Hotel du Barry (5 page)

‘Gosh, real sorry, Mrs Brown.'

‘Sorry, Ma'am. It won't happen again.'

‘Damn right it won't. And you'd better start treating my girls with respect or I'll be onto you like a ton of bricks. I'm going to be keeping a very close eye on you, Alfred.'

‘Yes, Ma'am. I'll do my very best, Ma'am.'

Daniel grinned and poured himself another sherry.

Bertha came back, sat down and picked up her knitting. ‘All right, Daniel. I reckon the nannies you employ threaten Eddie in some way.'

‘Christ. What am I supposed to do? I can't hire dullards just to please my wife. I want my daughter to be raised by strong, intelligent, capable women.'

Bertha smiled. ‘You mean like Mary Maguire.'

‘Precisely. Did you know Mary's now finished her night schooling and is taking elocution lessons with Harold Stein? I just hope that pretentious fucker doesn't smooth away her uniqueness. Frankly, I don't know what I'd do without her. When things get grim, Mary always makes me laugh.'

They both fell silent.
Knit one, purl one, dropped stitch. Damn.

From the pantry came the high-pitched squeals of mice being slaughtered by the kitchen cats. Bertha shuddered.

Daniel drained his glass. ‘What should I do, Bertha? I want Cat to grow up in a stable family.'

‘Even if it's a fabrication?'

‘Well, yes.'

Bertha put down her knitting, leant forward and looked him in the eye. ‘Why not let me pick your nannies from my staff? There's only one Mary Maguire, but we've got other bright young women who'd kill for the chance to improve their station in life and become a nanny.'

‘I didn't think of that.'

‘Because of the war we've got a shortage of young men. Many of my girls will never find a husband and be in the position to give up work. No woman wants to be an old chambermaid with dodgy hips and aching legs.'

Daniel's face lit up. ‘We can train them, then roster them on two weeks at a time so Eddie doesn't have a chance to wear them down. Later, when they're experienced and armed with a great reference, they'll be able to secure nanny work with moneyed folk.' He raised his glass and saluted Bertha. She nodded graciously and clinked his glass with hers.

So it came about that Cat was nurtured and loved by a regular rotating shift of Bertha's best girls. It also meant that she got to spend a lot of time down in the labyrinth. Daniel took great pride in his daughter's quickening intelligence, for at nearly five years of age she was obviously more mature than her peers. As for Edwina, she felt infinitely superior to the working-class girls who regularly appeared on the ninth floor. Subsequently Daniel experienced bouts of domestic harmony.

Bertha, however, was having nightmares about the future. She couldn't quite put her finger on the problem but something was seriously amiss. Wisely she held her tongue. In her experience Daniel du Barry tended to ignore unsolicited advice. It was better to wait until he sought her opinion.

Mary liked spending time with Cat and in doing so helped fill the gap left by Edwina. One of their favourite pastimes was people watching in Hyde Park. Mary would point out a dog walking past with its owner. ‘I choose, let's see . . . that scruffy mongrel over there pissing on the roses. What's his name? And what does he get up to when his owner goes off to work, eh?'

‘Um . . . that's Roger. Roger is a naughty dog. He chewed up Mrs Brown's Sunday best shoes.'

‘Why, Cat?'

‘She's not very nice to Roger. She doesn't love him like Mr Brown does.'

Most of Cat's waking hours were spent hanging around Daniel's friends, hotel guests and staff. When Daniel was away on business, Michael kept an eye on Cat and took her on excursions to the British Museum, the theatre and the zoo. Eddie tolerated Michael because he had impeccable manners as befitted a lord. He also went out of his way to include her in the social events held at his townhouse in Belgrave Square. Subsequently Eddie got to meet all the British politicians, foreign ambassadors and their entourages.

By her fifth birthday Cat was familiar with the ways of the hotel labyrinth. Sean Kelly could always be relied upon to tell her funny stories and answer her questions regarding secret adult business. Cat had come to believe that London's debutantes did not pee urine, but instead leaked Mitsouko perfume. She sought out Sean for confirmation.

He enlightened her: ‘Debutantes pee like common folk but they've got no use for hotel toilet paper. Why? Because they wipe their bits on squares of red velvet. Monogrammed, of course.'

