The Lost Sapphire

by Belinda Murrell

  She turned her head to see another car pulling up behind them. ‘Enjoy your long holiday, Violet,’ said Miss Parker. ‘But remember to keep up with your reading and your study, and use the time wisely. We will have make-up examinations in February.’

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Parker,’ Violet replied. February was a very long time away.

  ‘Well, it looks like you had better come along with me to Audrey’s, darling,’ said Imogen. ‘I don’t have time to take you home first, and we do need some more helpers for our Russian Famine Relief Fund Ball.’

  Violet thought about objecting. Perhaps she could go home and swim or draw – and she definitely needed to change out of her school uniform. She glanced at Nikolai in the driver’s seat and thought she saw his shoulders stiffen at the mention of the Russian Famine Relief Fund.

  Violet paused. The thought of exotic Russia suddenly intrigued her. ‘All right then – why not?’

  Imogen settled back into the comfort of the deep leather seat. ‘Glorious. We need someone artistic to guide the decoration committee,’ she added. ‘I can’t think of anyone better. We want the ballroom to look heavenly.’

  Nikolai drove them to Audrey Williams’s villa at Kew, dropping them at the front door, while he returned to drive their father to work at his glove factory in Richmond.

  Like the Hamiltons, Audrey lived in a spacious mansion surrounded by acres of landscaped gardens. There were already six young ladies gathered in the drawing room, all wearing wide-brimmed hats decorated with a variety of feathers, ribbons and flowers. They were drinking tea, laughing and chattering about their social calendars.

  ‘Imogen, do come in, cherie,’ called their hostess as they were shown in by the maid. She rose to greet them, the only one not wearing a hat. ‘And who is this young lovely?’

  A few years older than Imogen, Audrey was fashionably thin, with her hair cut into a very short black bob that was carefully sculpted onto her cheekbones, with a thick, straight fringe cut just above her eyebrows. Her grey silk dress draped to mid-calf, and she moved with languorous, feline grace.

  ‘Audrey, this is my younger sister, Violet,’ Imogen said. ‘Her school, Rothbury College, has been closed due to an outbreak of scarlet fever, so Violet is free for the summer. She’s very artistic and I thought she might be able to help us with decorations for the ball.’

  Violet felt a thrill of pleasure at this uncommon praise from her elder sister.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Audrey. ‘I’m sure you will be far more useful than most of these chattering parakeets.’

  Audrey introduced everyone. Violet recognised two of the girls, Dodo and Edie, as old school friends of Imogen’s. Violet sat on the window seat while Imogen chose a chintz-covered armchair.

  Audrey held up her hand for attention. ‘May I remind you, ladies,’ she said, ‘we are here on a serious mission. There are millions of Russian children who are in danger of starving to death over the winter. The idea is that our ball will raise loads of money to send over to feed those poor children.’

  ‘It’s awfully sad,’ said Imogen. Everyone murmured in agreement.

  ‘And don’t forget that we want to organise the best ball of the season,’ added Dodo. ‘I plan on making the social pages with my outrageous costume.’

  Audrey turned to Imogen and Violet. ‘These frivolous flappers have made hardly any progress yet on organising our ball, other than picking a date and venue. We have decided on Thursday, December the fourteenth, at the Hawthorn Town Hall. We want to hold it before everyone disappears to the country for Christmas. But at this rate, summer will be over before we decide anything.’

  Edie tutted at Audrey. ‘Oh, very harsh. We’ve chatted endlessly about themes as well. We’ve been arguing over whether we should have a Cinderella dance or perhaps a Venetian masquerade.’

  ‘I vote for an underwater theme, where we dress as nymphs,’ Dodo suggested, beaming at everyone. ‘We can dangle silver fish from fishing line and make seaweed streamers from crepe paper.’

  ‘I can see you as King Neptune,’ teased Imogen. ‘Just be careful you don’t knock anyone over with your golden trident!’

  Violet suppressed a giggle. She remembered that Dodo had a reputation for being endlessly clumsy but always cheerful.

  ‘Or we could have a costume ball,’ added Edie. ‘I rather fancy being Marie Antoinette.’ She spread her imaginary pannier skirts wide and curtseyed regally, fluttering an invisible fan.

