Beauty Chorus, The (31 page)

Beau jogged upstairs, his footsteps soundless on the rich cream carpet. The great staircase swept around the marble-tiled hall, light glinting in the huge chandelier that hung
at its heart. Beau paused on the landing and looked down through the tall arched window to the steaming pool below.
It’s not what I’m used to
, he remembered Evie saying of the
cottage. As he turned and took in the vast, echoing hall, he heard Ross’s footsteps echoing up from the floor below. He was impressed that she had stuck with the cottage. The temptation to
return to this easy luxury would have been too much for most people. He strode across the landing and opened the second door. Soft lamplight illuminated the room. It was decorated beautifully
– understated elegant dark wood and neutral colours, warm creams and tans. He thought of his mother’s draughty château in France, Olivia’s freezing family house in Norfolk,
his austere boarding school, the countless barracks that had concertinaed into one in his mind.
I seem to have spent my entire life feeling cold
, he thought.

In the bathroom, he exhaled with relief. His head was killing him as usual, the sharp pain spreading from his left temple to his jaw. Beau reached for the mirrored cabinet and opened the door.
Aspirin
, he thought.
Thank God.
He gulped down two tablets and replaced the medicine bottle. As it chinked on the glass shelf, he paused, and lifted down a bottle of Cuir de Russie
perfume. Carefully, he removed the stopper and inhaled its familiar rich scent of jasmine and leather. It seemed strange that Evie’s things were being stored in the guest suite. He felt
self-conscious suddenly, and closed the cabinet. ‘Bally fool,’ he said to his reflection. In the clear light of the triple mirror, it was impossible to avoid himself. Slowly, he lifted
his hand to his face and inspected the scars. Where his fingertips touched his cheek it felt numb still. The doctors had told him it would take months for the nerves to regenerate. Perhaps they
never would.

Beau straightened his tie, composed his face into the tough mask he wore at all times. He paused in the doorway to the dressing room, looked longingly at the high, wide bed, golden pools of
lamplight spilling across the soft cotton sheets and plump pillows. Beau imagined Evie sleeping there, her rich dark hair on the pillow, her naked arm reaching out across the warm bed to—

‘Alex, there you are!’ Beau turned, surprised to find Leo standing in silhouette in the doorway. ‘Are you off?’

‘Yes, sir. Early start in the morning. I just wanted to freshen up.’

‘Of course.’ Leo flicked on a lamp on top of the chest of drawers. Beau saw riding trophies gleaming on top of the wardrobe, and beside Leo’s hand a doll. Leo followed his
gaze. ‘I see you’ve met Muv?’ He picked the doll up. ‘She was Evie’s favourite.’

‘What happened to it?’ Beau walked over and took it from Leo. The doll’s face was bandaged; a single beautiful grey eye gazed back at him.

‘There was an accident,’ Leo said carefully. ‘But Evie loved her more than any other doll, in spite of the damage.’ He paused. ‘For months she refused to believe
the doll wouldn’t heal itself. When she finally accepted the face would always be broken, she made these for Muv …’ Leo held up a selection of tiny masks. ‘You could always
tell what mood Evie was in by which mask she chose for the doll. It was beautiful originally – a Jumeau I believe.’

Beau put the doll back on the chest. ‘It’s a shame when toys break.’

‘Better to enjoy them than leave them on a shelf unplayed with.’ Leo paused. ‘Muv was a gift from Ingrid, her real mother – it belonged to
her
mother I believe. I
was rather cross with Evie for breaking it.’ Leo’s gaze fell. ‘Ingrid paid us a last visit to bring the doll to her. It was …’ He sighed. ‘It was hard saying
goodbye, knowing I would probably never see her again.’ Leo blinked. ‘I’m afraid I took my anger out on Evie. Virginia convinced me that she should learn her lesson, that the doll
shouldn’t be mended.’

‘She seems to have loved it anyway.’

‘Oh yes, absolutely. When I offered to have it repaired later, she refused.’ Leo stroked the doll’s hair. ‘I should have been kinder. I’m afraid I’m one of
those fools who is blinded by love, or this …’ he waved vaguely at his groin.

Beau looked at a photograph beside the doll. ‘Are these her brothers?’

‘Hmm?’ Leo peered closer. ‘No, that’s Charles and Peter. They were all about eight or nine when that was taken. Charles …’ He cleared his throat as he took
down the photo. ‘Charles was killed at Christmas.’ He ran his thumb tenderly across their young faces. ‘Evie was an only child, but they were like brothers to her. We used to call
them the three musketeers. They spent every day together during the holidays, out riding or messing about on the river. She could always give them a run for their money, always keep up.’

