The Runaway Women in London

by Lesley Eames

  Looking around her, Grace felt another pang of regret at the thought of her London adventure ending. But many people never tasted adventure at all. The trick was surely to savour the memories without allowing them to sadden. Easier said than done, of course, but Grace was determined to try, starting by dragging every ounce of pleasure from today.

  A variety of races were planned for the afternoon according to the programme. As well as the women’s race, there was a race for novice drivers who’d never competed before and more races for cars of certain ages or horse powers. In most of them, the challenge of trying to beat the home team driver would add extra spice.

  The first race was the novices’ event and Grace moved onto the viewing stand to watch it, smiling at the sight of modern sports cars lining up with venerable old boneshakers. The starter lowered a flag and the race began. It looked like chaos to Grace, with drivers getting in each other’s way and sometimes coming to grief in the sandbags that lined the route. It was a huge car that looked like it had been around in old Queen Victoria’s day that finally crossed the line first. As pure entertainment, the race couldn’t have been bettered.

  The second race was more serious. Hux was amongst the drivers, distinctive in a dark green Groves car and matching overalls. This race was ten miles long, which meant numerous turns around the track. After the first circuit, four cars had pulled ahead, Hux’s amongst them. After the second lap, two cars had increased their lead and, again, Hux’s was one of them. Neck and neck for the last laps, the other driver suddenly pulled across Hux’s path and Grace’s heart skipped several beats before she saw Hux had managed to brake in time to avoid a collision. It cost him the race, but the crowd understood that his quick reaction had prevented an accident and cheered him loudly. Grinning, Hux waved back.

  How exciting it was!

  Grace’s heart was in her mouth as she watched Harry in the next race. Being a shorter length, no driver could afford to bide their time so they challenged from the beginning. The speed was breath-taking but Harry’s reflexes were incredible and the crowd was screaming when he screeched across the finishing line in first place. Goodness!

  There were no team drivers in the fourth race, so Grace went in search of Lydia, finding her pacing the courtyard, looking wonderfully stylish in the dark green overalls but white-faced with nerves.

  ‘This is what you’ve always wanted,’ Grace reminded her. ‘Think of all the knock-backs you had when you were looking for work. This is your chance to show the world men are fools not to take women drivers seriously. Get out there and fight.’

  Lydia stopped pacing. ‘You’re right,’ she said, and there was fire in her eyes. She marched off to where Sam and Hux were waiting. Harry stood nearby but kept back, though, when Lydia drove off, he joined Grace in moving to the track to watch.

  For all Harry’s stiffness, his breathing quickened as Lydia took her place in the starting line. ‘Come on, Lyd,’ he murmured.

  She didn’t get off to the fastest start, possibly due to her nerves. Circling the track in third position, Lydia found an almost non-existent gap and moved into second place. The crowd uttered a collective, ‘Ooh!’ and Harry cried, ‘Attagirl!’

  Glancing across at him, Grace saw fervour in his eyes and wondered if there were more to it than admiration of Lydia’s skill. Something personal perhaps. If Harry were attracted to Lydia and she’d rejected his advances, it would explain the awkwardness between them.

  Grace’s attention turned back to the race as it was nearing its end and Lydia was running out of time. She made as if to overtake the leader on the left and the driver moved across to block her, not knowing it was a trick to open up space. Quick as a lightning, Lydia overtook on the right and Grace felt a burst of pride. The crowd loved it too and cheered Lydia home.

  ‘You little darling,’ Harry said, under his breath, but when they rushed to congratulate her he followed slowly, a shuttered look on his face. Only when everyone else had spoken did he utter a cool, ‘Well done.’

  Lydia put on a show of equal indifference to him, but it was obvious to Grace that she’d hoped for more.

  Grace stepped closer to Harry as Hux asked Lydia a question about her tyres. ‘Lydia can be difficult, but she has a heart of gold under the prickles. And not half as much confidence as people might think.’

  He sent her a sharp look, but then his attention was caught by someone else. Grace saw a grand lady in furs and jewels approaching with a retinue of friends.

  ‘Hello, Lady Violet,’ Hux grinned.

