Although the acts only gave an illusion of nudity and the strippers stopped short of fully revealing themselves, stripping had a stigma to it. Burlesque performers hung around with other burlesque performers because they weren’t acceptable in polite society. And as Bethany had once said, ‘Stripping on stage leaves a stain on you.’ Whatever you did in the future, it would always be there in your past. That was enough to stop me considering it seriously.
Maman had a favourite facial cleanser called Deep Magic that was only stocked by a pharmacy near the French Market. For a treat, I decided to get her a bottle. As I passed Antoine’s on St Louis Street, I stopped for a moment. Before our money troubles and her deteriorating health prevented it, Maman and I used to eat at Antoine’s regularly. Each dining room was decorated in a different theme, and our favourite was the Rex room with its green walls and Mardi Gras memorabilia. I closed my eyes and drank in the memory of the sweet café brûlot, a coffee flavoured with orange liqueur, cinnamon, cloves and lemon peel, and served flaming with dessert. Then I realised that if I stayed there a moment longer I’d start to feel defeated, knowing I could never take Maman there now. Even the facial cleanser was a luxury on the money I was making.
I was about to move on when Clifford Lalande stepped out of the restaurant with an older gentleman. He was wearing a plaid jacket and tan pants and looked as dashing as the first time I’d seen him.
‘Ruby!’ he exclaimed when he saw me. ‘I was beginning to think you’d left town. I hope we didn’t scare you away from Prytania Street?’
I’d not forgotten Clifford Lalande. How could I? But with Maman’s illness and working each night, I never thought I’d see him again.
‘I had to give up my tours,’ I told him. ‘My mother became seriously ill the day that I saw you.’
His face filled with such compassion that it caused a little explosion in my heart. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Ruby. How is she now?’
‘She had a major operation, but she’s recovering well in the River Road Sanatorium.’
‘That’s the best sanatorium in the South,’ said Clifford’s companion. ‘A colleague of mine had stomach cancer and I’m sure he’s alive today because of the care he received there. Your mother is in the best hands.’
‘My apologies, Ruby, for not introducing you to my father,’ said Clifford, turning from me to the man. ‘Father, this is Miss Vivienne de Villeray, the fascinating young lady Mother and Kitty told you about.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss de Villeray,’ Mr Lalande said, taking my hand. With his twinkling eyes and soft voice, he exuded the special charm of a mature Southern gentleman. I imagined that in another thirty years, Clifford would be exactly the same.
I pointed to the door of Antoine’s. ‘I see you’ve been dining at the Quarter’s finest restaurant. I hope your meal was delicious?’
‘Indeed it was very good,’ said Clifford. ‘We’ve been celebrating.’
‘Is it your birthday?’
‘Not quite,’ replied Mr Lalande. ‘Clifford and I have been following the Brown versus Board of Education case in the Supreme Court. Yesterday, the plaintiffs were victorious.’
The Brown versus Board of Education case was so controversial that even the strippers at the club were discussing it. A group of coloured parents had challenged segregation in schools, claiming that it was unconstitutional. Their victory was a step forward for the Civil Rights Movement. If segregation of schools was unconstitutional, then the desegregation of other public facilities would have to follow.
‘New Orleans could be a great city,’ continued Mr Lalande, ‘but segregation is costing us, not only economically but psychologically. It’s time for all of us to move forward, coloured and white equally.’
I could tell where Clifford had gotten his intrepid optimism from. The Lalandes seemed convinced that every problem had a solution. It uplifted me. Perhaps my problems had solutions too.
‘I hope so, Mr Lalande,’ I said, remembering what had happened to Mae’s father, ‘I truly do. But I fear for the coloured folks. People can be resistant to change, even when it would benefit them.’
Mr Lalande regarded me with approval in his eyes. ‘That’s very true, Miss de Villeray, but I believe in the people of this city. There will be resistance, but in the end what is right must prevail.’
He was about to say more when Kitty came out of the restaurant on the arm of a red-haired young man. ‘Ruby!’ she cried when she saw me. ‘Where have you been?’
