| |
Miles
Saturday 12th September, 1931
"Awake?" Briers murmured. "You'd better be."
If the soft pressure of Briers's lips against his ear hadn't roused him, the exquisite drift of fingers across his belly would have done.
"Oh yes?" Miles smiled into his pillow. "What's to wake up for?"
"We overslept." Briers gave his nipple a tiny tweak and pulled away. "Pritchard is organising breakfast in the other room. Your mother is already up and is going to breakfast with Diana and Smethwick."
"I can't take in that much information before I've got my eyes open," Miles complained. "And anyway, I thought we might - " He turned over and let out a gasp as all the bruised muscles woke up at once and demanded his attention. "Oh, dear Lord, that hurts."
Briers grunted and pushed back the covers. "Oh yes, your belly is colouring up nicely. I saw a sunset like this once. I think they call that colour mauve, maybe, with patches of puce, and some honest-to-God black here at the edges of your ribs."
"Briers," Miles looked up at him with a scowl. "Have you ever heard the term 'tact'."
"Heard it once, not sure what it means." Briers's smile was so tender Miles couldn't sustain his annoyance. "I'm going to run you a bath. You can drink your tea while you're soaking."
Briers was warm and there and Miles had hoped that his sore ribs and aching belly would have eased enough for them to enjoy a little early morning loving, but clearly Briers was intent on being sensible. Miles screwed up his face in an indignant pout that he hoped might express his dissatisfaction with the world, and was rewarded with a kiss.
"Now get up," Briers said, sympathetic but implacable, as he tugged back the covers.
"Life is hard," Miles grumbled.
"So I see." Briers sounded as though he was grinning, but he did slip a hand under Miles's shoulder to help him sit up. That hurt, too.
Fifteen minutes later, up to his shoulders in water that was just cooled enough to be bearable and with an excellent cup of Darjeeling, Miles felt much more able to deal with the world. Especially since he had Briers, shaving in just his cotton shorts and under-shirt, to admire.
"I'm wondering if we made a mistake last night," Miles said. He couldn't quite see Briers's soapy face in the mirror over the sink, but he heard an encouraging sound so carried on. "That ffoulkes-Collinson woman. She's had quite a lot of time to spread the word if she decided she wanted to make trouble for Ma."
Briers tilted his head in preparation for the sweep of the razor through soap and stubble. Miles watched with interest, not completely devoid of lust but mostly focussed on the razor. Miles still used the pair of ivory-handled straight razors his father had bought for him when the first hairs has began to haze along his upper lip but Briers, used to travelling light, had a nifty little Valet safety razor kit that folded up into a silvered tin box. Very practical, but rather less useful as a weapon than Miles's sabres.
"I think I had better go too, when Ma visits her," Miles added. "Just to keep an eye on her. Do you want to come?"
"Do I want to sit and listen to your mother and an old school friend try to cap each other's stories? I don't think so." Briers turned to glance down at Miles. "I think you're more than capable of handling anything she might do. Want me to pass your razors? Pritchard stropped them first thing. Said you'd be wanting them."
Miles cupped his chin in his hand then stroked down his chest. "Crikey yes, I must look like a hedgehog. Yes, I must do my legs too. But I'll finish my tea first."
"You don't look like a hedgehog." Briers made another sweep of his razor from jawline to Adam's apple. "You look edible. But just a tiny bit stubbly, and we wouldn't want anyone to notice."
Miles grinned and wriggled a little bit deeper into the water. "Edible, eh?"
"Yes. I could eat you up. Every bit. Only not now." Briers mopped his face. "Later, when you aren't wincing each time you breathe. Breakfast will be here soon, then you can take your time to get ready."
"Grand idea." Miles put the cup aside and held out his hand for his shaving kit but Briers had his head tilted with a distinct glint in his eye.
"I want to do it," Briers said.
"Do what?"
Briers moved to the edge of the bath and swirled his soapy brush along Miles collarbone. "Shave you," he said. "I'm just not sure whether to start at the top or the bottom."
"I don't need my bottom shaved, Briers."
