‘How romantic,’ Milly breathed. They walked on in silence for a while until Milly asked, ‘So, what is he going to do? He’s not the sort of person to be happy doing nothing, is he? Not for ever.’
Despite her frivolous outward appearance, Pips thought, Milly could be remarkably perceptive.
‘Mother’s training him to take over the running of Doddington Hall and its estate, but his heart’s never been in it. He just says he’ll keep things ticking over until Daisy’s old enough to take over.’
‘Mm. It must be hard on all of you. D’you think a trip to London would help him? He’d be most welcome to stay with me. And Alice, too, of course.’
Pips shook her head. ‘It’s sweet of you to offer but just now he won’t leave home. He won’t even go into Lincoln. We even had a job to persuade him to come to church on Remembrance Day last November.’
‘But at least you’re going to come, aren’t you? If you don’t, I’ll kidnap you like I threatened, but this afternoon you must take me into Lincoln and show me your wonderful city. By the way, are we anywhere near a little place called Ashford-in-the-Water?’
‘In Derbyshire?’
‘I think so.’
‘It’s about sixty miles away by road, I think. Why?’
‘Oh, just a thought. Mummy has a distant relative who lives there, Martha somebody, and they say she has a daughter who looks just like me. I just thought it would be fun to see her and find out if it’s true.’
‘We could go, if you like. I’m sure Father would let me borrow the car. Or Jake could take us.’
But Milly shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s a long way. And besides, we might not be welcome.’ She laughed. ‘Mummy says Martha is rather a tartar.’
‘Well, if you ever want to go, let me know and we’ll take a trip there.’
Two days later, the two young women left Doddington to journey to London. Pips had to hold back the tears when she kissed Daisy ‘goodbye’.
‘We’ll miss you, Sis.’ Robert hugged her. ‘And I’ll miss our games of chess. Who’s going to beat me now and keep me in my place?’
Alice hugged her too. ‘Don’t stay away too long. Daisy will miss her Aunty Pips.’
‘Don’t say that, Alice, or I won’t go. I wish you could come too.’
Alice stood back and held her sister-in-law at arm’s length. ‘Oh no. This is where I want to be. Where I’ve always wanted to be.’
‘I know,’ Pips said huskily, as she blinked back the tears. Pips rarely cried and she wasn’t going to start now. ‘But I’ll soon be back. I can’t imagine there’ll be anything to keep me in London for very long.’
Eight
Life in London was a world away from what Pips was used to. Strangely, there was an air of frenetic excitement.
‘Everyone’s trying to blot out the past,’ Milly explained, as the taxi took them from the station to her apartment. ‘There hasn’t been much fun for the last few years, so we’re making up for lost time.’
Pips gazed around her, taking in all the sights; the buildings and parks she’d only heard of or read about but had never seen. Even the fashions were different here in the capital. She smiled. Such changes took a while to reach the countryside. Then her smile faded. On one street corner, she saw a soldier, still dressed in his uniform, but now it was tattered and stained. One sleeve of his jacket hung limply and emptily by his side and he was holding out a tray of matches. On another corner, another soldier was singing ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ and rattling a collection box under the noses of passers-by.
Pips’s eyes widened and she gasped. ‘Oh my – how can that be?’
‘What?’ Milly asked.
With a shaking finger, Pips pointed at the soldier. ‘He’s – he’s lost his arm. In the war, by the look of it, but why is he reduced to – to such a menial occupation? And that one, to begging?’
For a moment, Milly’s face was grim. ‘There’re a lot of them on the streets, especially in the West End. The “land fit for heroes” is a broken promise. It’s never going to happen.’
‘But – but why?’
‘Why d’you think? The Government have no money. I expect we’re deeply in debt as a nation. Mainly to America, so Paul says. And as more soldiers are demobbed, unemployment will rise.’
‘But the women who’ve been doing men’s jobs whilst they’ve been away will surely go back to being just housewives, won’t they?’
‘Married ones, yes. But what about single women – and there are going to be a lot more of those now. They need to work. And the widows too.’
