Debutantes: In Love (6 page)

Daisy looked closely at Poppy. ‘You’re up to something,’ she said. Once again she could see Morgan’s dark eyes in the driver’s mirror and knew he thought so too. ‘I don’t see Baz’s mother throwing any wild parties either, whatever his sister is like,’ she added.

‘You’ve forgotten that Baz has his own house,’ said Poppy mischievously.

Daisy’s eyes widened. But she said nothing as Morgan was negotiating a tricky path between a bus and a speeding sports car full of young people. In any case, if Poppy and Baz were planning something like that, perhaps the least said the better.

‘Be there in few minutes now,’ announced Morgan. ‘We’ll be half an hour early. I hope Lady Elaine will be in. They were due yesterday, weren’t they?’

But when they arrived at the stylish house in Grosvenor Square only the butler came to the door, a newly engaged starchy young man with an air of self-importance, who introduced himself as Tellford and looked amazed to see them.

‘I regret that neither Lady Elaine nor Sir John is here yet,’ he said in answer to Morgan’s query. ‘Their ship has been delayed. They won’t dock until tomorrow or the next day. We had a wire the day before yesterday, as you did, I presume,’ he added frostily, ignoring Morgan and holding out a telegram to Poppy.

She took it and uttered an exaggerated exclamation of surprise. Perhaps, thought Daisy, Poppy was practising for her London season when, judging by the group that their sister Violet had been part of, all the girls shrieked in astonishment or made noises like peahens. Daisy held out her hand for the telegram and read aloud:

ARRIVAL DELAYED FOR THREE DAYS STOP
HAVE TELEGRAPHED THE EARL STOP
NELBOROUGH

‘What!’ exclaimed Daisy. ‘We received no telegram at Beech Manor. How odd!’

‘Perhaps, I should take you ba—’ began Morgan, but Poppy quickly interrupted him.

‘That will be all, thank you, Morgan. I hope that you find your quarters comfortable. Perhaps you will ask a footman to direct our chauffeur to where he should put the car and his belongings, Tellford; I presume our rooms are ready?’

Maud gave them a quick glance and then disappeared towards the back stairs, like a well-trained lady’s maid.

‘Yes, indeed, my lady.’ Tellford was a little overawed by Poppy’s frosty manner. ‘Everything has been prepared for your ladyships. It’s just that—’

‘But . . .’ interrupted Morgan, at the same moment; the two men looked at each other.

‘Thank you, Morgan,’ said Poppy, raising her eyebrows in a lofty manner, and Daisy said hastily, ‘We’ll be fine, Morgan, thank you,’ and the chauffeur said no more.

‘This way, your ladyships,’ said Tellford, and he escorted them upstairs to their rooms, which both overlooked the square and had fires burning in them.

‘I’ll send your ladyships’ maid to unpack for you,’ he murmured, and then left them both in the room that Daisy had selected. She warmed her hands at the fire and waited until he had closed the door almost noiselessly behind him before saying to Poppy, ‘Where is it?’

‘Where’s what?’ Poppy turned her large eyes that tried to look innocent, but were brimming with mischief, towards her.

‘Don’t try to fool me,’ said Daisy, trying to repress a grin. ‘I’m not stupid. I know what happened. You got that telegram. I saw you meet the post boy a couple of days ago. I forgot about it afterwards. And all that talk about parties. You knew we would be on our own for a day or two.’

‘Lucky, wasn’t it?’ Poppy wore a wide smile. She took from her handbag a post-office form and held it out.

ENGINE TROUBLE STOP SHIP DELAYED FOR AT LEAST THREE DAYS STOP SUGGEST GIRLS WAIT UNTIL NEXT WEEK STOP ELAINE, read Daisy.

‘Sounds more like Jack than Elaine, doesn’t it?’ said Poppy thoughtfully. ‘Can’t imagine her being so forceful. Anyway, why should we miss a week of our lovely, lovely time in London just because that silly ship has engine trouble? Well, let’s get rid of this, now, before anyone can see it,’ she said, throwing the telegram into the fire. ‘I just saved it for you because I thought you’d be so grateful to me that I would be able to bend you to my will in all things. Otherwise, you know, you’d still be back in Beech Grove with Great-Aunt Lizzie instructing you how to act like a young lady. And who knows, Father might have decided to cancel the whole business. You know what he’s like, especially at the moment!’