"You know what I meant." Briers dabbed the brush on Miles's nose then reached into the water to grab an ankle. Miles watched, as Briers set his ankle on the edge of the bath, carefully cushioned on a rolled towel, and began to apply the soap with sweeps of the brush. Miles bit his lip because Briers's expression was one he loved. During those wonderful months when Briers was recovering from injury and had stayed with Miles, officially as his 'lodger' but actually as adored companion and beloved bed-mate, Briers's face had often been this content and relaxed. That little furrow of concentration between his eyebrows as he set the blade of the safety razor against Miles's shin was familiar too. The razor moved easily across his warmth-softened skin, leaving smoothness in its wake. Briers washed the soap from the blade and repeated the action. The sweep of the razor, the swish of the brush was almost hypnotic. Miles let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
"I feel fabulous," he murmured. "Like some old potentate in a palace being pandered to by beautiful oiled servants who wish to cater to my every whim."
"Every whim," Briers muttered and applied more soap. "Just how far up do I need to go?"
"I'm tempted to say 'all the way', but apparently I wince when I breathe."
"Dammit," Briers growled. "Should have kept my big mouth shut, shouldn't I? That one's done. Let's have the other."
Miles put his tea cup down and braced his elbows on the edge of the bath before offering Briers his other foot. It was beginning to prune a little, he noticed, before Briers took his mind off it with a delicate bite to his ankle bone. That required more than a sigh as a response. "Oh Briers."
"Oh yes." Briers rubbed his cheek against Miles's dripping, slightly stubbly calf and put the razor aside. He trailed questing fingers along the inside of Miles's thigh. "Am I allowed to change my mind?" he asked. "I don't want to hurt your ribs, but I really need to hear you moan."
"Of course you're allowed to change your mind," Miles said, "and if you keep doing that, moaning is imminent."
Briers chuckled, and caught Miles's eye for a moment, just as his hand, warm and strong, reached its goal. "Tell me if it gets to be too much," he instructed, gathered him up and began to move his hand.
"Oh, dear Lord," Miles breathed and did, indeed, moan. He couldn't resist a lift of his hips to press into Briers's palm, but his abused muscles protested and he subsided with a frustrated whimper.
"Be still and let me," Briers advised. "Please, sweetheart."
Miles objected to being completely passive on principle, but had to admit that once he relaxed into the warm water and let Briers do as he pleased it pleased Miles a lot too.
"I'm going to give you such a seeing-to once I'm better," he promised at one point, and Briers chuckled and leaned over the edge of the bath to kiss him.
"I'll have to stay in London for a bit then," he said. "Same rates as before? Bed and board in exchange for sexual favours?"
"Oh Lord, yes, anything! Just don't stop."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Briers said, and didn't.
Miles lost track a bit after that, just clung to the edge of the bath so he didn't submerge, and allowed himself to drown in sensation. It was completely selfish, and absolutely wonderful.
When Miles was able to open his eyes again, it was to see Briers's tender smile. "Thank you," Miles said.
"No, thank you." Briers grinned. He looked nearly as flushed and heavy-eyed as Miles felt. "I do have two hands, you know, so we had one each. Which reminds me, I'd best do something about the bath mat."
Miles whooped with laughter and accepted help to sit up. "You do that," he suggested, "and I'll finish shaving as soon as I'm sure my hands have stopped shaking."
#
Perfectly shaved, well-loved, breakfasted and dressed to the nines in one of his own pretty blue outfits, Miles felt capable of taking on the world. Instead, he and his mother went in search of her old school friend. Even without the direction from one of the waiters they would have been able to find Cynthia; her clear cut-glass voice was perfectly audible over the buzz of conversation in the hotel drawing room. Luckily she and her swain were in the far corner with no near neighbours.
"She never learned to whisper," Ma muttered. "Even when it was in her own best interests. Oh, we had to write so many lines because she couldn't keep her voice down."
The slightly carping monologue cut off as they approached. "Emily darling!" Cynthia said and the small dog at her heels bounced to his feet and yapped frantically. "Oh, do be quiet, Percy!"
The young man's smile looked a bit strained. "Shall I take him back to our room, Cynthia?"
"No, not at all. Emily loves dogs, don't you, darling?"
"Cynthia, so delightful to see you," Ma said, raising her voice over the cacophony, "and you remember my daughter, Millie, don't you?"
"My goodness, I can't say I do!" Cynthia shot an assessing look at Miles that made him wonder if she was as daft as Ma had made out.
"I think we met once," he said, "when I was about three. We were trying to remember, weren't we, Ma?"