  Audrey raised her eyebrows at Violet in mock despair. She picked up a sheaf of leaflets from the side table and showed photographs of stick-thin, emaciated children with big, dark eyes. Violet felt a lump rise in her throat.

  ‘Just like during the French Revolution, peasants are dying of starvation,’ Audrey explained to Violet. ‘After years of war and revolution, the crops have failed and people are reduced to eating bread made of bark and grass.’

  Violet thought of the four beautiful meals produced each day by Monsieur Dufour. She couldn’t imagine ever eating bark and grass.

  ‘Every pound we raise will save a child’s life,’ Audrey continued, ‘so we’re hoping to have six hundred people at the ball for supper and dancing. If we sell the tickets for twelve shillings six pence each, then we should take over three hundred and fifty pounds.’

  ‘That’s an awful lot of people to invite and loads of food to provide,’ Imogen added.

  Audrey fanned herself with the leaflets. ‘That’s why, cherie, I’ve put you and Edie in charge of advertising.’

  Violet glanced from Imogen to Audrey, thoughts tumbling through her mind.

  ‘If the ball is to raise money for the Russian Famine Relief Fund, why don’t you have a Russian theme?’ Violet suggested.

  ‘That sounds a bit grim,’ said Dodo, pulling a face of distaste. ‘Poor peasants in rags and Bolshevik revolutionaries in uniform?’

  Violet shook her head. ‘No, I was thinking something far more exotic. You know, Cossack dancing and gypsy violins, and the grand old balls of Imperial Russia.’

  Audrey sat up straight and nodded her approval. ‘Now that sounds more glamorous. You were absolutely right, Imogen – I can already see that Violet will be a huge help. Welcome to our Russian Ball committee, cherie.’

  Violet couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pleasure. The Russian Ball would be a fun project to fill the days now that she couldn’t go to school. She imagined the Town Hall glittering with golden candles and filled with dancers in their evening dresses. She listened as the girls around her discussed music, costumes, refreshments, caterers and posters, while Imogen took notes and Audrey allocated jobs.

  ‘So we need to decide on a Russian-themed dinner menu,’ Audrey said. ‘And Violet needs to come back with decoration ideas to suit our theme, plus a plan to make it happen.’

  Violet nodded, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

  Just then the doorbell rang. Audrey stood up, twitching her grey silk skirts. ‘It sounds like the gentlemen are starting to arrive. We are going to have lunch in the garden under the trees, followed by a few games of tennis.’

  The other ladies began to follow the footman out into the garden. As Violet stood, Audrey noticed that she was still wearing her navy-blue serge school uniform.

  Audrey took Violet by the arm and whispered, ‘Why don’t you come upstairs and let me find you something to change into. I’m sure you don’t want to wear your awful school uniform on your first day of freedom.’

  Violet grimaced. ‘They are definitely not designed to be flattering, are they?’

  ‘Perfect for playing hockey and memorising Latin verbs, but not very stylish for a garden party,’ Imogen agreed. ‘I’m sure Audrey will have something much more fashionable.’

  Violet and Imogen followed Audrey upstairs into her bedroom. Audrey pushed the electric bell to summon a maidservant. ‘I have a couple of frocks you might like to wear,’ she explained. ‘Marthe can help you.’

  Audrey explained to Marthe what she wanted, and
the maid showed Violet next door into the dressing room. Marthe pulled two dresses out of the wardrobe. The first was a pale-green dress, loose and softly draped to mid-calf. Marthe loosened Violet’s hair, coaxing it into long, heavy ringlets, with the front segments twisted up behind, and threaded a pale-green silk ribbon across the top of her head twice to make a headband.

  Violet walked back into Audrey’s bedroom to show the girls. ‘What a beautiful dress,’ she said, admiring her grown-up and surprisingly elegant reflection in the long mirror. ‘I don’t have anything half as pretty as this.’

  ‘It brings out the green of your eyes,’ said Audrey. ‘I thought it would look divine on you.’

  ‘Thanks awfully, Audrey. It’s so kind of you to lend me something lovely to wear.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all.’ Audrey picked up Violet’s heavy hair. ‘You have beautiful hair – have you ever thought of bobbing it?’

  Violet looked dubious.