  ‘Good afternoon to you, Mr Huxtable. To you also, Mr Perkins,’ she said. Then she turned to Harry. ‘Well, godson, I said I’d come to witness you risking life and limb for no good reason and here I am.’

  Harry kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I can’t pretend to understand why you drive around a track that goes nowhere, but I suppose congratulations are in order.’

  ‘We do it for the thrill,’ Harry told her. ‘And so we can build better and better cars. Faster cars are the way of the future but I expect you came in a horse-driven coach.’

  He was teasing and she slapped his arm with a glove. ‘Naughty boy. Parkes brought us in the Lanchester. You know Ethel and Marjorie, of course. This is Neville Mays and this is Thomas Kemp. My godson, Harry Dellamore. His mother and I were the best of friends when we were gels. Then she took up with an American and decamped across the Atlantic.’

  ‘My mother was madly in love with my father as you know very well.’ Harry shook hands, then introduced the rest of the Fairfax Park party, Grace and Lydia included.

  Lady Violet raised an eyebrow at Lydia’s overalls. ‘My father would have beaten me if I’d worn trousers,’ she said, then saw Harry’s hackles rise. ‘You don’t have to remind me that times have changed and mostly for the better. Besides, my father was a most unpleasant man. You said something about tea?’

  ‘It’s all arranged,’ Harry told her.

  ‘Are you joining us?’

  ‘Too much to do, but I’ll show you the way.’

  Lady Violet dipped her head graciously. ‘Good day to you all.’

  Harry led them off to the tea room.

  Sam fetched mugs of tea for the rest of them, but the interval wasn’t a break for the home team. On the contrary, visitors were encouraged to come round, see the cars and talk to the drivers.

  ‘Do you let people try the cars on the track?’ Grace asked Sam. ‘They might be willing to pay for the experience.’

  ‘We’re onto that,’ Sam confirmed. ‘You’re the business brain of Silver Ladies, I hear. You should meet Stockton Groves, our partner. You and he would get on a treat.’

  Grace was going to miss all this so much: the excitement, the challenge, the company of people with the passion to follow their dreams… Above all, she’d miss the friendships.

  At the end of the afternoon, Hux drove Grace and Lydia back to the station.

  ‘How nice he is,’ Grace said, as they waved him off. ‘Sam too. And Harry, of course. I’m very fond of Harry.’

  Lydia said nothing.

  Grace was even sorrier to be leaving when Lydia was unhappy. Ruth too. Even Jenny had grown agitated when Grace had mentioned returning for the wedding.

  ‘You mustn’t wait for that. I’m not getting married for ages.’

  ‘I’ll visit as soon as I can,’ Grace promised, though she doubted that would be soon.

  Once she got a job she wouldn’t be able to spare the time. And until she got a job she couldn’t afford the fare. At least time and distance might give her heart a chance to heal.

  Despite knowing she was doing the right thing in returning to Ruston, Grace wept silent tears into her pillow that last night and shed more tears when Jenny and Ruth cried over her in the morning. Even Lydia needed to blink a lot.

  ‘Come now, no one’s dying,’ Grace said, determined to stay strong. ‘I’ve been looking at the diary and the number of bookings is building nicely. I know you’
re going to make a terrific success of Silver Ladies and I’m looking forward to hearing your news when you write.’

  All three of her friends were coming to see her off at Euston Station where their adventure had begun all those months ago. Grace took one final look around the office – how dear this place had become despite the hardships – then followed the others down to the Silver Lady.

  Her heart jolted when she saw Bryn Tedris playing football at the far end of the mews. He saw her too and watched as Grace’s case and portmanteau were loaded into the car. Picking his ball up, he came to investigate.

  ‘Hello, Miss Lavenham.’

  ‘Hello, Bryn.’

  ‘I’m not getting under your feet, am I?’ he asked, hesitantly.

  So that was the tale his father had spun to keep him away. ‘Not at all,’ Grace assured him.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’

  ‘Back to my grandmother.’

  ‘Bryn!’ Owen Tedris stood at the bottom of the mews.

  ‘I have to go,’ Bryn said. ‘I hope you have a nice visit.’

  ‘Actually, it isn’t —.’

