Hettie of Hope Street (29 page)

He looked at the parcel she had placed on his desk and then at her. ‘Polly,' he began uneasily. ‘I know it is none of my business but this…friendship that has developed between you and Sir Percival…'

‘Friendship?' What…what do you mean?' she demanded.

John looked down at his desk and then at her.

Had she not approached him like this he would probably not have said anything about what he had seen, but since she had…

‘I saw you and Sir Percival Montford together at the public house outside the village.'

‘No, you couldn't have done,' she denied immediately. Then she shook her head and began to laugh wildly. ‘Dear God, John.' She broke off and sank down into the chair next to his desk, covering her face with her hands as she wept. ‘Oh John, I am in the most dreadful fix…'

‘What kind of fix?' John asked her.

‘I have done the most dreadful thing, but I cannot tell you about it. I cannot tell anyone.'

‘Not even Lord Ralph?' John questioned gently.

‘Especially not him. He must
never
know about any of this. John, you haven't said anything to anyone about seeing me with…with
him
, have you? Please tell me you have not.'

‘Polly, what…'

‘No, you are not to ask me any questions. I forbid you to do so. I cannot bear it. I cannot…Especially not about
him
.' Polly shuddered and then said in a low tortured voice, ‘Now I cannot even bear to say his name and yet…'

‘Polly, I hate to see you so distressed. If you cannot tell Lord Ralph what is upsetting you, then
surely there must be someone who can help you? Your brother?'

‘Alfie? No, never.' She made a small violent movement and the brown paper parcel slid from the desk on to the floor.

Automatically John bent to retrieve it, but the string had become dislodged and as he picked it up he saw to his shock that the parcel contained bank notes.

He looked up at Polly, unable to conceal his feelings, and saw that she was looking back at him. ‘Polly…'

‘I have to give him the money, John,' she whispered. ‘He told me that if I do not he will tell…'

Her lips were trembling so much she could barely speak.

‘He is
blackmailing
you?' John guessed, appalled.

Polly nodded her head.

‘But…Why? How?' John demanded and then frowned as he wondered if perhaps Polly had confided to Sir Percival in an unguarded moment the same private secret she had told him. If so…

‘John, please, don't be shocked or turn away from me,' she begged him, white-faced. ‘I have been so very silly but I was so lonely, and he seemed kind at first. And fun. And then Alfie went all stuffy and told me that he was not considered the thing and was a “bit of a bad egg”.' She mimicked her brother. ‘Well, you know that I can't resist a challenge, John, and how I hate being told
what to do.' She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘So I thought…'

She paused and bit her lip as she looked away from him. ‘He invited me to have dinner with him, and I agreed. We arranged that I would go up to London and foolishly I imagined…' She looked down at her lap and then twisted her hands together agitatedly before suddenly touching her engagement ring as though it were some kind of talisman.

‘He met me from the station and he was driving the most beautiful roadster, John. I begged him to let me drive it, and he said that he would, but that first he wanted to show me something.

‘I thought he was just taking me to see some famous sight or other, but he took me to this house…' She gave a small shudder. ‘I should never have gone inside. I wasn't going to but then he asked me if Alfie had warned me against him and of course after that I
had
to prove to him that I could do as I pleased.

‘He took me into the house, a dreadfully small shabby little place in Chelsea, of all places. Everyone knows that that is where men house their mistresses,' she added disparagingly. ‘He made us both drinks. I can't remember how many we had. And then he said that he would have to get changed before we went out for dinner. And then…' She looked at him and John knew without her having to tell him what had happened.

‘He didn't force me, John,' she told him unsteadily. ‘I
could
have left. I
should
have left. But I had had so much to drink and…It was horrid. Awful. And I felt so…I couldn't bear to look at my darling Ollie's photograph afterwards. I felt so ashamed of myself, John.' Tears were rolling down her cheeks. ‘I told him that it must never happen again but he just laughed at me and he kept on…And that was when I decided that the only way I could save myself was by marrying Ralphie.

