Lucy #2
But Richard leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
‘You’re so beautiful when you’re flustered, darling, but you must learn to have faith.
He said he’d call me, and we can decide on a time to bring you in, hear your lovely voice.
’ He took her arm, guiding her out and onto the street. ‘You’ll be top billing in no time.’
He gave her a smile and then hurried her down towards the Strand. ‘In the meantime, your success in reaching the finals deserves a toast, and I know the perfect place to do just that.’
Before long, they were weaving through the lanes behind Covent Garden, plunging into a stairwell down to a basement door. After Richard knocked three times, a man opened it and let them into the dimly lit cellar.
Even from the vestibule Lucy could hear the sound of sultry jazz music, and as the door opened, they were engulfed into an underground warren of arched rooms, the sound of faint chatter amid wafts of cigar smoke.
Dark-red cushioned chairs and sofas lined the corners, shadowy in the flickering candlelight.
A bar ran down the far side, bartenders pouring cocktails and spirits.
Apart from a scattering of gentlemen and couples, the place was empty for a Friday night, giving it an air of exclusivity, secrecy, even.
At the far end, on a small stage, a spotlight fell upon a single, darkhaired woman seated on a narrow barstool, holding a microphone to her lips as she sang ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ in deep, lingering tones. Accompanying her was a man at the piano, playing softly in the shadows.
‘This is lovely,’ she muttered nervously. She’d never been to a place even remotely like this. ‘Do you have to be a member?’
He chuckled, patting her hand at her na?veté. ‘That’s right, but it’s nice and quiet, well out of the way.’
After handing their coats to a waitress, he led her to a sofa in the corner and ordered Champagne. ‘Only the best for the best.’
‘Well, not quite the best tonight, was I?’ she mumbled.
But he grasped her hand. ‘Now, come on, darling. It was your first time, so I think we should call it a win.’
‘I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back, and I borrowed money from my friend for the hairdresser, too.’
‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about dull things like money, my darling girl. I can help you out.’ In a single, fluid movement, he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a few folded banknotes, pressing them into her hand.
‘I-I can’t take this,’ she stammered.
‘Now don’t ruin our lovely evening with any silliness. We’re friends, aren’t we? Partners in crime.’ He grinned. ‘And I know you’ll pay me back once we’ve found you a proper singing spot.’
His eyes lingered on hers, and she felt that connection, that he truly wanted to help, even though she’d let him down. Cautiously, she tucked the notes into her handbag.
Then the Champagne arrived, and Richard raised his glass in a toast. ‘To Lucy, my Sleeping Beauty! Do you know that every time I walk into my guest suite, I half expect to see you lying there, fast asleep? Can you imagine my disappointment when the bed’s empty?’
She laughed, wondering how lovely that would be, to be found by him all over again.
‘You should make a point of taking a nap there,’ he mused.
‘I’ll try,’ she replied, feeling grown-up and flirtatious, as if she drank Champagne in private clubs all the time.
The evening went on, her delighting him with the drama backstage at the beauty contest, her performances in Cornwall, how she longed to be a singer.
‘Well, I have a few other connections,’ he said. ‘Agents and so forth. Perhaps I can introduce you? I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to see a mesmerizing girl like you, and one who can sing, too.’
As he went on, she found herself glowing with excitement about her abilities, her future.
A new song had just begun, ‘My Funny Valentine’, and Richard lifted her hand, leading her to the small dance floor.
Even though she longed for him to hold her close, he danced slightly apart.
It was gentlemanly, of course, respectful and correct, but he felt distant, holding her at arm’s length.
How she yearned to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, like the other couples, some in deep embraces.
The Champagne was making her feel giddy and impatient.
She needed certainty from him, to know that he liked her, to prove that she was worthy.
All he needed to do was to bend his head down and kiss her.
But then the song was drawing to an end, the woman’s deep voice lingering over the last notes, the couples pulling apart. As Lucy clung on, she silently appealed to him to answer her prayers.
But he pulled away to join the applause for the singer, turning to watch the stage as she took a bow.
Lucy was left trying to pull herself together.
Had she done something wrong? Had her failure to win the beauty contest made him less keen?
As the crowd began to disperse, he asked a waitress for their coats.
Unsure, she let him guide her towards the door.
It wasn’t until he’d paid the bill that he turned to her.
‘Look, I know it’s not usually the done thing, but would you let me take you back to my place? I wouldn’t ask you under normal circumstances, but I live close to here, and it seems somehow wrong to end the evening now.’
‘That would be l-lovely,’ she stammered, almost bursting into tears of relief. He did love her after all! Inviting her to his home, singling her out, it was perfect.
Only a small doubt wormed its way through her mind, though she hastily buried it as he helped her into her coat.
After a short walk, they turned down a lane that ran behind the river. The row of tall, elegant redbrick Regency houses was immaculate – probably among the best addresses in London.
‘Here we are!’ Richard said. ‘I hope it’s not too untidy.
I only stay here during the week, and it gets cleaned at the weekend,’ he explained as he led the way into an elegant foyer with chequered tiles across the floor.
