A Fall from Grace

by Maggie Ford

  ‘I know, I did happen to see it,’ Madeleine said a little stiffly. ‘But I’ve not used the mangle yet.’

  The girl’s smile seemed to be a fixture on her face. ‘I don’t hang me smalls out there,’ she said brightly. ‘Someone might pinch ’em. I just stick ’em on the backs of chairs round the fire in me room. When did you turn up?’

  ‘I arrived here just over a week ago,’ Madeleine supplied, now feeling forced into some sort of politeness but the girl’s beam broadened still more.

  ‘Don’t you talk nice,’ she remarked quite out of the blue. Madeleine blinked.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘I said, you talk ever so nice,’ the girl repeated. ‘Ever so posh. What’s the likes of you doing in rooms like these then? I’d’ve thought someone that talks like you would’ve found theirselves a decent hotel if they want to live in London.’

  The girl’s accent was very different from her own. Not exactly coarse like the Cockney accent of their landlady; more the way Freddy Dobson used to speak, untutored. The thought of him brought an unexpected pang to her heart and she turned quickly from it.

  ‘How long you expect to be here?’ the girl asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  Madeleine hurriedly gathered her wits back together. ‘I’m not sure yet. I can ill afford anything else at the moment.’

  An admission she’d not intended to make, but the girl interrupted any chance to correct herself.

  ‘Can any of us!’ she laughed. ‘Well, as it looks as if we’re going to be neighbours for a bit, my name’s Dorothy – Dolly, Dolly Grant. I come from Kent originally, Holstead, but I left a couple of years ago – couldn’t stand my family. Always arguing and rowing, so I walked out. What about your people then? And what’s your name?’

  Madeleine told her, shortening it to Maddie, managing to sidestep giving any information about her family. Dolly seemed not to notice but merely stared at her giving Maddie time to take her in. She was tall, nearly as tall as herself, but desperately thin. The cheap high-necked blouse and ankle-length tube-like skirt seemed to hang on her. Dark hair, abundant and done in a coil or bun seemed to swamp the elfin, not particularly pretty features.

  ‘So what d’you do with yourself all day. Or in the evening?’ asked Dolly.

  ‘Nothing really.’ Madeleine turned back to rinsing the bed sheet.

  ‘You mean you’ve not been anywhere since you come here?’ the voice behind her exploded. ‘You can’t go on like that, Maddie. Look…’ Her hand came on Madeleine’s shoulder, making her turn back to her.

  ‘I’ve got to go off to work now. Part-time job for a window cleaning company, filling in for some chap who went off to war the day it broke out. But evenings I go out with some friends. Why don’t you come? We doll ourselves up and go off up West, see the sights, though London’s not as lit as it was now we got them German Zeppelins starting to come over. Dropped bombs in Norfolk y’know – killed some people. So the shops ain’t lit like they used to be. But we usually meet a few soldiers, get them to take us to some decent club or pub and have a good time. You come along. You’ll enjoy it.’

  Madeleine nibbled at her lip. ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully.

  Memories of Freddy Dobson made her cringe inside from any man. At home she’d never been out of an evening without her parents. The only time she had ever gone out on her own had been with him and only for a briefly snatched half an hour, telling them she’d taken a walk through the village to put a little colour in her cheeks. She’d always been on edge the whole time she was away, except when lost in his arms and look where that had landed her, paying dearly for deceiving her parents.

  ‘You’ll be all right with us,’ Dolly was saying. ‘We won’t leave you on your own. They’re a nice bunch of friends. Rather like yourself except they’re still with their parents.’ It seemed Dolly already guessed she wasn’t living at home. ‘Do come, Maddie. I’ll make sure you come to no harm.’

  What could she do but nod consent, hearing Dolly cry, ‘Good!’ as if she’d done her a great favour by accepting her invitation.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day Madeleine could think of nothing else but the evening when Dolly said she would call for her. Excitement pulsed through her veins such as she hadn’t felt since those times when she’d anticipated meeting Freddy. It didn’t matter that the very thought of that now made her feel sick and ashamed, knowing how she’d been led into believing all sorts of lies from his lips; what she was feeling now at being invited to join Dolly’s little group of friends was akin to how she had felt then.

