by Vicki Beeby
‘Blimey, they should make handbags like this.’ Jess’s voice jerked him back to the present, and he opened his eyes. She was exploring all the pockets and compartments in the case. There was no trace of the sophisticated veneer she usually hid behind when she knew people were watching her. Instead she opened lids and ran her fingers over the velvet lining with a wide-eyed enthusiasm that was all Jess. This was the Jess he had wanted to see when he had made the clumsy comparison of her with ivy. Although his English was good enough for everyday communication, there were times he wished Jess could understand Czech. He would have far less difficulty explaining what was in his heart in his mother tongue.
She tugged at the piece of ribbon at the narrow end of the violin case, opening the lid of the little compartment there. She pulled out a duster that was wrapped around a circular object. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, unwrapping it.
‘Rosin.’
She prodded it with the tip of a finger. ‘What’s it for?’
‘Coating the hair. To stop the bow from skidding across the strings.’ He took the bow from its place in the lid and tightened the screw until the hair had the correct tension. ‘Look.’ He took the rosin from Jess and ran it up and down the bow, sending a flurry of fine powdered rosin drifting down upon the table. The fingers of his right hand took up the old familiar grip upon the ebony frog.
‘Are you going to play something?’
He shook his head and reluctantly replaced the violin and bow in the case. ‘It will need much tuning, and I need much practice.’ He took in their surroundings. ‘I think the landlord would throw me out if I tried tuning my violin in here.’
My violin. The enormity of those two simple words struck him. ‘Thank you, Jess. You cannot know how much this means to me.’ That she cared for him enough to find him this magnificent gift brought a lump to his throat. She had seen a violin in a shop window and thought of him. If they hadn’t been in a crowded pub, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her. As it was, her nearness as she leaned across the table, gazing at him with shining eyes sent a frisson of awareness across his flesh. A beguiling hint of floral perfume now competed with the scent of rosin.
A sudden thought struck him. ‘You must let me pay. How much—?’
‘It didn’t cost a thing. I told you.’
Milan frowned. Jess had said something about where she had got it from, but he had been too overwhelmed to take it in. Something about a woman in an antiques shop. ‘Then I must pay the woman who gave it to you.’
He half rose from his chair, but Jess placed a hand over his, sending prickles of electricity shooting up his arm. ‘She won’t accept any money. I tried. Anyway, her shop will be closed by now and I don’t know where she lives. I think she would like to see you, though.’
Milan nodded. ‘I will. I must thank her in person.’
The matter closed, he put away the violin and turned his attention to Jess. Now he came to look at her properly, he thought he detected shadows in her eyes as though she was worried about something. ‘Are you well, Jess? You look tired.’
‘Well that’s a fine compliment to pay a girl.’ For a moment he feared she would hide behind her façade again. Then she caught his eye and gave a small smile. ‘I am tired, as a matter of fact. I thought I worked odd hours when I was an actress, but I’ll never get used to the shifts here. It’s getting that I never know if it’ll be daylight or pitch darkness when I go outside every day.’
‘Is that all?’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘You don’t want to hear all my worries.’
‘Yes I do. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.’ She’d understood how much having a violin again would mean to him. Why couldn’t she share her deeper feelings with him? It was frustrating that every time he seemed to get a step nearer, she would take two steps back.
‘If you must know, I’m worried about my aunt. I went to see her the other day. Tried to persuade her to go back to Wales. With all the flying bombs and… suchlike, I can’t sleep for worry. But she refuses to budge.’
Milan knew exactly what she meant by the ‘suchlike’. He had been briefed about the V2s, knew that’s what many of his reconnaissance missions had been about. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I do understand why you are worried.’ He tried to convey his full understanding through his tone. ‘I wish I could help but there is nothing.’
Jess sighed. ‘It helps that you understand.’
Then she sat up straighter. ‘Anyway, now we’ve established there’s absolutely nothing we can do, the best thing is to try and forget our worries for now.’
‘Good plan. What do you suggest?’
Jess rose. ‘First I’m going to get us each another drink, because I have news I want to celebrate.’
He kept his gaze fixed on her slender upright figure as she walked to the bar, admiring the swing of her hips. He wasn’t alone in his admiration – Milan saw several heads swivel as she walked past. One man called something to her that Milan couldn’t catch. Jess tossed her head and replied, ‘You wish.’
When they had been at Amberton together, some of his friends had wondered at his bravery in pursuing a girl who so clearly enjoyed to flirt. Milan hadn’t been worried, recognising her fierce loyalty for her two friends. It was one of the qualities he most admired in her. He knew that once her heart was given, she would be equally as loyal to the man she had given it to. It made him all the more determined to ensure that man was him.
Jess soon returned, placing another beer in front of him and holding a glass of something fizzy.
‘Tell me what we are celebrating,’ he said, raising his glass to her in thanks.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ she said. ‘They’re making a film – a drama about the RAF – and they’re filming some of the background shots and scenes at Bentley Priory.’ In her excitement, her tiredness and worry faded from her face, leaving her glowing and animated. It was how he always liked to picture her when they were apart. It was how he had remembered her in the long years since her abrupt goodbye before leaving Amberton.
