A Kiss From Mr Fitzgerald

by Natasha Lester

  Which only made her cry all the more.

  It took Evie another ten minutes to cry seemingly every tear she’d been saving since she’d moved to New York: tears over her parents acting as if she didn’t exist; tears because she was tired from studying and working all day and dancing and singing all night; tears because she now knew that it was impossible for every baby to have a safe passage into and through this life; tears over Mary, who lay in her dormitory bed at night silent, awake, staring into the dark, unable even to imagine what she was missing – laughter and love and family – because you couldn’t miss something you’d never known. Tears of gratitude over Tommy, that Tommy was here, that Tommy was the kind of man who would leave a gin joint and come after a woman and hold her while she ruined his jacket with weeping.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered eventually, pulling away from his embrace. ‘Your jacket’s the worse for wear now.’

  ‘So’s your dress.’

  Evie looked down and saw that the flesh-coloured fabric that was supposed to partly conceal her cleavage was thoroughly soaked and not concealing anything. ‘Oh,’ she said, and blushed all the more when she saw that Tommy was looking at her with desire stamped deep in his dark black eyes.

  His hand moved as if he was going to touch her, but then he stopped himself. Hang decorum, Evie thought. Unable to resist the pull between them, she leaned in and kissed his lips as hard as she could to let him know that all she wanted was his touch. She lifted her hands up to his chest and pushed back his jacket, her fingers fumbling with the buttons, damn buttons, on his shirt until finally she had them open and she could feel the flesh of Thomas Whitman under her palms. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt the beat of his heart racing beneath her hands, his chest ridged with muscles that she traced with her fingertips.

  Tommy returned Evie kiss for kiss but kept his hands decorously on her back until she felt his fists clench and he moved back. ‘Evie, we need to stop.’

  ‘But I want this more than anything.’ She slipped off his shirt and reach around to unzip her dress. It puddled at her waist and she pressed her body against his. This time, Tommy forgot to be a gentleman.

  Which was what Evie was hoping for.

  Afterwards they both lay on their backs in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to say anything, until Evie propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Well, that was the most fun I’ve ever had,’ she said.

  Tommy laughed. He pulled her nearer so that her forearms were resting on his chest, and he idly traced his finger over her cheek and then through the curls of her hair. ‘Whoever would have thought that Evelyn Lockhart, the loud girl from the house next door, would end up lying naked in a bed next to me, telling me she’d just had the most fun ever?’

  It was Evie’s turn to laugh. ‘Nobody would have thought it, least of all me.’

  Tommy hesitated before he said, ‘I didn’t realise you’d never been with a man before.’

  Evie blushed. ‘I was probably the only Ziegfeld virgin in existence. Flo would’ve charged extra if he’d known.’ Then she spoke honestly, because she knew Tommy would understand. ‘I’ve had enough meaningless kisses and groping hands to know there was no one else I wanted to be with like this. Until now.’

  Tommy began to kiss her again, and Evie wondered how it was possible that even after everything they’d done, she still wasn’t satisfied, still wanted more. There was a light tap at the door and she quickly sat up in time to see a piece of notepaper slipped underneath, then heard the sound of feet retreating down the staircase. Evie considered what the etiquette was when walking across the room in front of a man you’d just slept with, and then decided she didn’t care. She climbed out of bed naked and walked over to the door to collect the note, smiling as she realised Tommy’s eyes were on her the whole time.

  ‘It’s from Lil,’ she said. ‘She’s going to spend the night elsewhere, so you can stay until I smuggle you out in the morning.’

  ‘What will happen if Mrs Lomsky finds me?’

  ‘I’m sure she has a dungeon somewhere that she’ll lock you up in, and the rest of the girls in the house will eat you for breakfast.’

  ‘I think I prefer the smuggling option.’

  ‘Much safer, I’m sure. And that means we have at least another five or six hours together.’

  ‘Perhaps you should come back here so we can make the most of it.’

  Evie didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Later: ‘We have the worst timing,’ Tommy said.

  Evie rolled over to face him. ‘I don’t think I’m going to like this.’