  On a whim, when leaving home, she had taken a couple of her lovely dresses with her. At that time she’d never thought she would wear them again. Her purpose had been to sell them for what she could get, knowing she might need the money. Now she was glad she hadn’t. This evening she would wear one of them.

  It was the fourth time she’d taken the two from the curtained alcove where they’d been hanging on wooden pegs, to scrutinize each in turn. One was heavy silk, salmon pink, the other lighter weight pale blue silk or ninon. Neither had creased at all, looking as fresh as the day they’d been ordered for her from a Parisian couture house in London for when she would have ‘come out’. Not too showy, quite modest in their way as expected of a young girl of only just eighteen, neither would look out of place tonight.

  She finally chose the blue with its floating drapery about the upper arms, tasteful silver embroidery about the neck and narrow skirt. The black, glacé kid court shoes which she’d not worn since leaving home and the black velvet Juliet cap from last year which she still wore would go very well with the blue. A pity she had only the one coat, but on a chill February evening who would pause to pass judgement? For so long Madeleine had worn only plain, shapeless garments while awaiting the baby, but this material felt good to the touch as did the silk stockings that had lain so long unused until now.

  The day was endless. With no interest in food as she waited, it was just as well there was little in the cupboard, half a small loaf – she’d have to buy another one soon – some margarine, a bit of cheese, some milk, a couple of eggs. She’d finally learned to make an omelette after several unsuccessful attempts, the ruined results of which she had bolted down in desperation at the time, all the while thinking of all those sumptuous meals she’d taken for granted at home.

  Now at seven o’clock she waited on tenterhooks for Dolly’s tap on her door. There came a moment of panic as she paced the room. Was she overdressed? If the others were casually attired she’d look silly. She’d dabbed her cheeks and nose with a little face powder in the box she’d taken with her to the home though with little use for it there. Regarding herself yet again in the tiny hand mirror she’d found on some second-hand stall, she stood biting at her lips to make them look pinker.

  Manoeuvring the mirror carefully this way and that she surveyed herself, realizing that she looked quite pretty. While pregnant there had seldom been any wish to look at her reflection in any mirror, the face staring back drawn and blotchy, the once slim shape become gross, the breasts heavy, the stomach more bloated by the day. Now that was all suddenly gone, her slim figure back to normal, her blue eyes, once dull, seeming to glow. Her hair, lifeless during pregnancy, had regained its blonde sheen. She’d lost all interest in herself during that time. But now she was…

  She almost jumped out of her skin as a sharp rap came on the door, hurrying to open it.

  Dolly stood there in a nice but cheap-looking dress of pink crêpe de Chine, Madeleine experiencing a glow of relief that by comparison her own was of far finer quality. Neither did she feel out of place any more.

  The girl gave an instant sigh of appreciation. ‘My, you look a proper lady. That dress must’ve cost a fortune!’

  ‘No,’ Madeleine said quickly, almost apologetically, suddenly feeling bad for her moment of superiority though not for the sense of relief she’d felt.

  ‘It’s second-hand reall
y,’ she continued to lie, though it wasn’t that much of a lie, having worn it before which might in truth make it second-hand.

  ‘The only decent thing I have,’ she went on, which was a lie. All the clothes she’d brought with her were of fine quality and expensive. She would have to take great care of them, make them last. She’d also take care of what she wore when with Dolly so as not emphasize their quality too much.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked Dolly.

  Madeleine nodded, hurriedly closing the door behind her.

  * * *

  Dolly’s four friends, Bess, Millie, Florrie and Hilda, turned out to be chatty and sociable and instantly enfolded her in their midst, calling her Maddie which was nice and for a while she forgot that lurking, insidious weight in her chest each time thoughts came of the baby taken from her.

  Gabbling and giggling, they introduced her to her first ever experience of the Underground, helping her on to a noisy, swaying train that had her on edge the whole time though they seemed not to notice the racket at all, merely lifting their voices above it.