‘A film?’ He recalled her enthusiasm at organising the pantomime at Amberton. She would be in her element with film makers prowling the grounds of Bentley Priory. ‘Who is in it? Anyone famous?’
‘Leonard Steele.’
‘Wow.’ Milan didn’t take much interest in films beside their music scores but even he had heard of Leonard Steele. ‘Didn’t he make that one about the pirates?’
Jess nodded. ‘Wait till you’ve heard the good bit. They were filming some shots that I was in, and the director noticed me. I’ve been given permission to play a minor speaking role. What do you think?’
‘That is wonderful.’
‘It was Leo – Leonard Steele – who managed to wangle it, I think.’
There was something self-conscious about her expression when she mentioned Leonard Steele that set alarm bells ringing in Milan’s head. Not to mention the familiar way she spoke of him. ‘Leo?’ he repeated.
‘Oh, that’s what everyone used to call him.’ Jess looked him directly in the eye and gave a smile that seemed to say there was nothing to worry about. Milan wasn’t fooled, though. There was the briefest flicker of discomfort that reminded Milan that Jess was a good actress. Most other women would be gazing at the floor at this point.
‘You knew Leonard Steele before the war?’ While Milan might not be as good an actor as Jess, he managed to make the enquiry sound casual. If he had met someone as famous as Leonard Steele, it would have been his conversation opener, not something he mentioned as if of no importance later on. Of course, Jess had been carrying the violin case when she arrived and had been excited about giving him his gift, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all that Jess hadn’t opened with her news.
‘Oh, yes, I had a minor role in a West End play that he was starring in.’
‘Yet you were friends?’ Milan hated the way that made him sound. It made him seem like a jealous lover who needed
to know about every man his girlfriend had met in the past. He wasn’t like that at all. He trusted Jess; there was no way she would two-time him.
‘He took an interest in the newer actors. Mentored us, you know.’
Milan nodded. That happened in the world of music as well – a more experienced performer nurturing the talent of a younger artist. ‘It was kind of him to remember you.’
There it was again, a flicker of discomfort quickly disguised. ‘Isn’t it exciting, though?’ Jess said. ‘I just ’ope I can still remember ’ow to act. It’s been years.’
‘You will be… what is the expression? Top hat.’ He refused to be jealous. He would show Jess that he could be encouraging and supportive, even if he was haunted by the thought of Jess mixing with a famous and handsome film star.
Jess grinned. ‘I think you mean top hole. Thank you. It means the world to know you’re behind me.’
See? There was nothing to fear. Anyway, even if Jess did admire the famous Leonard Steele, Milan would not give up easily. Leonard Steele was part of her past, but he would make sure he, Milan, was the only man in her future.
Her future. But didn’t his plans for the future involve going home? Where did Jess fit in with that? Maybe it would be kinder to let her go.
He immediately dismissed the notion. Jess had worked her way into his heart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of a future without her. Besides, the war wasn’t over yet. It was something to worry about later.
Chapter Eleven
‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, love?’ The mug Vera was washing slipped out of her hands and fell into the sink, splashing soapy water down the front of her pinny. After several days of tracking more flying bombs and V2s, Jess had been anxious to see her aunt. Although by this time she knew Poplar hadn’t been hit, she still needed to reassure herself all was well. Of course, that meant listening to Vera’s concerns about Jess mixing with Leonard Steele again.
‘It’s a film role – I’d be mad to turn it down.’
Vera shook her head. ‘I thought you’d left that life behind years ago.’
Jess knew what Vera was worried about, that she would be caught up by the excitement of it all and led astray. After all, she had gone astray quite spectacularly last time. ‘It’s time I started thinking about what I’m going to do after the war. I won’t be in the WAAF for ever, you know.’ Although the realisation came with a twinge of sadness. She had learned so much in the WAAF as well as made the best friends she had ever had. Yes, she had loved the glamour that clung to acting – nothing could quite match the thrill of being part of a stage production from first read-through to soaking up the applause of the audience and then the parties after the performance. She couldn’t deny, however, that she didn’t miss the feeling that she always had to push to get ahead. First there were the auditions that ended in disappointment, then watching other actors on stage, knowing she could be as good if not better if only someone would give her a chance. Then there was the joy of her first roles, only for the exhilaration to fade as she set her sights on larger roles, and always there was the seemingly impossible dream of reaching top billing. Something she had been about to grasp when her stupid mistake had torn the dream away.
Her heart swelling at the memory of how Vera had supported her through the very worst of times, Jess kissed Vera’s cheek. ‘I won’t let the glamour turn my head again, Auntie. You can be sure of that. Once bitten, twice shy.’ She grabbed a tea towel and started to dry the dishes.
Faint worry lines still creased Vera’s brow, however. ‘I agree you should give some thought to your future. Isn’t there some skill you could use that you’ve learnt in the WAAF? Surely with you doing clerical work, you could land yourself a nice job as a secretary.’