‘Morgan wanted to take us home again,’ said Daisy warningly.

‘I’ll talk him around; anyway, he has the boot of the Humber full of his own drums and Simon’s saxophone and things like that. He’ll have to take them over to Baz’s place. It’s all arranged. I can’t see him being serious about taking us back to Kent, can you?’

Typical Poppy, thought Daisy, always thinking about her music and the jazz band that the chauffeur ran in his little cottage in the woods behind Beech Grove Manor House.

‘Still,’ said Daisy, half to herself, ‘it’s not as though we’re on our own. I suppose there is a housekeeper and then there’s that butler and the footman, and probably a cook and a lady’s maid, as well as Maud. And we’ll both have to swear that no telegram arrived.’ She was beginning to weaken. London would be such fun on their own. However, some things had to be established.

‘Listen, Poppy,’ she said as Maud came silently into the room and looked around, ‘you can forget about going out at night alone to a wild party. If that ever came out, then our reputations would be ruined, we’d be bundled straight back to Kent and Father would refuse permission for us to have a London season, not just this year, but for ever and ever. You remember all the fuss there was – all those letters and telegrams to India during the last couple of months. And there are things that I want to do in London; I’m not going to put that at risk just for one wild party. I suppose you and Baz have planned it for this evening, haven’t you?’ Daisy saw a flash of amusement in Maud’s very green eyes and guessed that she was sounding a bit elderly, but if she was going to make a good match with a rich young man, she would have to be careful.
A reputation, once lost, can never be regained
, was one of Great-Aunt Lizzie’s favourite sayings. She would not worry too much about romance, she thought firmly. Her destiny was to marry money and rescue her family. ‘Tell me what’s going to happen, Poppy?’ she said firmly.

‘It’s all settled,’ said Poppy sulkily. ‘Oh, come on, Daisy. It will be all right. Morgan will be there. And you know what a mother hen he is, always clucking over us and making sure that we behave like young ladies.’

Daisy bit back a smile. Nothing was less like a mother hen than Morgan with his broad shoulders and determined jaw, but it was true that he was protective of them.

‘Morgan is all right to drive us to a party,’ she pointed out now, ‘but not even Elaine would consider that he was the correct person for a debutante’s escort. What do you expect him to do: sit on a little gilt-legged chair with the other dowagers and watch us dance?’

Poppy giggled. ‘It’s not going to be that sort of party. Oh, come on, Daisy, don’t be so stuffy. We’re going to have fun, fun, fun! I’m sick of leading a dreary life with Father in his moods, the house freezing cold, Great-Aunt Lizzie lecturing if we raise our voices above a whisper. I want to be wild for just one night. Just one night, Daisy! That’s not much to ask, is it? It’s all arranged. And I’ll never forgive you if you spoil things. Don’t go if you like; I don’t care, but I’m going and you can’t stop me.’

Daisy opened her mouth, but then shut it again. She knew Poppy was stubborn and once she had made up her mind there was little use in trying to shift her. Daisy still remembered the battles when she had given up classical music on her violin and had demanded a clarinet and jazz lessons. Great-Aunt Lizzie had a steely will, but she had met her match in her great-niece. Daisy crossed over to the window seat and stared down to the street below while she tried to think of a way out.

‘I know,’ she said eventually. ‘We’ll take Vi and Justin. She’s a married woman, therefore must be able to chaperone her sisters. Let’s telephone her now and tell her about the treat in store for her.’

Poppy might not care about what people think, she thought to herself, but I can’t let
my
reputation be injured if
I
am going to make a splendid match.

Chapter Seven

Tuesday 1 April 1924

As soon as Morgan pulled up outside Baz’s little house in Belgravia, Poppy jumped out of the old Humber, leaving Morgan to unload the drums. The misty London midday sun was doing its best to shine through a haze of fog as, followed by Maud, she ran up the steps and banged on the knocker of the front door. Simon opened the door to her; Edwin was lugging a suitcase up the bare boards of the staircase, but came back down to greet Poppy. Then George swung himself down from over the banisters, landing with a loud thud in the back hallway, and rushed towards the front door. Poppy’s face lit up at the sight of them and she hugged the three boys vigorously.

