The Little Angel

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘Ah, here you are – and only just in time,’ Richard scolded when she arrived at his house sometime later. Then his expression softened as he saw the dismay on her face and he stroked the tender skin on her cheek, making her legs go all tingly. ‘Now just remember, all you have to do is model the clothes that the gentlemen have brought. I’ll do the rest.’

  Kitty’s mouth went dry. ‘How many of them did you say there were going to be?’

  ‘Just the three – and don’t forget they are all very important names in the fashion industry. If they like the way you model their lingerie they could well give you official modelling contracts – and then you will be in clover.’

  In fact, Kitty was secretly rueing the day she had ever agreed to do this, but now it had gone too far to call a halt – and the last thing she wanted to do was let Richard down. As he was keen on telling her, there were many other models who would willingly take her place, Melissa Hawkins being first on the list.

  She nodded meekly and trotted after him like an obedient puppy as he headed for his studio. The men were all there waiting for her and she noticed that the dreaded Mr Johnston was amongst them. Although it was only early in the day they all had drinks in their hands and the tallest of the men encouraged her to have one too.

  Richard smiled and thanked him, saying, ‘Actually Kitty doesn’t like to drink too early. I have a nice pot of tea here ready for her instead.’

  The cup was already prepared with milk and sugar just the way she liked it. Truthfully, Kitty really didn’t want it but once Richard had poured the tea into it and given it a good stir she dutifully took it and sipped at it. He had gone to the trouble of getting it for her, after all. She thought it tasted rather bitter and while she was drinking it, Richard introduced the men to her. Mr Johnston, she had unfortunately already met, and she thought the other two looked just as unsavoury as he did. Placing the cup down, she went behind the screen to get changed to find an assortment of underwear laid out ready for her on a chair. They were by far the skimpiest garments she had been asked to model so far, but she was feeling mellower by the minute and rather light-headed. Perhaps Maggie had been right when she’d told her she should eat something. But it was too late now, she was here and she supposed she should just get it over with.

  After donning a fine silk bodice and matching bloomers that barely covered her modesty, she stepped from behind the screen and took her position in front of a sheet that Richard had draped across one wall of the studio. The men were watching her intently and she felt colour flood into her cheeks as she suddenly wondered what Sunday would have thought, could she have seen her now. Then all of a sudden she felt herself sway … and she crumpled to a heap on the floor.

  ‘Ah, you’re back with us are you?’

  Maggie’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away and Kitty groggily opened her eyes. She was surprised to find that she was tucked up in her own bed and croaked, ‘What happened?’ Her mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage and she had a headache again.

  ‘You fainted, that’s what happened, and it’s no wonder. You’re trying to burn the candle at both ends,’ Maggie scolded. ‘Foxy has gone mad and told Mr Thomas and Mr Fitzherbert that you’re to do absolutely nothing for at least a week.’ She refrained from telling her that Ruby had been absolutely furious about it. Maggie had an idea that Ruby would have worked the poor girl into the ground if she could.

  ‘But I have bookings,’ Kitty objected weakly.

  ‘Blow the bookings!’ Maggie retorted. ‘You’re going to do as you’re told for a change. Me and Foxy will see to that, so you just lay back, my lady, and make the best of it.’

  Seeing that she didn’t have much choice, Kitty curled up and was soon fast asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Cissie swatted a fly buzzing around her face and mopped her brow as she made her way back to the cottage early one evening in late July. The heat had been almost unbearable all day and she was looking forward to a nice cool bath and a quiet evening with George. She had decided to take the short cut through the small copse that separated her home from Treetops and was enjoying the shade of the trees when a voice made her jump.

  ‘Hello … Mother.’

  Startled, she glanced to the side to see Hugh leaning lazily back against the trunk of a tree, blowing smoke from his cigarette into the dusky gloom.

  ‘Hugh.’ Slowly her heartbeat returned to a steadier rhythm as she saw who it was. She had been hoping he would come again.

