“I think you look just right,” she said and slipped her hand through his arm. She was wearing a little too much perfume, and her dress was a little too frilly, but her eyes sparkled and he liked the feel of her closeness.
“You didn’t have any problem getting away, then?” he asked.
She made a face. “My mother wasn’t at all keen on my going up to London alone, but I told her I was going with a group of friends from work, and we were going dancing.”
“What time do you have to be back?” Ben asked.
“I told her I might spend the night at Cynthia’s house,” she said, giving him a knowing look. “I’m not sure that she believed me, but Cynthia’s family doesn’t have a telephone, and I know my mum is not about to walk two miles to check on us.”
They caught the bus down to Marble Arch. Ben wondered if he should have splurged for a taxi but reasoned that there were precious few to be found these days, and all sorts of people took public transportation. From Marble Arch they walked down Park Lane. It was almost nine o’clock at night but not dark yet, and people were still out and about, enjoying the fine weather. Several men in uniform were going into Grosvenor House, and Ben heard the faint strains of a dance band. So there were elegant evenings still for those who could afford it. An ARP warden, one of the volunteers who handled air-raid precautions, was standing watch on the corner of Curzon Street, ready to pounce on blackout violators.
“Off somewhere nice, then?” he asked as they passed him.
“We’re going to a party,” Mavis said.
“Make sure you keep the noise down, and don’t let any lights show,” he said. “Your lot in this area think you can disregard all the rules just because you have money.”
“Pleasant sort of chap,” Ben whispered as they walked away. Mavis laughed, and slipped her hand into his. Her hand felt warm and comforting. He looked at her, and they exchanged a smile.
Jeremy’s flat was not in a large block, but occupied an entire floor of an older Georgian house. A small lift had been installed beside the staircase, and they rode this to the third floor. Ben was conscious of Mavis’s presence and suspected that she was deliberately pressing herself against him. As the lift doors opened, the wailing of Benny Goodman’s clarinet came to greet them. The front door to the flat was half-open, and music and cigarette smoke wafted out to them as they entered a foyer. Beyond it was a large and well-appointed drawing room. The blackout curtains hadn’t yet been drawn, and the room was still lit by the last of the twilight. It was hard to make out the colours of the upholstery or to identify the Old Masters on the white walls tinged with a rosy hue. There were a dozen or more people inside. Two couples were dancing, but Ben didn’t recognize either pair. Jeremy was playing bartender. He looked up and waved a cocktail glass as he saw them.
“Come on in!” he called. “I’m just about to open a twenty-year-old Châteauneuf-du-Pape.”
“Won’t your father kill you when he finds out?” Ben asked as they approached the bar.
“Doing him a favour, old man. What if we got a direct hit and all that lovely wine flowed into the gutter? At least we’ll be enjoying it. And knowing my father, he’ll find out where to acquire more once the war is over.”
“Only it may be hock and Mosel,” someone standing near joked.
“Oh gosh, you don’t really believe the Germans will invade, do you?” Mavis turned frightened eyes on them.
“It’s a possibility we have to face,” the young man who had made the joke replied. “They had little trouble invading every other country in Europe. There are only twenty miles of Channel separating us.”
“Let’s not talk about gloomy things tonight,” Jeremy said. “I’m home. I’m in a cosy flat with my friends around me, and we’re damned well going to enjoy ourselves. Wine or cocktails? Help yourselves.” Then he looked up as Guy came into the room. “Good God, it’s Harcourt. How did he get here?”
“I invited him,” Ben said. “He shares digs with me. I hope that was all right?”
“Of course,” Jeremy said. “The more, the merrier.” But Ben could tell that he wasn’t pleased. Guy came over to shake hands. “Long time no see, Prescott,” he said.
“Absolutely. What are you doing with yourself, Harcourt?”
“Pen pushing, I’m afraid. I failed the medical. I know I look like a strapping specimen, but apparently I have a weak heart.”
“That’s too bad,” Jeremy said. “Well, drink up. They say red wine is fortifying, don’t they? Now I must take a glass of wine to my favourite woman.”
Ben had been surreptitiously scanning the room, looking for Pamela. Then he saw her standing in the doorway, and looking a little shy, which was unusual for her. Then he noticed she wasn’t alone. Trixie came in with her, dressed in a black sheath dress with an emerald green opera cape over it.
“Hello, Ben,” she said, deliberately pushing past Pamela to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“I must say you look stunning,” he replied.
“Why, thank you for the compliment, kind sir,” she replied. “Now where is our host?”
“Pouring drinks,” Pamela replied. Then Ben noticed that Dido stood behind her, wearing more makeup than her father would have approved of and a slinky red Chinese-style dress, which made her look older than her eighteen years. Her face broke into a big smile when she saw Ben.
“Hello, Ben,” she called. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. How super. Won’t it be fun?”
“However did you get your father to agree to this?” Ben asked.
“Pamela swore to watch me like a hawk and put me on the milk train home in the morning. But as you can imagine I had to beg, plead, whine, and pout before he said yes. I wish I had known that you’d be coming because he would have been happier knowing that you’d keep an eye on me. He thinks you are a wonderfully steadying influence.”
“Gosh, what a responsibility,” Ben said. Then he remembered Mavis standing at his side. “Dido, this is Mavis. Mavis, this is”—he hesitated and might have been about to say “Lady Diana Sutton,” but Dido cut him off.
“Hello, I’m Dido,” she said. “Golly, we didn’t know Ben had a girlfriend. You are so secretive and naughty, Benjamin.”
“We only met recently.” Ben gave an embarrassed smile.
“Do you work together?” Dido asked.
“No, not usually. We met when I had to deliver some papers to the place where Mavis works.”
Dido turned to Mavis. “They wouldn’t have a job for me where you work, would they? I am desperate to do something useful.”
“It’s in Buckinghamshire, Dido,” Ben said. “You know your father wouldn’t let you live away from home.”
“Pamela does. Mavis does,” Dido said.
Mavis chuckled. “No, I don’t. I live with my mother, worse luck. I had to tell some enormous fibs to come out with Ben tonight.”
“Well done you,” Dido said. “A girl after my own heart.”
Jeremy handed Pamela and Dido glasses of wine. Then he saw Trixie. “Hello, another familiar face from the past,” he said.
“I’m flattered that you remember me,” Trixie replied.
“How could I forget? You were a brilliant dancer. I say, your season was a lot of fun, wasn’t it? And as it happens, the last for a while.”
“Don’t remind me,” Dido said. “Have pity on poor girls like me who will never come out now.”
“You look as if you’re doing quite well without coming out, young Dido,” Jeremy said. “Drink up. There’s plenty more. And food through in the dining room. Sorry that the eats won’t be up to the same standard as the drinks,” he added. “I had cook make a mousse from a couple of tins of salmon, and we smoked a trout from the lake, and I’ve some early strawberries from the garden, so we’ll have to make do with those.”