  Alighting at Tottenham Court Road, they wandered along Oxford Street gazing into half-darkened store windows and on to crowded Piccadilly to revel in being ogled at by young uniformed men most out looking for fun not knowing how long before they’d be sent to France and possibly the front line. Thus banter was exchanged eagerly, unashamedly, almost desperately.

  Like Dolly they were from lesser backgrounds than hers, but had the advantage of still living with their families. London was their home. They wandered their city without fear whereas she had never before been let loose in London much less unchaperoned. But the war had changed a lot of things and tonight was an experience. Even so, they were expected to be home by eleven and would honour that. Though before then there was fun to be had.

  Hovering by the vast incurving display windows of the huge Swan & Edgar store, itself darkened against Zeppelin raids, Florrie grabbed hold of Madeleine’s arm.

  ‘Now they look likely,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you think?’

  Everyone’s eyes discreetly followed her sidelong stare, careful not to look directly at the group of four uniformed men who had begun to slow their pace, having seen them. ‘Don’t look!’ she breathed urgently, holding one hand up to her face as if to shield her words as the soldiers began to move casually across the Circus towards them as if by one accord.

  ‘That’s a pity. There’s only four,’ she continued to whisper as they drew nearer. ‘Maybe they know some more friends.’

  The girls spread themselves out as the young men reached them. Madeleine stood back, her eyes concentrated on the pavement, uncertain, loath to meet any of the male glances and appear forward. It had not been the way she’d been brought up.

  Seeing her reaction, Dolly too moved back to stand with her. ‘Are you all right, Maddie?’ she asked. Madeleine half nodded half shook her head.

  ‘I’m not accustomed to picking up men. We’ve not been introduced,’ she hissed. But Dolly gave a low tinkering laugh.

  ‘We’re not picking them up, love. We’re just passing the time of day – or night – with them.’ She laughed at her own joke. ‘No harm in that. If we stay in a crowd no harm will come of it. They may even buy us a drink. Lord knows, we can’t afford much ourselves. Come on, love!’

  But it was already too late. Standing back, they’d been ignored as the young soldiers concentrated on the four who were happy to exchange banter for banter which was growing more enthusiastic by the moment.

  ‘But we can’t go off without our other two friends,’ Hilda was saying. ‘We can’t leave ’em behind.’

  ‘Then let ’em come along,’ quipped one in a jolly tone, ‘all the more the merrier, eh?’ At which the girls giggled.

  ‘By the way, I’m Joe,’ he went on with a faintly East Anglian accent. ‘This ’ere is Bob, an’ Arthur an’ Stan, OK? An’ what’s your names?’

  While he was being told, Dolly and Madeleine included, the soldier named Stan gave Madeleine an appreciative glance only to quickly lower his glance as her wide-eyed, guarded stare met him, making him turn hastily back to the friendlier girls, leaving her aware that she had frozen him out with what must have appeared a haughty, stand-offish response.

  Beautiful features or not, striking figure or not, he was a fighting man waiting to be sent to The Front and certainly not prepared to be spurned out of hand by someone who thought herself a cut above the rest. Madeleine could almost hear him saying the words to himself. ‘Too stuck up for me!’ The trouble was, Dolly, hovering almost protectively beside her as they moved off together, was losing out too. Without her, Dolly might have been one of the lucky four. But Dolly had stayed with her and it made her feel wretched. She wasn’t enjoying this evening half so much now as they tagged along in the wake of the now giggling, wisecracking eightsome.

  Seven

  They were wandering down Piccadilly towards Green Park so Dolly told her.

  ‘That’s where the Ritz Hotel is,’ she said proudly as if she were giving a guided tour. ‘Where all the rich lot stay or have high tea and banquets.’

  Madeleine had a mad idea that they might be considering going into this grand place for something to drink. Moments later she realized what a silly thought that was. These ordinary young soldiers would never have that kind of money.

  Instead, long before they reached there, Joe, who seemed to be the leader with the most to say, pulled up to gaze down a side street. ‘That looks like a decent boozer, respectable-looking enough for you ladies if you don’t mind going into a public house.’