  As he casually strolled towards her, she asked, ‘Have you got time to come to the cottage for a drink? It’s lovely to see you.’

  He smiled as he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his well-shod foot.

  ‘Thank you – but I ought to warn you this isn’t entirely a social call.’

  ‘Oh?’ She stared up at him and he ran his finger around the neck of his shirt as if it was suddenly too tight.

  ‘The thing is, I’m in a bit of a pickle. You see, when Mum and Dad chucked me out I took a room in town. I was hoping to find a job but I’ve had no luck as yet and now my landlady is breathing down my neck.’

  Cissie felt relieved. She had thought he was going to tell her that there was something wrong with him.

  ‘So I was wondering if you could see your way clear to lending me some money – just until I find a job. Ten pounds should do it.’

  Ten pounds was a huge amount of money to her, and Cissie was shocked that he would ask. After all, this was only the second time they had met.

  But seeing her reservations, his face suddenly turned ugly and in that instant, he looked so much like his father that her hand rose involuntarily to her mouth. The look was gone so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it as he gushed, ‘Look, if you can’t manage it, it really doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have asked. I just thought that being as you are my mother, you’d want to help me out of a tight spot.’

  ‘Of course I’ll help you.’ She instantly felt guilty. This was the first thing she would ever have done for him in his whole life – and surely George wouldn’t mind? Hugh was her flesh and blood, after all, and there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for him.

  ‘You’ll have to come to the cottage with me and I’ll get it for you.’ She hurried on and they walked along side by side.

  Once inside the cottage she left Hugh in the kitchen with a glass of lemonade while she rushed upstairs to get the money. She and George had quite a little nest egg tucked away for their retirement now. Ten pounds was going to make a sizeable hole in it admittedly, but she was certain that her husband would understand – and it was only a loan, after all. Leaning over the bed she reached into a small hole in the mattress and extracted a small bag. Inside was their life savings and she hastily counted out ten pounds before returning the bag to its hiding place.

  Once downstairs she handed the money to Hugh, who took it without a word of thanks and stuffed it into his trouser pocket. He then drained his glass and told her, ‘Right, I’d best be off to settle up with my landlady then.’

  ‘What? You’re going so soon?’ Disappointment coursed through her. She’d been hoping they might spend a little time getting to know each other before George got home, but then she supposed if Hugh’s landlady was harassing him it was best to go and pay his dues. ‘Will you come again soon?’ she asked hopefully and he nodded.

  ‘You can rely on it. Thanks for this – and bye for now.’ He then sauntered away whistling merrily and she watched him go, feeling strangely deflated.

  When George came in sometime later he found her in a sombre mood and asked, ‘What’s up, pet? You look like you’ve lost a bob an’ found a tanner.’

  Slowly she told him about Hugh’s visit. The couple had never had any secrets from each other and she didn’t intend to start now.

  ‘And so I gave him the ten pounds,’ she finished lamely.

  George frowned, not at all happy about what he had heard. In truth, he hadn
’t taken to Hugh at all, be he Cissie’s son or not, and he certainly didn’t believe the yarn the fellow had spun to them about his parents not being good to him. The Tates had seemed like kind, genuine people – whereas there was something about Hugh that raised his hackles. Even so, he could understand the dilemma Cissie was in so he told her, ‘Of course you wanted to help him. But don’t forget he is a grown man and he should be responsible for himself now.’

  ‘I understand that, but I couldn’t see him thrown out onto the streets, could I?’

  ‘Well, he could always have gone back to the Tates’,’ George pointed out. ‘It came across to me that they still loved him, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have turned him away even if he has led them a merry dance.’

  ‘We only have their word for that,’ Cissie answered defensively and George wisely changed the subject. He would let it go this once, but should Hugh come with his begging bowl again George decided he would take him to one side and have a quiet word in his ear. There was no way he was going to stand by and see Cissie being taken advantage of – and from where he was standing, that was exactly what Hugh had done!

