“You’d think we were in the presence of Queen Mary, wouldn’t you?” James asked from close behind Evelyn.
She turned, with a smile. “Lilian certainly is popular.”
“I’m just happy they pay more attention to her than they do me,” James replied. “Aha, looks like we’ve found our table.”
Evelyn looked back to Lilian, who had made her way to a small table against one of the walls, towards the back of the room, and not too far from the bar. At the table was a woman, her dark hair cropped dramatically into a bob shorter than Lilian’s, the line of her fringe across her forehead surely only achieved with the help of a ruler. The points of dark hair ended just below her cheekbones, drawing attention to a pale face and eyes as heavily kohled as Lilian’s. Dressed in a midnight-blue and mint-green gown, but with bare shoulders and arms as far as elbow-length blue gloves, the woman was less exuberantly outfitted than Lilian, but made just as startling an impression. Crystals sparkled all over her dress, as she stood to welcome the newcomers.
“Lilian, dear, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it. James, darling, good to see you.” She glanced at Evelyn with inquisitive dark brown eyes.
“We’ve had quite an evening,” Lilian began, oblivious that she had not explained Evelyn’s presence, “if you don’t mind—”
“You too, Dorothy.” James clearly set more store in the etiquette of introductions than his sister. “And may we present Miss Evelyn Hopkins. Our house guest.”
“Oh yes, of course.” Lilian grinned at Evelyn. “Evelyn’s from Devon, and she’s staying with us for a while. She’s never been to London before.”
Evelyn glanced helplessly at James, wondering how to actually take a part in this introduction.
“Evelyn, this is Dorothy Bettany, one of our good friends.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Evelyn held out a hand.
Dorothy took it. “Delighted, my dear.” Dorothy contrived to say the words without sounding at all delighted, or even interested. Evelyn noticed what a still person Dorothy was. Her expression had barely moved or changed; she extended her hand with the minimum of movement and did not shake Evelyn’s hand, merely squeezed it with her fingers. Gracefully, she returned to her seat, gesturing laconically for Lilian, Evelyn, and James to join her in the remaining seats at the table. Evelyn sat between James and Lilian, opposite Dorothy, and tried not to stare at her latest new acquaintance. Dorothy was puzzling, but Evelyn found herself intrigued by this odd woman and keen to spend more time in her company.
Dorothy reached into the embroidered bag which sat in front of her on the table, drawing out a cigarette, which she placed in a long ebony holder, before offering the packet around the table. Lilian and James both took cigarettes, then Dorothy held them towards Evelyn.
“No thank you. I don’t smoke.” Evelyn found herself wishing she did, just so she could be the same as the others at the table.
“Why ever not?” Dorothy asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“I never have, so I suppose I never thought about it.” In fact Evelyn disliked the smell of cigarette smoke and could not imagine inhaling it. However she did not really feel like explaining this to Dorothy.
“Very well. But I think you should try. It’s awfully relaxing.”
“I can’t imagine not having a ciggie, especially when we’re here.” Lilian accepted a light from James, who then reached across to perform the same service for Dorothy.
“I suppose Evelyn could teach us all that there’s a different way to live.” James was smiling at her, but Evelyn felt slightly patronised by his tone. James seemed to at once be part of this high-fashion world of wealth and glamour and at the same time constantly making an effort to seem as though he was not. Evelyn wondered if his apparent cynicism was purely for her benefit.
“Yes, it is good to get some outside blood into the place!” Lilian grinned and then looked up as a waiter arrived at their table. “What’ll you have, Evie?”
Evelyn flushed, startled as the waiter turned his gaze on her. “I can’t say that I know,” she said hurriedly to Lilian.
“You do drink, don’t you?” Lilian replied.
“Well, not often, but I don’t mind…” Evelyn had drunk sherry at Christmas and brandy in her tea in winter and been given a warmed glass of stout when she had been recovering from a particularly nasty cold. But she rarely consumed alcohol and hardly ever for its own sake.
“In that case, I’ll order for you.” Lilian looked as though she would enjoy the duty. “I’ll have a gin rickey for Evie here, and a Between the Sheets for me, please, Clive.” Lilian smiled a wide, lascivious smile at the suggestive name of her own order. The waiter, who was clearly also a friend, smiled and winked in response.
“Anything for you, Miss Grainger.”
“Oh, Clive, you’re too kind.” Lilian fluttered her eyelashes.
“And I’ll have a mint julep, please,” James interjected, apparently not enjoying his sister’s flirting. The waiter looked to Dorothy.
“What was that delicious honey-flavoured drink I tried last week?” she asked.
“The Bee’s Knees. Vernon got the recipe from one of the singers, straight from New York.”
“Really. That prohibition malarkey’s really working over there, then?”
“All the Yanks who come here drink like fish. Thing is, though, they’re all making the gin in their bathtubs over there and we’ve got the proper stuff. Does mean they’ve got some good ideas for what to do with it—they