‘But now Sir Percival is threatening to tell Ralphie's family everything unless I pay him five hundred pounds.' She paused. ‘He told me to take the money to our old rendezvous at the roadhouse tomorrow evening, but I just can't. I don't want to. I'm so afraid of him now, John, and of what he might try to make me do. Please say that you will give him the money for me? I know he comes here most days, and you are the only person I can ask. I know what you must be thinking about me, but please don't judge me too harshly.'

‘Oh, Polly.' John reached for her and took her in his arms, holding her as carefully as though she were made of glass. He ached with compassion for her and with savage anger against the man who was trying to destroy her.

‘I must go. Ralphie will be waiting. He telephoned this morning to say that he wanted to see me urgently before we go to see his mother. The poor darling probably wants to remind me not to
smoke in front of her. She's frightfully strait-laced, John, and I don't think she approves of him marrying me at all. But he is so sweet, isn't he? And so very like my darling Ollie.'

This was not the time to question the wisdom of her marriage, John acknowledged. She already had more than enough to bear.

‘You will see Sir Percival and give him the money for me, John, won't you?' She begged him again as she pulled on her gloves.

‘Yes,' he assured her.

‘And you will never, ever mention what…what we have talked about again, to anyone, not even to me?'

‘Never,' he told her.

‘Oh, John.' There were fresh tears in her eyes as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his chin, and then she was gone in a flurry of silk and scent, the tiny veil of her hat pulled down to shield her face as she stepped out into the sunshine and hurried back to her roadster.

Such happy news we have had from Iris, love. Not that I had any concerns, for I am feeling so very well. Mind you, your father was delighted when she assured us that everything is just as it should be and that we can expect your new brother or sister to be born on the due date.

We had planned to come down this month to see you in your show, but your father felt
that this excessive heat we have been having might be too much for me. He is writing to John today with some good news for him as well. Someone from the government has been in touch with Gideon making enquiries about John's airfield. It seems that the Royal Air Force are interested in buying the land from them.

Oh Hettie, love. I am so very happy – the only thing missing to make life perfect here in Winckley Square is you. I miss you so much and would love to have you here with me now. But I must not be selfish. You have your singing and I know now how much it means to you.

If we can't get down to London to see you before the baby arrives, could you perhaps come home to see us? I miss you so much, Hettie.'

Your Loving Mother.

Hettie had read the letter Ellie had sent her over and over again, and as she wiped the tears from her eyes she told herself stoutly that they were tears of happiness and relief and not tears of misery or despair.

She missed her family and especially Ellie more than she wanted to admit – even to herself. She was, Hettie acknowledged, beginning to understand why Babs had given up her place in the chorus to return to Liverpool and Stan.

She had begun to long for Ellie's next letter as soon as she had received the previous one, and she had taken to telephoning home twice a week instead of once.

Gideon and Ellie had both assured her that Ellie was perfectly well and that there were no fears for either her safety of that of her baby, but it wasn't just her anxiety that made her long to see her, Hettie admitted. She missed Ellie in so many different ways, and she hadn't even told her family yet about Jay's decision, and that she was going to be leaving England in a few weeks' time to travel to America and New York. She had been planning to tell them about it when they came to see her, but she could well understand why Gideon had not wanted to risk bringing Ellie to London whilst it had been so very hot.

Ellie's baby was due early in July, and would be born whilst she was in New York. Fresh tears filled Hettie's eyes. Suddenly more than anything else she wanted to be in Winckley Square. So much so that her longing for Ellie was a physical pain.

Ellie and Gideon would be so shocked if they knew of the future Jay was planning for her. She could always refuse him, of course, but did she really want to? She was being offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And it wasn't as though she was going to New York for ever, Hettie comforted herself. Jay was already talking about bringing the new show over to England once it had achieved success on Broadway.

‘But Jay, what if it isn't a success?' Hettie had asked him worriedly. ‘What if no one in America likes me?'

