Debutantes (28 page)

Daisy looked at herself. The black brought out the blonde of her hair, made her skin look very white, her cheeks the palest pink, slimmed her slightly plump figure and made her cornflower blue eyes glow.

And it made her look incredibly poised and sophisticated.

‘And this little cropped white linen jacket from Chanel,’ murmured the saleswoman, slipping it over Daisy’s shoulders and standing back to gauge the effect.

‘She’ll need a hat,’ said Rose, looking with interest at her sister.

‘Something girlish,’ said Elaine nervously, but it was she who, after scanning the shelves, came back with the perfect hat – more of a headband really, but with a beautiful coiled feather which would curl itself around Daisy’s head and show up the blonde of her hair.

‘
Parfait
,’ said the sales assistant. ‘Madame has such taste.
D’accord
, your daughter resembles you so much. You know what will suit her.’

‘She’s not her daughter,’ said Rose.

‘I should have said “sister”,’ said the woman rapidly.

‘Wrong again,’ said Rose cheerfully. ‘She’s her niece.’

‘Rose!’ said Elaine, looking most embarrassed, but Daisy was too occupied with looking at herself in the looking glass to scold Rose. I look perfect, she thought, and then she looked at the price on the hat and got a shock.

When the saleswoman went off to put away the discarded hats, Daisy tackled Elaine.

‘I say, Elaine, that’s an awful lot of money you are spending on me – and you’ve given us so much already. And then there are all Violet’s clothes for her presentation and everything.’

Elaine looked surprised. ‘I never think about the price of things when I am buying clothes.’ Her voice was sincere and Daisy thought she would say no more. It must be nice to have always had money, she thought. And then she wondered whether money had made Elaine happy.

Next day, Elaine and Violet settled down with a pack of invitation cards and a list of caterers and the arrangements for the ball began. They were blind and deaf to anything else and only too happy for the other girls to amuse themselves. Poppy and Daisy came quickly to an agreement that Rose would accompany one or other of them on alternate days. So she went either to the music shops of Denmark Street – where Baz was liable to appear – or to the film studios of West London. Morgan was quite happy to trust to Daisy’s godfather to look after the two girls, but informed her privately that he stuck like a limpet to Poppy and Baz.

‘Some funny folk in the music scene,’ he said with a grin. ‘Not sure your father would think much of them, but I’ll make sure they are safe.’

Eventually the great day of Violet’s coming-out ball arrived. Daisy was the first to be ready and when she came downstairs she found Bateman reassuring Elaine.

‘I wouldn’t worry, my lady – everything will be fine. The hired staff are all very adequate – need telling, of course, but so far they’ve carried out their duties in a most satisfactory manner.’ It had been a wonderful inspiration on the part of her father to have sent Bateman with them to London. Elaine was shy, diffident and wary of trusting her own judgement about anything other than clothes. Now, with Bateman in charge, she could concentrate on getting new outfits for the three girls and making sure that she and Violet would be splendidly dressed for the presentation to the King and Queen.

Daisy looked around the house with approval. It was such a change to live in a place where the curtains and carpets were new, the paintwork was shining, the pictures were light, fresh landscapes, not gloomy, smoke-smeared oil paintings, and the furniture shone with a high polish.

There were mirrors everywhere – every wall opposite a window was lined with them and they filled the house with light. Daisy looked at herself in one of them with satisfaction. She herself was as smart as the paintwork, she thought. Her hair was bobbed in the latest fashion and it swung around her neck, giving her head a lovely light feel. Her dress was incredible: closely fitting around the shoulders and then falling straight down to just above the knee in cascades of pale pink frills, set on a rich, deep pink background. Over it she wore the long rope of pearls given to her by her godfather and they added the perfect touch.

Daisy took a few experimental dance steps and watched how the dress shimmered and the colours blended as she moved. The dress was so short that for the first time in her life her legs, encased in white silk stockings, looked quite long. She pointed a toe and pirouetted and then came face to face with Justin, who had wandered out of the dining room and into the back hallway. He had been on business in London and was as much of a fixture in the house here as he had been at Beech Grove.

