‘For goodness’ sake, sit down. Evie’s coming in with the tea.’
‘Tell her not to disturb us.’
‘What do you mean?’ But what he meant was obvious. Her heart began to beat quickly. ‘It’s ridiculous. I can’t. Michael might come in.’
‘I want you.’
‘What d’you suppose Evie would think? It’d be idiotic to take such a risk. No, no, no.’
There was a knock at the door and Evie came in with the tea. Julia gave her instructions to put the table by the side of her sofa and a chair for the young man on the other side of the table. She kept Evie with unnecessary conversation. She felt him looking at her. His eyes moved quickly, following her gestures and the expression of her face; she avoided them, but she felt their anxiety and the eagerness of his desire. She was troubled. It seemed to her that her voice did not sound quite natural.
(‘What the devil’s the matter with me? God, I can hardly breathe.’)
When Evie reached the door the boy made a gesture that was so instinctive that her sensitiveness rather than her sight caught it. She could not but look at him. His face had gone quite pale.
‘Oh, Evie,’ she said. ‘This gentleman wants to talk to me about a play. See that no one disturbs me. I’ll ring when I want you.’
‘Very good, miss.’
Evie went out and closed the door.
(‘I’m a fool. I’m a bloody fool.’)
But he had moved the table, and he was on his knees, and she was in his arms.
She sent him away a little before Miss Phillips was due, and when he was gone rang for Evie.
‘Play any good?’ asked Evie.
‘What play?’
‘The play ’e was talkin’to you abaht.’
‘He’s clever. Of course he’s young.’
Evie was looking down at the dressing-table. Julia liked everything always to be in the same place, and if a pot of grease or her eyeblack was not exactly where it should be made a scene.
‘Where’s your comb?’
He had used it to comb his hair and had carelessly placed it on the tea-table. When Evie caught sight of it she stared at it for a moment reflectively.
‘How on earth did it get there?’ cried Julia lightly.
‘I was just wondering.’
It gave Julia a nasty turn. Of course it was madness to do that sort of thing in the dressing-room. Why, there wasn’t even a key in the lock. Evie kept it. All the same the risk had given it a spice. It was fun to think that she could be so crazy. At all events they’d made a date now. Tom, she’d asked him what they called him at home and he said Thomas, she really couldn’t call him that, Tom wanted to take her to supper somewhere so that they could dance, and it happened that Michael was going up to Cambridge for a night to rehearse a series of one-act plays written by undergraduates. They would be able to spend hours together.
‘You can get back with the milk,’ he’d said.
‘And what about my performance next day?’
‘We can’t bother about that.’
She had refused to let him fetch her at the theatre, and when she got to the restaurant they had chosen he was waiting for her in the lobby. His face lit up as he saw her.
‘It was getting so late, I was afraid you weren’t coming.’
‘I’m sorry, some tiresome people came round after the play and I couldn’t get rid of them.’
But it wasn’t true. She had been as excited all the evening as a girl going to her first ball. She could not help thinking how absurd she was. But when she had taken off her theatrical make-up and made up again for supper she could not satisfy herself. She put blue on her eyelids and took it off again, she rouged her cheeks, rubbed them clean and tried another colour.
‘What are you trying to do?’ said Evie.
‘I’m trying to look twenty, you fool.’
‘If you try much longer you’ll look your age.’
She had never seen him in evening clothes before. He shone like a new pin. Though he was of no more than average height his slimness made him look tall. She was a trifle touched to see that for all his airs of the man of the world he was shy with the head waiter when it came to ordering supper. They danced and he did not dance very well, but she found his slight awkwardness rather charming. People recognized her, and she was conscious that he enjoyed the reflected glory of their glances.
A pair of young things who had been dancing came up to their table to say how do you do to her. When they had left he asked:
‘Wasn’t that Lord and Lady Dennorant?’
‘Yes. I’ve known George since he was at Eton.’
He followed them with his eyes.
‘She was Lady Cecily Laweston, wasn’t she?’
‘I’ve forgotten. Was she?’
It seemed a matter of no interest to her. A few minutes later another couple passed them.
‘Look, there’s Lady Lepard.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘Don’t you remember, they had a big party at their place in Cheshire a few weeks ago and the Prince of Wales was there. It was in the Bystander.’
Oh, that was how he got all his information. Poor sweet. He read about grand people in the papers and now and then, at a restaurant or a theatre, saw them in the flesh. Of course it was a thrill for him. Romance. If he only knew how dull they were really! This innocent passion for the persons whose photographs appear in the illustrated papers made him seem incredibly naive, and she looked at him with tender eyes.
‘Have you ever taken an actress out to supper before?’
He blushed scarlet.
‘Never.’
She hated to let him pay the bill, she had an inkling that it was costing pretty well his week’s salary, but she knew it would hurt his pride if she offered to pay it herself. She asked casually what the time was and instinctively he looked at his wrist.
‘I forgot to put on my watch.’
She gave him a searching look.
‘Have you pawned it?’
He reddened again.
‘No. I dressed in rather a hurry tonight.’
She only had to look at his tie to know that he had done no such thing. He was lying to her. She knew that he had pawned his watch in order to take her out to supper. A lump came into her throat. She could have taken him in her arms then and there and kissed his blue eyes. She adored him.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
They drove back to his bed-sitting room in Tavistock Square.
14
NEXT day Julia went to Cartier’s and bought a watch to send to Tom Fennell instead of the one he had pawned, and two or three weeks later, discovering that it was his birthday, she sent him a gold cigarette-case.
‘D’you know, that’s the one thing I’ve wanted all my life.’
She wondered if there were tears in his eyes. He kissed her passionately.
Then, on one excuse and another, she sent him pearl studs and sleeve-links and waistcoat buttons. It thrilled her to make him presents.
‘It’s so awful that I can’t give you anything in return,’ he said.
‘Give me the watch you pawned to stand me a supper.’
It was a little gold watch that could not have cost more than ten pounds, but it amused her to wear it now and then.
It was not till after that night when they had first supped together that Julia confessed to herself that she had fallen in love with Tom. It came to her as a shock. But she was exhilarated.
‘I who thought I could never be in love again. Of course it can’t last. But why shouldn’t I get what fun out of it I can?’
She decided that he must come again to Stanhope Place. It was not long before an opportunity presented itself.
‘You know that young accountant of yours,’ she said to Michael. ‘Tom Fennell’s his name. I met him out at supper the other night and I’ve asked him to dinner next Sunday. We want an extra man.’