‘I’ve come to tell you something,’ Jenny began.
‘About Ja—Robin?’ Delia asked, immediately anxious.
‘No, not about Robin; he was perfectly happy when I left and he whispered to me that I should tell you so. He’s keeping the secret and I’ve told my mother about you, but not about your new name or what you’re doing, and she didn’t ask. No, it’s about Mr Giles Dawson. He said he was coming to the Maritime for Christmas lunch and I suggested that he join our table. You have no objection, have you?’
Delia shook her head. ‘No, why would I?’
‘He seemed to be rather embarrassed about the idea, as if he might be intruding.’
‘Nonsense, of course he wouldn’t, and it would be rather nice for me, for then I would have someone I know to talk to, for I don’t know your friends, Jenny.’
‘I find it incredible,’ Jenny sat down on the arm of a sofa, ‘that you can be shy of meeting new people and yet can stand up in front of an audience and entertain them.’
‘Ah, well, you see,’ Delia’s face lit up and Jenny thought how lovely she was when she smiled, ‘when I’m on stage it’s not me, but someone else entirely. It’s a trick I learned a long time ago.’ Her voice dropped. ‘But when I sit down to eat with strangers it’s only me.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Delia was as ready as she could possibly be and couldn’t believe how lucky she was with her accommodation at the Maritime Hotel. She had been given a small bedroom, adequate for a short stay and beautifully decorated with thick hangings, a very comfortable single bed, a large mirror on the wall, a wardrobe, a washbasin, a pile of thick towels for bathing and a bathroom next door on the landing.
The agreement was that she would receive a small fee and her meals, bed and board, as the manager had put it, in return for her entertainment on each of the three days.
She was delighted when he said, ‘If it goes well, Miss Delamour, then perhaps we could repeat the arrangement over the Easter period, depending of course on whether you are free?’
And she agreed that she would look in her diary and check with her agent. Not that she had any intention of asking her agent, for she was managing her own affairs at present.
She changed into her red gown for Christmas Eve supper. It was showier, more extravagant than anything she would have normally worn, but, she reminded herself, you are entertaining. Pretend you’re the hostess, Delia, she told herself nervously; be charming, you’re on stage. She could hear the voices of other guests going downstairs and hoped that Jenny was already there so that she could introduce her to her friends, and wondered too if Giles Dawson was coming tonight or only on Christmas Day.
She waited another ten minutes and gave a final tweak at the combs in her hair; then she pulled on her long silk gloves and opened the door, locked it behind her and slipped the key into her purse before descending the stairs into the reception area.
Some of the guests, gathered around the fire with drinks in their hands, turned to gaze at her as she paused on the bottom step with her hand on the balustrade, and then Jenny emerged from the throng.
‘Delia!’ Jenny put out a gloved hand to greet her. ‘How lovely you look! Come and meet everyone.’
She escorted Delia to a smaller group of people who were standing by the window, and said gaily, ‘Here we are, everyone, this is a very special friend of mine. Miss Delia Delamour!’
Delia gave a slight dip of her knee and two of the ladies did the same, but the others reached out their hands to touch hers; the men came across and gave her a short bow or nod of their heads and said they were delighted to meet her. Including Jenny there were seven of them, four women and three men, and she made the eighth in the party.
‘Miss Delamour!’ One of the gentlemen brought her a glass of champagne without waiting for the serving staff to bring a tray. ‘How is it we haven’t met before if you are a special friend of Miss Robinson?’
Delia glanced at Jenny. What had she told them about her? Jenny just smiled and sipped from her glass.
‘I’ve lived in the south of England for the last ten years,’ she said huskily, ‘and only recently returned to my home area.’
‘So what have you been doing with yourself in the south of England?’ he asked merrily. ‘Not getting married, I hope? Our group are all single bodies, completely dedicated to the solitary state.’
‘Speak for yourself, Charles.’ Another man came to join them and pressed her hand. ‘After meeting Miss Delamour, I might well change my mind about that.’
‘Don’t take any notice of either of them, Delia.’ Jenny waved them away and led her out of their hearing. ‘They’re only teasing. They are both dedicated bachelors and very good friends.’ She nodded her head significantly, and Delia smiled. She wasn’t quite as naïve as Jenny imagined. Living amongst theatricals she had learned much about personal idiosyncrasies and accepted people for what they were. Jenny might consider her friends to be a novelty, and they were certainly a complete contrast to how she had been brought up in her traditional home, but they were not unusual.
Canapés were brought round and more champagne, which Delia refused; she must keep a clear head, at least until she had finished her performance. She slipped into the dining room and wandered over to the piano, where a single silver candlestick bore a