*

Being naturally curious, Cat tried to piece together what had happened after she'd been unpegged from the clothesline. So she made a solo trip down to the labyrinth and visited Bertha Brown in the maids' kitchen.

Bertha handed Cat a slice of warm tea cake and told her, ‘Things went pretty smoothly at first. You were a quiet baby and very loving towards us. Our only concern was that you slept more than most newborns. You also tended to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Your eyes would snap shut and you'd pass out for a few minutes. Doc Ahearn took you to a top paediatrician and all the daft bastard said was, “Some babies sleep more than others.” He found no physical cause for your condition.' Bertha shook her head. ‘It was only much later that Doc Ahearn did some research and concluded that you were afflicted with a rare psychological disorder. He reckoned, being taken hostage by one's subconscious in stressful situations and seeking refuge in sleep is no laughing matter
.
'

The next day Cat popped into Doc Ahearn's office and he took up the story. ‘Anyway, Cat, we spoilt you rotten and took turns keeping you away from the prying eyes of hotel clients and those in authority. We decided it was only a matter of time before Jim managed to flush out your wretched mother. Jim's got a devious mind. To be sure, he's the cleverest chap I've ever met. Even Scotland Yard regularly pick his brains on cases they can't figure. Our staff firmly believed if Jim couldn't hunt down your wayward mother, then she simply didn't exist. Everybody had a theory. One rumour being bandied around was that you'd been hung on the clothesline by a hotel guest, probably an unmarried debutante. But others insisted you were the illegitimate offspring of a heartless duke or a member of royalty.'

Cat didn't have any desire to become a member of the royal family. She was perfectly happy as she was. Being the only child in residence at the famous Hotel du Barry and having Daniel du
Barry as a father was not to be sniffed at. He made no secret of the fact that Cat was the apple of his eye and it gave her a strong sense of security, which helped to offset the cool detachment she experienced with Edwina.

None of the staff told Cat that her beginnings at the hotel had to be kept secret. But she intuitively understood that what went on in the labyrinth was not to be shared with those on the ninth floor. Besides, Cat loved the idea that she was in possession of clandestine knowledge and she suspected that Daniel knew more than he was letting on.

When it was time for Cat to start her schooling, Daniel played it safe and chose to hire male tutors instead of governesses and subsequently Edwina behaved herself. Although she did have a tendency to nag.

‘Caterina, you've got to stop sneaking off when you're supposed to be applying yourself to your school books. A young lady needs to be accomplished if she's going to succeed in this world. No gentleman wants a dreary wife who can only doodle in a sketchbook or discuss the price of pork sausages.'

Cat stifled a yawn. She'd already learnt how to look like she was listening while thinking about something more interesting. She'd discovered how to do this by carefully observing how Daniel handled Edwina when she simply wouldn't shut up. Cat also avoided Edwina by disappearing down into the labyrinth. Mrs du Barry suspected that the basement levels were hell holes of depravity and she rarely ventured down there.

The Hotel du Barry provided an endless stream of distractions. Instead of doing her arithmetic Cat liked nothing better than hanging out the hotel's schoolroom window and sketching the passing tradesmen in the alley below. Tradespeople and suppliers were falling over themselves to take care of the hotel's requirements. Times were tough and there was a definite cachet in supplying
goods and services to the du Barry hotels. Daniel offered a special recommendation to conscientious, loyal suppliers. Thus the Hotel du Barry crest could be conferred on approved businesses as an endorsement of quality. However, Cat thought the sight of gargoyles devouring bones gave the impression that the hotel was in the business of serving up human remains.

Cat was in the habit of dropping by Mary's office in the late afternoon and doing her homework at Mildred's old desk. And Mary actively encouraged her to do so. Cat often listened in on Mary's phone conversations and she loved it when Mary was dealing with recalcitrant tradesmen.

‘Mr Sylvester, if you don't stop yelling in my ear I shall simply hang up on you! That's better. Now, I have it on good authority that the supposedly
new
copper piping you installed in Mr du Barry's bathroom predates Christ. I think we both know you bought it dirt cheap somewhere and this is completely unacceptable to the Hotel du Barry. So here's what
you
are going to do. You are going to come back and rip the piping out and replace the whole bloody lot. I shall then arrange to have it inspected and if the job has been done satisfactorily I will then, and only then, authorise payment of your bill . . . no . . . no. There will be no ifs or buts.' Mary took a long slow sip of her tea and gave him the silent treatment. It didn't take long. ‘Excellent, we shall expect you at ten sharp. Don't be late.'

