by Frank Coates
Peter was a tall young man, square chinned and broad shouldered. She had chosen him over his friend Michael because of his mop of fair hair and cheeky smile.
Emerald was quite taken with her first conquest. The thought of seeing him again made the nape of her neck tingle with excitement.
Dana had only reluctantly agreed to allow Emerald to go to the party in Chelsea on her own. She trusted her daughter, but she didn’t know the Parke-Hollaway family and wondered if they were the right type. Fiona seemed a rather quiet, introverted young person, in contrast to all Emerald’s other friends, who appeared to be more sophisticated and worldly than her daughter. But Dana still had her concerns. Emerald had shown indications she was developing an awareness of the many young men in her social life, and Dana could well remember what had followed that revelation in her own life.
Dana’s teenage pregnancy may well have been kept a secret, but she didn’t want a similar episode to risk Emerald’s chances of inheriting the Middlebridge fortune.
Oswald had inherited the Middlebridge collieries in Lancashire. Unfortunately, he was childless, and the family had only ever entrusted one of their own to take the reins. His options were to anoint either his brother’s idiot son or his stepdaughter Emerald as his successor. If Emerald were to get involved with the wrong boy, she would risk losing Oswald’s confidence — and control of his family fortune after his death.
Emerald had no shortage of distractions from the opposite sex. At first it was her interest in the latest fashions. She would drag Dana through endless stores, seeking the right outfits for the many society events she had begun to attend.
Then it was the theatre. Although Dana preferred the more expensive seats, she agreed to attend a Henry Wood concert at the Royal Albert Hall and join the prom — the milling crowds in the cheaper seats. It was while promming with Emerald that Dana realised her daughter was too rapidly growing up. She turned a lot of male heads, which was understandable given her eye-catching gown, but it was the way that Emerald handled those glances that surprised Dana. She realised that Emerald already knew when a man was looking her way. Furthermore, when Emerald wanted to take a closer look at an admirer, or to send him an encouraging signal, she would turn and bend as if to see if her stockings were straight, or she would touch the brim of her hat and steal a glance, or simply take a sweeping scan around the crowd without making obvious eye-contact with the person who took her interest.
She also sent signals, ranging from a brief glance, to a twitch of amusement on her lips, to an alluring smile. They all seemed to find their mark as a constant stream of young men presented themselves to Dana, begging to be introduced. Dana felt it had been only moments since young men had clamoured for her attention too. At fifty-one, she felt extremely old in comparison.
The following week they would attend the Royal Windsor Horse Show, were already booked for the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, and were considering Wimbledon. Emerald wanted to see the Henley Regatta on the Thames, but at this Dana had baulked. Standing in July sun was not a prospect that enthralled her. Unless they had an invitation from someone with a comfortable barge or a riverside lodge, she would not attend.
Oswald showed no interest in any of the season’s social events, and none of the sporting events except for the cricket. This year it was the South Africans, and Oswald said they would see the second test at Lord’s.
But Emerald was not content with even this whirl. She insisted it was time for her official coming out, when she would be presented to the King. Dana knew it would be difficult to postpone this for much longer as she and Oswald had always indulged the girl. She could see through her daughter’s plan, though: once Emerald had made her debut, she would expect to have more freedom than her mother presently allowed her. Dana hoped nevertheless to prevent what she feared was her daughter’s journey down the same path she had herself taken so many years before.
Emerald knew most of the girls at the party — there must have been thirty of them — either from school or through her school friends. Many had escorts: either male relatives foisted on them for the occasion or boyfriends.
Emerald and Fiona had colluded with Clarice, the birthday girl, to have Peter and Michael added to the guest list because neither had yet told their parents they’d commenced a friendship with Oxford boys — who in some circles were considered characters of dubious reputation. In Emerald’s case, she wasn’t sure if her relationship with Peter could be called more than a friendship because there’d been very little physical contact. From what she’d heard exchanged in confidence among her closer girlfriends, a certain amount of caressing, either attempted, permitted or encouraged, had to occur for a relationship to exist.
‘Hello, Em,’ a girl in a floral dress said.
‘Oh, hello, Miriam,’ Emerald replied, thinking the cut of the floral number emphasised her friend’s ample breasts. She wondered if she should add some padding to her own bra.
‘Wasn’t this simply divine?’ Miriam went on. ‘People are starting to leave. But it has been nice, hasn’t it?’
‘It has. I suppose we’ll be leaving soon too.’ Emerald avoided adding that her mother had insisted she send the driver to collect her at nine.
‘It’s been ages. What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Not much. Switzerland.’
‘Lovely,’ said Miriam.
‘Not really, but I did have a chance to practise my watercolours.’
‘Oh, you too! Isn’t it fun?’
‘It was,’ Emerald said. ‘But now I’m back Mother has insisted I do something noble for a couple of days a week.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘What do you mean noble?’
‘Oh, you know, charity work and such. She’s insisting I go down and volunteer for work at the Red Cross.’
‘Ghastly.’
‘And how about you, Miriam? How’s life?’
‘The usual. We went to the Cotswolds for three weeks. The weather was abysmal.’