Clifford gallantly stepped in to explain about my mother.
‘Ah,’ Kitty said, as if understanding something that had puzzled her. She touched my arm sympathetically. ‘She’ll be all right, Ruby. Especially with such a lovely daughter to take care of her.’
She introduced me to Eddie, her husband.
‘I hope your wedding was lovely,’ I said to them.
Kitty started giving me the details of her grandmother’s pearls, the nervous priest, the lilac rose bouquet and the three-tiered wedding cake, when more people came out of the restaurant and it became too crowded on the banquette. We were going to have to move.
‘Look,’ said Kitty, glancing at her brother and taking out a pen and notepad from her handbag, ‘we mustn’t lose you again. Write down your telephone number for me. Clifford’s tennis partner broke her wrist horse-riding and can’t play. Won’t you come and fill in for her?’ She looked at me in a meaningful way. ‘Eddie and I are dying for a game.’
Clifford leaned towards me and covered his mouth with his hand. ‘I have to warn you,’ he said softly, ‘Kitty’s personality changes on the court. She becomes very . . . competitive.’
Eddie laughed knowingly and Kitty playfully pinched his arm.
I thought about what Maman had said; that I needed to get out and have fun.
‘Well, I haven’t played for a few years,’ I told them. ‘But I’d be willing to give it a try.’
A date was decided for the game and we parted company, heading in opposite directions. Before the group disappeared around the corner, Clifford and I both turned simultaneously and looked straight at each other. He made no effort to hide the smile that broke out on his face.
On the walk to the market there was a bounce in my stride. I knew the meaning of the look Clifford had given me. The fact that he was older than me only increased his allure. I thought it would be thrilling to have a more mature beau. Then I remembered what I was doing for a living. Clifford might not have smiled at me like that if he knew about the Havana Club.
I lifted my chin and carried on. There was no need to worry about that yet. I’d tell Clifford when the time was right. I was sure once he got to know me better, he would understand.
The morning of the tennis game, I took pains with my appearance, asking Mae to re-iron my white dress several times. As I took my hair out of curlers and lightly powdered my face, I imagined how the day would go and pictured it ending with me and Clifford embracing in the sunset.
‘Where’s your head this morning, Miss Ruby?’ Mae asked, looking in the door. ‘It’s already half past nine and you’ve got to be at City Park at ten thirty. How are you intending to play tennis on four hours’ sleep anyways?’
I’d told Mae that I was working the more lucrative night shift at the telephone exchange, which was why I didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning.
‘If all goes well,’ I said, dabbing perfume behind my ears, ‘I won’t be working nights much longer.’
City Park was beautiful in the spring. The magnolias were in full bloom and I stopped for a moment to breathe in the air. The scent of magnolias was the perfect perfume — clean and fresh like lemons but sweet like vanilla too. I continued on with a skip in my step, filled with optimism that something wonderful was about to happen. I hadn’t felt that way since my debut.
When I approached the courts, Clifford and Eddie were already there tightening the net. Kitty was warming up in the corner, swinging her racquet and
bending her knees. She looked very modern in her tailored shorts and cap-sleeved shirt. I’d gone for a more traditional pleated skirt with a belted tunic top and a wide tulle hairband. I didn’t have any choice: it was the only tennis dress I had.
Clifford was the first to spot me. His beaming smile brought the heat to my face. I opened the court gate and he walked towards me, unzipping the cover of a racquet and handing it to me.
‘I thought you might like this one,’ he said, a playful glint in his eye. ‘It’s my lucky racquet. I was using it the one and only time I ever won a match against my sister.’
‘Well, you did say that Kitty liked to win.’
He looked dashing in his immaculate shorts and a V-neck knitted vest over his shirt; the pure white of his outfit flattered his tanned skin and emphasised his good shape. I had to be careful not to stare. The broody French Creole men were regarded as a handsome breed, but I liked this clean-cut American’s joie de vivre.
‘Hey, Ruby’s here,’ I heard Eddie say. He ran to greet me, with Kitty prancing after him.
