A Daughter’s Dream

‘Oh, it is beautiful, Amy. The colour is wonderful, and I love the way the neck sits and the flow of the skirt. It almost looks medieval.’

‘It’s the cutting that gives it that effect,’ I explained. ‘You get a flowing line, and the waist hasn’t got all those tucks and gathers you dislike, Mary.’

‘You are so clever!’

‘Margaret did the cutting for me – or most of it.’

‘But it was your design. I know it’s going to be marvellous when it’s finished.’

‘The beading is very simple, but it will set the whole thing off,’ I said, feeling pleased as I helped her out of the gown. ‘I’m glad you like what we’ve done so far.’

‘Very much.’ Mary was fastening the tiny pearl buttons at the cuffs of her white linen blouse. She gave me a speculative look. ‘I don’t suppose you would like to come for lunch with me on Sunday, as you aren’t going out with your young man?’

For a moment I wasn’t sure that I had heard her correctly. ‘Did you just ask me to lunch?’

‘Yes. Would you come? My aunt is going away for a day or two and I shall be alone. But perhaps it would be too boring for you?’

‘It wouldn’t be boring at all. I should love to come – but are you sure you want me to?’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

‘I work in a shop, Mary, and I don’t usually visit people like you, though at college we all mixed in together.’

‘Don’t be a snob, Amy,’ Mary said and laughed. ‘I like you better than any of the girls Aunt Emily thinks I should know. Besides, this is 1923. We women have to stick together. An actress has just been elected as our third female Member of Parliament, did you know that? I think women should always be the equal of men, don’t you?’

I laughed as I saw the militant expression in her eyes. On the surface Mary appeared to be a shy, gentle girl, but she knew her own mind and I suspected she could be stubborn when she chose.

‘Oh, I do so agree!’ I said. ‘Thank you for inviting me, Mary. It will be lovely.’

‘I’ll give you my address,’ she said and took out a little silver card case from her bag. She wrote her address on a plain card and gave it to me. ‘I prefer these to those printed things. I only give my address to people I really like. Will you be able to get there all right – or shall I send the car for you? I can have a car if I ask for one.’

I saw that the address she had given me was in Hampstead.

‘Yes, I can find this. I can come on the tube and if need be I’ll get a cab from there.’

‘See how you get on this time. If it is too much trouble I’ll make sure one of Daddy’s drivers brings you home.’

‘I’m sure I can manage, Mary. I shall look forward to it.’

‘I had better go home and enquire if my aunt is better. I hope she is feeling well enough to go away as she intends.’

‘Would she be cross with you for inviting me to lunch?’

‘Aunt Emily receives a commission for looking after me,’ Mary said. ‘She cannot dictate what I do in my own home, Amy.’

I was silent. It sounded odd to me that Mrs Holland should take money for being her niece’s chaperone, but it was not for me to question Mary. Besides, I very much wanted to visit her on Sunday.

‘She invited you to lunch?’ Lainie looked surprised and then a little anxious. ‘Are you sure you should go, Amy?’

‘Why ever not? Mary knows her own mind. Besides, she will be alone. Mrs Holland is going away for a few days.’

‘What about her family?’

‘Her mother died when she was young and I think her father is often away or out on business. I don’t think he bothers with Mary much. He gives her money but he is too busy working to spend time with her.’

‘Poor little rich girl,’ Lainie said with a wry twist of her mouth. ‘She’s probably lonely, Amy.’

‘Yes, I am certain of it. She says her aunt’s friends are boring and she likes me better than other girls she has met.’

‘It’s up to you, of course. I just hope you won’t be hurt if she suddenly drops you, Amy.’

‘Mary isn’t like that.’

‘She still hasn’t told you her second name then?’

‘It hasn’t been necessary. It doesn’t matter … Does it?’

‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Lainie smiled. ‘You’re a sensible girl, Amy. All I’m going to say is that you should be careful of any men you might meet at Mary’s. Don’t trust them until you get to know them – and then be careful.’

‘You don’t have to warn me, Lainie. I’m in love with Matthew. I’m not interested in other men.’

‘I thought you had quarrelled with him.’

‘I have – but I’m going to telephone this evening and apologize.’

‘Good. He’s decent and honest, Amy. If he has decided to do this extra work it’s only so that he can save more.’