  ‘I’ve booked my passage to London. I’m leaving on Monday. I was going to tell you the night of the ball – I thought that would give us a week to spend together before I left, but …’

  ‘But Charles got in the way,’ Evie finished. ‘For how long?’

  Tommy sighed and sat up, leaning against the wall. ‘I’d thought it might only be a few weeks. But now I think it’ll be a few months. Maybe six.’

  ‘That’s a bit like hiding the cookie jar after giving someone their first taste.’ Evie tried to hide her hurt beneath a snappy rejoinder, but Tommy saw it anyway.

  ‘I’m sorry. The English lords I told you about are two of the wealthiest men in Britain. They want to do business in the States and they want to use Whitman’s bank to do it. If I sign this deal with them, it’ll make Whitman’s one of the biggest banks in America. I have to do it.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Evie quietly.

  ‘Business doesn’t move quickly in London. That’s why I think it’ll take months, not weeks. Instead of just signing the deal, there’ll be more dinners and weekends in the country than I –’ Tommy broke off when he saw Evie’s face. ‘Now I’m making it sound as if I’m not going to be doing any work at all. The Bank of England also wants me to give some talks to a few of the gentlemen’s clubs about doing business in America.’

  ‘You really are very important, aren’t you?’ Evie teased.

  ‘You mean you didn’t know that already?’

  Evie hit him with the pillow. ‘Aren’t English lords very stuffy? You’d have much more fun staying here with me.’

  ‘English lords are very stuffy. I’ll have to be on my best behaviour or they might take their business elsewhere. And there’s nothing I’d rather do than stay here with you.’ Tommy leaned over to kiss Evie, then noticed her sudden frown.

  ‘I can put it off for a couple of weeks,’ he said. ‘Anything so you don’t look so upset.’

  Evie shook her head. ‘No, don’t put it off. I’m about to start my exams. I won’t have much time to see you anyway. It’s better if you go now and then, when you’re back, I’ll have finished my exams and I can spend every minute with you.’ She smiled to push away the thought that had made her frown: I’ll have to be on my best behaviour, Tommy had said. In nobody’s mind would his best behaviour be defined as dating a showgirl who was also trying her hardest to become an obstetrician. But what were the chances of any English lords ever finding out about Evie Lockhart?

  Tommy’s next words distracted her entirely. ‘Let’s go to Newport tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Or today, if it’s already morning. We’ll use the family cottage. Spend the whole weekend together.’

  ‘I have to work. Unlike you, I have a boss. Two, in fact.’

  ‘Be sick. Have you ever been sick? Tell them you have a bacterial infection. You’ll spread puerperal fever on the ward if you go in.’

  ‘They’ll know I’m not sick. I’m never sick. What about the Follies?’

  ‘You have a rash. No man would touch a girl with a rash like the one you have.’

  Evie began to laugh. ‘You sure know how to flatter a girl.’

  ‘I’m serious. Let’s take this chance to have a weekend together. Fate or something kept us from noticing each other for the first twenty-odd years of our lives. Then when we finally did notice each other, I went to London. And now I’m going to London again. Let’s
beat fate to any other separations she may have planned for us.’

  ‘So you did notice me before you left. I was never sure.’

  Evie couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how they’d been back then, both too shy and uncertain to do anything other than write a few letters. Which thankfully wasn’t the case now.

  ‘Leo wrote to me to apologise; he told me he’d kissed you. If there’d been a boat at the dock leaving for New York that day, I would have jumped on it and come back and hit him and then kissed you.’

  ‘Kiss me now.’ Evie leaned down towards Tommy.

  ‘You’re beautiful, Evie. And strong and amazing and unlike anyone else I’ve ever known.’ Tommy ran his hand up the back of her neck until it tangled in her hair, watching her eyes all the time. She moved her body on top of his as they kissed, her arms around his neck, his arms around her back, clinging to each other as if all they wanted was to be even closer than skin to skin.

  He broke off for a moment to say, ‘Does this mean you’ll come to Newport?’ and Evie whispered, ‘Yes,’ against his lips.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  In the end, the smuggling was easy. Evie enlisted the help of all the girls at Mrs Lomsky’s to create a diversion.

