you enjoyed the opera.’
‘Very much, thank you,’ she replied in the same language. ‘I didn’t realize you were in the audience.’
Boy said amiably: ‘I say, speak English, you lot.’ He sounded slightly drunk. He was good-looking in a dissipated way, like a sulkily handsome adolescent, or a pedigree dog that is fed too many scraps. He had a pleasant manner, and probably could be devastatingly charming when he chose.
Eva said in English: ‘Viscount Aberowen, this is Mr Williams.’
‘We know each other,’ said Boy. ‘He’s at Emma.’
Daisy said: ‘Hello, Lloyd. We’re going slumming.’
Lloyd had heard this word before. It meant going to the East End to visit low pubs and watch working-class entertainment such as dog fights.
Boy said: ‘I bet Williams knows some places.’
Lloyd hesitated only a fraction of a second. Was he willing to put up with Boy in order to be with Daisy? Of course he was. ‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to show you?’
‘Splendid!’
An older woman appeared and wagged a finger at Boy. ‘You must have these girls home by midnight,’ she said in an American accent. ‘Not a second later, please.’ Lloyd guessed she must be Daisy’s mother.
The tall man in the military outfit replied: ‘Leave it to the army, Mrs Peshkov. We’ll be on time.’
Behind Mrs Peshkov came Earl Fitzherbert with a fat woman who must be his wife. Lloyd would have liked to question the earl about his government’s policy on Spain.
Two cars were waiting for them outside. The earl, his wife, and Daisy’s mother got into a black-and-cream Rolls-Royce Phantom III. Boy and his group piled into the other car, a dark-blue Daimler E20 limousine, the royal family’s favourite car. There were seven young people including Lloyd. Eva seemed to be with the soldier, who introduced himself to Lloyd as Lieutenant Jimmy Murray. The third girl was his sister, May, and the other boy – a slimmer, quieter version of Boy – turned out to be Andy Fitzherbert.
Lloyd gave the chauffeur directions to the Gaiety.
He noticed that Jimmy Murray discreetly slipped his arm around Eva’s waist. Her reaction was to move slightly closer to him: obviously they were courting. Lloyd was happy for her. She was not a pretty girl, but she was intelligent and charming. He liked her, and he was glad she had found herself a tall soldier. He wondered, though, how others in this upper-class social set would react if Jimmy announced he was going to marry a half-Jewish German girl.
It occurred to him that the others formed two more couples: Andy and May, and – annoyingly – Boy and Daisy. Lloyd was the odd one out. Not wanting to stare at them, he studied the polished mahogany window surrounds.
The car went up Ludgate Hill to St Paul’s Cathedral. ‘Take Cheapside,’ Lloyd said to the driver.
Boy took a long pull from a silver hip flask. Wiping his mouth, he said: ‘You know your way around, Williams.’
‘I live here,’ said Lloyd. ‘I was born in the East End.’
‘How splendid,’ said Boy; and Lloyd was not sure whether he was being thoughtlessly polite or unpleasantly sarcastic.
All the seats were taken at the Gaiety, but there was plenty of standing room, and the audience moved around constantly, greeting friends and going to the bar. They were dressed up, the women in brightly coloured frocks, the men in their best suits. The air was warm and smoky, and there was a powerful odour of spilled beer. Lloyd found a place for his group near the back. Their clothes identified them as visitors from the West End, but they were not the only ones: music halls were popular with all classes.
On stage a middle-aged performer in a red dress and blonde wig was doing a double-entendre routine. ‘I said to him, “I’m not letting you into my passage.” ’ The audience roared with laughter. ‘He said to me, “I can see it from here, love.” I told him, “You keep your nose out.” ’ She was pretending indignation. ‘He said, “It looks to me like it needs a good clean-out.” Well! I ask you.’
Lloyd saw that Daisy was grinning widely. He leaned over and murmured in her ear: ‘Do you realize it’s a man?’
‘No!’ she said.
‘Look at the hands.’
‘Oh, my God!’ she said. ‘She’s a man!’
Lloyd’s cousin David walked past, spotted Lloyd, and came back. ‘What are you all dressed up for?’ he said in a Cockney accent. He was wearing a knotted scarf and a cloth cap.
‘Hello, Dave, how’s life?’
‘I’m going to Spain with you and Lenny Griffiths,’ Dave said.
‘No, you’re not,’ said Lloyd. ‘You’re fifteen.’
‘Boys my age fought in the Great War.’
‘But they were no use – ask your father. Anyway, who says I’m going?’