‘America won't
like
you, Hettie,' Jay had answered her steadily, and her heart had lurched against her ribs as she wondered if he had been having second thoughts about her. And then he had given her a wide smile and had laughed as he told her, ‘Hettie, America will
love
you. Just as I already do,' he had added softly, leaning forward in the privacy of his suite to kiss the vulnerable spot just beneath her ear, where his touch made her long to throw herself into his arms and beg him to do whatever he wished with her, despite her misgivings about him.

‘I have booked us adjoining suites for our Atlantic crossing, little Hettie,' he had whispered to her, and Hettie had known that if at that moment he had swept her up into his arms and carried her through to his bedroom she would not have made one single word of protest. Or denial.

But he had not done so, and later, tucked up in her narrow single bed, she had admitted to herself that as much as she had been disappointed then in the heat of her excitement, now she was relieved.

Part of her problem was that without Babs she had no one to whom she could talk, or in whom she could confide; no one from the world she now inhabited who might have helped her with its unfamiliar rules and mores.

Very carefully Hettie folded Ellie's letter. She had neither a rehearsal nor a music lesson this morning for the very important reason that Jay had cancelled both on her behalf because he was taking her for lunch and then, or so he had said, he was going to take her to Bond Street so that he could buy her a gown grand enough for the dinner party he was giving at the Ritz after their final show, and to which he had invited all manner of important theatrical people.

‘You will be my hostess that evening, Hettie,' he had told her firmly. ‘My hostess, my leading lady, and my love.'

Tucking Ellie's latest letter inside the box where she kept the others, Hettie opened her bedroom door. Mary was coming up the stairs in a terrible state of distress, clinging to the bannister rail as though she didn't have the strength to walk. She was as white as a sheet, and tears were pouring down her face.

‘Mary, what is it?' Hettie demanded anxiously, immediately rushing to her aid, putting her arm around Mary's waist as she helped her.

‘Oh gawd, 'Ettie,' Mary gulped as Hettie helped her into her own room. ‘I dunno what's to become of me.'

‘You'll find someone else to love you, Mary.' Hettie tried to comfort her but Mary shook her head and laughed wildly.

‘It's not that, 'Ettie,' she said fiercely. ‘I'm carrying…'

‘Carrying?' Blankly Hettie looked at her, but her hand had slipped from Mary's waist to the tell-tale small bulge.

‘I'm up the spout, 'Ettie,' Mary elaborated. ‘Dun for, and no mistake. And there 'im as wot's responsible for it won't even let me tell 'im that I'm 'aving his brat, never mind…Oh gawd, gawd, 'Ettie. I'm showing already and I've bin that sick.'

The two girls looked at one another.

‘But surely His Lordship will do
something
for you, Mary?' Hettie whispered, both shocked and horrified.

‘Not 'im. No, there's only one thing for it, 'Ettie, I'm going to have to get rid of it, and the sooner the better.'

‘Get rid of it?' Hettie looked at her. ‘You mean, you will give your baby to a foundling hospital for adoption, Mary?'

‘No! If'n I have me way there won't be no baby,' Mary told her bluntly, and then added shakily, ‘Poor little bastard 'ud be better off not being born anyway. Me Mam won't have me back 'ome, no way. Married again after me Da died, she did, and him as she's married…' Mary's face closed up. ‘Seems like he thought his marriage licence gave him the right to 'ave me as well as 'er. Well, I soon let him know where 'e could get off, but me Mam went spare, called me a liar and a slut, she did.' Fresh tears filled Mary's eyes. ‘Said as 'ow I were mekkin' it up and threw me out, she did. Fourteen, I were.'

‘Oh, Mary.' Hettie's own eyes were full of tears now as well.

Emotionally the two girls hugged one another.

‘I wish that Babs was here,' Hettie told Mary.

‘Why? There's nuffink she could do. There's this doctor as I've heard about, 'Ettie. From one of the other girls.'

Releasing Hettie, Mary stepped back from her and started to twist the diamond ring on her right hand. ‘Expensive he is an' all, but 'e's supposed to be good. Doesn't mek any mistakes, and doesn't leave yer butchered and bleedin' to death like some of 'em do, if you knows what I mean.'