The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society

by Barbara Zitwer

  “Isn’t he?” said Lily. “I think he should open a restaurant.”

  Ian shook his head modestly. “I couldn’t put up with the public,” he said. “I do enjoy cooking, but only for people I like.”

  He glanced at Joey, almost inadvertently, and then quickly away.

  Had he really meant that? Joey wondered. Had Ian actually tried to be friendly? She felt herself reddening, and suddenly felt painfully embarrassed.

  Angus came to the rescue.

  “So you’re here doing what?” he queried Joey, reaching for the rolls.

  “The architectural firm I work for is contracted to handle the building conversion of Stanway House.”

  “Building conversion?” Ian said wryly. “Bloody theme park, more like!”

  Joey thought she could sense a bit of humour in his tone.

  “We promise to take very good care of it!”

  “Right,” Angus put in. “And make a fortune while you’re at it, catering to the swells.”

  “It always catered to the swells, didn’t it?” Joey shot back. “Since the swells got it away from the monks.”

  “You’re right about that,” Ian conceded with a grin.

  “Think of it as letting regular people in on a bit of the fun,” Joey suggested.

  “Regular people with insanely fat wallets,” Angus said.

  “Not insanely,” Joey countered. “Just slightly – plump.”

  “How long will you be here?” Angus asked.

  “A few weeks or so. I have to pop up to London for a day to meet the management company, the people we’re working with.”

  “You’re going to London?” Lily asked.

  “One day next week. We haven’t worked out the details.”

  “Can I come?” she asked, glancing nervously at Ian.

  “Lily!” Ian said. “I’m sure Joey has enough on her hands without –”

  “You said you’d take me make-up shopping!” Lily wheedled.

  “It’s fine with me,” Joey replied, “but don’t you have school?”

  “Yeah, but Dad it’s not just for shopping. There’s this amazing play at the National which I really, really want to go. Mrs Ferns saw it the week before last and she said it was the most exciting play she’d ever been to. In her whole life!”

  “We’ll see,” Ian said.

  “Daddy! Isn’t it more important, if one wants to be an actress, to actually see and hear living, breathing plays and not just read about them in stuffy old classrooms? Please? I know Mrs Ferns will agree, and I’ll die if I don’t get out of this sheep-town soon!”

  “We’ll see, I said,” he responded firmly.

  “You want to be an actress?” Joey asked.

  “I am going to be an actress,” Lily replied grandly. “I believe it’s what I was born to do. That’s why I’m going to move to New York. I want to be on Broadway!”

  “Is that so?” Ian said, pursing his lips as he opened another bottle of wine and set it on the table. He returned to the stove to dish out for Joey a second helping of haggis.

  As Ian’s back was turned, Lily reached for the wine bottle and began to pour some into her teacup. Angus noticed and put his hand on the bottle, allowing Lily half a cup and no more. He shook his head. It was clear that he didn’t approve, but he wasn’t going to bust Lily in front of her father.

  They passed the next hour in sociable chatter about England and New York. But there was a change in the tone of the evening as soon as the subject of Stanway House was raised again.

  “Our clients are very much hoping you’ll consider staying on,” she said to Ian.

  “Oh they are, are they?” He took a sip of his wine.

  “I’m supposed to try to convince you.”

  “Are you, now? I see. I get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “The reason for your visit this evening.”

  “Tonight? Absolutely not!”

  “No? Then why?”

  “Because your daughter invited me.”

  Ian gave her a sly look, as though he didn’t really believe her.

  “And – I didn’t have a crumb of food in the house.”

  “Now we’re getting to it,” he said, the warmth suddenly gone from his voice. He took his napkin from his lap and laid it on the table.

  Had she offended him? What was she supposed to say, that she was starting to – like him? That she had felt a flush of happiness when he welcomed her into their home with that phrase about friends and family?

  Was this her signal to leave? It certainly seemed to be.

  “Can I help with the dishes?” she asked.

