Mayfair Rebel

by Mayfair Rebel (retail) (epub)

  Her grandmother murmured, ‘George looks very well, doesn’t he, dear, but I would be much happier if Della were safely remarried. I wonder sometimes if he pines for her, you know.’

  May was horrified. ‘Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid!’

  ‘My dear May, men are stupid, and they were married for a long time. So quixotical of him to acknowledge Harry’s bastard as his own.’ Melicent Andover moved away, leaving May gasping – really, the outspokenness of the older generation!

  May was at the far end of the drawing room when Walter arrived in the first wave of the gentlemen. He paused in the doorway and looked round, but before he could move, a flutter of befrilled débutantes settled on him and drew him off to their sofa. May, deciding it was time she changed her position, rose from the sofa where she had been talking to Louise, and was immediately waylaid by a beaming Jonny Yoxford. He was such an old friend that it was impossible to evade him, and May was pleased to see him. It was a full fifteen minutes before she could pass him on to a limpid-eyed nymph in a mass of cream and pink rosebuds. Then suddenly James Carson, an old admirer, was in front of her, and she found herself edged into the window embrasure almost before she had had time to see that Walter had broken cover from the frills, only to be ambushed by Mrs Farquhar, who had brought up reinforcements in the shape of the malicious Lady Canning. May noticed, as James Carson shifted slightly, that Walter was indeed looking down his nose, as Archie had predicted, and she smiled to herself.

  Mrs Farquhar bequeathed Walter to old Lady Benham, and May found herself sitting on the sofa where Walter had first started, under siege to a couple of young guardsmen who had never met May before, but seemed determined to remedy this omission as rapidly as possible.

  ‘I say, Miss Winton, where has Archie been hiding you all this time? Chained up in a tower, what?’

  The other interspersed, with ready wit, ‘No, no, Ames old boy, Miss Winton would never be kept prisoner – she’d just let down her long golden tresses and Rumplestiltskin would climb up and rescue her!’

  May laughed politely, though pretty certain they’d confused their fairy tales. She said firmly, ‘I live and work in Poplar: the slum, you know.’

  ‘Do you, by Jove – what fascinating things you young women get up to!’ But it was all too clear that what they really wanted to discuss was the fascinating things young guardsmen got up to; she listened to their tales of Ascot, Henley and Hurlingham with the best patience she could muster.

  She was beginning to think that she never would be able to finish the debate on the finer points of the teetotal movement when a deus ex machina appeared in the shape of Lord Hindlesham, with Walter Lisle in tow. Lord Hindlesham dispatched the two guardsmen in double quick time. May was not sure how he did it, but was very grateful – she felt if she heard one more tale of the horse that was just pipped at the post she would scream. The two men sat down on either side of her.

  Lord Hindlesham said, ‘Walter here tells me you need a résumé of tonight’s menu – really, May, I don’t know what you were thinking of, it’s not like you to be so careless of your food.’ His eyes twinkled and May found herself blushing, but he took pity on her and actually did give her a résumé, succinct and comprehensive. May asked a few pertinent questions which were quickly answered and then stored the information away in her memory for the following day. When he had finished Lord Hindlesham jumped up, made his farewells, murmured, ‘Please give my best wishes to Miss Carter, May,’ and then deftly intercepted a hovering Mrs Farquhar as she was about to swoop down on Walter.

  ‘He’s got a first class brain,’ said Walter as May carefully shook out her skirts to conceal the vacant seat – this heavy silk was much less effective than débutante muslin, but it would have to do – ‘But I do wonder whether he’s in the wrong party.’

  May felt she’d had this conversation before; perhaps Walter and Ellen should start a ‘Friends of George Hindlesham Society’, to steer him into different political channels. Thinking of Ellen she said abruptly, ‘That wasn’t my maid with me in Chrisp Street, it was a friend of mine, a fellow nurse.’

  ‘Yes, I’d worked that out. But Miss Winton, I’ve been so puzzled – you must have had a reason – why were you cheering on that wretched woman with the knife?’

  May was indignant. ‘She wasn’t a wretched woman, she’s Mrs Jones.’ Then she proceeded to spill out the whole sorry tale: Dolly Hills’ unfortunate scalping; Billy’s obsession with her hair; Big Liza on the ward – ‘Honestly I was terrified’; the gin bottle; and Mrs Jones’ plucky attempt to exact revenge.