  ‘Fire!’ shouted Antonia.

  It had the desired effect. Mrs Lomsky, usually so hard to rouse when anyone wanted anything from her, came crashing up the stairs like a Spanish bull. She was followed by a crowd of girls, who ensured that the landlady was hemmed into Antonia’s room for as long as it took Tommy and Evie to run, laughing, down the stairs, hand in hand, and to kiss at the door until Evie had to push Tommy outside and close the door before their ruse was discovered.

  Evie ran back up the stairs in time to hear Mrs Lomsky say, ‘A girl should be able to tell a fire from a Lucky Strike.’

  ‘I’m not as familiar with cigarettes as some are,’ Antonia replied, which should have earned her a part on the silver screen, because everyone knew that Antonia couldn’t stub out a gasper without lighting the next one off the end.

  ‘Thanks!’ Evie whispered as she passed.

  ‘Has he got a brother?’ Antonia asked hopefully.

  Evie laughed. She closed the attic room door behind her and leaned against it, smiling so hard she thought she must surely look hopped up. Which she was, on love. It took her scarcely any time to throw some clothes into a bag, roll a scarf and tie it around her hair as a headband, letting the front curl fall over her forehead. She made her calls to the Follies and the hospital and was told to report to Dr Brewer when she returned on Monday. But even that didn’t get her down and she stood waiting at the window, looking down into the street for Tommy’s car, when Lil came crashing through the door.

  ‘I’m in love,’ Lil declared.

  She took Evie by the hands and spun her around the room until they both fell onto their backs on the bed, laughing so loudly that Mrs Lomsky called up the stairs, ‘Am I renting my rooms to ladies or monkeys?’

  ‘Monkeys would know better than to live here,’ Lil shouted back. ‘There’s more room in a cage at the zoo.’

  ‘Shhh,’ Evie whispered through her giggles.

  When they had caught their breath, Evie asked, ‘You’re talking about Leo, I hope?’

  ‘Yes! Even I don’t move that fast onto another fella. Maybe I won’t be moving at all.’

  ‘Really?’

  Lil looked shy for the first time in her life. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I told him it was worth a try.’

  ‘You told him?’ Lil sat up, lit a cigarette and looked at Evie.

  ‘That day we went to Saks together I saw Leo looking at you so goofily it had to be love. And I thought how perfect you’d be, like the Sheik and Diana. So I may have given him a push in your direction.’

  ‘He never said a word. Thank you.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’

  ‘It’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.’ Lil kissed Evie on the forehead. ‘Enough schmaltz. What about Tommy?’

  ‘We’re going to Newport for the weekend.’

  ‘Whoopee! Even I’ve never been to the Whitmans’ Newport digs. You won’t want to come back here after a weekend of lollygagging there.’

  ‘He said it was just a cottage.’

  Lil snorted. ‘And I’m just a coy girl from uptown.’

  ‘Evelyn!’ Mrs Lomsky’s voice. ‘Gentleman caller.’

  Lil hugged Evie. ‘Have a blast. And I want all the details when you get back.’

  ‘I won’t be sharing all of them!’ Evie giggled as she grabbed her bag and left their room.

  She would have slid down the bannister if Mrs Lomsky hadn’t been eyeing Tommy suspiciously at the door. Given the landlady’s presence, Evie and Tommy greeted each other with a chaste hello, which turned into a smooch of the best kind when the door was closed. Soon they were in the car and heading out of the city, laughing over all the night’s misdeeds as the miles flew past.

  They eventually fell into a comfortable silence, until Tommy said, ‘I have to talk to Charles about Mary before I go.’ He was no longer smiling.

  ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that. He’ll be furious and he’ll take it out on you.’

  ‘I know Mary. You don’t know her,’ Evie reasoned. ‘And I know you’ll do your best for her, but it’s not the same. She’s my responsibility because no one else cares. I have to be the one to talk to him.’

  Tommy shook his head. ‘I think it’s a bad idea.’

