entirely, believing Archie when he’d told her that he loved her. Believing – stupidly, she saw now – that they would somehow find a way to be together.

  Back at the club, the crowd was thicker and there was an edge to it. Everyone was drunk, the band loud, the dancing raucous.

  ‘You have to help me,’ Vita pleaded with Georgie, steering her off the dance floor through the mass of sweating bodies. Georgie was clearly high – probably with Nancy’s snow. ‘I must speak to Archie. Do you know where he is?’

  ‘He won’t want to speak to you, Vita. He’s with my sister right now,’ Georgie said, shaking off her grip. ‘“Otherwise engaged”, you could say.’

  ‘But he can’t – he can’t do this,’ Vita said, her voice breaking, tears spilling down her face, her anguish lost in the smoky atmosphere of the club. ‘He can’t marry her. Not after . . .’

  ‘There’s no point crying, Vita. The deed is done. And it’ll certainly be common knowledge by tomorrow. Mother has the announcement going in The Times in the morning.’

  ‘But Archie doesn’t love her. He loves me.’

  ‘Oh, look at you,’ Georgie said, pinching Vita’s cheek condescendingly. ‘You poor thing. Did you really think Archie would be with someone like you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you’re a dancing girl, darling. Hardly a match for Archie.’

  ‘You don’t know that. You don’t know me.’

  Georgie put her hand on her hip and looked at Vita through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Yes, I do. I know you’re a little tart who flaunts her bosoms around town.’

  ‘Flaunts? It’s a business!’ Is that really what Georgie thought? Vita felt the blood booming in her ears. How dare she call her ‘a little tart’.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so offended. You got the best part of the deal.’

  ‘The deal?’

  ‘Clarissa and I agreed that Archie should get some experience before he married. And when Nancy mentioned you, I knew you were just Archie’s type. So he got to spend a night with you.’

  ‘Nancy? Nancy said that,’ Vita gasped. ‘Nancy knew . . .’

  ‘Oh yes. It was Nancy who suggested you.’

  Vita felt sick. She shook her head, covering her ears. It wasn’t true. Archie loved her; he’d told her earlier. And Nancy was her friend.

  ‘No. I don’t believe you. You must have tricked him somehow. I have to stop him. He’s making a huge mistake.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,’ Georgie said, leaning in close. ‘You see, if you do anything to stop his engagement, I’ll tell him exactly who you are.’

  Vita felt saliva flood her mouth. There was something coldly sober about Georgie suddenly. She couldn’t possibly know where Vita was from, could she? She couldn’t know that she was really Anna Darton?

  ‘I’ll tell Archie everything about your little lesbian relationship with Nancy. And let me tell you, Archie won’t be impressed. He really doesn’t approve of that sort of thing.’

  104

  At the Police Stati
on

  Vita went back to the dressing room, so furious that she banged the door with her fist.

  Jane was with Betsy, neither of whom noticed Vita’s mood, as they were lolling over each other.

  ‘Get these two out of here, would you?’ Wisey said to Vita. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you all tonight. I’ve never seen everyone so tight.’

  She shook her head at Vita, who scooped up Betsy and Jane. She got them into a cab to take them home and then helped them both upstairs before Mrs Bell saw them.

  She thought about going downstairs, but she was too tired and heartbroken to see Percy now. He’d been quite wrong about fate making it possible for her and Archie to be together. They weren’t ever going to be together. Not now. Not ever. She helped Betsy get Jane into bed, and then Betsy flopped down on her quilt.

  ‘Oh, that was a fun night,’ she said, but Vita ignored her, lying instead on her own bed and staring at the ceiling.

  In the morning, she dragged her feet downstairs, having hardly slept.

  ‘There you are! I’ve been dying to hear all about it!’ Mrs Bell said excitedly, coming out of the parlour.

  ‘About what?’ Vita said.

  ‘About the presentation of course,’ she said. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  So much had happened since then that Vita had almost forgotten. But Mrs Bell was on tenterhooks, and Vita guessed she owed her an explanation. So she told her all about the girls, and about how she’d been given an order.

  ‘You don’t seem very happy about it,’ Mrs Bell said, her brow furrowed. ‘I thought it was what you wanted.’

  ‘There’s been a lot going on. At the club and . . .’ Vita swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry.’

  How could she explain to Mrs Bell the level of betrayal she felt – not just from Archie, but from Nancy, too. She couldn’t even begin to explain, without having to admit how foolish she’d been. How stupidly naive. How she’d been thinking like Anna Darton, when all along Archie only ever saw her as Verity Casey: a working girl. Someone he could easily exploit. And Archie had simply indulged her over Top Drawer – no doubt making fun of her behind her back, with Georgie. He’d never had any intention of investing . . .

  ‘Vita?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  But her voice caught and, as the tears came, Mrs Bell pulled her into a hug. ‘There, there, lassie,’ she soothed. ‘Come and sit down and tell me all about it.’

  Vita nodded miserably. ‘Oh, Mrs Bell, you have no idea. I’ve been such a fool. You see, I thought I was in love. I am in love,’ she said. ‘Only . . .’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Mrs Bell said. ‘Let me fetch a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it.’

  But while she was in the kitchen, the doorbell rang and Vita heard Mrs Bell going to answer it. Despite everything, Vita longed for it to be Archie. Hoping that he was here to make everything better.

  ‘Vita? It’s someone for you,’ she heard Mrs Bell say, and Vita rushed through to the hallway.

  But it wasn’t Archie. Matteo was standing by the door. Vita had never seen the Zip Club’s bartender in daylight. He looked younger than he did in the club, his dark fringe flopping in his face.

  ‘Oh, hello, Vita,’ he said.

  Mrs Bell looked round at Vita, a stern look on her face. Vita knew the old woman didn’t approve of gentlemen callers.