  ‘Bryn!’ Owen shouted again.

  Bryn turned and broke into a run. ‘Coming, Uncle Owen!’

  Uncle Owen? Uncle?

  Forty-four

  Jenny found it hard to walk into Silver Ladies knowing Grace wouldn’t be sitting behind the desk anymore. It was even harder to see Grace’s bed, its bare mattress a stark reminder that she’d gone and taken her kind, bracing good sense with her.

  She’d laughed through her tears when they’d left her at the station. ‘What happened to our British reserve?’ she’d joked.

  Then she’d picked up her bags, sent them one last smile, and walked away.

  Brave Grace would say it was up to them to put the heart back into Silver Ladies.

  ‘Let’s make soup for lunch,’ Jenny suggested.

  The important thing was for the three of them to be together, even if Lydia left the cooking to the others. They duly gathered in the living quarters, but after deciding that Lydia and Ruth would tackle the evening’s booking, the conversation dwindled to nothing.

  Oh, dear. They were missing Grace and had their own troubles too. Lydia was smarting from her falling-out with Harry and Ruth… Jenny wasn’t sure if Ruth was upset about leaving the shoe shop or something else. But they had to find a way to move forward as a team.

  Someone knocked on the downstairs office door, then shouted upstairs. ‘Only me!’

  Johnnie. Thank goodness. He’d help to put some spark into them.

  Jenny greeted him in the office. He kissed her lightly, then tilted her chin so he could stare at her. ‘Just as I thought. A long face. More long faces,’ Johnnie observed, as Lydia and Ruth appeared. ‘I can’t replace Grace, I’m afraid, but I can bring a little comfort.’ He held up a paper bag. ‘Sugar mice.’

  ‘We’ll eat them after our soup,’ Jenny told him. ‘There’s plenty of soup if you’d like some?’

  ‘It’s even edible as I haven’t had a hand in making it,’ Lydia said.

  Already Johnnie’s warmth was helping. If they could get through the first few days without Grace, then perhaps they’d find a way of drawing closer again.

  Johnnie didn’t stay long, but he made them laugh and he also issued an invitation to the Empire Exhibition. ‘It’ll be fun and you can write to tell Grace about it.’

  They settled on the following afternoon as they only had a booking for the morning.

  Jenny walked him downstairs. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

  ‘I’m always glad to spend time with you, my love.’

  He wrapped his arms around her and Jenny rested her head on his shoulder. She loved this comfortable form of intimacy. She was less eager for the kiss that followed, though Jonas was only a faint image now and she didn’t recoil.

  The following afternoon they caught the train to Wembley. Entrance to the exhibition cost one and six each, and Johnnie insisted on paying, blowing an extra shilling on a copy of the official guide.

  ‘We won’t have time to see everything, but we can have a jolly good try,’ he told them. ‘There’s a lake, an amusement park, all sorts of palaces and we can travel around by Rolodoc.’

  ‘Rolo what?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘They’re like miniature trains, only they run on the road instead of a track,’ Lydia explained. ‘Look, there’s one.’

  Jenny smiled. Rolodocs looked like being fun.

  They were keen to see the most exotic displays, including the pretty, tiered towers of the Burmese Pavilion, the pristine domes of the Indian court, the Chinese shops of Hong Kong and the massive sculptured Egyptian gods. Johnnie spent time helping Ruth to take photos then, after a Lyons tea, suggested that, for Lydia’s sake, they should visit the Palace of Engineering and industrial exhibits, including the Flying Scotsman steam train and a replica coal mine. After another pause for cocktails at the West Indies pavilion, they rode the rides in the amusement park, including water chutes and the Jack and Jill ride that hauled them up high only to slide them down again quickly, making Ruth cling to Lydia in fright.

  Finally, they visited the Pears Palace of Beauty, where twelve young ladies posed as beauties from history. ‘You’d be perfect for Cleopatra,’ Jenny told Lydia, who snorted to suggest this was nonsense.

  Ever-generous, Johnnie bought them all souvenir Pears soaps with extras to send to Grace and her gran.

  A lively debate about the best displays in the exhibition occupied them on the journey home, though for Jenny the most important aspect of the day was that having fun had suspended their cares temporarily and helped them to relax with each other.