  “No, no.”

  “ – I’d like to…” Joey pressed, wishing the subject of Stanway House had not come up again, and longing for the warm and easy banter they had all traded over dinner. But the mood in the room had definitely cooled.

  “Don’t go,” Lily pleaded. “We’ll do the dishes, Daddy. Come on! Let us!”

  As if to set in motion what she wanted to have happen, Lily stood up and began stacking the plates. Joey sensed that Lily really liked having her here, or perhaps just having any woman around who wasn’t Lilia’s age, and she would have loved to have stayed on a bit, doing the dishes and getting to know this lovely, free-spirited girl as Ian and Angus relaxed by the fire talking their own stuff. But probably best to quit while she was ahead.

  Angus was all warmth as she said her goodbyes, Lily full of reminders about taking her to London. But Ian was definitely subdued.

  “Thank you again,” she said at the door.

  “You’re welcome,” he said formally, and then closed it firmly behind her.

  Chapter 14

  The weeklong negotiations that resulted in Ian allowing Lily to accompany Joey to London were contentious and intense. First of all, he didn’t want her to miss school. Lily responded by bringing home a note from her English teacher, confirming that she would get extra credit for writing an essay on the play she was hoping Joey would take her to see.

  “And what is that?” Ian asked.

  “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.”

  “Frankenstein?” Ian scoffed.

  “It’s on next year’s reading list, Dad!

  “That sounds awfully convenient,” Ian replied. “You’ve never mentioned it before…”

  In the end, Lily succeeded in demolishing every one of her father’s objections. When Joey dropped by the gatehouse to finalise the plans with Ian, she got the distinct impression that he had finally just given up, worn down by his daughter’s relentless campaign.

  “She’s a teenager,” Joey said smiling.

  “A teenage girl,” Ian said, shaking his head. “God help me.”

  At six fifteen on the day of the much-anticipated trip, Lily appeared at Joey’s apartment door wearing a skirt that Joey recognised: the skirt that Ian had so clearly objected to when Lily had it on a week and a half earlier. They were due to leave for the train in half an hour.

  “It’s okay, isn’t it?” Lily wailed. “Dad wants me to change, but he told me I could wear it if you said it was okay.”

  Joey forced herself to act blasé, as though she were really considering the question. She wasn’t. Though Lily was a gorgeous girl who could pull off almost anything, the skirt made her look a little too – well, trashy. It was fine for kicking around the countryside, but Lily was going to be on her own for a while in London. Joey knew the kind of attention Lily would attract in this outfit and she wasn’t sure whether Lily was ready to handle it. She stepped back and peered at the skirt.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  Lily turned all the way around, a hopeful look on her face.

  “Hmmm.” Joey hesitated.

  “What?”

  “It’s a little short, honey. Everything else looks fine, but you might just find yourself attracting some unwanted attention down there in the city. What about your black velvet jeans? Those are so great.”

  “With what?”

>   “Exactly what you have on. They’d be perfect.”

  “But I love this skirt!”

  “I know. Another time.”

  “Okay,” Lily said resignedly then headed down the stairs to change. A short time later, when Joey met Lily and Ian out in the driveway, Lily looked every bit the proper, hip schoolgirl. Ian nodded at Joey, a nod she interpreted to mean: thank you.

  At 9:55, Joey and Lily were standing outside the offices of Churchill and Marks, the public relations firm hired to market the restored Stanway estate and hotel. Joey’s meeting was scheduled for ten o’clock, and the plan was for Lily to spend the morning a few blocks away at the Victoria & Albert Museum. They had an exhibit running on the fashion icons of the fifties and sixties – Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Jacqueline Kennedy – and an installation devoted to Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes. Joey was curious to see what Lily would be drawn to.

