Lucy
It hadn’t been easy to take a day off work, and in the end she’d pretended she was ill.
She knew that Betty would guess she was lying, but it couldn’t be helped.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t need the palace job much longer.
With the help of Miranda’s money, she’d bought the blue dress from Dickens and Jones on credit – it cost a bomb, but she’d have money soon, wouldn’t she?
– and she’d had her hair curled specially at the hairdressers, too.
Today, she had to look her very best. This was her big chance to impress Metcalf, and she had to be spectacular and determined, ready to do whatever it took to get ahead.
But as she came closer to the restaurant, doubt fluttered through her.
She couldn’t bear for Betty and the others to be right, that Richard was fobbing her off once again.
They’d guessed correctly about the meeting with the owner of the Apollo never happening, after all.
What’s more, she’d neither seen nor heard from Richard for eight days.
If the agent didn’t show up, she’d be devastated.
Richard wouldn’t let her down, would he?
And so when she turned the corner and saw him, she almost collapsed with joy. Wiping away a stray tear, she broke into a run, desperate to feel that connection.
‘There you are!’ Richard was dressed exquisitely in a formal suit, a grin on his face as she came racing toward him. ‘Don’t you look lovely!’
Something inside her melted as she collapsed into his arms. ‘I wish you’d come to Shirley’s wedding with me. It was dreadful. You see, everyone said that I was an idiot to—’
He interrupted her. ‘I’d love to hear about it, darling, but we’ll have to leave it till later.’ Taking her hand, he led her into the restaurant. ‘Right now, we have somewhere to be.’ He grinned as they passed through a corridor and up a flight of stairs.
Traditional, with high ceilings and an antique serenity, the restaurant sat above the everyday life of the street, away from prying eyes.
Oak panels lined the walls, tall bay windows along one side.
Darkbrown leather chairs lounged around heavy mahogany tables, giving the place a masculine air, like the medieval hall of a secret society.
The place was empty except for a pompous-looking man in a tailcoat who spoke with a French accent. ‘How wonderful to have you back, sir. We’re almost ready.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Is the main party still due to arrive at one o’clock?’
‘Yes, as planned.’ Richard nodded as if everything were in place.
‘A party?’ Lucy whispered. Had he arranged more of a gathering so that he could introduce her to his friends? The tables were set for thirty people. Could this be bigger than she’d imagined?
Richard took her to one side, leading her to the back of the restaurant, and she wondered if there was something wrong with her appearance. Did she need to go to the ladies to fix her lipstick? Self-consciously, she began to pat her hair.
‘In the back room, you’ll find an outfit. I bet you’ll be sensational in it. It’ll be a long afternoon – we’ll probably go into the evening – but you’ll get to know everyone.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Some better than others.’
She gazed down at her new dress. ‘Can’t I wear this?’
He laughed. ‘Not for waitressing, darling. You have to look the part.’
Like he’d shot her with lead, she stumbled back against the wall. ‘A waitress?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ He reddened slightly before giving her a soft smile, running his finger along her collarbone.
‘This is your chance to get to know some very influential men. The agent I told you about is coming, and a man who works in television, too. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk to them, to show them how useful you could be.
Don’t see it as being a waitress, more like an actress playing a role, entertaining a special group of friends in any way you can.
’ He grinned. ‘You’ll be part of the gang by the end of the afternoon, I promise you, and with wealthy, connected men like these, you need to make sure you don’t let this opportunity go to waste. ’
‘B-but I thought we were having lunch?’ A tear coursed down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away with his thumb.
‘I arranged for you to be here, darling, to help you become a proper star.’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘Now, cheer up! Be your usual charming self, darling, keep people happy and do as you’re told.’
She put on a smile, grappling with this change in direction. ‘Th-thank you, Richard, for helping me.’
Suddenly agitated, he smoothed back his hair.
‘Look, if this goes well, then there’ll be plenty more money coming in.
’ He led her through the door into the kitchen.
‘There’s a room for waitresses on the left.
Help yourself to a few glasses of Champagne, relax and enjoy it – all the girls do.
’ And with a playful kiss on her forehead, he headed back into the restaurant.
