Fragile Wings

by Rebecca S. Buck

  “I’m sure we can make time.” James looked pleased. Evelyn was glad of his kindness, which was rather less demanding than Lilian’s.

  “Yes, we can,” Lilian interjected, “as long as we can round out the day with tea at Claridge’s.”

  “Of course. That’s one of the sights of London too, after all.”

  Lilian smiled, satisfied. A few more paces along the road, and she paused. “And now, here it is! One of my favourite places in the whole city.”

  Evelyn looked at the building they had halted outside. A town house, like the others on the street, it had all the appearance of being nothing but a rather large house. The exterior was brown bricks and there were white-framed Georgian windows, like most of the houses in this part of London. The only sign that it was something other than a house was that the area immediately outside the door was tiled in white and black tiles and surrounded by a wrought-iron railing. Above the black painted door was a very small sign, with a picture of a yellow orchid. Very small black writing beneath it read Cafe. Jazz etc. And that was all. Evelyn was surprised that Lilian could be so enthralled by somewhere so unassuming and lacking in obvious display or glamour. It made her all the keener to venture inside, to understand Lilian and her world a little more.

  Lilian was watching her with a big smile. “It doesn’t look much at all, does it? But you wait, my darling. In here, this is where life feels like it’s worth something.”

  “I think that’s rather an exaggeration, Lilian.” James sounded tired, yet still indulgent.

  “For you, perhaps. But not for me.”

  “Well, perhaps we should go in and allow Evelyn to decide for herself, what do you say?”

  Lilian grinned and reached for the brass door handle.

  *

  Although the exterior of the building looked like a grand residence, this belied the interior which was like nothing Evelyn had ever seen. The whole of the ground floor was one large room, which narrowed towards the rear, where there seemed to be a bar, behind which Evelyn glimpsed rows of bottles on neat shelves. The bar was built from a wood so dark it was almost black, which was matched by the lower half of the walls, the wood panelling reaching as far as a decorative dado rail. The upper part of the walls were a light shade of yellow, dotted with the sconces which provided the electric light. These lights were muted with grey and white stained glass shades with a geometric sunburst pattern. On all of the walls were large mirrors, the shape of which mirrored that straight-edged sunburst style, with black and white enamel accents. The whole impression was something extraordinary to Evelyn, so modern it seemed a vision of the future, not the present, and yet without a trace of vulgarity. She thought it graceful and exciting. All over the black and white mosaic floor were positioned tables and chairs, and these had clusters of people gathered, a riot of bright colours, sparkling gems, feathers and velvet cloaks, black ties and dinner suits and all manner of patterns. It appeared Lilian’s outfit was not so extraordinary after all. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke, mostly from the cigarettes being smoked at every table, but with the sweet fragrance of cigar and pipe to make it a headier, more cloying odour. The smoke and relatively dim lighting made the place seem almost mysterious, only adding to the subversive glamour Evelyn was already half in love with.

  A rising swell of conversation and piano notes met Evelyn’s ears as she followed Lilian through the door and deeper into the room. This burst into a series of delighted exclamations, as those gathered inside looked up and recognised Lilian.

  “Lilian! Good to see you!”

  “Are you singing for us this evening, Lilian? I was so hoping you would be!”

  “Lilian Grainger, it’s been far too long since I saw you!”

  “Lilian, how are you this evening. Oh, and your brother’s with you too. How nice…”

  Evelyn was suddenly surrounded by the attention of a whole flock of smiling faces. She noted that James was not welcomed in the same way as his sister, and she also noted that Lilian did not respond to every well wisher individually. Rather, head held high, she glided towards the rear of the room, smiling and nodding, reaching out to shake an occasional hand. It rather put Evelyn in mind of a royal visitation. Lilian clearly enjoyed the attention and the feeling of being special to those who knew her, but not so much that she felt it necessary to return the same warmth of greeting.

  “You’d think we were in the presence of Queen Mary, wouldn’t you?” James asked from close behind Evelyn.

  She turned, with a smile. “Lilian certainly is popular.”

  “I’m just happy they pay more attention to her than they do me,” James replied. “Aha, looks like we’ve found our table.”

