Miranda #2
‘Richard? Why does that name sound familiar?’ She stared at him as it all tumbled horribly into place.
‘Oh, heavens! I think Villiers might be the man that Lucy’s seeing – the one who has taken over her life.
She’s besotted with him, thinks he’ll make her into a star, but all this time .
. .’ Her breath caught in her throat. ‘What kind of trouble has she got herself into?’
Sinclair frowned. ‘Villiers uses young women, Miranda. I’ve heard rumours of him plying them with treats and taking them to his Lunch Club to sell to the highest bidder.’
For a moment, she stood frozen, unsure what to do. She then looked at her watch. It was gone five already. Turning fast, she grabbed his arm. ‘Come on! We have to go!’
‘Where to?’ He hurried behind her as she darted out of the abbey, breaking into a run as she plunged into the Underground station.
‘We have to find Lucy!’
The train came quickly, and soon they were heading up the steps into Camden, Miranda explaining how much Lucy had changed. ‘We’ve been so worried about her, that this Richard fellow is manipulating her. He says he’ll help her become a singer, but now I think he has a lot more in mind.’
Sinclair nodded and said, ‘From what I gather, he gets away with it because of his connections to Philip.’
‘And now it turns out he’s married, too.’ Miranda’s heart fell as she remembered the woman at the launderette showing her Lucy’s new risqué lingerie. ‘At least he was taking her out for a fancy lunch today – that must have been the reason he couldn’t attend the coronation rehearsal.’
Frowning, Sinclair slowed down. ‘Where was she meeting him?’
‘It was a restaurant in Soho. I can’t remember what it was called, Wheelers, I think?’
‘Wheelers is the haunt of the Thursday Lunch Club.’ He stopped. ‘They’re meeting there today. I hope she isn’t caught up with that lot.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Although no one has actual proof, the upstairs rooms are renowned for debauchery.’ He grabbed her hand, dragging her faster through the streets, weaving between the traffic to cross the road.
‘What happens there?’ Miranda asked.
‘The waitresses are expected to, well’ – he blushed – ‘provide extra services.’
Miranda balked. ‘But Lucy is there as a guest. That’s what she said—’
He interrupted her, pulling her around to face him. ‘But women aren’t allowed, except for the waitresses. It’s a men’s-only club. No one knows what goes on, but the rumours are pretty consistent.’
As they turned down the street, she flew up the steps to the front door. ‘Let’s just hope she’s home.’ She turned to Sinclair. ‘Thank you for your help, but I think I need to take it from here.’
He hastily wrote a phone number on a page from his pocket diary, tore it out and handed it to her. ‘You can get hold of me here. Promise you’ll call if you need anything.’
‘Thank you.’ Miranda looked up at the windows. ‘I can only hope it’s not too late.’
And with a hasty goodbye, she let herself into the house.
From the gramophone player in the living room, ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’ oozed into the hallway. Evidently Lucy was at home, and Betty was most definitely out.
The door to Lucy’s bedroom was open, and Lucy was singing along as she sat at her dressing table.
She gave Miranda a cursory smile through the reflection in her mirror. ‘I’m just on my way out,’ she said in an attempt to get rid of her.
It was the kind of comment that might work on Betty or Caroline, but Miranda wasn’t going anywhere.
‘I wanted to have a chat with you about this Richard fellow you’re seeing. Did you know his last name is Villiers?’
Lucy took off the lid of a light-pink lipstick and made an O with her mouth. ‘That’s right.’
‘I really don’t think he’s a very nice man.’
Lucy’s eyes flickered to hers; she was already fed up with the conversation.
‘He’s helping me with my singing career.
He’s already introduced me to a real agent – I met him at lunch today.
’ Something in her jaw hardened, so different from the soft, frightened girl she’d been just a few months ago.
‘It was you who told me I had to do anything I could to get ahead. Well,’ she smirked, ‘that’s precisely what I’m doing. ’
Miranda balked.