  ‘Daddy would have an absolute fit,’ Imogen said. ‘No offence intended, Audrey, but Daddy doesn’t approve of the flapper style. He can’t understand why the young women of today insist on, as he puts it, dressing like children.’

  Audrey waved her hand dismissively. ‘I chopped all my hair off during the war. It was the only way to deal with the lice.’

  ‘Lice?’ asked Violet, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  ‘Audrey was an ambulance driver in France during the Great War,’ Imogen explained. ‘She was over there for two years.’

  Violet felt a hollow in the pit of her stomach. Mention of the war always made her feel sick with sadness. ‘You must have been very brave.’

  Audrey waved her hand as though swishing away a bothersome fly. ‘It had nothing to do with bravery. I just wanted to do something useful with my life. I thought I’d die of boredom staying here and knitting socks while the men went off and had all the adventures.’

  Audrey pulled a face, mocking her own naivety. ‘Of course the reality was vastly different – dirty, dangerous and despicable. Our adventures included no water for washing, barely any food, never enough sleep and driving at great speed over the most impossibly rough roads, all the while getting shot at.’

  Violet shivered. ‘That sounds terrifying.’

  ‘Many of the poor men I ferried back to the hospitals had terrible injuries, and all of them were infected with lice,’ Audrey explained, frowning at the painful memories. She paused then shook her head. ‘So most of the nurses and drivers cut off their own hair. I must say it is a lot easier to maintain.’

  Imogen smiled. ‘Not to mention extremely fashionable – it makes you look like a film star!’

  Audrey pursed her lips and bunched up Violet’s hair. ‘Not as short as mine, perhaps. Your hair is so curly, but perhaps just mid-cheek. It would be très chic.’

  Violet stared at her image in the mirror and wondered if she’d look as chic as Audrey with short hair. She couldn’t imagine cutting off her hair. But she could imagine what her father would have to say about it.

  ‘How about you, Violet?’ asked Audrey. ‘Are you going to do something useful with your life? Or are you going to be like your sister, Imogen, and marry a wealthy grazier and spend your life organising bridge and tennis parties and having loads of deliciously beautiful but naughty little scamps?’

  ‘I … I’m not sure,’ Violet stammered. What did she want to do with her life? It was unheard of for girls from her background to work. Most of them finished school, were presented into Melbourne society, enjoyed a whirlwind season of balls and parties, then were married as soon as possible to a respectable young man from a wealthy family. Only poor girls worked.

  Imogen flushed slightly at Audrey’s teasing. ‘Who says I’m going to marry a wealthy grazier? I might choose to marry a … a poor medical student. Or not get married at all!’

  Violet looked from one to the other. Audrey patted Imogen on the arm with a knowing look. ‘Come on then, cherie. Let’s go down and see if we can rustle up a handsome but impoverished young medical student for you.’ Audrey drew one arm through Imogen’s and the other through Violet’s. ‘We live in a modern new world with endless possibilities. Life will never be the same again – so let’s go and have some fun!’

  Under the trees stood a long trestle table covered with a crisp, white cloth and set with silverware, glasses and orange-and-black china plates. The other guests were already seated on an odd assortment of chairs, chatting, laughing and drinking lemonade. There were seven young men dressed in white tennis flannels and striped jackets, who all stood up as Audrey and the girls approached.

  Audrey rattled off another string of names, but Violet only caught Jim Fitzgerald, Tommy O’Byrne and Theodore Ramsay. Violet realised she had met Theodore Ramsay at the Henley-on-Yarra rowing regatta the previous weekend, which she’d attended with her father and Imogen. Theodore’s father was one of Albert Hamilton’s business associates, and Theodore looked particularly pleased to see the girls again.

  Everyone exchanged pleasantries. Imogen and Violet sat in the vacant chairs on either side of Tommy.

  Three maids dressed in black dresses, snowy starched aprons and caps circulated with jugs of lemonade and platters of sandwiches, oysters with lemon and slices of baked ham.

  Violet quickly realised that her sister and Tommy seemed to know each other quite well. Imogen smiled a lot as she chatted to him about the regatta.

  ‘It was so colourful with all the decorated barges and punts,’ Imogen said. ‘But such a crush – I heard there were nearly twenty thousand people there watching.’