  Evelyn looked back to Lilian, who had made her way to a small table against one of the walls, towards the back of the room, and not too far from the bar. At the table was a woman, her dark hair cropped dramatically into a bob shorter than Lilian’s, the line of her fringe across her forehead surely only achieved with the help of a ruler. The points of dark hair ended just below her cheekbones, drawing attention to a pale face and eyes as heavily kohled as Lilian’s. Dressed in a midnight-blue and mint-green gown, but with bare shoulders and arms as far as elbow-length blue gloves, the woman was less exuberantly outfitted than Lilian, but made just as startling an impression. Crystals sparkled all over her dress, as she stood to welcome the newcomers.

  “Lilian, dear, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it. James, darling, good to see you.” She glanced at Evelyn with inquisitive dark brown eyes.

  “We’ve had quite an evening,” Lilian began, oblivious that she had not explained Evelyn’s presence, “if you don’t mind—”

  “You too, Dorothy.” James clearly set more store in the etiquette of introductions than his sister. “And may we present Miss Evelyn Hopkins. Our house guest.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Lilian grinned at Evelyn. “Evelyn’s from Devon, and she’s staying with us for a while. She’s never been to London before.”

  Evelyn glanced helplessly at James, wondering how to actually take a part in this introduction.

  “Evelyn, this is Dorothy Bettany, one of our good friends.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Evelyn held out a hand.

  Dorothy took it. “Delighted, my dear.” Dorothy contrived to say the words without sounding at all delighted, or even interested. Evelyn noticed what a still person Dorothy was. Her expression had barely moved or changed; she extended her hand with the minimum of movement and did not shake Evelyn’s hand, merely squeezed it with her fingers. Gracefully, she returned to her seat, gesturing laconically for Lilian, Evelyn, and James to join her in the remaining seats at the table. Evelyn sat between James and Lilian, opposite Dorothy, and tried not to stare at her latest new acquaintance. Dorothy was puzzling, but Evelyn found herself intrigued by this odd woman and keen to spend more time in her company.

  Dorothy reached into the embroidered bag which sat in front of her on the table, drawing out a cigarette, which she placed in a long ebony holder, before offering the packet around the table. Lilian and James both took cigarettes, then Dorothy held them towards Evelyn.

  “No thank you. I don’t smoke.” Evelyn found herself wishing she did, just so she could be the same as the others at the table.

  “Why ever not?” Dorothy asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

  “I never have, so I suppose I never thought about it.” In fact Evelyn disliked the smell of cigarette smoke and could not imagine inhaling it. However she did not really feel like explaining this to Dorothy.

  “Very well. But I think you should try. It’s awfully relaxing.”

  “I can’t imagine not having a ciggie, especially when we’re here.” Lilian accepted a light from James, who then reached across to perform the same service for Dorothy.

  “I suppose Evelyn could teach us all that there’s a different way to live.” James was smiling at her, but Evelyn felt slightly patronised by his tone. James seemed t
o at once be part of this high-fashion world of wealth and glamour and at the same time constantly making an effort to seem as though he was not. Evelyn wondered if his apparent cynicism was purely for her benefit.

  “Yes, it is good to get some outside blood into the place!” Lilian grinned and then looked up as a waiter arrived at their table. “What’ll you have, Evie?”

  Evelyn flushed, startled as the waiter turned his gaze on her. “I can’t say that I know,” she said hurriedly to Lilian.

  “You do drink, don’t you?” Lilian replied.

  “Well, not often, but I don’t mind…” Evelyn had drunk sherry at Christmas and brandy in her tea in winter and been given a warmed glass of stout when she had been recovering from a particularly nasty cold. But she rarely consumed alcohol and hardly ever for its own sake.

  “In that case, I’ll order for you.” Lilian looked as though she would enjoy the duty. “I’ll have a gin rickey for Evie here, and a Between the Sheets for me, please, Clive.” Lilian smiled a wide, lascivious smile at the suggestive name of her own order. The waiter, who was clearly also a friend, smiled and winked in response.

  “Anything for you, Miss Grainger.”