‘That I can believe.’ Beau smiled at the picture of her, moved by Evie’s joyful, trusting face.

‘I can see why they are interested in recruiting her too,’ Leo said steadily as he put the photograph back. ‘Evie would be an asset to the organisation. I know they are keeping
an eye on her.’

‘How would you feel about that?’

‘I’ve resisted so far. She’d be perfect of course. She looks European. She only has schoolgirl German, but she speaks French fluently … Well, you know her well by
now.’

Beau held his gaze. ‘The perfect spy,’ he said quietly. Already he was afraid for her.

Leo looked at the doll. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of … When you hear what some of the agents endure. It was different in my time.’

‘You saw active service?’

Leo nodded. ‘I wouldn’t be happy sending men and women out if I hadn’t been through this myself.’ As he flicked off the light, he turned to Beau. ‘But this is our
darkest hour, they are saying. Churchill wants us to set Europe ablaze.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Beau said. ‘Tell them I’m in.’

Leo shook his hand. ‘I’m glad. You’re one of the finest pilots I’ve ever known, and you know the region well. This will make best use of your skills, and of course your
languages will come in useful, should you need them.’

‘Let’s hope not. Françoise, my mother, will help. From the little I’ve managed to find out, she’s already working with the Maquis.’

‘Yes, your mother is a remarkable woman.’

Beau glanced at the doll. ‘So is your daughter, sir.’

Leo clapped him on the back. ‘Now, it goes without saying you can tell no one about your new position. Not even your fiancée. Perhaps, especially her.’

‘Because of the Shusters?’

‘Yes, they’re being watched. Anyone with links to Mosley and the Blackshirts is under surveillance. Their allegiances are well known.’

Beau shook his head. ‘Olivia doesn’t share their beliefs. She’s always loathed fascism, as I do.’

‘Will you marry her?’

Beau was caught off guard. ‘No,’ he said instinctively. ‘I have to break things off gently, for the sake of our families.’

In the shadows, Leo turned to him. ‘Sometimes a clean break is best for everyone.’

‘Perhaps you are right.’

As they stepped out onto the landing, Beau closed the door to Evie’s room behind him, the latch slipping easily into the lock. ‘Good luck, Alex. You’ll receive orders for your
new squadron in the next few days. From what I hear you chaps will be based up at Tempsford.’

‘Tempsford?’

‘Yes, it’s a new base. No one knows about it, and we’d like to keep it that way.’ They shook hands. ‘Remember, trust no one.’

‘Even you?’ Beau smiled.

‘Especially me.’

Leo leant against the banister and watched Beau leave. Ross appeared silently at his side. ‘Is everything in order, sir?’

‘Yes, well done, Ross. Worked like a charm.’ He strode back into Evie’s room and flicked on the light. As he passed the doll carefully to the butler, he stroked its bandaged
face. ‘It’s about time I stood up for Evie and undid some of the damage we have done, eh Muv? And who knows, if I’ve played Cupid, well … that would be a bonus.’ He
scooped up the little masks and tipped them into Ross’s white-gloved hand. ‘Right, we’d better get these tucked away safely in Evie’s trunk in the attic again before my dear
wife gets home.’ He looked at his watch. ‘If she gets home tonight.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I have some business to take care of downstairs, Ross. I can lock up later. Why don’t you and the staff take an early night? It’s Cullen’s birthday today – you
could open a couple of bottles from the cellar and have a bit of a celebration.’

‘Thank you, sir. Are you sure I can’t do anything else?’

‘Quite sure. I can take care of myself.’

32

Every bone in Evie’s body ached after spending the night on the train down from Prestwick, sitting on her parachute in the stifling pitch-black corridor as it lumbered
across the country. She had dozed fitfully, a dark forest of legs before her, a thick soup of cigarette smoke, stale bodies and greasy food scenting the air.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she made it back to White Waltham to hand in her chits. She slumped on a Windsor chair near the Ops Room, summoning the energy to cycle home. Luckily there was
nothing for her until the next day.

‘Still moping, Miss Chase?’ Teddy looked up from the programme book. He was leaning on the counter copying in the planes that still needed ferrying, Doyle and Stent at his side.
‘Thought you would have bounced back by now.’

‘Go to hell,’ she whispered under her breath.