  In London, Kitty was also feeling the strain. For the first time that week she had a free evening, or at least an evening free from performing at a music hall. Maggie had planned for them to have a restful time staying in together, but Kitty scuppered those plans when she told her after dinner, ‘Actually, I’m going to Richard’s. He has some friends he’d like me to meet.’

  ‘Oh? Who are they then?’

  ‘How should I know until I’ve met them?’ Kitty snapped peevishly.

  ‘Then it might be nice if I came with you,’ Maggie persevered. What could be the harm if it was going to be purely a social evening?

  But Kitty quickly shook her head as she crossed to the wardrobe. ‘No, there’s no need to trouble yourself. You’ve been running about after me all day and you deserve a rest. Now will you help me choose what I should wear? Richard said I was to look my best.’

  Maggie had been about to say that she never had anything but quiet evenings in apart from when she accompanied Kitty to the music halls. Even then the time dragged as she waited in Kitty’s dressing room for her, but she bit back the hasty retort and instead began to sift through Kitty’s gowns. She was getting quite a selection now.

  ‘How about this blue one?’ She lifted it from the wardrobe and Kitty nodded then sat down on the stool in front of the mirror so that Maggie could dress her hair. The chignon was becoming very popular and Maggie was a dab hand at doing them now. Kitty’s long hair was given a side parting then the rest of it was drawn into a very loose bun just above the nape of the neck, which made it a perfect style for the ladies who wore hats. Once she was ready, Kitty added a long string of pearls – yet another gift from an admirer – and asked, ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Beautiful as always.’ Maggie couldn’t help but sigh enviously.

  As Kitty drew her gloves on, she said, ‘You know, I think this hairstyle would suit you.’

  Maggie’s hand rose self-consciously to the tight plait woven about the crown of her head. It was a severe style much favoured by older ladies, and yet she was still so young.

  ‘I’ll have a little practice on you tomorrow,’ Kitty promised and Maggie shrugged. She had never been a slave to fashion. But then Kitty was ready to go and after planting an affectionate kiss on Maggie’s cheek she sailed out of the room leaving her friend to face yet another empty evening. Although she was enjoying reading Kitty’s copy of The Jungle Book, she would have preferred some company.

  Once Kitty was settled in a cab on her way to Richard’s the smile slid from her face. Richard had told her the day before that he was throwing a party for a few of his friends and she had suggested that perhaps she could bring Maggie along, but he had laughed aloud.

  ‘Why would you want to bring that boring old maid along?’ he’d guffawed. ‘She’s so prim and proper and you must admit she’s not the most enticing of creatures, and that’s putting it mildly. No, my darling, the friends I have invited wouldn’t enjoy Maggie’s company at all, I assure you. Just bring yourself.’

  Kitty had wanted to protest. She and Maggie had become close and Kitty had soon discovered that beneath that crusty exterior Maggie had a heart of gold. But she hadn’t dared to contradict Richard. For her, the sun rose and set with him and she lived in fear of upsetting him. She was quite surprised when she arrived outside his house to see that the lights were off in the downstairs rooms. If he was throwing a party she had expected the place to be ablaze with lights, despite the fact that it wasn’t yet dark outside. However, she paid the cabbie and hurried to the front door. Millie, the young maid, let her in and informed her, ‘Mr Fitzherbert and his guests are all in the studio, miss.’

  ‘The studio?’ That was rather a strange place to throw a party, but then Kitty supposed if his friends were arty types they would probably enjoy being in there and they could always spill out of the French doors into the garden if it became overcrowded. It was a lovely evening, after all.

  ‘Here she is, the belle of the ball,’ Richard said loudly when she tapped on his door, then taking her hand he drew her into the room. She saw that there were three men sitting there, each with a drink in their hands, and a little flutter of unease sprang to life in her stomach. Where were the ladies? This was hardly what she would have termed a party. The men were all avidly eyeing her up and down and she felt distinctly uncomfortable as Richard led her towards them. It reminded her of the last sitting she had done for Richard when she had become ill, although she was pleased to note that Mr Johnston himself was not present.

