Winter of the World (26 page)

He returned to the opera house and went inside. The orchestra was silent, and the audience was just beginning to emerge. Released from long imprisonment in their seats they were talking
animatedly, praising the singers, criticizing the costumes, and making plans for late suppers.

He saw Daisy almost immediately.

She was wearing a lavender dress with a little cape of champagne-coloured mink over her bare shoulders, and she looked ravishing. She emerged from the auditorium at the head of a small clutch of
people her own age. Lloyd was sorry to recognize Boy Fitzherbert beside her, and to see her laugh gaily at something he murmured to her as they stepped down the red-carpeted stairs. Behind her was
the interesting German girl, Eva Rothmann, escorted by a tall young man in the kind of military evening dress known as a mess kit.

Eva recognized Lloyd and smiled, and he spoke to her in German. ‘Good evening, Fräulein Rothmann, I hope you enjoyed the opera.’

‘Very much, thank you,’ she replied in the same language. ‘I didn’t realize you were in the audience.’

Boy said amiably: ‘I say, speak English, you lot.’ He sounded slightly drunk. He was good-looking in a dissipated way, like a sulkily handsome adolescent, or a pedigree dog that is
fed too many scraps. He had a pleasant manner, and probably could be devastatingly charming when he chose.

Eva said in English: ‘Viscount Aberowen, this is Mr Williams.’

‘We know each other,’ said Boy. ‘He’s at Emma.’

Daisy said: ‘Hello, Lloyd. We’re going slumming.’

Lloyd had heard this word before. It meant going to the East End to visit low pubs and watch working-class entertainment such as dog fights.

Boy said: ‘I bet Williams knows some places.’

Lloyd hesitated only a fraction of a second. Was he willing to put up with Boy in order to be with Daisy? Of course he was. ‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ he said. ‘Do you want
me to show you?’

‘Splendid!’

An older woman appeared and wagged a finger at Boy. ‘You must have these girls home by midnight,’ she said in an American accent. ‘Not a second later, please.’ Lloyd
guessed she must be Daisy’s mother.

The tall man in the military outfit replied: ‘Leave it to the army, Mrs Peshkov. We’ll be on time.’

Behind Mrs Peshkov came Earl Fitzherbert with a fat woman who must be his wife. Lloyd would have liked to question the earl about his government’s policy on Spain.

Two cars were waiting for them outside. The earl, his wife, and Daisy’s mother got into a black-and-cream Rolls-Royce Phantom III. Boy and his group piled into the other car, a dark-blue
Daimler E20 limousine, the royal family’s favourite car. There were seven young people including Lloyd. Eva seemed to be with the soldier, who introduced himself to Lloyd as Lieutenant Jimmy
Murray. The third girl was his sister, May, and the other boy – a slimmer, quieter version of Boy – turned out to be Andy Fitzherbert.

Lloyd gave the chauffeur directions to the Gaiety.

He noticed that Jimmy Murray discreetly slipped his arm around Eva’s waist. Her reaction was to move slightly closer to him: obviously they were courting. Lloyd was happy for her. She was
not a pretty girl, but she was intelligent and charming. He liked her, and he was glad she had found herself a tall soldier. He wondered, though, how others in this upper-class social set would
react if Jimmy announced he was going to marry a half-Jewish German girl.

It occurred to him that the others formed two more couples: Andy and May, and – annoyingly – Boy and Daisy. Lloyd was the odd one out. Not wanting to stare at them, he studied the
polished mahogany window surrounds.

The car went up Ludgate Hill to St Paul’s Cathedral. ‘Take Cheapside,’ Lloyd said to the driver.

Boy took a long pull from a silver hip flask. Wiping his mouth, he said: ‘You know your way around, Williams.’

‘I live here,’ said Lloyd. ‘I was born in the East End.’

‘How splendid,’ said Boy; and Lloyd was not sure whether he was being thoughtlessly polite or unpleasantly sarcastic.

All the seats were taken at the Gaiety, but there was plenty of standing room, and the audience moved around constantly, greeting friends and going to the bar. They were dressed up, the women in
brightly coloured frocks, the men in their best suits. The air was warm and smoky, and there was a powerful odour of spilled beer. Lloyd found a place for his group near the back. Their clothes
identified them as visitors from the West End, but they were not the only ones: music halls were popular with all classes.