  “Oh, Clive, you’re too kind.” Lilian fluttered her eyelashes.

  “And I’ll have a mint julep, please,” James interjected, apparently not enjoying his sister’s flirting. The waiter looked to Dorothy.

  “What was that delicious honey-flavoured drink I tried last week?” she asked.

  “The Bee’s Knees. Vernon got the recipe from one of the singers, straight from New York.”

  “Really. That prohibition malarkey’s really working over there, then?”

  “All the Yanks who come here drink like fish. Thing is, though, they’re all making the gin in their bathtubs over there and we’ve got the proper stuff. Does mean they’ve got some good ideas for what to do with it—they do it to disguise the taste, of course.”

  “Well, providing you’ve not made any of it in a bathtub, I’ll take a Bee’s Knees, please.” Dorothy smiled slightly at the rhyming end to her sentence.

  “Right away, ladies.” Clive nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment on Lilian, then departed in the direction of the bar.

  “Is a gin rickey awfully strong?” Evelyn asked. She’d never tried gin and really was not sure what to expect.

  “It’s gin, lime, and soda. Just imagine lemonade, but with a delightful twist,” Lilian responded. “Only don’t gulp it as you would lemonade or we might be picking you up from the floor.”

  Evelyn smiled, anticipating her first drink in fashionable London with pleasure. Nagging doubts were quickly vanishing, the thought of West Coombe more easily pushed to the back of her mind. She felt surprisingly comfortable with these people, in these surroundings. And this world was so full of colour, sparkle, and curiosity, it was impossible not to want to drink in more and more of it.

  Lilian had the best view of the bar area from their table and Evelyn noticed that she glanced in that direction every few seconds. She followed Lilian’s eyeline and could not see anything to warrant such attention. A few men in black suits were clustered close to the bar, holding their cocktails in their hands and debating something robustly, but otherwise there was nothing remarkable. Yet Lilian kept looking. Evelyn wondered just how much she wanted the drink she’d ordered. Or perhaps she and Clive were courting. It was possible, although a humble waiter seemed a little down-to-earth for Lilian.

  Evelyn looked away from the bar to find Dorothy regarding her with those large brown eyes. “So, what brings you to London, Evelyn?”

  “I visited on behalf of my brother. He served with Frank Grainger in the war and had a letter to give to Lilian. Only he was shell-shocked and I didn’t know anything about it until this week. And since I’ve always wanted to see London, and it seemed important, I came right away.” Evelyn reflected that her story was more or less the truth and it sounded quite plausible when expressed that way. Dorothy, however, quickly saw the holes in Evelyn’s story.

  “You just came to London? On your own?”

  “Yes. It seemed so very important, you see, to deliver the letter.”

  “Do you have family in London?”

  “No, I don’t. My whole family are in Devon, most of them in West Coombe itself.”

  Dorothy’s eyes narrowed, as though she was seeing the truth but could not quite make it out. Evelyn felt uncomfortable under such scrutiny. “Did you know you could stay with the Graingers?”

  Evelyn considered her answer. She did not want to make it sound as though she had taken advantage of the letter to gain Lilian and James’s hospitality. And yet that was almost exactly what she had done. “No, I didn’t. I brought enough money to stay in a hotel, if necessary.”

  “That was awfully brave of you, my dear. Was there perhaps a reason you wanted to get away from home?” Dorothy smiled but it did nothing to dispel Evelyn’s unease. Dorothy’s tone suggested nothing but curiosity, yet Evelyn would sooner not explain her motivations, especially since James and Lilian were now paying attention to their conversation.

  “No, no reason. I’ve always wanted to see London.”

  “Of course.” Dorothy nodded. There was a pause, but she was not out of questions yet. “So, are you—were you—attached to anyone in West Coombe? Is there a fellow waiting for your return?”

  Evelyn flushed as the image of Michael rose in her mind. She shook her head and said, rather too firmly, “No, no there’s not. Nothing like that.”

