Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘We aren’t with one. Not at present,’ Ellie said quickly before Bonny could make up a story. ‘We’d love a drink, thank you.’

  As he went off to the bar, Bonny looked at Ellie and smirked wickedly.

  ‘You are a witch,’ Ellie giggled. ‘He’s already spellbound.’

  ‘He might be good for a “reserve”.’ Bonny wrinkled her nose as she watched his back view at the bar. ‘I’ll know for certain by what drink he gets us. Did you notice he didn’t ask?’

  When he came back with two glasses of champagne, Bonny winked at Ellie. He’d passed her test with flying colours.

  ‘I’m John Norton.’ He smiled rather shyly. ‘I know from the programme your names are Helena Forester and Bonny Phillips, but which is which?’

  ‘Make a guess?’ Bonny turned her turquoise eyes on him and fluttered her lashes. She could see Magnus talking to a group of people and guessed he was watching her over their shoulders.

  ‘I think you must be Miss Phillips,’ he said, looking right at Bonny, but then glancing almost nervously at Ellie. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘You don’t think I look “Bonny” then?’ Ellie said to tease him.

  During the time the girls had been partners, Ellie had seen many men react to Bonny as this man was doing, and she felt for him. She sensed he was a rather staid man who under normal circumstances was too shy and reserved to make a play for a woman. He was very personable, a real gentleman, but most definitely not a ‘stage door Johnny’ who made a habit of pursuing showgirls. She guessed he was around thirty, and he was almost handsome with soft brown eyes, a generous mouth and a neatly trimmed moustache. Only his habit of frowning, which underlined a serious nature, spoilt him.

  ‘You are both so beautiful,’ he said blushing furiously. Ellie knew she’d read him correctly. ‘But Bonny just sounds like a blonde’s name.’

  ‘Well, you are right,’ Bonny said, putting her hand on his arm and looking at him provocatively. ‘Now what do you do, Mr Norton? Shall I guess?’

  ‘You won’t be able to,’ he said gravely.

  ‘I can.’ Bonny fluttered her eyelashes. ‘You’re a lawyer!’

  Ellie thought this was a good guess, for it was exactly what he looked like. Very restrained, bookish, careful. She was sure he was single, and that his long tapered fingers certainly never lifted anything heavier than a pen.

  ‘No, not a lawyer, though sometimes I think I ought to be,’ he said, smiling now and showing very even white teeth. ‘By profession I’m a chemist, but not the sort who dishes out medicine. I’m in the oil business.’

  ‘How interesting,’ Bonny said, very insincerely. If she had yawned she couldn’t have made it more plain.

  ‘Do you know many people here, Mr Norton?’ Ellie asked, wishing to spare him further embarrassment.

  ‘Some of them,’ he said. ‘Lady Penelope Beauchamp is my godmother and she drags me along to these dos. I see the same faces again and again and know who they are, but I can’t say I know many of them well.’

  Ellie could sense Bonny was trying to edge away, but she was determined to continue the conversation a little longer.

  ‘Lady Beauchamp is one of the patrons, isn’t she?’ Ellie asked. ‘Which one is she?’

  ‘Over there, in pink.’ Norton pointed her out.

  Ellie didn’t dare catch Bonny’s eye: it was the woman they’d laughed about in the too-tight dress. ‘Which one is Sir Miles Hamilton then?’ she went on quickly. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘Let me see.’ Norton stood on tiptoe, craning his neck to look over the crowd. ‘He is here, I spoke to him and Lady Hamilton earlier. Oh yes, he’s over there, by the window. The big man wearing a maroon cummerbund.’

  Ellie just stared. Ever since she’d heard of this man’s existence she’d imagined someone tall with a black swirling moustache and a top hat. She wasn’t sure why she visualised him that way, maybe just because she remembered seeing photographs of her mother and Marleen with men like that. But this man reminded her of Winston Churchill, not just because of his round face and heavy jowls, but the way his head jutted straight out of his neck. He was balding, fat and he had a bulbous red nose. She felt disappointed.

  ‘Why did you want to know about him?’ Bonny asked curiously. It seemed to her that Ellie was very intense.

  ‘No real reason.’ Ellie managed a light laugh. ‘Just the title, I suppose. I’ve never met a “Sir” anyone.’