  Walter listened in silence.Then he said, ‘I see, well, I think I do.’

  May burst out, ‘It was all that wretched Billy’s fault – getting into such a state about her hair.’

  Walter said slowly, ‘I agree, he behaved unpardonably to his wife.’ May thought wildly – did I mention Big Liza in Billy’s bed? I think I did – and he’s a clergyman. But Walter Lisle was continuing. ‘Yet I think I can understand his being so upset by the loss of her hair – even if it were only one tenth as lovely as yours.’ He leant forward, raised his hand and very gently touched May’s hair with his fingertips. They both sat quite still.

  ‘Have you two been exchanging stories of the good old days in the filthy slum, then?’ Archie’s voice broke the spell.

  May turned round, startled, then they burst out together: ‘It’s not a filthy slum!’ Walter stopped, May went on, ‘Well, it is, but it’s a very nice slum, too.’ The men laughed. May was firm. ‘Poplar has a park, and a pier, and a Town Hall – and there’s the Docks. Docks can’t be slums – the masts look so beautiful above the walls.’

  Walter said quickly, ‘Have you never been inside the East India Dock, Miss Winton?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, there’s always a policeman on the gate. I suppose I could have asked my father, he’s bound to know someone. It is silly, when St Katharine’s looks straight over it, and so many of our patients are dock injuries.’

  ‘Would you like to go inside?’ Walter’s voice was eager. ‘My father has connections with the East and West India Dock Company; I can soon get a pass. He often took me round as a child, I used to find it very exciting.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I would very much like to.’ Then May glanced at him, and hesitated – would Ellen or Ada be free to come as well? Archie, knowing Lady Clarence, understood her uncertainty. He said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, May, I’ll come too, and chaperone you for the afternoon. I’d like to see some yachts.’

  ‘Oh would you, Archie?’ May was delighted.

  Walter Lisle looked pleased. ‘That’s settled then. We’ll have to let Miss Winton fix the day, since her time off is so limited. But Archie, old man, I don’t think you’ll see any yachts in the East India Dock!’

  Archie made a face of comical dismay. ‘Never mind, for the sake of clear cousin May, and in view of our ancient friendship, Tate, I shall be there.’

  May turned back to Walter Lisle, and asked without thinking, ‘Why does Archie call you Tate? I had no idea he meant you.’

  Walter grinned. ‘They all do.’ He reached across to the tea tray, picked up a silver teaspoon and tapped it against the sugar bowl with a tiny ‘ping’.

  May said, ‘Of course, I didn’t think.’ She laughed.

  Walter said, ‘It’s not even spelt the same way, but once a nickname gets around it sticks.’

  Archie leant over the back of the sofa and whispered in May’s ear, ‘And you know the syrup tins? “Out of the strong came forth sweetness”? He’s very biblical, our Tate.’

  May was conscious of Walter’s simultaneous blush.

  The party broke up soon after. Lady Andover had wanted to take May on to Lady Towcester’s Ball, but May had been adamant. ‘I haven’t the energy, Grandmamma – we youngsters just don’t have your stamina!’ Lady Andover, aware of the long hours May worked, had let her off. May knew she could easily have coped, but she still wasn’t over-fond of dancing. Now, however,
she wondered if Walter Lisle were going to move on with the rest of the party. But he shook his head to Archie’s question.

  ‘No, early service in the morning. I’ve indulged myself enough for one day. Miss Winton, may I escort you back to Poplar?’

  ‘Thank you, but I’d have been locked out already, Mr Lisle. It’s my day off tomorrow, so I’m spending the night in Arlington Street. I shall have a lazy day.’

  Archie interrupted. ‘May’s idea of a lazy day, Tate, is to go and turn double somersaults at the Bath Club – still, each to his own. At least she’ll be able to fish you out of the Dock if you fall in, she’s like a salmon in the water.’

  May was not sure she liked this comparison, but Walter Lisle was taking his leave, so she promised him she would communicate with Archie as soon as she had a free half-day in the week. He shook her hand vigorously and left.