‘I simply hate the Cotswolds.’
‘Quite. Well, must dash, but I’m glad we’ve had a chat. I’ve been trying to catch your eye all evening, but you’ve been busy. I have to ask — who’s the handsome man who’s been taking up all your time? Did you come with him?’
Emerald understood that arriving with a boy at a social engagement had its own connotations. Definitions were important.
‘Peter? He’s … a friend. He’s getting me another drink.’ The friend label was sufficiently ambiguous to avoid a detailed discussion about him, but was proprietary enough to dissuade all but the most predatory of competitors. ‘What about you? Are you with someone?’ Emerald countered.
‘Me? No, I’ve been going with a chap for a while, but … you know how it is.’
‘Quite,’ Emerald said, nodding, but having no idea.
Fiona and Michael returned to the marquee and Miriam, having exchanged brief pleasantries with them, wandered off.
Emerald discreetly picked a sprig of greenery from Fiona’s blouse.
Fiona giggled. ‘We’ve been in to see the Chelsea Flower Show,’ she said.
At that moment, Peter returned with the drinks and the four began to discuss attending the Henley regatta.
‘What do you think, Emma?’ Fiona asked. ‘Can you make it by mid-afternoon?’
‘I’m not sure I care to go,’ she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
‘You’re not?’ Peter asked. ‘But I thought you had arranged it. We’d even spoken about where to meet on the Thursday.’
‘I know, but I’m actually still thinking about it.’
She couldn’t admit that she’d been unable as yet to convince her mother to allow her to go, and decided to change the subject.
‘Come, Peter,’ she said. ‘Let’s take a walk in the flower show.’
She led him from the marquee to the hospital grounds, where they spent a few minutes admiring the flower displays. Then she found a narrow path leading from the main area in
to the shrubbery.
‘Emma, what are you doing?’ he asked.
She turned to him and put a finger to her lips. ‘It’s a secret,’ she said. ‘Just follow me.’
In a grove of trees, surrounded by camellias and rhododendrons, she stopped.
‘Is this it?’ he asked.
‘Yes. They’re pretty, aren’t they?’ she said, nodding at the flowers.
‘Yes … But they’re not part of the show, are they? I mean, they’re nice, but there are others far more beautiful in the exhibits, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps, but this is our private show.’ She made a performance of studying the camellia’s petals. ‘And I thought you might want to be alone with me.’ She gave him a coy smile.
Peter moved close to her and placed a hand gently on her elbow.
‘I do …’ he said, but remained where he stood — half a pace away from her.
‘I thought you might want to … you know … kiss me,’ she said.
‘As a matter of fact …’ He moved towards her, lifting his right arm as she lifted her left. There was an awkward moment as they shuffled their feet and shifted positions. They seemed to have too many limbs between them and nowhere to put them.
At last, he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and she ran her hands up to his shoulders before clasping them behind his neck. She raised her face to him and closed her eyes.
When Peter’s lips met hers she was transported. It was the most exhilarating feeling she’d ever experienced. At that moment, as her head whirled and her breath caught in her chest, she knew she would remember that kiss for as long as she lived.
He continued to press into her until their teeth grated together and it was hard for her to breathe. Finally she had to break away. She clung to him, gasping. His arms were strong around her waist and she could feel his hips pressing his lower body to hers. Something other than the earlier euphoria claimed her. She was now very conscious of his body on hers. She could feel the press of his thighs and the thrust of his groin. A flush of warmth rose from her shoes through her thighs to her breasts.
Peter was taking quick, shallow breaths and muttering to her that he loved her and wanted her.
She didn’t know what to do or what to say. But she felt a power over Peter that until that moment she’d never known existed.
When the policeman rang the bell in Belgrave Square and Dana found him in the doorway with his bobby’s helmet in his hands and a nervous look on his face, she knew it could only be bad news. She also knew it wasn’t as bad as it could be, as Emerald was standing behind him and not dead.
‘Afternoon, mum,’ he said, lifting his chin and straightening his back.
‘Hello, officer,’ Dana said as calmly as she was able.
‘I’m afraid I have some matters to report that might be distressing to your ladyship.’
The neighbourhood was bristling with diplomats and lesser royalty. The sergeant was having an each-way bet with Dana’s elevation to the peerage.
‘Won’t you come in?’ Dana said, stepping aside and not telling him she was no longer a countess.
As Emerald passed she tried to catch her eye, but her daughter kept her face averted.
In the drawing room, she indicated a Louis XIV chair, but the policeman gave it a look and remained standing.
Seeing this, Dana decided to take the initiative. ‘What seems to be the trouble, sergeant?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Well, mum, I’m not sure how to say it.’
‘Come, come, I’m a mature woman. You can speak frankly.’
He coughed again. ‘At about six o’clock this evening, I was patrolling the Chelsea Flower Show in the grounds of —’
‘There’s no need to go into detail,’ Dana said with more edge on her voice than she intended. She smiled and continued. ‘I think we all know where the Chelsea Flower Show is held. Can you please get to the point of your visit?’