  ‘There’s a great many people here tonight with titles,’ John Norton said. ‘But I suspect most of them would willingly swop them for looks and talent like yours.’

  ‘A very gallant compliment,’ Ellie teased him, but she was touched by his effort to make them both feel at ease. ‘It’s been so nice talking to you, Mr Norton, but we ought to mingle a little. Thank you for the drink.’

  ‘Both those girls are so lovely it makes me feel very plain,’ Ruth said. ‘Just look at them, Magnus!’

  A chill crept over Magnus. He could hardly bear to turn his head, guessing immediately whom Ruth was referring to. But he had to look, and to his horror Bonny and Ellie were standing only a few yards from his table, plates of food in their hands.

  Magnus had spotted John Norton, an acquaintance of his, talking to the girls earlier, and as John was a bachelor, without a partner tonight, Magnus had hoped he might keep the girls occupied for some time. He didn’t think they’d come over near him deliberately; they were just looking for somewhere to sit down.

  ‘You look every bit as lovely,’ Magnus replied, willing the girls to move on. Ruth did look lovely, and all his loyalties were with her tonight. He cursed himself for not having realised when he planned this evening that Bonny and Ellie were bound to draw attention from everyone, including Ruth. They were too stunning to be overlooked.

  But he hadn’t expected evening dresses to make them look quite so sensational. Bonny was radiant, her turquoise dress enhancing her eyes, the delicate chiffon offering tantalising glimpses of the perfect body beneath. Ellie’s appearance was even more dramatic and outstanding. She looked regal, yet voluptuous, the twinkling light from the chandeliers sprinkling her dark hair and bare shoulders with gold dust.

  Before he could collect his wits, Ruth was on her feet and going towards them. Magnus felt his heart pounding, his mouth dry. It was so typical of Ruth, ever kindly. She’d sensed the girls’ predicament and she was going to invite them to their table.

  ‘Come and sit with us,’ Magnus heard her say, her Yorkshire accent suddenly very noticeable. ‘Both my husband and I enjoyed your act so much. I’d love to know more about you both.’

  Magnus stood up involuntarily. His eyes met Bonny’s over Ruth’s shoulder, wide and confused. He cursed himself again for not anticipating a situation like this.

  It was so strange to see the two women he loved together: Bonny, tall, slender and utterly bewitching, Ruth some four inches shorter, dark and twice Bonny’s age. Bonny had youthful defiance, a body as yet unspoilt by child-bearing. But that bloom on Ruth, the womanly curves of her body, were all part of her caring, nurturing nature, and every bit as beautiful.

  Ellie shot Magnus a ‘leave this to me’ look. She took a step closer to Ruth, somehow managing to nudge Bonny into the background, and smiled charmingly.

  ‘How kind of you,’ she said, her voice low and clear, without any sign of nervousness. ‘It’s so nice when people tell us they enjoyed our act, and we’d love to join you. But we were actually looking for someone we met earlier. We were supposed to have our supper with him.’

  Magnus felt a surge of gratitude to Ellie, but saw too a flicker of disappointment in Bonny’s eyes. She was looking hard at Ruth, taking in every last detail. She really was a bitch sometimes. She just wanted to see him squirm.

  ‘Perhaps later?’ Ruth said, backing away.

  Magnus breathed normally again as the girls slipped off into the crowd, out of sight.

  ‘How nice the dark girl was,’ Ruth said as she sat down again at the table.
‘But the blonde one had very hard eyes. She made me feel so self-conscious!’

  ‘So that’s what she’s like,’ Bonny said once Ellie had led her well away to the other side of the ballroom and found a spare table by the wall. ‘Did you see how fat she was? I bet she’s at least forty-two round the hips.’

  ‘No I didn’t notice that,’ Ellie said tartly. ‘I only noticed what a friendly, warm person she seemed.’

  *

  Around an hour later, Bonny grabbed Ellie’s arm and squeezed it suddenly. ‘Look who’s here!’ she hissed. ‘Look!’