  ‘Matteo? What is it?’ Vita asked, seeing the sombre look on his face.

  ‘It’s about Percy. You see, I’ve just found out that he’s been arrested. I thought you’d want to know.’

  ‘Arrested? But why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Is everything all right, Vita?’ Mrs Bell asked, clearly curious.

  ‘Yes, yes – I just have to go out.’

  ‘But I’ve made you tea.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She grabbed her coat and walked out with Matteo, who’d come on his bike to deliver the news.

  ‘He’ll be at Paddington Police Station, I reckon,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Matteo,’ Vita replied, waving to him as he set off on his bike.

  She hurried straight up the road and caught a bus to the Tube, and then headed to Paddington. The police station was housed in a dirty brick building with thickly recessed windows. She watched two grim-faced constables coming out of the large green doors, ejecting a woman in a brown coat.

  ‘You can’t keep him in there. He was only striking. He has a right to strike, you know! And it’s all over now!’ the woman shouted. She brushed herself down, clearly furious. ‘You be careful in there, Miss. They’re right brutes, they are.’

  Vita went through the door and queued at the small glass window, where a harassed-looking officer told her to wait across the hallway in the waiting room.

  The minutes ticked slowly by, and Vita watched a fly bash itself against the glass of the high window in the waiting room. At this rate, she was going to miss the show. It hardly mattered now, though, she supposed. If Edith was right and the Zip Club was going to close, what difference did it make?

  Besides, she still couldn’t face Nancy. Not after Georgie’s revelation. About how it had been Nancy who’d set her up with Archie. That Nancy and Georgie had known each other all along. Which meant that Nancy was part of Archie’s set. The very set Edith had warned her about. They always use people. How indignant Vita had been at the time, but how right Edith had been.

  ‘Please can I speak to someone about Mr Blake?’ Vita asked, leaping up as she saw a different policeman pass the doorway. He looked her up and down in a disparaging way as she approached. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Vita. Verity Casey,’ she explained. ‘I’m his friend.’

  ‘And what kind of friend is that?’

  Vita heard the insinuation in his voice. ‘I work with him.’

  ‘And what work do you do, Miss, may I ask?’

  She almost told him about Top Drawer, but stopped herself. ‘I’m a dancer. At the Zip Club,’ she said, knowing that she was only making things worse because, just like Georgie and Archie’s mother, he probably thought she was some kind of immoral woman of the night.

  ‘It figures that Blake would consort with your type,’ he said with a tut.

  ‘You don’t know Percy. He wouldn’t harm anyone,’ Vita protested. ‘If only you’d let me see him.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. It seems he had a little accident last night, when we brought him in. Turns out he rubbed his cellmate up the wrong way. Didn’t they tell you? He’s in the infirmary.’

  ‘The infirmary?’

  ‘He got beaten up,’ the policeman spelled it out. ‘Happens occasionally. With his sort . . .’

  How dare they fail to protect Percy? Whatever he’d done, he didn’t deserve to be beaten. She remembered Percy admitting how much he hated violence. And how he lived in terror of the kind of people who might want to punish him for who he was.

  ‘Please let me see him.’

  ‘Look, Miss, I would walk away if I were you. No good will come of this. There is an eyewitness who has more than enough evidence to incriminate your associate, Mr Blake. The magistrate takes a dim view of homosexuals, believe me.’

  ‘But Percy . . . he wouldn’t hurt anyone.’

  The policeman looked down his nose at her. ‘His sort – they hurt society. I’d leave, if I were you. Before you make things even worse than they already are.’

  105

  Marcus Fox

  Clement stood by Marcus Fox’s desk in his office, watching Fox smoke, his feet up on the desk, revealing his garish socks. Fox’s collar button was undone, the fat knot of his tie loosened. The office was cramped, with piles of papers teetering on the desk, and the air was filled with the sound of clattering typewriters.

  With Percival Blake absolutely refusing to talk – even when Rawlings had ph
ysically threatened him – they’d had no option but to hand him over to the police. Clement could see the man quaking in his boots, but he’d still refused to say anything at all about Anna. What on earth did Anna have on him? Clement wondered. Because surely Blake wouldn’t do that out of loyalty? But then he was constantly surprised by how strange folk in London were.

  And none more so than this reporter, Fox. After the lengths they’d gone to, Clement had nearly choked on his toast when Rawlings had plonked down today’s paper on the table beside him, with the face of his sister and her floozy friend staring up at him.

  He’d read the article, wide-eyed with shock, the reporter talking about the Zip Club – a den of iniquity and vice that laundered gang money. And Anna? Anna was a dancer there. A dancer.

  ‘Of course I know her. I was there when the picture was taken. If that’s the one you’re after, then it’s the very lovely Verity Casey.’

  ‘Anna Darton.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘She’s Anna Darton. I’m her brother, Clement.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘We own Darton Mills in Lancashire.’ Clement drew himself up, annoyed that the journalist wasn’t showing him more respect.

  Marcus Fox rubbed his hands. ‘I knew she was from up north. I wondered what dark secret she might be hiding. She’s been quite elusive, that one.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her?’

  ‘My dear fellow, I know all about her. About her friends, her business—’

  ‘Business?’

  ‘She’s been resourceful, I’ll give her that. Got herself a load of orders with a big department store for this underwear of hers.’

  Clement shifted on Blake’s cane, leaning forward to check he’d heard right. ‘Underwear? What do you mean, man?’

  Fox gave him a lewd smile. ‘Oh yes, it’s all legit. I was going to give her a mention, but the story about Jack Connelly was even better. I got a tip-off. Stitched him up royally, we have.’

  Clement was flabbergasted. Anna had achieved all this since she’d left home.