‘You look like one of the flower fairies in my little niece’s book,’ he said with a grin.

‘Your favourite reading material, of course.’ Daisy wasn’t going to admit to being embarrassed.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’m a great fan of the flower fairies. I love the way that you can see them at the bottom of your garden when twilight comes, don’t you?’ His voice changed as he looked around. ‘Where’s Violet?’ he asked.

‘She’ll be down in a moment.’ Daisy studied him. He looked pale and his eyes were heavy as though he had a headache or something.

‘Have you had a bad day looking for a job?’ she asked. She herself had had a wonderful day with Sir Guy at his West London film studios. She had worn her latest outfit, a little close-fitting pink velvet hat and an elegantly cut, tan-coloured coat made from wool so fine that it clung to her figure like a silk dress. The young men in his studio had all been watching a film and shouting praise and criticism when they arrived, but they had fallen silent as she had stood in the light of the opened door.

However, what came next was even more satisfying as all these young men viewed her revised film, exclaiming, voicing comments and suggestions, and showing how they appreciated the artistic decisions involved in making cuts and re-jigging scenes from the original film. And eventually, prompted by Sir Guy, they had estimated its commercial worth as forty pounds – something that made Sir Guy exclaim that he would soon be bankrupt if this sort of extravagance went on.

Remembering the fun, she smiled involuntarily, but then frowned as she thought of how she had begged Elaine to ask the boys from the film studio to Violet’s coming-out ball, but Elaine, usually so pliable, had refused.

‘These are not the sort of young men that you ask to a dance, Daisy,’ she had said, commenting, ‘They are not our sort, dear,’ and explaining that it might spoil Violet’s chances if riff-raff were allowed to attend her coming-out ball.

However, she had acquiesced happily to Poppy’s request to issue an invitation to Baz and his friends, who were all in London for the season. None of them were rich – all were younger sons – but all came from aristocratic families. Daisy eyed Poppy enviously as she came down the stairs and Justin gave a whistle of admiration, saying, ‘I say, what a dress!’

‘Pretty good, isn’t it?’ Poppy glanced over her shoulder at the tall looking glass. Her dress was of wine-coloured silk and Justin was right: it certainly looked spectacular with her mane of dark red hair.

‘You must never cut your hair.’ He seemed anxious to talk to Poppy now and not to resume his conversation with Daisy about getting a job.

‘I certainly will!’ declared Poppy. ‘But we thought it might be best to do it one at a time in case Father dies of apoplexy. Daisy and I drew lots to see who would be first.’

‘Hope you two silly girls don’t try to persuade Violet to cut her beautiful hair. I don’t know why women are bobbing their hair all over the place. Not a man that I know likes it.’

‘Perhaps the girls do it to please themselves,’ said Poppy coolly. ‘Perhaps that is more important than trying to please men.’

‘I’ll go and fetch Violet,’ said Daisy. A peep into the front hallway showed that the first guests had already arrived. Bateman was welcoming them and would take them into the long drawing room and introduce them to Elaine. Violet should be there – it was supposed to be her coming-out ball after all. Elaine had told Daisy and Poppy that they were to stay in the background and let Violet shine.

These first guests were a family party – a woman who had known Elaine in the days when Elaine and her younger sister had been debutantes together. She was accompanied by her son and her striking-looking daughter, who was sporting a haircut as short as any boy’s. This must be the Eton crop, thought Daisy as she sped upstairs to fetch Violet, who was in her room, looking through copies of
The London Illustrated News
showing last week’s debutantes arriving at the palace. Next week would be Violet’s turn. Elaine had insisted on buying a new dress for the occasion. Full-skirted and slightly old-fashioned so as not alarm their majesties, the dress was hanging in the wardrobe, the regulation ostrich feathers placed on the top shelf, carefully wrapped in tissue paper.

‘Are you ready, Vi? The guests are starting to arrive.’

Violet looked up at her and Daisy saw such a storm of emotion in her eyes that she sat down beside her and put an arm around her.