A curved staircase led to the second floor, where he opened what was apparently the only door on that level.
The flat was more luxurious than Lucy had imagined. It was a heaving space with tall windows overlooking the Thames, which glistened with the evening lights from the bridge.
As he switched on a table lamp, she walked across to the window, gazing out over the river. ‘What an incredible place!’
But he pulled her away, closing the curtains and guiding her arm to the sofa. ‘Now, I think you deserve a nice stiff drink after your beauty contest debut.’
As he went to a well-stocked sideboard at the end of the room, she looked around the long, elegant living room.
Having worked in the palace, she’d begun to recognize antiques, well-made sofas, the better-quality upholsteries.
A black statuette on the sideboard was more likely an original than mass-produced, and the gleaming gold mirror wasn’t just plated.
This was real luxury, the way the true upper class lived.
‘Where do you go at the weekends?’ she asked.
‘I’m either at the country estate or travelling. The new Royal Yacht, Britannia, is being launched in Scotland in a few weeks, and I’m going up for that. The queen will be heading to Balmoral Castle afterwards, and I’m hoping to be invited there, too.’
‘How exciting!’ Lucy elongated her vowels, like the people on the BBC. ‘Do you always travel with Her Majesty?’
He shrugged, as if it were nothing. ‘Only every so often. Otherwise, I’m in Oxfordshire, or at our place in France.’
‘You have a house in France?’
He returned to the sofa, handing her a tumbler and putting his feet up on the beautiful antique coffee table. ‘It’s more of a run-down chateau, to be honest.’ He took her hand and put it on his lap. ‘I don’t know how we’ll afford to renovate it, with money so tight.’
‘It doesn’t seem like you’re doing so very badly,’ she said, spluttering over the strength of the clear liquid in her glass.
But he shook his head. ‘Times have changed, darling. Thank goodness for this new generation of young women – your generation. They’re practical and driven. They know what they want and how to get it.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Just like you, coming to London, determined to make it.’
She lit up. ‘It’s the way I am,’ she said, delighted that he saw her spirit. ‘I had to get away, find better opportunities.’
‘Young women aren’t listening to their parents and grandparents telling them how to live.
’ He smiled. ‘We’re not living in the same world as their parents did, and that’s why their mothers don’t understand them.
All that dreadful Victorian uptightness has gone, and we’re free to be ourselves, to enjoy life, to let ourselves go.
’ He turned to her with that forlorn look of his.
‘I imagine your mother might not like the idea of her daughter with a man so different as me. Some people distrust what they don’t know. ’
That made Lucy smile. ‘My friends in the palace said you’re too upper-class for me. They don’t understand.’
‘They’re just jealous.’ He laughed, inching closer to her. ‘They haven’t got what you have, your beauty and your ambition. You have to have more faith in yourself, Lucy. Stand up for what you want. Don’t let those dowdy biddies pull you down to their level.’
With that, he leaned over and kissed her, this time a full kiss, his hand stealing around her waist, inching her blouse out of her skirt so that he could slip his hand onto her back.
‘Your skin is so warm, and you, my darling, are the most beautiful girl. If only you’d—’ He broke off, pulling away. ‘Oh, nothing.’
She looked at him, fraught. That dreadful fear that she wasn’t good enough came back to her. Panicking, she insisted, ‘What? Tell me!’
‘Really, darling, it’s nothing.’ He went to kiss her again, but as she pulled away, he smiled gently.
‘Well, if you insist, it’s just that you need to be more relaxed.
Live a little, let your hair down. Now, I think you might be a bit self-conscious, coming from the countryside and not a place like this’ – he spread open one hand – ‘but you’re a very beautiful girl, Lucy.
You need to be yourself, just the way you are. ’
‘But my friends say that—’
‘You’re a grown woman now, darling, and you’re different from your friends, living in a very different world.
I can see that you’re clever, too – far brighter than they think.
It’s time for you to start living on your own terms, break free from the old ways.
Think of your future, of what it could be.
’ He gestured around the room, the expanse and elegance.
If Shirley knew she was there, she’d be as jealous as a dog.
Richard was right. She was clever, and she was going to show everyone how she could get on in the world. All this could be hers if she just let herself go.
And instead of waiting for him to kiss her, she peeled open her blouse and leaned forward, kissing him for all she was worth.
His hands went underneath one of her bra straps, and she slipped it down, urging him on, her body fizzing with energy.
She’d fumbled around with a few boys before, but Richard was a real man, and he had a prowess about him that made her feel like a Hollywood actress.
And as he unclothed her, she basked in his appreciation of her, the way their relationship was developing.
It was only at the very back of her mind that she wondered if she should stop him, do as Shirley said and save her virginity for the right man.
But Shirley had deserted her, giving up on her to follow her mediocre dreams with Vernon.
On the other hand, hadn’t Miranda told her to do all she could to get ahead? Wasn’t cementing her relationship with Richard precisely that?
And as she felt Richard’s strong arms, the knowledge that he would look after her overwhelmed her so much that she felt like crying, for relief that at last someone cared about her – someone would help her.
He could finally make her someone.