  They had ‘mingled’, or at least attempted to, but Ellie had been thrown a bit by meeting Ruth Osbourne and she was a little nervous that Bonny might try and lead her back in Magnus’s direction. Although several people had complimented them on their performance, they hadn’t met anyone who really wanted to talk to them or ask them to dance, and certainly no one able to offer them work. To Bonny’s further irritation, John Norton was now sitting at Magnus’s table, in deep conversation with him and his wife. As John seemed to be the only unattached man here she had already expressed the view that they might as well go home. Ellie still had her eye on Sir Miles, half hoping she might get an opportunity to speak him, but since he was sitting at a table with a whole group of people she didn’t think that was likely now.

  ‘Where am I supposed to be looking?’ Ellie asked. There were hundreds of people and she couldn’t see anything startling enough for Bonny to react so dramatically.

  ‘Over there,’ Bonny whispered. ‘Oh no! He’s seen us.’

  All at once Ellie saw whom Bonny meant. It was Ambrose Dingle and he was heading straight towards them.

  She sensed this was no chance encounter. The fact they hadn’t spotted him earlier suggested he might actually have slipped in without a ticket, perhaps hearing they were performing tonight. Judging by the set expression on his face, he meant trouble.

  Ellie’s opinion of Ambrose had sunk even lower since learning what he’d done to Edward. His appearance tonight hightened her disgust. He looked decadently foppish, a white carnation on his dinner-jacket, his shirt frilled down the front and his centre-parted hair too long. He had aged, and his face had lost the well-scrubbed look she remembered.

  ‘So you’ve surfaced at last,’ he said as he got closer. ‘But if you think you can get work again in the West End, you’re mistaken.’

  He was flushed, always a sign, as Ellie remembered, that he was about to erupt with anger. Her stomach contracted. She hoped he wasn’t going to make a scene. ‘We’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she said, more boldly than she felt, taking Bonny’s arm and trying to walk on past him.

  To her dismay he side-stepped, blocking their path. ‘I have a great deal to say to you,’ he said in a low, menacing voice, showing his teeth. ‘You ruined my show!’

  ‘You left us no alternative but to leave it,’ she said quietly. ‘But this is hardly the time or place to discuss that.’

  His pale blue eyes narrowed. Ellie could smell whisky on his breath. ‘You were always too lippy by far.’ His thin lips drew back into a snarl. ‘You were under contract to me, and you broke it.’

  ‘That was your fault,’ Ellie said, aware that Bonny was very tense beside her and that people were turning to look at them, sensing an atmosphere. ‘But this is a charity evening, and we don’t wish to speak to you. Kindly leave us alone.’

  ‘Leave you alone!’ His voice rose an octave. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’

  Ellie backed away, frightened by the wild look in his eye. Perhaps he wasn’t just drunk – he seemed unstable.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Bonny joined in, her voice squeaky with fright. ‘I’ll get someone to throw you out!’

  ‘I beg your pardon for intruding,’ a deep, almost growling voice came from Ellie’s elbow. ‘Is this man bothering you?’

  Ellie turned to find the voice came from none other than Sir Miles Hamilton and she blushed in confusion, her legs turning to jelly.

  She couldn’t speak, but Bonny spoke for both of them, perhaps enjoying being the centre of attention. ‘He threatened us,’ she said indignantly. ‘He’s drunk and he ought to be thrown out.’

  Seen at a distance, Sir Miles was just another tubby, middle-aged man, but close up he was formidable. He was far taller than she’d imagined, perhaps six foot, and despite his weight and thinning hair, power wafted from him.

  ‘Your name, sir?’ Sir Miles looked scathingly at Ambrose. ‘You have an invitation, I take it?’

  Ambrose’s hesitation proved to Ellie she had been correct in thinking he’d come uninvited.

  ‘Ambrose Dingle.’ He blushed, his voice dropping. ‘I, er—’ He faltered, clearly unable to think of an excuse.

  ‘Then I suggest you leave, sir,’ Sir Miles said evenly. ‘This is a charity evening for ticket holders only. If you have anything further to say to these two young ladies, I suggest you find a more gentlemanly approach and a more suitable venue.’

  Ellie expected Ambrose to turn and walk away, knowing he was defeated, but instead he puffed out his chest and his eyes became narrow slits of ice blue.

  ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ he said arrogantly.

  ‘Sir Miles Hamilton, one of the patrons and organisers of this event.’ Sir Miles put one large hand on Ambrose’s chest and pushed at him. ‘Now kindly leave before I have you thrown out.’