  It was all thanks to Johnnie, of course. How lucky Jenny was to be loved by such a man. How lucky she was in everything compared to the others.

  Grace must be worried sick about her future. Lydia and Ruth had troubles too. But Jenny was engaged to a man who not only adored her but also respected her as a modern working woman. She looked down at the ring he’d given her and wished she could find some way of showing how much she valued him in return.

  By the time he called for her on Saturday to take her walking, she’d had an idea. She ran down to the cobbles and kissed him.

  ‘That’s a nice welcome,’ he said, delighted.

  ‘I’m happy to see you.’ She slid her arm through his and they set off for Kensington Gardens.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Jenny said.

  Johnnie grinned. ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about our wedding and wondering if we should start considering the kind of occasion we’d like to have.’

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like more,’ he said, and with a whoop he picked her up and swung her round.

  Jenny laughed, but this was scandalous behaviour, and besides, she was concerned to ensure he understood what she did – and didn’t – mean, because she still needed time to become the sort of wife he deserved. ‘I’m not suggesting we bring the wedding forward,’ she explained, when he set her back on her feet. ‘I don’t want to unsettle Ruth and Lydia. But we could start making plans.’

  ‘Do you want to marry in London?’

  ‘Definitely not in Ruston,’ Jenny shuddered.

  ‘We could put your mother up in a hotel.’

  ‘Jonas too, unfortunately.’

  Johnnie didn’t mention his parents. They’d written to congratulate Jenny on her engagement but it had been a cold, formal letter. ‘Don’t let it bother you,’ he’d advised. ‘They’ll come round eventually.’

  ‘Bridesmaids?’ he asked now.

  ‘Grace, Lydia and Ruth, of course.’

  It felt good to make Johnnie happy, and Jenny hoped it would help her to put Jonas behind her once and for all.

  In time, they left the park to go to the Singing Kettle for tea. Hearing a voice raised in anger, Jenny looked up to see a cart in the road ahead of them. They couldn’t see the horse that was harnessed to i
t because they were approaching from behind, but the carter was beating the animal with a stick. ‘Be still, you bugger, or I swear I’ll beat the living daylights out of you!’

  Johnnie released Jenny’s arm and hastened forward. ‘Sometimes a gentle word works better than a stick,’ he told the carter.

  The man opened his mouth as if to tell Johnnie to mind his own business, but Johnnie’s immaculate appearance must have persuaded him that here was a gentleman who might be of influence with the police. Closing his mouth again, the carter stood sullenly as Johnnie took the reins in one hand and stroked the horse with the other. The horse’s eyes rolled. His hooves shifted. But then he blew through his nostrils and quietened.

  ‘That’s better,’ Johnnie crooned. He returned the reins to the carter. ‘There. Gently does it.’

  ‘Begging your pardon, mister, but some of us ’as work to do. We can’t stand whispering sweet nuffinks into animals’ ears when there’s things as need delivering.’

  ‘You’ll save time if he isn’t so restless. He’s nervous of the traffic.’

  ‘Horse ’as got to earn ’is living, same as me.’

  ‘I’m sure he will earn his living, given time to adjust. He’s from the country, I suppose?’

  ‘Dunno. ’E were sold for carting and that’s what ’e’s got to do.’

  ‘Just be patient with him, yes?’

  The carter sent Johnnie a sour look but didn’t answer.

  Johnnie took Jenny’s arm again and led her on. ‘I don’t suppose that chap will treat his poor horse any better,’ he regretted.

  ‘At least you tried.’ Johnnie really was the best of men.

  They were nearing the end of the street when they heard a thwack and a whinny of distress. Turning, they saw the carter hit the horse again.

  ‘I’ve a good mind to report that man for cruelty,’ Johnnie said.

  The poor horse had had enough. He reared up and bolted, the cart swinging from side to side and throwing out baskets of vegetables.

  A car turned into the road and hooted. With a neigh of terror, the horse veered sideways to avoid it.

  ‘Jenny, move!’ Johnnie urged, as the horse came towards them. He gave her a powerful push that sent her stumbling into a shop doorway.