Barbara said, 'Thanks, Paul. London was crazy, and I loved it.'
'I guess I'll see you on the boat,' said Paul.
As the taxi drove away, Barbara watched Poppy's hand waving from the small window at the back.
3
'Lydia, the taxi is here.'
'Already? He will have to wait.'
'It is eight o'clock,' said Walter.
't won't take an hour to get to Waterloo. Why did you call the dratted man so early? The boat train doesn't leave till nine. Are you so eager to see the back of me?' But she spoke without much malice. She had given him the full blast of her fury two days before, when he had coolly told her that he had decided not to come to America. She had thrown a bowl of lentil soup at him. She had thrown the mustard and the cranberry sauce. She had sworn at him in front of Sylvia. Yet after due reflection she began to see it in another light. Walter would have been a burden in America. He was much too dull for Hollywood. He would have cut no ice as her theatrical agent. She would employ an enterprising young American instead.
Of course the prospect of travelling all the way to Hollywood alone was daunting. But she had survived long and tedious journeys before. Actors were forever packing trunks and taking trains to distant places. It would be something to tell the newspapermen when they interviewed her.
As for Walter, that selfish and ungrateful man, he would soon discover what life was like without being featherbedded by a generous and devoted wife. His practice and the surgery in Eaton Place were sold. He had until Monday to move his things out of the house. What he would do for money and accommodation was a mystery, unless he expected his fancy woman to keep him. Some hope of that!
He was at the bedroom door looking in. 'Can I carry anything downstairs, my dear?' Inoffensive to the last. Even with his best suit coated in lentil soup and cranberry sauce the other evening, he had continued to apologise for changing his mind about America.
'You may take my case, if you insist.' The trunks with the bulk of her clothes had been sent ahead on Tuesday, and ought to be on the ship by now. 'Tell him I won't be long.'
She looked round the room, and felt a sudden surge of exhilaration. She was leaving it for ever. What a relief it was to escape from hidebound England, where talent was not valued any longer, to the opportunities of the New World!
Walter was standing at the foot of the stairs as she came down. 'Are you sure you've got your ticket? And your passport?'
'Of course I have.'
'The money?'
'I'm not a child, Walter. When you get a permanent address, be sure to send it to me, care of the Bank of California. But don't be so misguided as to write to me asking for money. You've chosen to be independent and that's the end of it as far as I'm concerned. That's not to say that I shall give you a divorce. I'm not old-fashioned, as you know, but I have no intention of going through all that simply to legitimatize your squalid philanderings with that creature who telephoned me.'
'I've done nothing improper, Lydia, I assure you.' He looked quite shocked at the suggestion.
'Goodbye, Walter.'
'Goodbye.'
'Aren't you even going to wish me bon voyage?
'It didn't occur to me. I'm sorry.'
She walked to the taxi. That was how she would remember Walter, forever saying he was sorry. The handsome, fashionable dentist, idolized by patients, confident and reassuring, was privately a mouse. To the last, she had half-expected, half-hoped that if she goaded him enough he would bare his teeth and bite back, but it was too late now.
4
Livy Cordell liked Southampton Dock. He liked the moment when the boat train steamed into the shed beside the ship, and some guy tugged at the broad leather strap to let down the window and you got the first whiff of salt air laced with the coaldust of the Southern Railway. It brought back the old days when he had made his way in the world, crossing the herring pond more than a dozen times, steerage at first, and then second class as the profits got bigger. This time he was first class. He and his ladies had taken breakfast on the train. It had left at nine, a full hour and a half after the train for third class passengers. No-one talked of steerage any more.
A porter helped them out and humped the luggage onto a truck. Their passports and tickets had been checked on the train. From every side they could hear American voices. For so many it was the end of the vacation in Europe. The Mauretania band was on the platform doing its best to restore their spirits with military marches.
Livy took out the embarkation cards. Ahead he spotted a familiar face. 'Say, isn't that young Westerfield?'
'Paul?' said Barbara with undisguised excitement. 'Where?'
'A little way ahead. He's wearing a boater.'
'I can't see.'
'There he goes!' said Marjorie. 'He's left the queue. He's coming this way.'
'Well, isn't that nice?' said Livy. 'Do you think he spotted us?'
Marjorie's voice changed abruptly, i don't think so, honey.'
Barbara had turned a bright pink.
Paul Westerfield was with an extremely pretty girl in a gold crepe de chine dress that matched her blonde curls and white hat, but looked out of place on a jetty in mid-morning. She didn't seem at all concerned. She had her white-gloved hand tucked round his arm and she was talking with her face turned towards him, oblivious to everything. But Paul's face registered that he had noticed the Cordells. There was a brief moment of indecision and then he moved towards them. He said something to Poppy and she turned her head and looked at Barbara. The look started as a glassy stare and turned into a radiant smile.
'What a surprise! Hello, Barbara. How's your head this morning?'
'How are you both?' said Barbara in a flat voice. 'Mother, Livy, this is Poppy. We met last night. You already met Paul.'
'Sure,' said Livy. 'Nice to meet you, Poppy.' They shook hands.
Marjorie simply nodded her head and gave an equivocal smile.
'Poppy has come all the way down here to see me off,' said Paul in an obvious attempt to be casual. 'We just heard that visitors have to use a different gangplank.'
'Back there,' said Livy. 'I saw the sign.'
'Thanks. Well…' Paul took a step away, i guess I'll see you later, folks.'
'Ta-ta!' said Poppy.
As they moved off, Poppy's hand curled round Paul's arm again.
Livy turned to Barbara and said, 'Say, you can just see the hull of the ship through the gap there. When you get on the gangplank, be sure to take a look at the size of her. It's an incredible sight, and you won't get it again till we reach New York.' He knew it was a transparent attempt to distract, but someone had to pick up the conversation for Barbara's sake. He felt quite cut up himself.
'I just want to get on board and have a large gin,' said Marjorie. 'How about you, Barbara?'
Ahead in the queue, Lydia Baranov crossed the gangway and went aboard the Mauretania. She had a porter to carry her case. At the purser's desk they checked her embarkation card against the passenger-list.
'You're travelling alone, Mrs Baranov?'
'Yes, my husband had to cancel his passage.'
'That's unfortunate, madam, but I hope you enjoy the crossing, nevertheless.' The assistant purser turned to the line of blue-uniformed bellboys in attendance. 'Stateroom 89 for Mrs Baranov.'
The boy first in line stepped forward and took the key. 'This way, if you please, madam.' With the manner of an old salt the boy headed across the crowded embarkation hall with Lydia and her porter in tow. A touch here and a word there and people obligingly moved aside. As he passed obstacles like sets of golf clubs and terriers on leads the bellboy pointed out the hazards without turning round. He led her into a cherry-wood panelled corridor. Everywhere there were groups of passengers and visitors, talkative, tearful, amorous, agitated and boisterous, while porters, stewards, newsboys and flower sellers passed among them. Lydia stopped to buy a Daily Mail and nearly lost the bellboy.