  Tommy whispered something low in Imogen’s ear. She flushed and smacked him lightly on his fingers.

  ‘Nonsense, Tommy,’ she said, but she looked as though she had enjoyed whatever it was he had said.

  ‘It was almost impossible to push through the crowd,’ Violet added, taking a chicken, mayonnaise and lettuce finger sandwich from a silver tray. ‘I thought we’d never get to the river. And of course, Imogen being Imogen, we were running terribly late.’

  The sandwiches were dainty and delicious, the chilled oysters salty and creamy.

  ‘Pfff.’ Imogen waggled her fingers to reject this slander. She turned to Theodore Ramsay lounging beside her. He was dressed like the other young men, but somehow he looked smarter, with his black hair neatly parted and slicked back. Violet thought he had the air of a Hollywood film star, like the handsome Rudolph Valentino, who her friends loved to swoon over.

  ‘Violet and I were very lucky that Theodore’s family invited us to be guests on their barge,’ added Imogen. ‘Otherwise we couldn’t have seen a thing.’

  ‘Lucky indeed,’ Tommy agreed, glancing over at his rival. ‘We poor peasants were stuck jostling on the banks. I ended up climbing a tree in desperation. At least I didn’t fall out of it like the young urchins in the tree beside me.’

  Theodore looked gratified to be included in the conversation and leaned forward, putting down his silver fork. ‘By Jove, we had a good mooring spot,’ he said. ‘I made sure my crew was there several days before, and the weather was perfect for it. Although, the only disappointment was that I was certain that Hawthorn would beat Melbourne University in the eights this year.’

  ‘Absolute bosh,’ said Tommy. ‘Melbourne Uni was always going to win. Only a numbskull would have thought differently.’

  Theodore scowled momentarily and then leaned in to murmur something to a laughing Imogen. They began chatting about the horses racing in the Melbourne Cup the next day.

  For a moment, Tommy looked disappointed at the interruption, then he turned to Violet with a warm smile. ‘So you’re Imogen’s younger sis? There is certainly something of a family resemblance.’

  Violet shook her head. She wasn’t the one who had two young men obviously jousting to hold her attention.

  ‘Yes, perhaps. However, according to our housekeeper, Mrs Darling, Imogen is the perfect, pretty one, who always does the proper thing. I’m the wild, r
ambunctious sister, who should probably be locked up until I’m fit to be seen in polite company. She constantly reminds me of the time when I was nine and insisted on taking my pet lamb, Bianca, to Sunday church.’

  Tommy laughed, throwing back his blond head. ‘No wonder she wants to incarcerate you. I thought Imogen said you were still at school?’

  Violet nodded and explained about the scarlet fever outbreak. ‘So it’s awfully hard luck for my poor sick friends, but I’m looking forward to a heavenly three months away from school. Absolute bliss!’

  Tommy nodded thoughtfully. ‘Nasty disease, scarlet fever, but for some reason it doesn’t seem to be as deadly as it was a few years ago. Funny how diseases seem to evolve over time, becoming either more or less virulent.’

  Violet looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Oh, terribly sorry,’ said Tommy. ‘I’m a third-year medical student at Melbourne University, and we all tend to get a bit carried away with nasty diseases. I’m always surprised that no-one else seems to share my utter fascination! I offered to take your sister on a tour of the Alfred Hospital, and she made up some bosh about having to tidy her glove drawer.’

  Violet laughed. Tommy seemed so funny and natural. It was no wonder that Imogen seemed to be listening in on their conversation with half an ear while she chatted to Theodore.

  ‘Well, I’d be happy to come on a tour of the hospital,’ Violet assured him, although the thought had never crossed her mind before. ‘And I’ll make sure we drag Imogen along as well. She spends far too much time having fun.’

  ‘Speaking of fun,’ said Audrey from across the table, ‘it’s high time we dusted off the tennis racquets and fought it out for the Williams Championship Cup. Are you up for it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ replied Imogen.

  ‘How about some mixed doubles?’ Theodore suggested. ‘I’ll take you on, O’Byrne. How about I pair with Imogen, while you go with Violet?’

  Violet thought that Tommy might have been hoping to pair with Imogen himself, but he laughed good-naturedly and fetched a pair of tennis rackets for a serious, fast-paced game.