  ‘Mr Travers, Mr Fulton, Mr Sutton, may I introduce my very dear friend, Miss Kitty Nightingale. As you are no doubt aware from the wonderful newspaper reviews she has been receiving lately, Kitty is fast becoming the darling of the music halls.’

  The men all stood and politely shook her hand, then Richard handed her a glass of champagne in a crystal flute. She eyed it warily and couldn’t help but remember how ill she had been when under the influence of the wine he had given her once before.

  ‘Now, if you would all care to be seated, the slide show will begin.’

  Kitty’s head whipped around to glance at Richard. Slide show! What did he mean? She had been led to believe that she was attending a party. She took a seat just the same and saw that Richard had erected a large screen against one wall. After drawing the dark curtains across the French doors, he went to a projector, inserted a slide – and mere seconds later, an image flashed onto the screen. Kitty instantly wanted to die of humiliation. It was of herself, in a state of semi-undress, posing on the chaise longue.

  Her cheeks burning with shame, she peeped at the men from the corner of her eye and was horrified to find that their eyes were all fixed greedily on the screen. And then suddenly she was staring at some photographs that she could not remember being taken. There was one of her apparently asleep with one arm flung carelessly behind her head showing far more of her breasts than was decent.

  ‘Richard, I don’t think …’ she objected, but her voice trailed away as he stared threateningly at her and inserted another slide.

  Gulping deep in her throat, she realised that these photographs must have been taken after she had fainted. She had grudgingly agreed to model underwear, admittedly, but some of these were bordering on pornographic and she would never have allowed him to take them. They were sordid and she felt dirty and soiled, even more so when the man who had been introduced as Mr Travers put his arm about her shoulders.

  ‘Excuse me, sir!’ she exclaimed haughtily, but he merely laughed.

  ‘You’re a fine-looking little filly, me dear,’ he chuckled, ‘an’ I’d have paid good money to be the one to break you in, but Ricky tells me he’s already done it.’ She pushed him away and sprang to her feet, her cheeks aflame.

  ‘Richard! How could you?’ She had trusted him and he had betrayed her.

  Richard installed a
nother slide, saying coldly, ‘Oh, sit down and don’t be such a prude. These gentlemen have come here tonight to see you in all your glory. And then they would like to get to know you a bit better. These fine fellows are some of the critics who gave you your glowing reviews in the press. Don’t you think you owe it to them to be nice to them? Remember, they can make or break you.’

  Kitty’s hands balled into fists. Get to know her a bit better indeed! What did Richard think she was – a common whore? Snatching up her bag, she stormed towards the door only to find it locked and she wheeled about.

  ‘I wish to leave! Please open this door immediately.’

  Richard was right behind her and grabbing her arm he flung her down onto the nearest chair. She stared at him in shock as she rubbed her arm where a bruise was already beginning to appear. It was only then that she realised just how much danger she might be in. And worst of all was knowing that she had been duped by him. How unwise of her, to have trusted him so blindly, but she loved him so much!

  Mr Travers was advancing on her, her glass in his hand. ‘Why don’t you just have a little drink and calm down, darling?’ he wheedled, but Kitty ignored him and kept her eyes trained on Richard.

  ‘Look at those before you start making a fuss!’ he sneered and threw some photos down on the table beside her. Kitty looked at them in horror. She was lying in some very provocative poses, and what’s more, she was completely naked.

  ‘You took advantage of me while I was unconscious!’ she gasped as the knowledge of what he had done hit her full force.

  He shrugged. ‘You are far too beautiful to keep to myself, and believe me, there is a huge market for pictures like these. But to prevent them being seen by the wider public, all you have to do is be nice to some of my acquaintances from time to time. Believe me, it’s perfectly normal, you little goose. All the models do it – it’s where they earn most of their money.’