Pips frowned. ‘Yes, I hadn’t looked at it like that. I’d thought that we’d look after all our returning heroes. Aren’t they given any kind of pension after all they’ve done?’
‘My friend, Paul, says that the dependants of military personnel killed in the war receive a pension and also anyone who was wounded and couldn’t continue service.’
‘Obviously what they receive,’ Pips murmured, ‘is not enough.’
‘I’ll throw a party,’ Milly said, as they sat over a leisurely breakfast the next morning. ‘I’ll introduce you to all my friends.’
‘That’d be nice,’ Pips murmured.
‘You don’t seem terribly enthusiastic.’ Milly sounded hurt.
‘Oh Milly – I’m sorry. Of course, it’d be lovely.’
‘But . . . I feel there’s a “but”. Are you missing home – and especially Daisy – already?’
‘No, it’s not that. I can’t get the picture of those soldiers selling matches and begging on the street corners out of my head. That could be my brother. Is there nothing that can be done?’
Milly put her head on one side and regarded her friend thoughtfully. ‘You haven’t really left it behind either, have you?’
‘Have you?’ Pips countered, a little more sharply than she intended.
But Milly had never been one to take offence and she didn’t now. Instead, a frown wrinkled her smooth forehead. Quietly, she said, ‘I try not to think about it. Like I said yesterday, we’re all trying to forget it.’
Pips leaned forward. ‘But we shouldn’t. Oh, I don’t mean we should wallow in self-pity and never-ending grief, but we should try to build a better world. Think of all those wonderful young men who gave their lives so that we might live in freedom. They’d want us to go forward, but they’d also not want us to forget their comrades, those who did come back, albeit with their lives shattered. Not everyone has a loving family like Robert to care for them. I see that now. And what about poor France and Belgium – and even Germany, if it comes to that? Their lands are laid waste. They’ve nothing.’
Milly gave a wry laugh. ‘You sound just like Daddy. You should meet him.’
Very seriously, Pips said, ‘I should like to very much.’ Then realizing she was appearing ungrateful towards her charming and attentive hostess, she forced a lightness into her tone and said, ‘But in the meantime, what about this party? What can I do to help?’
The following two days were spent in a whirlwind of planning and preparation and sending out invitations for the coming weekend.
By eight o’clock on the Saturday evening, Milly’s apartment began to fill up with her guests. By ten, it was bursting at the seams.
‘Pips, this is my friend, Paul Whittaker.’
Pips shook hands with the fair-haired young man. His face was open and honest with a firm jawline and twinkling blue eyes.
‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Maitland. Milly has told me all about you.’
‘Not everything, I hope. And, please, call me “Pips”.’
‘Shall we go and help Milly hand round drinks?’
‘Yes, let’s.’
They each took up a tray and began to move around the room.
‘It’s getting very noisy. What about the neighbours?’ Pips asked Milly as she dispensed drinks and handed round canapés.
Milly, a little tipsy but by no means drunk, giggled. ‘They’re all here,
darling. No one’s going to complain. By the way, there’s someone I want you to meet. He’s just arrived, but I think you might remember him . . .’
Milly took her hand and weaved her way through the crowded room. ‘Here she is,’ she said triumphantly to the dark-haired young man who was leaning on the piano with a drink in his hand.
‘Good Lord! You!’
‘I’m flattered that you haven’t forgotten me, Miss Maitland.’ Mitch Hammond’s dark brown eyes twinkled saucily at her.
Pips grinned. ‘Unfortunately not.’
‘Aw now, don’t be like that. I told you I’d see you again, didn’t I?’
‘You did, but if I remember correctly, I said, “Not if I see you first”.’
‘Well, you didn’t – thanks to Milly’s popular parties. I arrived late on purpose so I could sneak in without being noticed.’
‘Mitch is friends with my Paul. They were both in the RFC and then the RAF and now they go motor racing and flying together.’
‘Motor racing?’ Pips’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh yes, I remember now. At Brooklands, you said.’