‘How are you feeling, Ruby?’ he asked, wrapping his arm around Kitty’s shoulders. ‘Up for a tough game against the champ?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I said cheerfully.
Usually I liked to win at anything I did but around Clifford I didn’t care about any of that. All I wanted from the day was to have fun.
‘You can’t be any worse than Cliff,’ Kitty replied. There was a competitive edge in her voice although she was smiling.
Clifford raised his hands as if surrendering. ‘Well, I did warn you that I’m only good at boxing. I’m simply here to make a foursome.’
We spun a racquet. Kitty and Eddie won and chose to serve. Clifford and I took our positions on the court, with me on the forehand side, receiving first, and Clifford up at the net. I was expecting a social game with long rallies and good sportsmanship, and was shocked when Kitty delivered a scorching serve that whizzed straight past me before I even had a chance to see it.
‘All right,’ said Clifford, grinning at me. ‘I think this game is going to be over pretty quickly and we can have an early lunch.’
By the time Kitty served to me again it was already apparent she was by far the superior player. She volleyed and smashed fiercely, made a killer drop shot, and soon had me and Clifford running all over the court as she and Eddie quickly won the first game to love. A short match it was going to be indeed!
Kitty raised her arms triumphantly. ‘When you said you were out of practice, Ruby, you weren’t kidding, were you? How could you have missed that last shot?’
A prickle of annoyance roused me. Creole women competed on their beauty not their athletic prowess. I turned to Clifford but he only chuckled.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ he said, patting my shoulder. ‘Kitty wants to win at any cost. Psyching out her opponents is one of her tactics.’
My shoulders tensed up and I rolled them back, trying to relax. I didn’t intend to be ‘psyched out’ by anyone. After being so friendly towards me in the beginning, Kitty’s attitude stung but I wasn’t the only one she had her fangs out for.
Eddie played solid strokes and demonstrated a natural eye for the ball, but Kitty didn’t give him an ounce of credit. ‘Get to the net! Get to the net!’ she shouted at him. When he failed to reach a return from Clifford, and she got to it but then sent it flying over the baseline, she pouted and stamped her foot. ‘You sure messed that one up, Eddie!’
I wasn’t sure if my jaw dropped or not, but it felt like it did. Maman had told me the worst thing a woman could do to a man was to publicly humiliate him. But Eddie nimbly toe-danced on the baseline as if he hadn’t heard the comment. Americans were certainly different. A Creole man would have been livid.
It came as no surprise that Clifford and I lost the first set six–love.
When we took a short break to dry off and sip water, he whispered to me, ‘Kitty is playing pretty hard, I hope you don’t mind. She wants to go into the amateur championships this summer and needs the practice.’
‘She’s a very good player indeed,’ I confided. ‘We’d better lift our game.’
He laughed and pushed his hair away from his face, and I noticed his hands. They were smooth but large and strong. Perfect hands for boxing. I imagined slipping my hand into his and the idea of it thrilled me.
‘When Kitty asked you to join us for tennis, I did try to warn you,’ he said. ‘I thought, “Oh no, if Ruby plays with us we will definitely never see her again.” Jackie, our usual fourth player, has known Kitty since we were children, and she rather enjoys a fight herself.’
I wasn’t exactly enjoying the game, but I did like the way Clifford looked at me. For that, I could put up with anything.
In the second set, Clifford and I got into a better rhythm. I managed to kick some of the rust off my forehand and I hit a perfect cross-court shot into the far corner, which won us the first game.
‘Great shot!’ said Clifford with a smirk.
Gradually we played better and our coordination improved. Clifford finally had a chance to show off his athletic prowess with some skilful play at the net, and I enjoyed the feeling of us working together. We fought as a team for every point and I sensed Clifford was having fun beating Kitty for once.
We pulled ahead and soon won the second set six–three. The deciding set went with serve to six–five in our favour. Then after several gruelling rallies, we managed to break Eddie’s serve — and win the match!
‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ said Kitty, relaxing her posture and grinning from ear to ear. ‘Clifford should partner with Ruby more often. She lifts his game and makes me work hard!’ When Clifford wasn’t looking, she winked at me and I realised that she’d let us win.