‘Yes, I know. I was upset because he couldn’t get home, but I don’t mind so much now.’

I was secretly rather pleased that Matthew hadn’t been able to get home for the weekend. I missed him terribly, of course I did, but I was excited at the prospect of going to Mary’s house.

I was a little overawed as the cab stopped outside the huge red-bricked house situated close to Hampstead Heath. There were a lot of impressive houses in the area, but Mary’s was by far the biggest and I double-checked the address on her card before paying my taxi and letting it go.

Feeling nervous, I opened the gate and went inside, walking up the tree-lined drive towards the house. A dog was barking and it suddenly came round the corner of the building, rushing towards me in a fierce manner and snarling. I stood absolutely still, wondering what to do and not daring to move. Then a man came round the corner and called to it.

‘Here, Brutus! Come here, boy.’

The dog gave me another menacing look, then went bounding off to meet the man who continued to walk towards me as I stood unmoving, still afraid of being attacked.

‘Hello,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘I’m sorry if you were frightened. He is a bit of a brute if you don’t know him.’

‘It was just the shock,’ I replied, managing to breathe at last.

He offered his hand, his clasp firm and cool.

‘I’m Paul Ross by the way. Mary’s cousin. It was my fault about the dog. Mary warned me not to let it out because you were coming, but the poor thing needed some exercise. I’m afraid they get neglected at times, that’s why I come round as often as I can to keep an eye on them.’

‘It’s all right now you’re here. I was afraid the dog might bite me, but you seem to have him under control.’

‘Oh yes, he does what he’s told.’

Paul Ross was perhaps in his early thirties. He was extremely handsome, with aristocratic features, dark honey-blond hair and blue eyes, and he had a lovely smile. Dressed in a smart navy-blue blazer, white open-necked shirt and grey flannels, he was quite obviously a gentleman – out of the top drawer, as my aunt would say.

‘Do let me take you in. Mary is waiting for you and I was about to leave.’

‘You’re not staying to lunch with us?’

‘No, unfortunately I can’t,’ he said, looking regretful. ‘I wish I could, Amy. Forgive me, I only know you as Amy. Mary didn’t tell me your surname.’

‘It’s Robinson. Mary probably doesn’t know it.’

‘Amy Robinson. Very pretty, like it’s owner.’ He gave a soft chuckle as he saw my blush. ‘No, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Amy. Mary told me you were pretty and the words were in my mind. Forgive me for being familiar.’

I wasn’t sure how to respond, and felt flustered.

‘It was a compliment, so naturally I forgive you,’ I said.

‘I am so glad. Let me take you to my cousin, and then I must go.’

I felt a little shy as I glanced at him. He was very different to anyone I had ever met before. His face was thin and he had a sensitive, artistic look about him, and his hair was perhaps a little too long. But he was very charming and his smile lit up his face as well as his eyes, though when he wasn’t smiling there was something oddly sad about him – almost haunted. But no, that was silly!

Mary was at the back of the house. The long glass doors were opened and she was sitting in a cane chair on the lawn, which had been set with various chairs and small tables. There was a huge oak tree some distance from the house and beyond that lay a tennis court set behind a formal rose garden and an old stone sundial. The atmosphere was peaceful and welcoming, and some of my nervousness fell away.

‘Oh, there you are!’ Mary cried with a look of relief. ‘I was afraid that the dog would frighten you off. It scares me half the time, but my father says it helps to keep intruders away. He has three more like it shut up somewhere. I never go near them.’

‘Brutus isn’t so bad,’ Paul Ross said. ‘Anyway, I didn’t let anything happen to your friend, Mary.’

‘Just make sure it’s safely locked up before you go.’

‘Your wish is my command, my lady.’

Mary stuck her tongue out at him in a most unladylike way and he went off laughing, with the dog trotting at his heels.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said and came to kiss me on the cheek. ‘We’ll have drinks on the lawn and then go inside for lunch. It’s impossible to eat out here when it’s so hot. I thought we might play tennis, but it is much too warm.’

‘I do play a little,’ I said. ‘They taught us at school, but I’m not terribly good.’

‘Nor am I,’ Mary confessed. ‘Paul is marvellous, of course. Eleanor was too … Did you like my cousin? He can be rather a tease but he isn’t too bad – at least not with me. My father doesn’t care for him much. They don’t get on, but they are always polite to each other for the sake of appearances.’