‘There’s a meeting at the end of May. Like to come?’ Mitch’s steady gaze dared her. ‘I’m sure Milly plans to go to support Paul.’
Despite her reservations about this brash young man, Pips found herself nodding. ‘I’d love to.’
The party was a roaring success. Pips had never laughed so much since before the war. All the bitter memories were swept away, even if it was only just for this evening.
Milly was a clever mimic and, with her friend Paul playing the piano, she imitated the Edwardian music hall acts; Vesta Tilley, Nellie Wallace and Marie Lloyd. The only time that Pips was reminded of the war was when Milly sang Marie’s song, ‘A Little of What You Fancy Does You Good’. Milly had sung this saucily to the wounded soldiers. It had brightened their day and lifted their spirits.
The party didn’t break up until three in the morning, but, as Milly had said, there were no complaints from neighbours for they were staggering home to their own apartments.
‘I’m so glad my mother can’t see me still in my dressing gown having breakfast at eleven in the morning,’ Pips laughed the next morning when they both surfaced. ‘She’d be horrified.’
‘Mummy wouldn’t mind too much, but I shudder to think what Granny Fortesque would say.’
‘Tell me about your family. Have you brothers and sisters?’
Milly shook her head. ‘No, there’s just me. Shame for my parents, really. I’m sure my father would have liked a son to carry on the aircraft business after him.’
‘Oh yes, I remember you told us that he’s with Vickers.’
‘My parents live near Weybridge. Very close to Brooklands.’
‘How exciting.’
Milly nodded. ‘I’ll take you to meet them.’ She smiled teasingly at Pips. ‘Daddy will love you. He likes a daredevil.’
‘By the way,’ Pips added, ‘I’ve never asked you about your aunty and uncle. Dr and Mrs Wallis. Are they well?’
Milly giggled. ‘Don’t let him hear you calling him “doctor”. He’s a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and is entitled to be called “mister”.’
‘Oops, sorry.’
‘But, yes, they’re both very well. A bit lost – like we all are – now the war’s over. It was only because of them that I went out to Belgium, you know. When they volunteered to join Dr Hazelwood’s flying ambulance, I begged them to take me too. Luckily, the great man said “yes”, even though I wasn’t trained.’
‘You had other qualities, Milly. You were an asset to the corps.’
‘Sweet of you to say so, darling. Now, what are we going to do today?’
‘Not much, if you don’t mind.’
Milly chuckled. ‘Where’s your “get up and go”?’
‘It’s got up and gone,’ Pips joked. ‘I’m not used to such late nights. We country folk must seem very staid to you. Boring, too.’
Milly laughed. ‘No, never boring, Pips. Just – different.’ She sighed and added, with a flash of insight, ‘Not empty headed like me and most of my party-loving friends.’
‘Don’t say that. How many of those at your party did some kind of war work?’
Milly wrinkled her forehead. ‘Most of them, actually. All the chaps were in the forces and a lot of the girls did something. Peg worked in munitions. Did you notice her long-sleeved dress? She was wounded in an explosion at the factory and her left arm was burned. And three of them worked in the canteen on an army base.’
‘There you are, then.’
‘But we’re not clever like you, Pips. Mitch told me that you are a wizard chess player.’
‘Robert and I play a lot together, that’s all.’
‘You’re far too modest.’ There was a pause before Milly added, ‘So, are we going to Brooklands next month? Paul has offered to take us.’
‘Oh most certainly. I’ll write home and tell them I’ll be staying until the end of May.’ Pips paused and then, with her head on one side and her eyes twinkling, she asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me have a drive round the track?’
Milly’s face was a picture.
Nine
‘Now, the next thing we’re going to do is to take you to a dance at the Grafton Galleries.’
‘Really? Where’s that?’
Milly giggled. ‘Grafton Street, silly. It’s a huge underground art gallery and so respectable even your mother and my Granny Fortesque would approve. D’you know, when dances are held there, they cover up any nude pictures they might be exhibiting? To spare the blushes of us single girls, I suppose.’ Her tone sobered as she added, ‘Little do they know about the times we had to cut men’s clothing off to treat their wounds.’