On stage a middle-aged performer in a red dress and blonde wig was doing a double-entendre routine. ‘I said to him, “I’m not letting you into my passage.” ’ The
audience roared with laughter. ‘He said to me, “I can see it from here, love.” I told him, “You keep your nose out.” ’ She was pretending indignation. ‘He
said, “It looks to me like it needs a good clean-out.” Well! I ask you.’

Lloyd saw that Daisy was grinning widely. He leaned over and murmured in her ear: ‘Do you realize it’s a man?’

‘No!’ she said.

‘Look at the hands.’

‘Oh, my God!’ she said. ‘She’s a man!’

Lloyd’s cousin David walked past, spotted Lloyd, and came back. ‘What are you all dressed up for?’ he said in a Cockney accent. He was wearing a knotted scarf and a cloth
cap.

‘Hello, Dave, how’s life?’

‘I’m going to Spain with you and Lenny Griffiths,’ Dave said.

‘No, you’re not,’ said Lloyd. ‘You’re fifteen.’

‘Boys my age fought in the Great War.’

‘But they were no use – ask your father. Anyway, who says I’m going?’

‘Your sister, Millie,’ Dave said, and he walked on.

Boy said: ‘What do people usually drink in this place, Williams?’

Lloyd thought Boy did not need any more alcohol, but he replied: ‘Pints of best bitter for the men and port-and-lemon for the girls.’

‘Port-and-lemon?’

‘It’s port diluted with lemonade.’

‘How perfectly ghastly.’ Boy disappeared.

The comedian reached the climax of the act. ‘I said to him, “You fool,
that’s the wrong passage
!” ’ She, or he, went off to gales of applause.

Millie appeared in front of Lloyd. ‘Hello,’ she said. She looked at Daisy. ‘Who’s your friend?’

Lloyd was glad Millie looked so pretty, in her sophisticated black dress, with a row of fake pearls and a discreet touch of make-up. He said: ‘Miss Peshkov, allow me to present my sister,
Miss Leckwith. Millie, this is Daisy.’

They shook hands. Daisy said: ‘I’m very glad to meet Lloyd’s sister.’

‘Half-sister, to be exact,’ said Millie.

Lloyd explained: ‘My father was killed in the Great War. I never knew him. My mother married again when I was still a baby.’

‘Enjoy the show,’ Millie said, turning away; then, as she left, she murmured to Lloyd: ‘Now I see why Ruby Carter has no chance.’

Lloyd groaned inwardly. His mother had obviously told the whole family that he was romancing Ruby.

Daisy said: ‘Who’s Ruby Carter?’

‘She’s a maid at Chimbleigh. You gave her the money to see a dentist.’

‘I remember. So her name is being romantically linked with yours.’

‘In the imagination of my mother, yes.’

Daisy laughed at his discomfiture. ‘So you’re not going to marry a housemaid.’

‘I’m not going to marry Ruby.’

‘She might suit you very well.’

Lloyd gave her a direct look. ‘We don’t always fall in love with the most suitable people, do we?’

She looked at the stage. The show was approaching its end, and the entire cast was beginning a familiar song. The audience joined in enthusiastically. The standing customers at the back linked
arms and swayed in time, and Boy’s party did likewise.

When the curtain came down, Boy still had not reappeared. ‘I’ll look for him,’ Lloyd said. ‘I think I know where he might be.’ The Gaiety had a ladies’
toilet, but the men’s was a back yard with an earth closet and several halved oil drums. Lloyd found Boy puking into one of the drums.

He gave Boy a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, then took his arm and led him through the emptying theatre and outside to the Daimler limousine. The others were waiting. They all got in and Boy
immediately fell asleep.

When they got back to the West End, Andy Fitzherbert told the driver to go first to the Murray house, in a modest street near Trafalgar Square. Getting out of the car with May, he said:
‘You lot go on. I’ll see May to her door then walk home.’ Lloyd presumed that Andy was planning a romantic goodnight on May’s doorstep.

They drove on to Mayfair. As the car was approaching Grosvenor Square, where Daisy and Eva were living, Jimmy told the chauffeur: ‘Just stop at the corner, please.’ Then he said
quietly to Lloyd: ‘I say, Williams, would you mind taking Miss Peshkov to the door, and I’ll follow with Fräulein Rothmann in half a minute?’

‘Of course.’ Jimmy wanted to kiss Eva goodnight in the car, obviously. Boy would know nothing about it: he was snoring. The chauffeur would pretend to be oblivious in the expectation
of a tip.

Lloyd got out of the car and handed Daisy out. When she grasped his hand he got a thrill like a mild electric shock. He took her arm and they walked slowly along the pavement. At the midpoint
between two street lamps, where the light was dimmest, Daisy stopped. ‘Let’s give them time,’ she said.