‘He seemed very pleasant,’ I said, letting the comment about her father pass.

‘Paul is charming when he wants to be, though he isn’t as nice as he was before the war. That changed him, I suppose. He hated every minute of it, but his father insisted he join up. He was in the Royal Flying Corps as a pilot. A lot of his friends were killed, but Paul was wounded and discharged a year or so before the end. He had a nervous breakdown and spent some months in hospital. I think Eleanor’s death had something to do with his illness lasting as long as it did.’

‘He was her brother?’

‘Yes, of course. And he absolutely adored her. I’m fond of Paul, but I don’t trust him as much as I did Eleanor. He … Well, he can be a bit odd at times.’

‘What do you mean, odd?’

Mary shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Changeable might be a better word. I suppose he’s moody. Eleanor said it was because he is such a gifted pianist. Did you notice his hands?’

‘No, not particularly. Should I?’

‘He has beautiful hands, long fingers.’ She splayed her own. ‘I play the piano but not like Paul. I could listen to him for hours, but he is very private about his music. If he knows I’m listening without his permission he will stop.’

‘That is strange. Has he always been like that?’

‘No, not before the war. He used to play all the time then. Now he only opens the piano if he thinks he is alone.’

‘Have you ever asked him why he doesn’t want you to listen?’

‘No. Paul won’t answer questions like that these days. Eleanor knew how to coax him, but he just sulks if I try. Sometimes he sulks and I don’t see him for days.’

‘I shouldn’t like him much if he was like that with me.’

‘You probably would,’ Mary said with a sigh. ‘I like Paul despite his moods. I feel sorry for him because he is so unhappy. He hates his father. He never says as much, but I know. I understand him because …’ She broke off and frowned as if fearing she had said too much. ‘We are friends, even if it doesn’t sound like it.’

‘He is a complex character,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that. My father and brothers are very straightforward and uncomplicated.’

‘How many brothers have you got?’ She looked at me curiously.

‘Jon and Terry,’ I replied. ‘Jon was a pilot in the war, like your cousin. He joined as soon as he was old enough, but Terry is still at medical school. He is very clever and he’s going to be a doctor.’

‘It must be nice to have brothers. Do you have a sister?’

‘No. My father said three children to plague him were more than enough, but he’s always teasing us so it may just be that no more children came along.’

‘My mother had two miscarriages after me,’ Mary said. ‘Then I think they gave up trying. She slept alone. I don’t think she liked my father very much.’

‘Mary!’ I was shocked. ‘Surely that can’t be true?’

‘Yes, it is. He wasn’t always very nice to her, Amy, though he could be charming if he chose. I don’t know for certain, but I think …’ She broke off as a maid came out of the house carrying a tray. ‘Ah, here comes our iced lemon barley water. We’ll have some wine with our lunch, but this is nice on a hot day – don’t you think so?’

‘Yes, lovely.’

I sipped my drink and waited for Mary to continue what she’d been saying before the maid came out, but she didn’t. Instead, she started to talk about various functions she had been to and the people she had met. It was so peaceful, the only sound that of a blackbird trilling from the branches of a cherry tree.

‘We’re going to a performance by the Ballet Russe next week. They are performing the first showing of Stravinsky’s Les Noces. I don’t much want to go. Do you like the ballet, Amy?’

‘I’ve only been once with my school to see Swan Lake, but I enjoyed it – why don’t you want to go?’

‘We’re going with the Bradwells. Aunt Emily thinks the Bradwells are marvellous,’ she said and pulled a wry face. ‘That’s because Mr Bradwell was an equerry to the King before he retired. Their son is a major in the regular army. He must be forty or more, but she thinks he would be a perfect husband for me.’

‘You wouldn’t marry a man so much older than you, would you?’

‘No, certainly not. I wouldn’t have Major Bradwell whatever age he was. Besides …’ She wrinkled her nose in concentration. ‘I am not sure I want to marry anyone, Amy. My father and Aunt Emily both say I should marry into a good family but I don’t think I could unless I was in love. I’m not sure I’d want to, even then.’

‘I think it will be nice to be married, to the right man, of course.’

‘It might be worth trying if he was like Paul …’ She sighed. ‘That would never be allowed, of course.’

I thought I understood what she meant.

‘Cousins are allowed to marry, aren’t they?’