‘While patrolling the grounds of the … while patrolling the grounds, I saw the young lady here being led into the bushes behind the —’
‘He was not leading me,’ Emerald said, interrupting. ‘I was leading him.’
This caused the sergeant to pause and regather his thoughts. ‘As I was sayin’, I observed two persons leaving the main path by stepping over a rope line and removing themselves to the shrubbery behind the Agricultural Society’s pavilion. I understood that the path led to nowhere in particular, so I followed same to inform them of this fact. When I got to where they were standing, I saw … ahem … the young man taking liberties with the young lady here.’
‘Liberties?’ Dana asked.
‘Certain … um … liberties, ma’am.’
Dana turned to Emerald, aware that her face was as pale as her daughter’s was flushed.
‘We were kissing,’ Emerald said. ‘Actually, I was kissing him, and he, well …’ She giggled. ‘He didn’t know what to do.’
‘Emerald!’
Her daughter dropped her head and shrugged. ‘It wasn’t anything … bad,’ she said.
Dana turned back to the policeman. ‘And what did you do, sergeant?’ she asked.
‘I enquired as to his name and address, mum.’
‘He gave him a nasty poke with his baton,’ Emerald said, giving the sergeant a scornful look.
The policeman’s top lip tightened a fraction. ‘I thought it a very poor state of affairs, mum. He and the young lady an’ all. The chap’s up at Oxford. Ought to know better how to behave ’imself. And Miss Emerald ’ere is only a child.’
‘I’m nineteen,’ she said, pouting.
‘Emerald. I don’t want to hear another word from you.’ Turning back to the policeman, Dana said, ‘Thank you for your time, sergeant.’
‘I thought it best to be discreet, mum, but I have the young man’s name and address. That is, if you are wantin’ to take the matter further.’
‘I think not. Thank you again.’
Dana led the way to the front door, grateful for the fact that the butler had taken the day off to visit his ailing mother.
As she closed the door behind the policeman, she firmed her resolve. She had to take steps she’d been mulling over for some time. But first she had to talk with Oswald.
After Emerald went to her bedroom, Dana found her husband in his office, paddling among his papers. ‘Darling, I’d like to have a word to you about Emerald,’ she began.
Oswald looked at her over his glasses. ‘Emerald? Certainly, darling. What’s been happening in her busy life?’
‘The usual, but I’ve been meaning to discuss taking her overseas with me for the season.’
‘The season? Why, it’s half over already.’
‘I’m talking about the next season, dear. In New York. It opens in September with the Metropolitan Opera. And then there’s the international debutante ball in December. It would be so good for her, Oswald.’
‘How long would you be gone?’
‘The season runs through to Easter.’
‘Oh, but I shall miss her too much. And you, of course, my dear. What does Emerald think of the idea?’
‘I haven’t asked her yet. I thought it best to discuss it with you first.’
‘Thank you; I’m glad you did. I really don’t think she should be away so long. She’s too young.’
‘Oswald, she’s going on twenty.’
‘Good lord! Even so, another year or two shouldn’t matter. Let’s say you take her next year. Soon enough by far, if you ask me. Yes, when she’s twenty-one will do.’
CHAPTER 45
The Red Cross office was a converted factory in Beddington. It had two rows of tables in the middle of an open space and benches around the walls where the applicants for emigration assistance sat awaiting their turn.
Elsie, the woman who showed Emerald around, had her grey hair tucked into a hairnet, and wore a pair of white elasticised cotton sleeves pulled to her elbows to protect her cardigan against wear. When Emerald met her that morn
ing Elsie had expressed surprise at her youth.
‘I thought all you young people would be working or at least looking for a job,’ she said.
‘I don’t need to work,’ Emerald said, then regretted it. Elsie let her surprise show, but resisted further questions on the matter.
Elsie was very thorough in her briefing, paying particular attention to what she called the professional distance needed between the Red Cross volunteers and the refugees.
‘You know, my dear,’ she said near the end of her briefing, ‘the Red Cross aren’t always able to find a country that will take these poor souls. And many times we can’t reunite them with their loved ones. There are cases where people have disappeared during the war and we can’t find hide nor hair of them. Vanished into thin air, you might say.’ She looked over her glasses to deliver her next words. ‘It would never do to become too involved, too friendly. It only leads to heartache.’
It was such a quaint sentiment, Emerald almost smiled.
‘Well then,’ Elsie said, ‘you’re ready to start.’
And she did, working through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon on emigration requests. Her tasks were simple enough: she helped the refugees complete their paperwork, checked their documentation and then, depending upon a set of guidelines Elsie had given her, stamped: Approval Recommended or Approval Not Recommended on the form. The final decision was made elsewhere, but she enjoyed the sense of power her part of the processing gave her. On her say-so hung the future course of many people’s lives.
She was becoming quite adept, even bored, with the repetitive nature of the work, and she began to think of her trip to Henley and the regatta the following week.
Her mother couldn’t be reassured Emerald would be safe — by that she meant chaperoned — until she called Fiona’s mother, who told her that Fiona’s older brother would be there to supervise matters until she herself arrived on the weekend. He was a sensible young man, she said, coming down from Cambridge with a few friends to see the races.