  Lilian smiled broadly at this. “Well, London is the perfect place for you to find one, Evie! By the time you go home, we might even have you engaged!” Dorothy and Lilian both giggled. James rolled his eyes and Evelyn tried to smile. She was relieved when Lilian’s attention was drawn back towards the bar and a man approaching their table with a tray of drinks. Evelyn followed Lilian’s gaze.

  “I suppose we’ll have to endure Vernon’s company for a while, I see.” James spoke the words quietly, to Evelyn, though she was fairly sure Lilian would have heard. So this was Vernon, the owner of the establishment, whom Lilian seemed fond of and James apparently had no respect for at all. He was a handsome man, with black hair, slicked back smoothly from his forehead. He was dark complexioned, tanned despite the winter weather. Tall and slim, with angular shoulders, he wore dark tweed Oxford bags and a shirt with pale gold and blue stripes. He wore no jacket or vest and his collar was open. A dark blue bow tie hung loose and untied beneath his collar. He looked, compared to some of the other men in the cafe, as though he had not quite finished dressing before he entered the room. Evelyn found this made him more compelling than some of the more formally dressed people around her. He walked over to their table gracefully and bent to place the tray of drinks in front of them. His manner was confident, comfortable in his domain. Evelyn could not help drawing a comparison with James, who looked even more uncomfortable now Vernon was at the table.

  “Lily, darling, wonderful to see you again. And on time, for once. Very good of you.” Vernon smiled at Lilian, who blushed slightly and smiled back at him.

  “Vernon, my love, polite as ever. You’d wouldn’t have half of tonight’s customers if it wasn’t for me, and you know it.”

  Vernon reached for Lilian’s hand and kissed it with a show of mock gallantry. “Of course, Lily, dear, how can I ever make it up to you?” Vernon’s voice was rich and deep, a quality he seemed to make an effort to draw out. Each word was spoken slowly, as if for dramatic effect. Before Lilian could respond, Vernon turned his attention to Dorothy. “Dorothy graces us with her presence too. This is a delightful evening, I must say.”

  Dorothy pointedly did not offer her hand to Vernon for a kiss. “Good evening, Vernon. Have you been on the champers already?”

  “But of course, sweetheart. One can’t reach this point in the day without a glass or two of champers, you know that.”

  Dorothy smiled slightly. “Quite.”

  Unperturbed and clearly
used to Dorothy’s manner, Vernon turned to James. “Good evening, James. You look ever so disapproving tonight.”

  “No more so than usual, Singleton.”

  “Oh, how can I impress you, convince you I’m a good man?”

  “I think it’s unlikely.” James did reach out and shake Vernon’s hand. Evelyn wondered just how strong James’s disapproval was. Surely he wouldn’t even visit the cafe if he really disliked Vernon. Before she had chance to contemplate this further, Evelyn found herself looking directly into Vernon’s eyes. They were a vivid, piercing blue, quite at odds with his dark hair and complexion. He was smiling at her, so she smiled back, dumbly, hoping someone would introduce them.

  “And who is this delightful creature?” Vernon glanced at Lilian, then looked back to Evelyn.

  James took on the duty of introductions, after what seemed like a long time. “Singleton, may I present Miss Evelyn Hopkins, our house guest. Evelyn, this is Mr. Vernon Singleton, the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

  Vernon’s eyes swept over Evelyn’s face and she felt as though he took in every detail of her appearance, even as he reached out a hand. She allowed him to take hers lightly in his fingers. “Miss Hopkins, I am very pleased indeed to meet you.” Keeping his eyes on hers, Vernon raised Evelyn’s hand to his lips and kissed it, close to her knuckles.

  Evelyn was surprised at just how the gentle kiss made her nerve endings tingle. “I’m happy to meet you too,” she replied, wondering why Vernon was still holding her hand. She drew it back abruptly.

  “Are you just passing through, or will we have the pleasure of your company again?”

  Evelyn hesitated. “Well, I haven’t got fixed plans—”

  “You’ll see her again, Vernon. We haven’t talked about how long she’s staying with us, for now, but we’re in here so often, I’m sure this won’t be the only time Evelyn’s here.” Lilian’s interruption rather ended the need for conversation between Vernon and Evelyn. Vernon simply smiled once more and responded,