‘Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that?’ He paused, glared down at her.

‘Not feeling very well.’ She forced herself to her feet.

‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’ he said. Evie hooked her bag onto her shoulder and marched out of the offices. ‘Feminine problems no doubt,’ he said with distaste to Doyle.
‘Women aren’t tough enough for war. They have no right being here.’ Teddy folded his arms. ‘These gals aren’t doing it for their country. They should do jobs more
befitting to their sex rather than take work from our men.’

‘Still there are some benefits to having them round the place.’ Doyle eyed the interviewees waiting outside the Recruitment Office. ‘The stooges seem to get prettier every
time.’

‘It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, eh boys?’ Teddy nudged him.

‘I heard these Yanks that are joining us will go with anything in a uniform.’ Stent grinned gummily, small teeth glittering. ‘They say one of the girls slept with every man on
the boat on the way over.’

Teddy rubbed his hands. ‘Happy days, boys. Happy days.’ He looked down at his book. ‘Right, we’ve got a big delivery of Hurricanes coming in from Langley today, so I need
you chaps to hang around.’ Doyle groaned. ‘I know, I know. But we need to get them shifted as soon as possible.’

Teddy glanced up as Stella strode down the corridor, a chit in her hand, her parachute slung over one shoulder. He ducked out of the Ops Room and caught up with her. ‘Are you off again,
Mrs Grainger? We do keep you busy.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said without turning to him. He followed her out onto the airfield as she walked on.

‘Did you see what turned up here yesterday?’ Teddy pointed across the airfield to a huge four-engined monoplane. ‘Focke Condor. One Captain Hansen of Denmark piloted it in. He
and the plane were on their last legs.’

‘I wondered who that was in the mess.’

‘Dicey landing. He skidded and collided with a farm vehicle on the field. Almost took out Bradbrooke’s Folly.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The armoured car m’dear.’ Teddy reached over and took her chit, his fingers brushing her wrist. Stella winced. ‘So what have we got you dicing with today?’

‘Lysander to Tangmere,’ she said, fastening her Sidcot suit as they walked.

‘I do like the old Lizzies.’

‘What did you fly exactly, Officer Parker?’

‘Oh this and that, all sorts really,’ he said vaguely. ‘Listen, I wondered if you might fancy a bite to eat later, or a trip to the cinema?’

‘Me?’ Stella stopped in her tracks.

Teddy smoothed his moustache. ‘Yes, my dear, you. I saw
Ferry Pilot
the other night. Jolly good to see old Bradbrooke again. Damn shame he went down. Couple of the girls are in it
too, Joan and Audrey—’

Stella cut him off. ‘Thank you, but I have a prior engagement.’

‘Another time then?’ He put his hands on his hips as she moved away. ‘What’s the matter, eh? Ground staff not good enough for you?’

Stella clenched her fist and walked back to him. ‘No sir, if you must know you’re just not my type.’

‘Of all the impertinent—’

‘You did ask, sir.’

Teddy watched her stride away and join the queue of pilots filing into the waiting Anson. ‘Not your type, eh? Stuck-up Ice Queen. I’ll show you, my girl.’

Arsehole
, Evie thought to herself as she cycled through the village, past St Mary’s.
I’m going to get Teddy back somehow for what he did to Jack, I just
don’t know how yet.
As she passed the Coach and Horses she thought of the happy hours she had spent with Jack in the bar in Bristol, and impulsively she swung a loop on the bike and went
in, thirsty for a cool glass of beer. The July sun beat down on her as she leant her bike against the wall. She waved at a couple of off-duty ATA pilots in the beer garden, and a few of the locals
looked up, surprised to see a woman in uniform and alone.

‘A half of Guinness,’ she said, and counted out 6d.

‘Isn’t it rather tragic, drinking alone?’ a voice said. She looked up into the shadows of the snug, and saw a familiar silhouette, the glow of a cigarette. ‘That’s
what someone told me once.’

‘Hello, sir,’ she said. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘Allow me.’ Beau tossed a few coins onto the counter. ‘I’ll have the same again,’ he said to the landlord.

‘You look very smart,’ she said. Beau looked tanned and relaxed, off duty in a midnight blue double-breasted suit.

‘I was at the Gold Cup this afternoon.’

‘Were they racing?’

‘At Newmarket, yes. In fact I saw your father up there.’

‘Did you? How is he?’

‘Lucky as ever,’ Beau laughed. ‘He cleaned up in fact – he had a big wager on Finis to win.’