‘I can’t believe it’s actually happening, Daisy – I never really believed it could. This is it – I have to be perfect or it will all be for nothing.’

Daisy squeezed her sister’s shoulder. ‘Well, you look perfect, so that’s a jolly good start. Come on, let’s go downstairs and you can see your dreams come true.’

Violet’s dress for the ball was quite spectacular. It was made from emerald green silk, but the silk was barely visible because thousands of tiny blue feathers – just fluffy pieces of down – were sewn on to the fabric. The rich green-blue colour enhanced the intense blue of Violet’s eyes. Daisy escorted her sister downstairs and enjoyed the effect that she made.

‘Look at Justin. His eyes are standing out on stalks.’ Daisy whispered the remark into Violet’s ear when they reached the door of the long drawing room. Justin was standing in the background, but his eyes had widened at the sight of Violet.

And then everyone turned and saw Violet and gasped. Lord Elbury, heir to a dukedom, sprang forward and seized her by the hand, smiling down at her. Violet continued to hold his hand, but went from guest to guest welcoming them with smiles, and then went to stand beside her aunt who was dressed in pale yellow – Violet looking like a bird of paradise beside a pretty, though nervous, farmyard chicken.

And still Lord Elbury kept his place beside her, engaging her in conversation, laughing from time to time. Daisy stole a glance at Justin and saw that his eyes were full of sadness. When he saw her looking, he rapidly readjusted his features and turned away with an air of indifference and began to flirt with Violet’s friend Marjorie.

How many people are really enjoying themselves? Daisy wondered as she looked around the room. The orchestra had struck up the first few notes – Poppy and Basil, now joined by George and Edwin, were openly laughing at the prim genteel sound they were making as they played an old-fashioned waltz, but the rest of the faces were serious. Violet floated in the arms of David the Heir. There was exactly the same smile on her beautiful face as when she danced with Lord Elbury, but she didn’t look as she had on the night she had tangoed in the arms of Justin. Some of the girls were dancing, but most were standing by the side of the room, looking glumly certain that no one was going to ask them to dance. Young men were in short supply – even numbers of male and female had been asked, but the young men were obviously going to arrive late. Daisy looked at Elaine’s worried face and felt sorry for her. She certainly didn’t look as though she was enjoying herself. Many of the older women there had been older sisters or cousins of people she had known during her debut year, but they seemed to have little to say to her.

She moved a little nearer. Elaine was hesitantly smiling at the father of a girl of Violet’s age, who was looking down at her with his eyeglass.

‘We’ve never met,’ he was saying, ‘but I’ve heard of you, of course.’

And Elaine winced, then caught Daisy’s eye and tried to smile. There was some sort of mystery about Elaine; there was no doubt about that. This man seemed to be implying something as he peered at her through his eyeglass before letting it fall and shaking her hand with that look of curiosity still on his vacant-looking face.

Men! thought Daisy, feeling suddenly irritated. She marched down to the jazz band boys and Poppy. Simon was lost in an unhappy dream, staring moodily at Violet, his passion for her unabated, but the others were amusing themselves. Edwin was pretending to play a violin, Basil was at an imaginary piano, and George tapped daintily at an invisible tambourine.

‘You’re supposed to be dancing,’ said Daisy crossly. ‘Go on, Poppy, you can have one of them. The rest of you must go off and select some girl without a partner and ask her, very politely,  to dance. If you don’t do that, I shall personally see that you have a very poor supper and won’t get asked again.’

‘What’s got into you?’ Poppy raised her eyebrows in amazement, but grabbed Basil by the arm and steered him on to the floor. The other three boys gave Daisy an astonished look, but obediently crossed the dance floor, huddled together for reassurance, and appeared to be asking the nearest girls to dance.

Daisy looked over at Justin, who was still staring at Violet in the arms of David. She couldn’t quite treat him the way she had treated the jazz band, and tell him to dance. But then she tilted her chin and thought, why not? This is the 1920s, not the Victorian era. Women have rights as well as men.