  Joey was sure she would be finished with her meeting by noon, so they decided that she would then walk to the museum to meet Lily. After her morning in the galleries, Lily was going to check out the Museum Café and see if it looked like a nice place to have lunch. If the menu didn’t appeal to her, Lily would meet Joey outside at 12:30, at the museum’s main entrance on Cromwell Road, and they would find another place to eat.

  Afterwards, the plan was to go to Harvey Nichols where they would choose for Lily an age-appropriate array of make-up. Then a light supper, before the play.

  Joey gave Lily a hug on the street and made her way into the offices of Churchill and Marks. There were only six people in the conference room when she was ushered in, and over a surprising spread of tea, cappuccinos and fresh croissants, Joey took the writers and strategists through a full presentation on the status of the project and the Apex Group’s plans.

  They spent the rest of the morning brainstorming about potential magazine pieces the writers and photographers could begin to develop for long-lead publications, features on the history of the house and its restoration. Joey, smiling quietly to herself, suggested a piece on Massimo: centuries of Italian craftsmanship being brought to bear on the effort to preserve one of Britain’s most beloved architectural treasures.

  Joey glanced at her watch as she stepped out into the chilly air and wound her scarves around her neck. It was five minutes before twelve. The day was going like clockwork.

  Lily was nowhere to be found. The plan had been that, if Lily wasn’t waiting at the V&A’s Grand Entrance when Joey arrived, they would meet inside at the Museum Café. But Lily was not in either place. It was now nearly one thirty and Joey was struggling to fend off a full-blown panic attack.

  “That’s odd,” she said, returning to the hostess just inside the Café door. “You definitely didn’t see a teenage girl wearing black velvet jeans and a dark red coat?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “We must have gotten our signals crossed,” Joey said. “If she does show up, would you ask her to wait here for me? I’ll check back in a few minutes.”

  Joey tried Lily’s mobile number again, punching the redial button as if trying to get more impact. She had made five missed calls – all of them going to voicemail. What on earth could have happened to her?

  She hurried back down the hall, but she had no clear idea where she should go or what she should do. Should she go back outside? Check all the museum’s galleries? She doubted they had a public address system here, and she wouldn’t have wanted to embarrass Lily, anyway. But that was ridiculous! Who cared about embarrassment when Lily’s very life might be in danger? Perhaps someone had started talking to her, a man, some lecherous old creep who hung out in museums just looking for sweet, naïve girls like Lily. What if she had left with him? What if he had convinced her to get into a cab with him and they were at this very moment on their way to – God knows where?

  Joey was practically running down the hall now, ducking her head into gallery after gallery, scanning the figures standing before the exhibitis or sitting peacefully on the benches. She should call the police! No, she should call Ian! No, she should call the police, because what could Ian do from so far away? He would positively freak out, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. The police could at least do something. They could fan out all over the area, searching every restaurant and store and alley until they found her. Oh God, please no… Joey steeled herself: she would not let her thoughts go to Lily being – in an alley.

  She suddenly felt faint with anxiety. She forced herself to sit down on a marble bench. She had to think clearly.

  She took a few deep breaths. Why the hell wasn’t she answering her mobile phone? The minutes were ticking by. She had to do something. She decided to make one circuit of the outside of the building, in case Lily had got confused and was waiting at a different entrance. If she didn’t find Lily in the next five minutes, she would call the police.

  Joey headed outside. If anything happened to Lily, she would never forgive herself. She wasn’t totally to blame, though. She and Ian had discussed this plan, and he had been absolutely fine with the idea of her spending the morning alone at the museum. Joey had turned up at the Grand Entrance early. She was right where she said she would be, right when she said she would be there. It was Lily who had screwed things up… If Ian had trusted his daughter to be mature enough for this, how was Joey supposed to know she wasn’t?

  None of this mattered now. What mattered was the fact that beautiful, vulnerable, headstrong Lily was nowhere to be found and the minutes were ticking by. Ian had entrusted her with Lily’s safety and Joey had – had – lost her!

