‘That’s what she told you.’ Evie’s sniff was sceptical. She gave Julia a puzzled look. ‘What’s the idea?’
‘Oh, nothing. I was only wondering why in point of fact I never have been accosted by a man. It’s not as if I had no sex appeal.’
But had she? She made up her mind to put the matter to the test.
That afternoon, when she had had her sleep, she got up, made up a little more than usual, and without calling Evie put on a dress that was neither plain nor obviously expensive and a red straw hat with a wide brim.
‘I don’t want to look like a tart,’ she said as she looked at herself in the glass. ‘On the other hand I don’t want to look too respectable.’
She tiptoed down the stairs so that no one should hear her and closed the door softly behind her. She was a trifle nervous, but pleasantly excited; she felt that she was doing something rather shocking. She walked through Connaught Square into the Edgware Road. It was about five o’clock. There was a dense line of buses, taxis and lorries; bicyclists dangerously threaded their way through the traffic. The pavements were thronged. She sauntered slowly north. At first she walked with her eyes straight in front of her, looking neither to the right nor to the left, but soon realized that this was useless. She must look at people if she wanted them to look at her. Two or three times when she saw half a dozen persons gazing at a shop window she paused and gazed too, but none of them took any notice of her. She strolled on. People passed her in one direction and another. They seemed in a hurry. No one paid any attention to her. When she saw a man alone coming towards her she gave him a bold stare, but he passed on with a blank face. It occurred to her that her expression was too severe, and she let a slight smile hover on her lips. Two or three men thought she was smiling at them and quickly averted their gaze. She looked back as one of them passed her and he looked back too, but catching her eye he hurried on. She felt a trifle snubbed and decided not to look round again. She walked on and on. She had always heard that the London crowd was the best behaved in the world, but really its behaviour on this occasion was unconscionable.
‘This couldn’t happen to one in the streets of Paris, Rome or Berlin,’ she reflected.
She decided to go as far as the Marylebone Road, and then turn back. It would be too humiliating to go home without being once accosted. She was walking so slowly that passers-by sometimes jostled her. This irritated her.
‘I ought to have tried Oxford Street,’ she said. ‘That fool Evie. The Edgware Road’s obviously a wash-out.’
Suddenly her heart gave an exultant leap. She had caught a young man’s eye and she was sure that there was a gleam in it. He passed, and she had all she could do not to turn round. She started, for in a moment he passed her again, he had retraced his steps, and this time he gave her a stare. She shot him a glance and then modestly lowered her eyes. He fell back and she was conscious that he was following her. It was all right. She stopped to look into a shop window and he stopped too. She knew how to behave now. She pretended to be absorbed in the goods that were displayed, but just before she moved on gave him a quick flash of her faintly-smiling eyes. He was rather short, he looked like a clerk or a shop-walker, he wore a grey suit and a brown soft hat. He was not the man she would have chosen to be picked up by, but there it was, he was evidently trying to pick her up. She forgot that she was beginning to feel tired. She did not know what would happen next. Of course she wasn’t going to let the thing go too far, but she was curious to see what his next step would be. She wondered what he would say to her. She was excited and pleased; it was a weight off her mind. She walked on slowly and she knew he was close behind her. She stopped at another shop window, and this time when he stopped he was close beside her. Her heart began to beat wildly. It was really beginning to look like an adventure.
‘I wonder if he’ll ask me to go to a hotel with him. I don’t suppose he could afford that. A cinema. That’s it. It would be rather fun.’
She looked him full in the face now and very nearly smiled. He took off his hat.
‘Miss Lambert, isn’t it?’
She almost jumped out of her skin. She was indeed so taken aback that she had not the presence of mind to deny it.
‘I thought I recognized you the moment I saw you, that’s why I turned back, to make sure, see, and I said to meself, if that’s not Julia Lambert I’m Ramsay Macdonald. Then you stopped to look in that shop window and that give me the chance to ’ave a good look at you. What made me ’esitate was seeing you in the Edgware Road. It seems so funny, if you know what I mean.’
It was much funnier than he imagined. Anyhow it didn’t matter if he knew who she was. She ought to have guessed that she couldn’t go far in London without being recognized. He had a cockney accent and a pasty face, but she gave him a jolly, friendly smile. He mustn’t think she was putting on airs.
‘Excuse me talking to you, not ’aving been introduced and all that, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. Will you oblige me with your autograph?’
Julia caught her breath. It couldn’t be that this was why he had followed her for ten minutes. He must have thought that up as an excuse for speaking to her. Well, she would play up.
‘I shall be delighted. But I can’t very well give it you in the street. People would stare so.’
‘That’s right. Look here, I was just going along to ’ave my tea. There’s a Lyons at the next corner. Why don’t you come in and ’ave a cup too?’
She was getting on. When they’d had tea he’d probably suggest going to the pictures.
‘All right,’ she said.
They walked along till they came to the shop and took their places at a small table.
‘Two teas, please, miss,’ he ordered. ‘Anything to eat?’ And when Julia declined: ‘Scone and butter for one, miss.’
Julia was able now to have a good look at him. Though stocky and short he had good features, his black hair was plastered down on his head and he had fine eyes, but his teeth were poor and his pale skin gave him an unhealthy look. There was a sort of impudence in his manner that Julia did not much like, but then, as she sensibly reflected, you could hardly expect the modesty of the violet in a young man who picked you up in the Edgware Road.
‘Before we go any further let’s ’ave this autograph, eh? Do it now, that’s my motto.’
He took a fountain pen from his pocket and from a bulging pocket-book a large card.
‘One of our trade cards,’ he said. ‘That’ll do O.K.’
Julia thought it silly to carry the subterfuge to this length, but she good-humouredly signed her name on the back of the card.
‘Do you collect autographs?’ she asked him with a subtle smile.
‘Me? Noa. I think it’s a lot of tommy rot. My young lady does. She’s got Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks and I don’t know what all. Show you ’er photo if you like.’
From his pocket-book he extracted a snapshot of a rather pert-looking young woman showing all her teeth in a cinema smile.
‘Pretty,’ said Julia.
‘And how. We’re going to the pictures tonight. She will be surprised when I give her your autograph. The first thing I said to meself when I knew it was you was, I’ll get Julia Lambert’s autograph for Gwen or die in the attempt. We’re going to get married in August, when I ’ave my ’oliday, you know; we’re going to the Isle of Wight for the ’oneymoon. I shall ’ave a rare lot of fun with ’er over this. She won’t believe me when I tell her you an’ me ’ad tea together, she’ll think I’m kidding, and then I’ll show ’er the autograph, see?’