  ‘A bad idea is letting you do it. You two will just shout at each other and nothing will get resolved.’ Evie put her hand on Tommy’s leg. ‘I know you want to do the right thing, but it’ll be better this way.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No. If he saw the two of us together, it’d only make him worse. I’ll talk to him next week, after you’ve gone. Which I still can’t believe you’re doing.’

  ‘Neither can I.’

  They were both quiet, trying to imagine several months apart. It seemed impossible.

  ‘I’ll put it off, go in two weeks’ time,’ Tommy said.

  Evie shook her head. ‘Let’s get it over with now. It’ll only get harder the longer we wait.’

  He was silent for a moment, then sighed. ‘I wish you weren’t right.’

  ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

  So Tommy said, ‘What happened yesterday to make you cry like that?’

  Yesterday. She looked out the window to the blue sea, the same colour as the dress she’d watermarked with tears. ‘A baby was stuck. It was dead. The mother was dying. To save the mother I had to take out the brain of her half-born child.’

  ‘Evie.’ Tommy reached out his hand to take hers and he held it all the way to Newport. She was sure it was decidedly unsafe, but she was glad he did it anyway.

  Around noon, the car turned into Bellevue Avenue in Newport and drove past glorious mansion after glorious mansion, each one bigger and grander and more European than the one before, their gardens full of huge blue heads of hydrangea. Tommy slowed at a set of open wrought-iron gates and proceeded up the driveway to a house built of white-grey stone, with pillars in front like mini skyscrapers. It resembled nothing less than a French chateau. Beyond the house, Evie could see an unspoiled vista of ocean, swirling and frothing like a blue silk skirt waltzing around a ballroom floor.

  ‘You call this a cottage?’ she said.

  Tommy had the good grace to blush. ‘Everyone calls their Newport home a cottage. It was habit.’

  ‘I have nothing grand enough to wear in this cottage.’

  ‘You can always wear nothing,’ Tommy said.

  The laugh bubbled out of Evie like champagne and she leaned across to kiss him.

  A subtle throat-clearing interrupted them. ‘Good day, sir.’

  Evie pulled away reluctantly and stepped out of her opened door.

  ‘Higgins,’ said Thomas to the butler. ‘This is Miss Lockhar
t.’

  ‘Miss Lockhart. Welcome. Where shall I put the luggage?’

  ‘In my room,’ replied Thomas.

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘Very well.’ The butler picked up the suitcases, frowning.

  ‘He doesn’t approve,’ whispered Evie.

  ‘He doesn’t need to.’ Tommy took her hand. ‘I’ll show you the cottage. Then you can decide whether your clothes are inappropriate. I hope they will be.’

  Evie laughed again and hit Tommy with her purse. ‘The butler may not be so sure.’

  As they walked inside, Evie tipped her head back and looked upwards. The entry was a marvellous void that soared up three storeys, ending at a skylight that let in the sun and warmth of the day. They walked past breakfast rooms and dining rooms and drawing rooms, all showing Mrs Whitman’s impeccable taste; soft sea-green hues papered the walls, cool and buttery marble covered the floors. Opulence was reflected subtly in minutiae – a magnificent ormolu barometer clock, a set of lapis Sèvres mounted vases trimmed with gold, a chandelier falling like a veil of diamonds from the ceiling. The outer rooms were feminine in their colourings and furnishings, whereas the rooms in the centre, the heart of the house, were masculine. Sea-green gave way to burgundy, navy and a deeper woodland green in the library, the main sitting room and the private study.

  ‘I’m not doing justice to your staircase,’ Evie said as they walked upstairs. ‘I should be wearing a gown with a train that ripples over the steps behind me.’

  ‘We’d better come back here one day, with me in a suit and you in a gown, and we can dance on the lawn beneath the stars.’

  Tommy made everything sound both easy, and possible. That there would be a one day. That they would come back. That they’d still be together. Evie squeezed his hand as if to seal in place the promise he’d made.

  At last, after passing six bedrooms, they reached a seventh, into which Tommy showed Evie. ‘This is the room I use. It’s small, but all the gentlemen’s rooms are. I can have one of the other rooms made up if you’d like more space.’