  Madeleine felt herself recoil inwardly. She had never been inside a public house in her life but Bess gave a little whoop. ‘I know this place. Me and Florrie have been here before, with an escort of course – wouldn’t dare go in alone! But it’s got a snug, a saloon, and that’s quite decent for women.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ cried Joe, steering them into the side street towards the place, Madeleine and Dolly compelled to follow.

  Inside was quite pleasant, and quiet, only a few drinkers. The noisier crowd would turn out later from cheap theatres, cafes and restaurants.

  They found a secluded corner of the saloon. Joe and Arthur, after collecting their orders, went to get them, port and lemon for the women, beer for themselves. Seeing the readiness with which they were willing to pay out for their female companions, Madeleine felt that they expected later to get some reward for their generosity and was glad that none of them had singled her out. Knowing this, she now felt slightly easier.

  Through the open door of the saloon flowed the deep boom of men’s voices but here it was much quieter. Sitting on a long bench by the far wall with Dolly one side, Hilda the other with Arthur’s arm already about the girl’s waist, next to them Millie being similarly mauled by Stan, she sipped her drink, glad that no one’s arm was about her waist.

  Conversation flowed easily back and forth, no one noticing that she sat quietly. Seated on a chair next to Florrie, Joe had been trying to kiss her cheek which she was resisting with much giggling and wriggling.

  Suddenly she leapt up almost knocking Joe sideways off his chair. Having glanced through the open door between saloon and public bar as Joe tried again to get her attention with another slobbery kiss, she burst out, ‘Oh, look! That chap in the bar, I know him!’

  She leaned over the beer-stained table, calling out, ‘Coo-ee… Alfie! Over here! In here!’ making those in the saloon look round at her.

  Moments later she was out of her seat, making for the open door, hobble skirt impeding her efforts to run.

  Disappearing through the doorway, she could still be heard calling out: ‘Alfie!’ though more muffled now.

  Moments later she’d returned, her arm through that of a young naval rating. Trailing behind them another young seaman, obviously a friend, was looking a little bewildered.

  ‘Everyone,’ she announced. ‘This is Alfie. We met quite a while ago. When was it?’ she asked, tur
ning to him, ‘Around Christmas, wasn’t it? He was on leave. And I found out he lives in the next turning to me. We met just by accident and got talking and went out for the evening. I’ve not seen him since, have I, Alfie? Come and sit down. Your friend too. And you are…?’

  ‘George, me name’s George,’ issued the faltering reply.

  ‘Well, come and sit down then, George,’ Florrie piped. ‘Joe, move up, there’s a love, and give him room.’

  Begrudgingly, he moved to oblige, compelled to squeeze himself on to the bench, his body so close to Madeleine’s that she found herself mentally cringing away from its imagined warmth.

  ‘Ain’t it wonderful though?’ Florrie continued. ‘Us short of a couple of nice chaps and along comes you two. Dolly and Maddie rather got left out so it’s really fortunate finding you two. Maddie is Dolly’s new friend and we only met her this evening but she’s ever so nice, you’ll like her.’

  She stared across at Stan. ‘Be a love, Stan, and find us another chair for Alfie here.’

  The extra chair having been brought, Alfie promptly occupied it to instantly fall into reminiscent conversation with her, Dolly becoming occupied with the young sailor George, leaving the cocksure Joe to remain where he was beside Madeleine.

  ‘Now, tell me about yourself,’ he crooned. ‘You’ve not said much so far but from what you ’ave said, I’d say you was somewhat on the posh side, well brought up like. Where d’you come from?’

  Compelled to respond, she said faintly, ‘I lived in Buckinghamshire.’

  ‘Posh family then,’ he said. ‘Well brought up, eh.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she began but broke off as his arm came about her, seeing him grin at her attempt to squirm out of the embrace.

  ‘You said lived. Then if I’ve guessed rightly, you’ve left home, run off. And now you’re free to do as you like, eh? I bet Mummy and Daddy would be horrified to see you now. Still, they’re there and you’re here and so am I. But don’t worry. I’m not going to start anything, at least not here. I’ll just tell you all about meself fer now and you can tell me all about yourself.’