‘But I haven’t brought an evening dress,’ Pips said, steering the conversation away from Milly’s dark memories.
‘Then we’ll just have to go to Selfridges and get you one or two.’
‘One or two?’ Pips almost squeaked.
‘Or more.’ Milly laughed at her friend’s horrified face. ‘You can’t wear the same dress two nights running.’
‘Just how many of these dances are we going to go to?’
Milly waved her hand airily. ‘Oh several, I hope, and then there are the parties you’ll be invited to now you’re staying with me.’
But when Milly took her to the large department store, even Pips, never used to spending money on fancy clothes, was caught up in the excitement.
In the ladies’ department they were pampered and spoiled by the attentive assistants, who scuttled backwards and forwards bringing dress after dress to the changing room.
‘Pips, darling, just look at this divine dress. It’s the latest fashion.’ Milly twirled around, showing the backless dress, cut to the waist.
‘Oh my, that’s very fast, Milly, don’t you think?’
‘Well, I abandoned my whalebone corset in the war. Didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but—’ Then Pips laughed and asked, ‘Whatever would your Granny Fortesque say?’
Milly giggled. ‘Or your mother. But they won’t know – unless we tell them. Do try one on, Pips. You’re so tall and slim, it would look magnificent on you. Try the dark green one. It will be perfect with your hair colouring.’
They left the store armed with several packages.
‘And we must have our hair done tomorrow morning. We’ll call in at my hairdresser’s. I’m sure Pierre will fit us in. I’m thinking of having my hair bobbed. It’s all the rage, you know.’
The underground room was packed, but Paul and Mitch soon found their way through the throng to the girls. They were dressed, as were all the men present, in black tailed coats and white ties. All the women – just like Milly and Pips – were in lovely ankle-length evening dresses.
‘Right, can you do the one-step?’ Mitch shouted above the noise of the live band.
Pips shook her head.
‘Then I’ll teach you. Come on.’
‘There’s hardly room to move, let alone dance,’ she protested.
Mitch only grinned. ‘All the better. No one will notice that you can’t do it properly.’
‘Oh go on, then.’
He led her into the centre of the floor and proceeded to teach her the steps. Afterwards, Pips had to admit that he was not only a good teacher, but also great fun to be with. As they sat out the next two dances, at one of the tables set around the side, he fetched her sandwiches and cake. Handing her a bright pink drink he said, ‘Sorry, no alcohol.’
‘Oh my!’ Pips laughed. ‘Are we following America’s example?’
In January that year, America had passed a law prohibiting the making and selling of alcohol.
‘I certainly hope not. Besides, whatever would it do to Scotland’s economy if they banned the making of whisky? No, I think it’s just here. You can’t blame them. Get a few rowdy drunks and the place might get smashed up. And I’m sure there are some valuable paintings here.’ He nodded towards the walls. ‘Even if some of them are covered up.’
They laughed together, easy in each other’s company. As the music changed to a lilting waltz, Mitch said, ‘Ah, now you must be able to do this.’
‘Yes, actually, I can.’
They danced until Pips’s feet began to ache. ‘I’m not used to this,’ she said, slipping off her shoes beneath the table and rubbing her feet.
‘Then you’d better get used to it, darling,’ Milly trilled, ‘because Mitch is taking us to another nightclub now.’
‘But it’s almost two in the morning.’
‘And this, my darling Pips, is London.’
Everyone stood as the band played ‘God Save the King’ and then made their way up into the night.
‘Shall we walk or get a cab?’ Paul said. ‘It’s over a mile away.’
‘Oh, get a taxi, I think, especially if Pips’s feet are hurting already, but we’ll begin to walk in that direction just in case – ah, there’s one.’
Mitch flagged down the vehicle and the four of them clambered in.
‘Good evening, Mr Hammond. Or should I say, “Good morning”?’
The Brooklands Girls Page 6