  May said goodnight to her grandmother and went upstairs, where Collins was waiting for her. She almost regretted the ball – she felt full of energy, and not at all ready for bed.

  Chapter Thirty

  To May’s distress, on the Monday following the dinner party and long before she was due for a half-day off, she was summoned to Matron, who told her that Jameson would be returning from convalescence on Saturday, so May would be starting nights on Abraham Ward at 9pm that Friday. Even Matron’s unusual condescension in telling her that Sister Elizabeth was ‘really quite pleased with your work, Nurse Winton,’ failed to comfort May. She thought of the possibility of asking for a prearranged two-till-five one afternoon – but knew it was scarcely possible. The Consultants on Elizabeth Ward did afternoon operations and ward rounds, and as Acting Staff Nurse she was needed then; besides there was always the likelihood of being delayed in coming off duty.

  May returned to Elizabeth feeling very downcast. As she reported back Sister said, ‘Matron told me this morning, Nurse. Now don’t let me forget to release you at midday on Friday, so you can get some sleep before your first night.’

  May’s head jerked up. ‘No, I won’t Sister – thank you so much.’

  Sister Elizabeth looked rather surprised, but was too busy to waste time speculating about May’s abrupt change of mood. May went off cheerfully to attend to Louie.

  ‘You look pleased, Nurse – just got yer Sunday dress back from the pawnshop?’ Louie screeched with glee at her own joke, while a laughing May tickled her toes until she squealed for mercy.

  May wrote a hurried letter to Archie and waited on tenterhooks until a telegram arrived: ‘Dock gates. One-thirty. Knock twice and ask for sugar.’ May crumpled it up and threw it into the wastepaper basket – then retrieved it hastily and hid it in her Bible, in case one of Home Sister’s spies should find it and report back that Winton, M.M.C., was planning to break bounds instead of going obediently to bed for the afternoon – one couldn’t be too careful.

  May was up before the rising bell on Friday morning, looking over her wardrobe. What did one wear for an afternoon at the Docks? Lady Clarence’s careful training was useless here. It must be a trotteuse skirt; but she had several of those. She gazed longingly at a fine linen costume of the palest blue, but she didn’t want to have to spend the whole afternoon trying to avoid dirty marks, so she pushed it back and settled on a well-cut but serviceable navy serge, and put it ready at the front.

  Sister Elizabeth was as good as her word. She dismissed May at midday with a brief word of praise which brought the colour to May’s cheeks. Louie said a rather tearful farewell, then May rushed down to first dinner.

  She took her time dressing, taking great pains from her stockings up – these were black silk, rather extravagant for afternoon wear; but she might be climbing ladders, no point in risking the exposure of everyday cotton, May thought. At last she was satisfied with her reflection in the mirror. She looked trim in the tailored navy, but the effect was not too severe because of the red and white cross stitch panels on her fine linen shirt. Shoes and gloves were another problem – nothing looked worse than soiled white gloves, May knew, so she opted for heavier street ones of red leather, despite the warm weather. She had to wear walking boots, but she could not resist her most elegant pair, close-fitting at the ankle with toecaps of patent leather. She glanced at the time, then wielded her button hook briskly. A white sailor hat with a matching ribbon of red satin completed the outfit, and with a flurry of skirts she was off.

  Minnie Emms, vivid in a tight-fitting scarlet outfit and with an improbably glossy bird perched on her hat, overtook May on the stairs.

  ‘Just off to Fulham for my half-day, to see the old folks at home. Where are you going, then, May? Thought you were on nights tonight.’

  ‘I am,’ May admitted. ‘Be a dear and see if the coast is clear for me, Minnie. I don’t want Home Sister to spot me.’

  ‘Okey Doke.’ After a quick reconnoitre Minnie gave the signal and May scampered past the office.

  ‘What are you doing, then, May?’

  May assumed a Cockney accent and gave the well-worn Poplar explanation, ‘I’m meeting a feller at the Dock Gate.’

  Minnie laughed. ‘That’ll be the day, when you get up to tricks like that.’

  As she spoke they came through the Hospital entrance and there, standing alongside the high stone archways and looking in their direction were the two tall, immaculately turned out figures of Archie and Walter Lisle.

  Minnie gasped. ‘An’ I thought you were joking!’