Mary hung up the phone, took a long drag of her cigarette and winked at Cat. ‘Listen I know I sounded snaky but Mr Sylvester has been trying to fob me off all bloody week. Sometimes you have to feign confidence in order to get things done. It's only smoke and mirrors, so always be damned sure you've got your facts right before you risk such a move.'

It was from Mary that Cat learnt that there were times when a young woman had to stop playing nice and assert herself, even if it meant making enemies and being heartily disliked by all and sundry. It was a lesson she never forgot.

The hotel's Winter Garden, a soaring cathedral of glass, featured regularly in fashion gazettes. In the middle of winter the hotel gardeners grew strawberries and tropical plants in the hothouse atmosphere. At Christmas time the Winter Garden could be seen flaring away in the night sky. Parents brought their children to the street below to view the spectacle of the Winter Garden and admire the hotel's Christmas decorations.

By the time she was seven, Cat knew how to slip unseen down the fire escape and attach herself to somebody else's mother. It was astonishing how nobody noticed the expensively dressed little girl once she was in the vicinity of other children.

During the festive season, the entire front facade of the hotel was lit with hundreds of coloured lights. On Christmas Eve, bejewelled society women sashayed up the red carpet. They were greeted with gasps of admiration from the motley collection of spectators huddled in the rank fog.

‘Cor, look at that, eh.'

‘Yep. Did you see the rocks on that slapper?'

‘You could hock them diamonds and live like a fucking prince.'

‘Don't be getting no clever ideas, old chap.'

Moving-picture stars, tycoons, gangsters, artistes, courtesans, aristocrats, royals and conmen all attended the hotel festivities. Cat watched a famous Russian ballet dancer prance effortlessly up the steep stairs. She'd met him once at the theatre with Edwina.

‘Mrs du Barry, vhat beautiful purple eyes your daughter she
does have. Most unusual. Like violets in snow. So, my little one, do you vant to become a ballerina?'

Politeness – and Edwina's sharp blue eyes on her – dictated that Cat play coy. ‘Oh yes, Sir.'

A blatant lie. But she'd already discovered that grown-ups didn't want to see the cynical gremlin inside an innocent child. Cat hated the tedious ballet lessons Edwina insisted upon and she'd already set her sights on becoming an artist of some sort. Perhaps a sculptress, painter or potter. At the same time she relished the idea of becoming a detective – as respected, witty and clever as her hero, Jim Blade.

Daniel had instituted a Christmas and New Year's tradition whereby the street spectators were treated to hot toddies and warm pastries from the Hotel du Barry kitchens. It was the best street party in town for those who had nowhere to go on these nights. The homeless and impoverished turned up in droves. Many were former soldiers who'd been unable to find work since returning to England. They became gloriously drunk but usually remained orderly, simply because they respected Daniel. He was, after all, one of London's most generous philanthropists. As the economy stalled and went backwards, Daniel put the du Barry fortune to work and tried to alleviate some of their daily misery. He also put on a special Christmas luncheon for them, followed by a Christmas pantomime.

Edwina said to her hairdresser, ‘Gustav, I've married a bleeding heart. Daniel keeps finding new ways of wasting our money. As if he hasn't already spent enough on this wretched Christmas luncheon for the poor, his latest scheme is building a school for slum dwellers. Slum dwellers! There have always been poor people in London, and their lazy lives have always been
nasty
,
brutish
and
short
. Hell,
they must like being poor or they would bloody well do something about it.'

Gustav remained tight-lipped but moments later he failed to dilute the peroxide bleach. Edwina ended up with a burnt scalp and a migraine. Tsk, tsk.

Edwina complained to Daniel as he sat reading
The Times
over breakfast, ‘You're spoiling Caterina and she's spending far too much time with her social inferiors. She's always sneaking off downstairs with her sketchbook, sitting around drawing the staff and listening in on adult conversations.'