‘Well, I’ll be darned too,’ I said, smiling and shaking my head at her. What was she up to?
I sat next to Clifford and helped Kitty unpack the wicker picnic basket and cooler. She’d brought a feast of sandwiches with the crusts cut off, potato salad, coleslaw and even chocolate fudge cake. I found myself warming to her again. On the court, she was a fierce competitor, but off it she was a charming hostess. She was thoroughly modern.
Because we were sitting close to each other, whenever Clifford reached for something, his arm would brush against mine and my skin would tingle. When he passed me the platter with the curried egg sandwiches and looked straight into my eyes, I was as happy as a puppy with two tails.
‘Who’s your favourite tennis player, Ruby?’ Eddie asked.
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ I replied, accepting a cup of lemonade from Kitty. ‘Althea Gibson. Not only is she the first coloured woman to play at Wimbledon but she has impeccable manners.’
I’d been sincere in my answer, but was pleased to see Clifford’s eyes light up in response.
‘She is grace under fire,’ he agreed. ‘She and her family weren’t allowed on the tennis court until after it closed and she had to play in the dark, yet despite all the obstacles thrown at her she’s gone on to be a champion.’
‘Unfortunately, despite being a champion she still has to enter clubs through the back door and can’t use the white dressing rooms here in the South,’ Kitty added. ‘Segregation is so ludicrous.’
Clifford was about to say something when a car horn sounded. We looked up to see a Cadillac convertible with two women in it pull up near the courts. They waved when they spotted us. Kitty frowned.
The women stepped from the car. One was blonde and full-figured, with her right arm in a sling; the other, dark-haired and slender, was wearing a fashionable tulip dress. I guessed the woman with the sling was Clifford’s usual tennis partner who’d broken her wrist horse-riding.
‘Well, hello there,’ she said brightly as they approached us. ‘I thought you were supposed to be playing tennis, not lounging around and having a picnic!’
‘We played a good game,’ said Clifford, rearranging the picnic items to make room for the women to sit down. ‘R
uby and I won!’
‘Heavens forbid!’ said the blonde. ‘Now I wish I’d seen that.’ She plunked herself between Clifford and me so I had no choice but to move away, then she draped her uninjured arm possessively over his shoulder.
‘What brings you two here?’ he asked, shifting away from her. ‘I thought you were helping your mothers with the fundraiser?’
‘It was too boring with all those old ladies drinking tea,’ said the blonde. ‘We thought we’d scoot over here and see what you were up to.’
She reached up and stroked Clifford’s cheek. A prickly feeling overcame me. It was an intimate gesture but this time he didn’t move away, despite the fact she was engaged. The diamond in the white-gold ring on her left hand was so big I couldn’t miss it.
‘Let me introduce you to Vivienne de Villeray,’ Clifford said to the women.
The dark-haired woman reached for my hand and shook it. ‘I’m Laura Simos,’ she said. Her skin was cool and scented with a spicy oriental fragrance.
Because of her injury, the blonde girl couldn’t shake my hand and instead flashed a set of perfect white teeth at me. ‘And I’m Jackie Fausey.’
Everything about them exuded wealth, from their Tiffany earrings to their perfectly coiffed hair. I felt self-conscious. My clothes were presentable, but they were old. And the only jewellery I hadn’t pawned was a set of pearl earrings and a cameo necklace.
‘So how did you find playing against Kitty, Miss de Villeray?’ Jackie asked. ‘She acts like a man on the court, doesn’t she?’
‘You can call me Ruby,’ I told her, although I felt anything but friendly towards her. If she kept flirting with Clifford, she was going to regret it.
Jackie was no natural beauty — she had premature wrinkles around her eyes, and although her features were even they were plain — yet she radiated self-assurance from every pore of her well-upholstered body and I had to admit it gave her a peculiar charm.
The scowl on Kitty’s face made it clear that she didn’t appreciate Jackie’s comment, and I decided my loyalty lay with her.
Southern Ruby Page 16