  Walter Lisle shot rapidly across the Dock Road, expertly side-stepping an ice cream tricycle. Archie followed a fraction behind him, but as they reached the pavement Walter fell back slightly and left Archie to speak.

  ‘Hello, May. So they did give you a remission for good conduct after all.’ He turned to Minnie, who was eyeing him with undisguised admiration. ‘Is your friend coming too?’

  May said hastily, ‘No she isn’t, she’s on her way to Fulham.’

  There was a squeal from Minnie. ‘You spoilsport, May!’ She nudged her in the ribs. ‘Now don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ With a provocative flick of her bright red skirts she was off down the Dock Road.

  May muttered under her breath, ‘That should give me plenty of scope,’ and then glanced guiltily at Walter Lisle; he raised his eyebrows in a comic parody of outraged modesty, and she knew she was going to enjoy the afternoon.

  Archie was gazing regretfully after Minnie’s swaying hips. ‘She looks a good sport – is that the girl old George met?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ May replied indignantly. ‘Ellen is quite different.’ Then remembering Minnie Emms’ ready connivance over Home Sister she added hastily, ‘But Minnie is very good-hearted.’ She swung round to their silent companion, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Lisle. I’m afraid Archie makes me forget my manners.’

  Walter seized her proffered hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Winton, I’m so glad we were able to arrange our outing. Come along Archie, it’s too fine a day to spend on useless repinings on the main road.’

  He took May’s elbow and piloted her skilfully across the busy street. May quite enjoyed the sensation of being taken care of on this very familiar thoroughfare, and it was a pleasure to let someone else be the recipient of the carter’s curses – hastily converted to an apology as he spied Walter’s badge of office.

  Walter Lisle was unperturbed. ‘The dog collar has its uses you see, Miss Winton.’

  The warmth of the sun on her back and the flutter of the ribbon on her light straw hat gave May a delightful sensation of being on holiday and she sprang onto the pavement with a swirl of her pleats.

  Walter smiled down at her. ‘You look as if you’ve just escaped from the schoolroom – you should have tied your hair in plaits with big red bows. Where has that wretched cousin of yours got to?’

  Archie finished his altercation with the driver of the loaded wagon trying to turn into the Dock Gates, and bounded up to them.

  ‘I must say, May, your slum citizens have got a fine command of l
anguage. I begin to see the attractions of this place – people are a lot livelier down here.’

  Walter produced his pass, which the policeman did not look at. ‘Back again so soon, Vicar?’

  May looked questioningly at her companion, who replied rather self-consciously, ‘I came down this morning to find out what ships were in dock, to show you.’

  May was touched by his thoughtfulness.

  As they came out of the archway she stopped suddenly, and Archie bumped into her from behind. She had caught glimpses of the scene before her in the past, but being inside the magic gateway was very different. The tracery of rigging on the slender masts visible over the high dock wall had always seemed so still and graceful, and somehow silent; but inside all was noise and activity. Her ears were assaulted with the shriek of steam whistles, the baying of horns and the confused shouting of voices; there was the intermittent rattling of chains. And there was constant movement: figures scurrying purposefully hither and thither, and a great crane moving along on stilts beside the high, blank, warehouses. Her eyes travelled on to the ships, their hulls looming sheer above the quays, overpowering at close quarters. Walter stood quite still and let her stare.

  Archie’s voice sounded in her ear, ‘Come on, May, I want to see the rest even if you don’t, get a move on.’

  May shook herself, glanced at Walter’s understanding face and walked on towards the action.

  Walter warned, ‘Watch out for the cranes and the trucks,’ in a voice of such assurance that May asked whether he often came to the Docks.

  ‘Not so much now, Miss Winton. I’ve only been in this area since the New Year – I was a curate in the Borough before – but my father often brought me as a child. My mother’s family had East India connections. I remember the first time, we came on the train from Fenchurch Street. You run above endless narrow streets, with just glimpses of the river in the distance; then there’s a viaduct and suddenly you look into a deep cavern below, full of water – and there was a white schooner, like a giant bird at rest. At least, that’s how it seemed to me at the time.’ He was a little self-conscious now. ‘I was only eight, and very impressionable. I thought it was going to be the gateway to the Orient!’