Had she really said that? What had she been thinking to blurt it out like that?
Lucy was too young, too na?ve to have to survive like she did.
Her mind fluttered back to her own young self, how she was too inexperienced to be on her own – how she could have done with an older friend helping her, not instructing her to just get on with it.
How different her life could have been if someone had taken her under their wing.
And she remembered her mother asking Betty to try what she could from the other side of the world.
Miranda had ignored Betty’s letters, when she should have grabbed hold of that lifeline. It would have made life warmer, better.
She watched Lucy’s stiff frame, her jutting chin, how hard she’d become. And it struck Miranda that maybe this was how she was herself, cold and sharp, cynical and unfeeling.
With a sudden need to repair the damage, she put an arm around Lucy’s shoulder.
‘I was wrong to say that, Lucy. I didn’t mean for you to sell yourself short, especially to a man like Richard.
I’ve found out that he is instrumental in a lunch club, that young waitresses are traded in there, used for sex. ’
Lucy said nothing, shrugging Miranda’s arm away, focusing on painting her lips.
‘I know that you were there, Lucy,’ Miranda continued. ‘I hope you weren’t roped into being part of their entertainment. I’ve heard that there are back rooms, places where the waitresses are taken for extra tips. Once you get into that game, Lucy, it’s hard to escape.’
Lucy’s eyes flickered to hers, bored. ‘Look, Miranda, I’m in a hurry. I know how London works, and Richard is looking after me, and—’
‘Looking after you?’ Miranda interrupted her, horrified. ‘What does that mean, Lucy? Is he a family member, a close friend? Is he someone you’ve known for a long time, someone you can trust?’
Lucy shrugged dismissively.
‘Or is he looking after the money he can make from you?’ Miranda went on. ‘Managing you so that he can profit from your good looks and desperation to be onstage?’
‘I’m not desperate,’ Lucy said with a smart smile. ‘He says I’ve got talent – they all do.’
‘They?’ Miranda took a step back. ‘Who are they?’
Lucy’s fingers fumbled with a compact, and she dropped it with a small clatter onto the tabletop. ‘Agents, theatre owners, people who know the right people.’ Her eyes met Miranda’s again. ‘That’s how this city works, through connections.’
‘There are ways of getting to the top other than flirting with the right man – or men, since your way seems to indicate that you’ll have to charm Richard’s friends as well.
’ She shook her head. ‘Once you head down that road, Lucy, no one will treat you as anything other than that kind of a girl.’ She looked at her evenly.
‘You’re too good for that, too talented. ’
Lucy turned to her. ‘Just because you’re stuck in a rut, using your situation as an excuse never to be happy, don’t expect me to do the same.’
Stung, Miranda stepped away, for once stuck for words.
Lucy had gone too far, breached the boundary that most normal people would never touch: the sanctity of a grieving widow. But there, in Lucy’s words, was honesty, too. Miranda had settled too much into that role, not realizing that she was, indeed, stuck in a rut.
And that she had to make her own escape.
Lucy got to her feet and walked past her. ‘I have to go out. I have an important engagement,’ she said, adding with a sarcastic smile, ‘one that might change my life.’
With an intake of breath, Miranda’s eyes levelled with hers. ‘Did you know that Richard’s married? His wife is one of the maids of honour in the coronation.’
Startled, Lucy’s eyes opened wide for a second before she was able to collect herself. And in that brief moment, Miranda saw the frightened young woman inside, the country girl who had lapped up Villiers’s praises, let him tell her how to behave, what to do.
And Lucy had bought every word of it, questioning nothing, believing everything.
Quickly, Lucy put on a spirited smile. ‘Of course I knew,’ she said, heading to the staircase. ‘It’s what makes our friendship so very special.’
Something in her words faltered as she went down the stairs and strode out through the front door. It felt like something Villiers himself would say, alluring yet meaningless.
‘A very special friendship,’ Miranda murmured, wondering precisely how far Lucy had gone.