‘Not in my family. Aunt Emily certainly wouldn’t approve. She says there’s bad blood in the Ross side of the family and my father wants more than that for me. I think he hopes I’ll marry a viscount or something – and he doesn’t get on with Paul’s father. They had a huge row years ago.’

‘You wouldn’t really want to marry Paul – would you? Not if he’s so moody.’

‘Perhaps not.’ Mary looked thoughtful, unsure. ‘I’d rather marry Paul than most of the men I know, but it won’t happen. Daddy would do something to stop us.’ She shivered despite the heat of the sun, and once again I sensed something hidden – something that bothered her deeply. ‘No, I mustn’t even think of it.’

‘You might meet someone wonderful at a dance, Mary.’

‘I might,’ she agreed. ‘If I don’t I can always go off and become a nun or something.’

I laughed because there was mischief in her eyes and I believed she was joking.

‘Make the most of your Season first then, Mary.’

‘I intend to,’ she said and giggled. ‘My father is giving an evening party for my friends next Friday. Would you come, Amy? He phoned me and told me to ask whomever I want.’

‘He probably didn’t mean a shop girl, Mary.’

‘Daddy owns shops …’ She frowned, again seeming uncertain. It was becoming clear to me that Mary’s feelings about her father were very mixed. At times she seemed almost to fear him, at others to accord him a reluctant respect. ‘At least, I think he does. He owns all kinds of things. He won’t even ask who you are. I shall tell him I like you and he won’t care about anything else.’

‘Well …’ I hesitated and was lost as I saw the eagerness in her eyes. ‘I should like to come, Mary. What do I wear?’

‘A long dress of some kind. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, just fairly formal. Daddy doesn’t like short dresses, especially in the evening. He says decent women shouldn’t show too much of their legs.’

‘I had better not wear my best suit then. Don’t worry, Mary. I’m sure I can find something suitable.’

I decided I would wear the dress I’d made for my eighteenth birthday party. It was the only formal evening gown I possessed.

‘If not, I could lend you something. You could soon alter it to fit you.’

‘Not if I’m going to have your gown ready on schedule.’

‘I’m looking forward to wearing that,’ Mary said. ‘How is it coming along? Have you done any more designs that might suit me?’

‘Yes, one or two. I’ll show them to you when you come for the final fitting.’

Since the subject had turned to fashion, we talked about various ideas. Mary had heard of Coco Chanel, of course, but her aunt did not approve of the French designer’s casual style.

‘I’m sure Aunt Emily would have me wearing whalebone corsets if she could,’ Mary said and laughed.

‘My mother thought my Chanel-style suit was too short at first, but my father bought it for me so she couldn’t forbid me to wear it.’

We talked about clothes until lunch, and then Mary took me inside. The house seemed dark and cold after the warmth of the sun, but despite the formality I could see that it was the home of a very wealthy man. There were antiques, silver and what I presumed were valuable paintings and huge mirrors in each of the rooms we passed through, and the dining table was set with beautiful crystal, china and silver.

The meal itself was very nice. We had iced soup with watercress to start, followed by fresh salmon poached in white wine with tiny new potatoes, minted peas and green beans. For dessert there was a choice of lemon meringue pie or chocolate cake and coffee. The white wine was chilled and delicious. I was careful to drink only one glass, because I was afraid it might make me giggle. I wasn’t used to drinking wine in the middle of the day, or at any time really.

After lunch, Mary put some jazz records on the gramophone and we practised a new dance that had just come from America.

‘Did you know there’s a craze for marathon dancing out there?’ she said. ‘They just go on and on for hours at a time.’

‘Yes, I know. I read about a new record for the amount of hours danced in the paper. It’s absolutely mad, isn’t it?’

‘My father goes to America sometimes,’ Mary said. ‘I went with him once on a huge liner. It was quite exciting. They have some marvellous shops in New York, and the women have fabulous furs and jewels. Daddy says he may retire there one day. I hope he doesn’t make me go with him; I don’t think I would like it.’

‘Oh, my uncle has gone out there to live with his new wife. Why didn’t you like it, Mary?’

‘It was nice for a holiday but I prefer the country. We have a lovely house in Hampshire, much nicer than this. You must come and stay with me for the whole weekend, Amy. We could go down in one of Daddy’s cars and stay there – just you and me.’

‘Would your father allow that?’