‘Baz is downstairs, Pops,’ said Edwin, giving Maud an inquisitive glance and then shaking her gravely by the hand when Poppy casually said, ‘This is Maud,’ before flying down the basement steps.

‘Baz!’ she cried delightedly, as she pounced on him at the bottom of the stairwell, before hurriedly disentangling herself when she heard voices nearby.

Morgan had gone down the outside steps to the basement to unpack his drums, and when they looked into the kitchen he was already lighting a large old stove. Baz’s sister Joan was there too, gazing worriedly at the dirty ceiling and the blank walls. She looked despairingly at them when they came in.

‘My dears,’ she said uncertainly, ‘are you sure that this is quite right for a party? I know it’s a perfectly sweet house, but this basement! Of course, the cobwebs do give it atmosphere, I suppose . . . and those filthy windows shut out the view of that dirty wall and the pavement above, but, my darlings – I don’t like to say this – and it may be the latest fashion to have peeling whitewash on the walls and a floor thick in dirt, and spiders everywhere, but I do think that there is rather a strange smell, and it’s . . . well, I have to say it – this place is positively filthy.’

‘What are we going to do?’ said Baz, looking worried. ‘Joan and I sent out the invitations; we have to have it tonight. You said that we should give it a go as soon as you came to London, didn’t you, Morgan?’

‘I anticipated a little more notice,’ grumbled Morgan, ‘but it’s the music that will count.’

‘The party is supposed to start at nine,’ wailed Joan. She looked around the desolate basement with despair. ‘What are we going to do?’ she said gloomily. ‘I was thinking about Christmas decorations, but they are all down in Kent. I suppose it mightn’t look too bad when it’s full of people.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Poppy eagerly. ‘We’ll just cover up the walls. I wish we had money for silk. Violet said they went to a party where the hostess had lined the walls with strips of silk.’ She thought about it for a moment while the others looked at her doubtfully.

‘Silk is definitely out, I’d have thought – too expensive,’ put in Morgan, striking a match.

‘What about newspaper?’ Joan looked at
The Daily Express
beside Morgan and said rapidly, ‘That would be too, too unique. We could cut out all the gossip columns and stick them on to the walls. Everyone could go around reading about themselves.
The Daily Express
is full of pictures of all of us Bright Young People.’ She seemed cheered by the idea, but the others raised eyebrows and looked at each other doubtfully.

‘What about artificial silk?’ Poppy felt excited. There was no doubt that the walls covered in flaking plaster looked very dreary. ‘Do you remember, Baz, Great-Aunt Lizzie was talking about how silk was becoming déclassé because these days all the shop girls dressed in artificial silk since it was so cheap. I wonder where you could buy artificial silk and how much it would cost.’

‘What about going to Petticoat Lane and buying some there?’ said Maud, giving her opinion in way that would have shocked the housekeeper back at Beech Grove Manor.

‘Petticoat Lane – the very place,’ said Poppy enthusiastically.

Joan stared at her. ‘Petticoat Lane,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Darlings, where’s that? Never heard of it, and I know everywhere in London.’

Poppy ignored Joan. She had never heard of it either, but she wanted to keep things moving.

‘How much money have we all got?’ asked Baz. He took an old plate from a shelf, put a ten-shilling note on it and then passed it around. By the end he had collected two pounds.

‘Too, too shaming to have to ask for money,’ said Joan vaguely. ‘Why didn’t the silly old man leave you a fortune as well as a house, Baz baby?’

‘Because he gambled it all away – he had to sell the big house, poor old fellow. I was lucky to get even this,’ said Baz. He looked perfectly happy as he stuffed the money into Poppy’s bag.

‘You girls go and buy the silk and we’ll scrub the place and wash the windows,’ he said.

‘In a minute.’ Edwin took up his trumpet and blew an exploratory note into it, but Poppy snatched it from him and placed it on a shelf.