Even if Jess had been free to explain what her work really involved, she didn’t have the heart to disabuse her aunt. ‘Maybe. I’ll think about it.’ Think about how desperate she would need to be before choosing to do a boring desk job. The prospect of being at the beck and call of some pompous businessman when she had been an officer in the WAAF made her feel physically sick.
She must have been convincing, though, for the lines on Vera’s brow eased. ‘I know you won’t do anything rash. You’re a good girl, and I’m so proud of the way you’ve turned your life around. You’re too sensible to throw it all away. Now, tell me all about this part you’ve got.’
‘It’s only small. It’ll be fun to get a taste of the life of a film actress, though.’
‘Have you seen the script yet?’
‘Yes, I got it yesterday. It all looks… fine.’ If truth be told, Jess was a little disappointed. Not with the size of her role – in fact she had a more prominent role than she’d been led to believe at first. No, it was the character she was playing.
Vera was watching her with arched brows. Jess gave in. She could never keep a secret from her aunt. ‘Oh, all right. You’ve seen through me. My character is a complete drip.’ Her character was also a WAAF officer, but that was where the similarity between Fiona Loveday and herself ended. Fiona did an unspecified job that seemed to involve nothing but sitting at a desk outside the Station Commander’s office and making the occasional phone call. Her main role in the film seemed to be as the love interest of Squadron Leader Charlie Fleet – Leo’s character. Jess had read the script in disgust, knowing the writer had no idea what WAAFs really did.
‘You won’t believe this, but in one scene my character gets so frightened at approaching enemy bombers that she faints dead away into the hero’s arms. I mean, who actually does that?’
‘No woman I know,’ Vera said, looking grim.
‘Definitely no one I know.’ Remembering her own experiences of the Battle of Britain, of how the quiet, shy May had helped everyone out when they had been trapped in a shelter during a bombing raid, how Evie had calmly carried on with her work when she had known Alex was fighting for his life in the air, Jess felt nothing but rage at the way WAAFs were being depicted.
‘You could tell them you won’t do it,’ Vera said, looking hopeful.
‘If I refuse now, especially after all the trouble they’ve gone through to get me released from duty, I can say goodbye to ever getting another acting job.’ If anything, this made Vera look even more hopeful, forcing Jess to add, ‘Look. I’m not saying I want to go back into acting, but I need to keep my options open. There will be a lot of people looking for work at the same time when all this is over, so I can’t afford to pass up any opportunities.’
‘So you’re going to go along with this… this soppy Susie character?’
‘Her name’s actually Fiona Loveday, but Soppy Susie is much better. I’ll refer to her as that from now on.’ Jess laughed, feeling better already. ‘But no, I won’t go along with it. I just need to find a way to change the character without getting a reputation as a difficult actress.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
‘No idea, but I’ll come up with something.’
It was time she brought Evie and May in. Together they were bound to think of a way to stop this travesty.
* * *
Filming started the next day, and as both Evie and May had been out with Alex and Peter the previous day, Jess didn’t get a chance to speak to them. She therefore arrived on location at Bentley Priory with no idea how to change her character’s storyline.
A woman with a clipboard met her when she arrived at the area of the grounds cordoned off for the film makers. ‘Jess Halloway?’ The woman consulted her clipboard. ‘You’re to go to hair and makeup first.’ She pointed at a group of khaki tents pitched at the far end of the area.
Jess strode off in that direction, filled with the same mix of nerves and eager anticipation that she associated with her first day in the WAAF. There were several people milling around near the tents, and as she approached she looked for Leo, seeking out a familiar face. At first she couldn’t find him, but then she spotted him talking to a tall, portly man in th
e centre of the cordoned off area. A small crew was nearby, in the process of setting up cameras, sound equipment and lighting. The sight set her insides aflutter as it hit her that today could be her one chance to prove herself as an actress. A wooden sign hung over the entrance to the first tent proclaiming it to be the hair and makeup station. She pulled aside the canvas flap serving as a door and went in. A bank of chairs, trestle tables and mirrors lined one of the long sides of the tent. Pots of makeup, combs and brushes were arranged on each table. A plump middle-aged woman in a pretty sage green dress greeted her. ‘You’ve arrived in good time, I see. Oh, but you’re already in costume.’
Jess looked down at her uniform. ‘It’s not really a costume. I’m a WAAF so I was told to come in uniform.’
The woman looked her up and down. ‘It’s a good cut. Much better than anything you’d have got if you’d relied on the costume department.’
‘Thank you.’ Jess smoothed down her skirt, thankful for every penny she’d spent at the tailors on Savile Row to get the perfect fit. A well-fitting uniform hadn’t featured in her reasons for applying for a commission, but the day she had stood in front of the mirror at the tailors in a made-to-measure uniform had been one of the best days of her career. ‘If I’d known we’d get an allowance for a tailored uniform, I’d have gone for officer training much sooner,’ she’d said to Evie and May the next time she’d seen them. She was all the more grateful for her tailored uniform now she was to be filmed in it.