‘Oh yes, he scarcely ever goes there himself. It was my mother’s house really, left her by her grandmother. She lived there most of the time after … after she couldn’t have more children.’

‘It sounds nice, Mary, but I would have to have time off. I usually work on Saturday mornings.’

‘Miss O’Rourke would let you off for once,’ Mary said. ‘Especially if you were working on dresses for me.’ She gave me a wicked smile. ‘I could order several if I wanted – and tell all my acquaintances where I bought them.’

‘That’s blackmail, Mary.’ I was both amused and shocked by this revelation of another side of her character.

‘Well, why not? I’m not above using a little persuasion if it gets me what I want. Other people do it all the time.’

I wondered what kind of people she knew, but didn’t comment. I wasn’t sure I liked this side of Mary. I preferred the shy, gentle girl she seemed to be most of the time. But there appeared to be two sides to her, and I thought she was probably more like her cousin than she knew or admitted.

‘Matthew is coming next Saturday, and there’s your own party on Friday …’

‘We’ll go the week after,’ she said. ‘You speak to Miss O’Rourke and I’ll ask her very nicely when I come in for my final fitting.’

Mary looked at me with such appeal in her eyes that I gave in, and one part of me was very willing to go along with all she said. Mary’s friendship was opening up a new way of life for me, and I wanted it to continue for a while.

Lainie took me to see Lillian Gish in her latest film and we both wept all the way through the second half.

‘She certainly is the queen of tragedy,’ Lainie said afterwards. ‘I don’t know why I enjoy films like that, they always make me cry.’

‘Perhaps we should have gone to see Charlie Chaplin,’ I said, teasing her. She didn’t answer and I saw that she had gone quite pale, her eyes concentrated in a fixed stare as she looked across the road to the theatre that was hosting a new musical starring Fred and Adele Astaire. People were coming out at the end of the show, and many of them looked wealthy and richly dressed.

‘What’s wrong, Lainie? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at me and gave a little shake of the head as if trying to dismiss her thoughts. ‘In a way I have – a ghost from the past. Just someone I thought I had forgotten, that’s all.’

I was concerned for her. ‘Do you feel unwell? You looked as if you might faint for a moment.’

‘It was a bit of a shock,’ Lainie admitted. ‘Shall we have a drink before we go home? There’s something I want to tell you, Amy.’

‘Yes, of course.’ I took her arm, steering her towards a rather attractive-looking public house. ‘You should sit down for a few minutes. Give yourself time to recover.’

We went into the bar and found a table. Lainie sat down while I fetched us a drink – a small brandy for my aunt and a lemonade for me. A few eyebrows were raised as I was served; it was still frowned upon by some for ladies to enter a public house without a male escort. I reminded myself that this was 1923 and ignored the implied criticism in their looks as I carried the drinks back to Lainie.

‘I should have done that,’ she said. ‘People were staring because you’re so young to be in a public bar without an escort, Amy.’

‘Let them.’ I was defiant. ‘At art college we often went out as a crowd of girls. We didn’t need a male escort.’

‘That was different,’ Lainie said and smiled. ‘You went to places where you were known. Somewhere like this … Well, we’d better finish our drinks and leave.’

‘When you’re feeling better.’

She drank her brandy and stood up. I had hardly touched my lemonade. I followed her, feeling slightly annoyed that we were being driven out by unwarranted prejudice.

‘I don’t see why we had to leave so soon.’

Lainie hailed a taxi. She didn’t speak until we were safely inside.

‘A pub like that – in the centre of Theatreland – you could be taken for something you’re not, Amy.’ She pulled a rueful face as she saw I didn’t understand. ‘A prostitute. No, don’t look so shocked. It happens. And that is why you were stared at.’

‘I don’t look like a tart!’

‘No, of course you don’t look like a streetwalker, but there are high-class call girls, Amy. They dress well, speak well, and sell themselves only to wealthy clients.’

‘But that’s horrible,’ I said and a little shiver went down my spine. ‘Just because I bought a drink, it doesn’t give people the right to think I’m like that!’

‘No, it doesn’t, but too often people jump to conclusions. Or maybe it was just me … seeing …’ Lainie broke off. ‘Forget it, Amy. I shouldn’t have suggested having a drink. Let’s change the subject. I wanted to tell you that I have a friend coming to stay – not this weekend but next.’