At this, Lilian’s face fell. Evelyn was intrigued. It seemed to be impossible to mention Vernon without Lilian reacting. Could it be that Vernon was the man she was involved with?
“Dorothy’s one of my favourite people, of course,” Lilian said. “But don’t expect to get to know too much of Vernon. Oh yes, he’s handsome and all, but he’s a terrible man, really.”
“I thought you were friends,” Evelyn pressed, now even more curious.
“We are. But a woman would really have to be a perfect idiot to be tangled up with him. If you’re looking for someone to discover the mysteries of sex with, I don’t suggest you try Vernon.” At Evelyn’s astonished reaction, the tension dissolved from Lilian’s face. “Not that you were, darling. I just know what he’s like for latching onto any new face at the Orchid, especially the pretty ones. And you are pretty.”
“Thank you.” Evelyn smiled at the compliment, sure now that Lilian was somehow involved with Vernon. It seemed odd that for all of Lilian’s openness she did not just admit it. Perhaps she was afraid of appearing foolish for falling for a man who was clearly neither faithful or particularly loving. Evelyn resolved to watch them more closely the next time she saw them together.
“In fact, by the time we get you a new dress and maybe a haircut, you’ll have men flocking to your side.” Lilian winked.
Evelyn was flattered but also aware that her desire to live her time in London well was rather different from Lilian’s. It seemed remarkable that a woman who advocated rights for women as strongly as Lilian did seemed to think that the attention of men was a measure of success. “We’ll see,” was all she said in response.
“Oh, I know what I’m talking about, darling. I could show you how to have men eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“I’m sure you could.” Evelyn smiled and looked out of the window. Rows and rows of rooftops stretched across the view. So many houses, so many people, so many lives. She looked back to Lilian, reflecting that she could have done a lot worse than finding Lilian as her first friend in London. She would just have to be careful that Lilian didn’t try to interfere too much in her decisions.
They were quiet for a moment. Evelyn was just beginning to wonder what Lilian was thinking when she broke the silence. “So, darling, shall we go our separate ways for an hour or so? Then dress and go to see the palace? And then I’ll take you to tea at the Park Lane. It’s a swanky place, you’ll love it.”
“I will do my best to dress appropriately,” Evelyn said.
“Top hole, we’ll be ready to leave at about two, how does that sound?”
“Perfect.” Evelyn left Lilian in her bedroom. She took the books with her to her own room and set them on the bedside table. Her first thought was to go through her few clothes to work out what would best suit Lilian’s swanky afternoon tea. When she’d done the best she could, she sat on the bed for a moment and contemplated the books. She had to admit she was intrigued at just what an ideal marriage was considered to be.
Chapter Nine
Side by side, Evelyn and Lilian walked along a wide, tree-lined path which led straight through the middle of Green Park. The winter trees had lost their leaves and the sky was a cold pale grey, but Evelyn still found the park beautiful. True, it was odd to see such a wide green space so surrounded by buildings, and every flower bed and row of trees was clearly there by human design rather than nature’s hand, but she could understand why so many people sat on the benches either side of the path, appreciating the park.
It seemed that the park attracted all kinds of people. Some young men in the clothes of manual labourers were gathered around one bench, sharing a bottle of milk between them, joking loudly with each other. On the very next bench, a man in a bowler hat read The Times. A small boy in short trousers and a knitted jacket ran across their path, back towards where his uniformed nanny waited with a perambulator, attempting to soothe the crying infant within. Ahead of them, a young, smartly dressed couple strolled arm in arm and an elderly lady stopped to speak to a similarly aged acquaintance.
All of these people lived in London. The old and the young, the rich and the poor. And the majority did not know each other. On the other paths through the park, more people strolled, passing away a pleasant hour of leisure or using the park as a thoroughfare as part of a busy day. Strangers everywhere. In West Coombe that would have been impossible. Although she was not on conversational terms with everyone in town, she at least recognised them all. No one in West Coombe was truly a stranger. And the town had its old established rhythms, so you could usually guess what business a person was about at a particular time of day. In London, time seemed to be a different concept. There were no routines or rhythms and everyone was a stranger, caught up in his or her life. The anonymity appealed to Evelyn. Here she was, a young woman walking through a London park, feeling awfully self-conscious, and the only person who even noticed her was Lilian. It was oddly liberating not to be noticed, to know she wouldn’t meet a family acquaintance around the next corner. Only now did Evelyn realise how much time she had spent hiding from observation and judgement. She liked her clifftop retreats precisely because she hardly ever saw anyone, let alone someone who would recognise her. In London, she did not have to retreat into isolation. She could be invisible and yet part of a crowd at the same time.
Of