Lloyd said: ‘I’m so glad Eva has a paramour.’

‘Me, too.’

He took a breath. ‘I can’t say the same about you and Boy Fitzherbert.’

‘He got me presented at court!’ Daisy said. ‘And I danced with the King in a nightclub – it was in all the American newspapers.’

‘And that’s why you’re courting him?’ Lloyd said incredulously.

‘Not only. He likes all the things I do – parties and racehorses and beautiful clothes. He’s such fun! He even has his own airplane.’

‘None of that means anything,’ Lloyd said. ‘Give him up. Be my girlfriend instead.’

She looked pleased, but she laughed. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said. ‘But I like you.’

‘I mean it,’ he said desperately. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you, even though you’re the last person in the world I should marry.’

She laughed again. ‘You say the rudest things! I don’t know why I talk to you. I guess I think you’re nice under your clumsy manners.’

‘I’m not really clumsy – only with you.’

‘I believe you. But I’m not going to marry a penniless socialist.’

Lloyd had opened his heart only to be charmingly rejected, and now he felt miserable. He looked back at the Daimler. ‘I wonder how long they’re going to be,’ he said
disconsolately.

Daisy said: ‘I might kiss a socialist, though, just to see what it’s like.’

For a moment he did not react. He assumed she was speaking theoretically. But a girl would never say something like that theoretically. It was an invitation. He had almost been stupid enough to
miss it.

He moved closer, putting his hands on her small waist. She tilted her face up, and her beauty took his breath away. He bent his head and kissed her mouth softly. She did not close her eyes, and
neither did he. He felt tremendously aroused, staring into her blue eyes as he moved his lips against hers. She opened her mouth slightly, and he touched her parted lips with the tip of his tongue.
A moment later he felt her tongue respond. She was still looking at him. He was in paradise, and he wanted to stay locked in this embrace for all eternity. She pressed her body to his. He had an
erection, and he was embarrassed in case she might feel it, so he eased back – but she pushed forward again, and he understood, looking into her eyes, that she wanted to feel his penis
pressed against her soft body. The realization heated him unbearably. He felt as if he was going to ejaculate, and it occurred to him that she might even want him to.

Then he heard the door of the Daimler open, and Jimmy Murray speaking with slightly unnatural loudness, as if giving a warning. Lloyd broke the embrace with Daisy.

‘Well,’ she murmured in a surprised tone, ‘that was an unexpected pleasure.’

Lloyd said hoarsely: ‘More than a pleasure.’

Then Jimmy and Eva were beside them, and they all walked to the door of Mrs Peshkov’s house. It was a grand building with steps up to a covered porch. Lloyd wondered if the porch might
give shelter enough for another kiss, but as they climbed the steps the door was opened from the inside by a man in evening dress, probably the butler Lloyd had spoken to earlier. How glad he was
that he had made that phone call!

The two girls said goodnight demurely, giving no hint that only seconds ago they both had been locked in passionate embraces; then the door closed and they were gone.

Lloyd and Jimmy went back down the steps.

‘I’m going to walk from here,’ Jimmy said. ‘Shall I tell the chauffeur to drive you back to the East End? You must be three or four miles from home. And Boy won’t
care – he’ll sleep until breakfast-time, I should think.’

‘That’s thoughtful of you, Murray, and I appreciate it; but, believe it or not, I feel like walking. Lots to think about.’

‘As you wish. Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight,’ said Lloyd; and, with his mind in a whirl and his erection slowly deflating, he turned east and headed for home.

(iv)

London’s social season ended in the middle of August, and still Boy Fitzherbert had not proposed marriage to Daisy Peshkov.

Daisy was hurt and puzzled. Everyone knew they were courting. They saw one another almost every day. Earl Fitzherbert talked to Daisy like a daughter, and even the suspicious Princess Bea had
warmed to her. Boy kissed her whenever he got the chance, but said nothing about the future.

The long series of lavish lunches and dinners, glittering parties and balls, traditional sporting events and champagne picnics that made up the London season came to an abrupt end. Many of the
new friends Daisy had made suddenly left town. Most of them went to country houses where, as far as she could gather, they would spend their time hunting foxes, stalking deer, and shooting
birds.

Daisy and Olga stayed for Eva Rothmann’s wedding. Unlike Boy, Jimmy Murray was in a rush to marry the woman he loved. The ceremony was held at his parents’ parish church in
Chelsea.