  Joey hurried down the stairs of the Grand Entrance, scanning the street to her left and right. She let out a little involuntary shout when her gaze fell on Lily, huddled in the shelter of one of the museum’s arches, looking pale and miserable in the icy wind.

  “Lily!” Joey shouted, her voice edged with anger. “Where were you? I was ready to call the police!”

  Lily’s face crumpled when she heard Joey’s scalding tone. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Joey immediately regretted her outburst. Something had happened. This wasn’t just a case of a missed connection. She also thought she smelled cigarette smoke in Lily’s hair.

  “Were you smoking?” she asked sharply, before she could stop herself.

  Lily now burst into tears. Joey folded her into her arms, deciding that the smoking conversation would have to wait. “What happened? What’s wrong?” When Lily didn’t answer right away, Joey went on. “Where were you? Did someone – did somebody –?”

  Lily shook her head. “I got my – I started – my –”

  “Your period?” Joey guessed, glancing at the bulky bag from Boots that Lily seemed to have acquired. “Oh, Lily… thank God!” Joey said.

  “Thank God?” Lily said, outraged. “It was horrible. I didn’t have anything – so I went to the Museum Store, but they didn’t have anything, so I had to – and there was a man at the cash register, and –” A fresh round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “You didn’t know you were due?” Joey asked. “You didn’t have anything in your purse?”

  “I never had it before!” Lily shot back.

  “Oh, honey,” Joey said, softening. “You poor thing! Oh, my God! But it’s not so bad… you’ll see.”

  “Are you mad?” Lily asked.

  Joey smiled. “I know how you feel.”

  “Terrible!” Lily retorted. “I want to go home!”

  “I bet you feel – not ill, exactly, but not quite right,” Joey said.

  Lily nodded wretchedly.

  “Kind of clammy? Jumpy?” Joey continued.

  Lily sniffed. “I hate it! It’s awful.”

  “It’s just the hormones. It’s all chemical.”

  “Yesterday, I felt like I was going to cry all the time. I thought I was just excited, but I guess it was – this.”

  Joey wrapped her arm around her. “Well, the good news is, once it actually starts, you fe
el better. It’s the build-up that’s the worst. Do you have cramps?”

  Lily nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go back to Boots. We women may have to put up with this, but we don’t have to feel like hell.”

  Lily looked up. The morning’s bravado had slipped away, and she looked very much like a little girl in need of some sisterly TLC. “Don’t we?” she whispered.

  “Nope,” Joey said firmly. “You just leave everything to me.”

  A couple of hours later, after a soothing hot chocolate, Lily was being pampered and fussed over by the beautician at the Lancôme counter. Joey looked on, smiling, as the saleswoman expertly applied Lily’s make-up. She thought back to her own early experiences with make-up, grateful that she had had her mother around for advice on this front.

  Her mother had never had manicures or pedicures. She and her friends coloured each other’s hair and Leah visited the salon only a few times a year for blunt, stylish cuts that were easy to maintain. But on skin – Leah spent money. Four times a year she visited Basia, a woman who specialised in Eastern European-style facials. From the time Joey was fourteen years old, she and her mother had gone to Basia together, and the habits Joey learned from the gentle, sweet Polish woman with the porcelain skin had always stayed with her. Now, Joey felt a wave of sympathy for Lily. She was glad that she had been able to be with Lily today, of all days.

  They didn’t eat lunch until four, and then they stopped for gelato at an ice cream parlour. Later, as they took their seats at the National, and Joey began to read about the production they were about to see, she wished she had done a little more research before purchasing the tickets. They were going to be in for quite a wild ride.

  “This is a pretty – mature play,” Joey commented casually.

  Lily smiled. “What do you mean?”

  Joey struggled for the right words. “It’s pretty out there. Benedict Cumberbatch – naked?”

  “I know. This is the kind of theatre I’m interested in.”

  “Did you know about the nudity?”

  “Yeah. Big deal.”

  “Did your dad?” Joey suspected she already knew the answer to this question.