  All at once everyone was edging closer, faces alight with interest. Ellie glanced over to see Magnus behind the crowd, looking very anxious.

  As Ambrose took one threatening step towards Sir Miles, two stewards darted forward, grabbing him by either arm. There was a moment’s scuffle as Ambrose tried to free himself. Ellie caught hold of Bonny’s hand, afraid she might run to Magnus.

  ‘They’re scheming guttersnipes,’ Ambrose yelled out over his shoulder as he was frogmarched towards the door. ‘Just ask them what they did to me!’

  Ellie wished the floor could open and swallow her up. She was trembling, feeling cheapened and humiliated. Everyone was looking at her and Bonny, and without a public statement explaining who Ambrose was and why he’d attacked them, these people couldn’t be blamed for thinking the worst of them both.

  But the impression she and Bonny had made on strangers hardly mattered. It was Sir Miles’s opinion she was concerned about.

  ‘I’m so terribly sorry,’ she blurted out, catching hold of Sir Miles’s sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘My dear, you have nothing to apologise for,’ he said. ‘Now just come with me and sit down. You both look as if you’re in shock. You can tell me all about that unpleasant character over a drink.’

  Ellie felt like the unluckiest girl in the world. Ever since finding his name on that invitation she’d thought of little else but meeting this man. Now she was thrown up against him under entirely the wrong circumstances.

  She’d never imagined him looking so fierce or old, or that the wife who’d stood in the way of her mother’s happiness would have such an endearingly pretty face. But here she was, seated at a table with them both, with Bonny already making the most of the drama by sobbing out her exaggerated version of the story.

  A brandy appeared in front of Ellie. The people who’d watched earlier resumed their conversation. Magnus was leaving with his wife. But Bonny was holding court and Sir Miles seemed as enthralled as his wife was, both apparently forgetting Ellie was even at the table.

  If nothing else, it gave Ellie the opportunity to study this couple at close quarters. She knew Sir Miles was fifty-six, and guessed his wife was a few years younger. She was overweight, but her elegant black chiffon dress concealed it well and her brown hair, streaked with grey, was swept up into a bun. Her skin was beautiful, still surprisingly taut, like quality writing paper, and her eyes were a tawny brown. The way she listened and nodded at what Bonny was saying suggested she usually took the role of listener rather than talker. Ellie thought she was probably a very gentle p
erson who’d had her fair share of knocks in life, even if she hadn’t ever experienced poverty.

  Sir Miles, on the other hand, looked stern. He was as interested as his wife in Bonny’s story, but there was no sympathy in his eyes. They were dark brown, like her own, but that was the only similarity Ellie could see. It was hard to equate this old, fat man with a bulbous red nose with the tall, dark and handsome one Marleen had spoken of. She wondered, perhaps ridiculously, how he’d react if she suddenly dropped her mother’s name. Of course she wouldn’t dare do such a thing, but she suspected he’d find a way to freeze her out instantly, and she’d be the one left looking foolish.

  ‘Well, Miss Forester.’ Sir Miles surprised her by suddenly turning to her. He was smiling now and he looked less intimidating. ‘You haven’t had much to say for yourself!’

  ‘I think Bonny’s covered the whole story.’ Ellie smiled back at him. ‘I’d just like to say I’m sorry if we spoilt your evening.’

  ‘You didn’t. But I’m sorry that dreadful person had to spoil yours,’ he said. ‘Miss Phillips tells me you are looking for another show to join. I suggest you contact Bloomfield’s Theatrical Agency, I believe they are very good.’

  ‘You were both so very talented.’ Lady Hamilton leaned forward across the table to speak, her pretty face animated. ‘I did enjoy it so much. I’m sure you’ll find something else very soon.’

  Sir Miles cleared his throat, but added nothing more. Ellie felt it was a signal he’d had enough of talking to them both.

  She got up from her seat, looking hard at Bonny to do likewise. ‘We’d better go home now,’ she said. ‘Thank you for being so kind. Maybe we’ll meet some other time.’

  Sir Miles stood up and shook her hand. He had a strong grip, but his skin felt like dry leaves.

  ‘Good luck to both of you. And thank you for putting on such a good performance tonight.’

  Ellie lay awake for what seemed like hours that night, going over and over the events of the evening.