She peered into the frantic, brightly lit kitchens, a male chef screaming at assistants in crisp French. The door to the left led into a long changing room, where several young women were in various stages of undress.
‘Are you the new one?’ A brunette was bent over her bag. ‘I’m Nancy, the head waitress today.’ She was good-looking, probably in her late twenties.
‘I’m Lucy.’ She smiled uncertainly. ‘Richard asked me to come along, said I could meet his friends.’
‘Yes, he told me about you.’ She looked with curiosity at Lucy’s dress. ‘You’ll see how it works. Come with me.’
Lucy wondered how well Richard knew Nancy, who handed her a slim-fitting black dress, buttoned up the front.
‘I’ve never been a waitress before,’ Lucy said.
‘Don’t worry, no one will mind if you get things muddled up,’ Nancy replied. ‘You can get away with anything if you smile.’
And with that, Nancy went back to her makeup.
Slowly, Lucy dressed, trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat. How foolish of her to think that she would be invited to a private lunch in such an exclusive club. Yet at the back of her mind, all she thought about were the romantic interludes, the frenzied cavorting in Guest Room 33.
Had it meant more to her than it had to him?
Deep inside, that dread grew larger. She’d given him everything, laid herself bare. Was he using her? Was this all that she was worth?
‘You’d better hurry, love,’ Nancy said. ‘They’ll be here soon.’
Lucy struggled into the outfit. She needed to pull herself together, stop being so na?ve, toughen up like these other girls. Why was she being such a baby, a country girl out of her depth?
And wouldn’t she do anything to get onto the big stage?
Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. Perhaps Richard was right, that today was part of his plan to help her become a star. She’d meet the agent, and everything would fall into place.
With this conclusion, she put on a smile and tried to ingratiate herself with the others.
There were almost a dozen waitresses in all, and Lucy couldn’t help but feel like the runt of the litter.
Most of them were as tall and sleek as models, their makeup not too heavy, underplayed if anything, letting their natural beauty shine out – and beautiful they most definitely were.
Their hair was perfect, their posture and self-assurance dignified and yet yielding.
They exuded confidence and insight, whereas Lucy could only convey awkwardness.
At one o’clock precisely, Nancy clapped her hands.
‘We’re to file in. Each girl has been given her table, but we’re to help out where necessary.
Patsy, no hogging table one! The upstairs rooms are empty, so they can be used for private meetings and so forth.
Make sure to check them for glasses and plates afterward. ’
‘What are the back rooms for?’ Lucy asked the girl beside her.
‘Various things,’ she replied. ‘The men have private meetings in them, especially the politicians. We get invited sometimes, too, which is good if you want to get to know someone better, get extra tips and favours, that kind of thing.’
Richard had said that she should get to know the men – they could launch her career. Was this how it worked?
With a final ‘Good luck, everyone!’ Nancy opened the door, and the girls filed out.
The dining room was packed, and as Nancy led the way in, the place erupted with whistles and cheers as the waitresses filed through to the different tables.
Lucy was one of the last to enter, and she paused on the threshold, surveying a sea of men, all crisply attired in black dinner suits and bow ties.
‘Why aren’t there any women here?’ she asked the waitress beside her.
But the girl just looked at her as if she were a complete idiot. ‘It’s the Thursday Lunch Club. Philip and his equerry, a very private group of friends.’
And there, at the head table, was Philip himself, mid-story, his hands gesticulating wildly as everyone laughed.
‘The Thursday Lunch Club,’ Lucy repeated to herself. Surely there was nowhere more connected, more prestigious than this.
And Richard had cleverly found her a job as a waitress.
Her eyes met his across the room, and he gave her a secret smile, as if they were both in some kind of conspiracy.
How ingenious he was.
And how lucky she was to have found him.
The table she’d been assigned was on the far side of the room, and she put on her best face and filled the Champagne glasses.
Then, beginning with a toast – followed by plenty of cheers – the luncheon commenced.
It was a long one, with five courses in all. After the main dishes, there was a pause in the service while some of the men left for private meetings in the rooms upstairs. Everyone was in good spirits, and a great many bottles of Champagne and claret had come back to the kitchen empty.
The men at the table she’d been assigned seemed friendly, and she wondered how to make a connection.
Then, one of them turned to speak to her.