The young man stepped aside and Ma darted in to be engulfed in a huge hug by Cynthia. Miles gave - what was it? Gervaise? - a polite smile and allowed himself to be placed in a chair. The dog barked once more, sniffed his ankles then threw himself on his back at Gervaise's feet, job done. Ma and Cynthia had settled into a loveseat so Miles supposed it left him to perform the rest of the courtesies.
"Good morning. I suspect the ladies are a little busy, so forgive me if I introduce myself. Mrs Millie Carstairs, and this is my mother Emily Stonehouse."
"Ah - I - ah - thought... " He was even prettier close up, with clear skin, large blue eyes and the sort of bone structure Miles associated with the British Museum's classical galleries. He took a deep breath and offered Miles his hand to shake. "I'm Gervaise Hayman. Forgive me, Mrs Carstairs, but Cynthia - ah - led me - ah - to believe that the name was Siward."
"Long story," Miles said, "and a somewhat important one. Basically we're asking for your help and your discretion."
Hayman made a face at the word discretion, as well he might because Cynthia was already exclaiming loudly about Ma's change of name.
"Ma," he said, urgently.
Ma fixed Cynthia with a gimlet stare. "I need you to keep calm and quiet, Cyn. No huge exclamations or shrieks, if you please."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Cynthia said but from the sparkle in her eye Miles was certain she knew exactly what Ma meant. "But I do promise to keep my voice down. So, go on. What's so urgent? For a start, when did you acquire a daughter? Is she this Stonehouse chap's girl?"
"Well, the fact is - "
"I'm sure I would have seen the announcement if Sir Clive had died, so presumably - "
"Sir Clive is in very good health, thank you very much," Ma snapped. "But it has been necessary for me to travel under an assumed name."
"Oh, a clandestine journey, how delightful." Cynthia actually clapped her hands. "A grande affaire and you want me to keep it all a secret. Well, Emily, I'd be delighted to help you out as you well know, but - well frankly, darling, what's in it for me?"
"In it for you?" Ma's face had paled. "What on earth do you mean by that?"
"Well, quid pro quo," Cynthia murmured. "Surely my silence is worth something. Un petit cadeau at the very least."
"Oh Cynthia," Hayman groaned. "Please don't."
Ma stared at her then turned to Miles. "I have no idea what to say. Can you... "
"Take over? Yes, delighted to." Miles leaned forward and grasped Cynthia's hand in both of his. "How much?"
"How... I - " Cynthia looked up at Hayman and smiled. "Well, you know better than I what my silence is worth to you. I'm sure I'm not greedy, but I am temporarily a leetle short of funds and I do think it would be a friendly thing to do to help me out. The hotel bill perhaps? And maybe a little extra? It's not as though Sir Clive is badly off and keeps you short of pin money, eh, Emily?"
"Oh Cynthia, have you made a mess of your finances again?" Ma rolled her eyes. "You are going to have to be more careful! But for the moment - "
"For the moment," Miles interrupted, darting a sharp glance at Ma, "how about we discuss how much not being arrested and charged with treason is worth to you?"
"Treason?" Hayman had hitched forward onto the edge of his seat.
"That's what I said."
"Cynthia, I beg of you, listen to what they have to say."
Cynthia tugged her hand out of Miles's grasp. "What a horrible thing to suggest." She produced a handkerchief and applied it to the corner of one eye. "How could you? What on earth gives you the right to say something like that to me?"
"I have every right. I'm an operative with the Secret Intelligence Service assigned to see Lady Siward safely to her destination." Cynthia began to protest but Miles spoke over her, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. "This is a matter of national importance and her life is in danger. Your cooperation would be appreciated. But, if you talk out of turn and my mission is compromised, I will come back and treat you as I would any other threat to Lady Siward's well being. The SIS makes a point of dealing very harshly with blackmailers. We daren't do anything else."
"B-blackmail," Cynthia faltered. "But that wasn't - I just asked for - "
"You asked for money in return for keeping your mouth shut in a situation that could get Lady Siward killed. Hayman, you look like you have an inkling how serious this situation could be. For pity's sake, will you take her off somewhere private and explain it to her?"
Cynthia and Hayman were staring at Miles with similar stunned, mouths-agape expressions, and the tears brimming in Cynthia's eyes were no longer fake ones if Miles was any judge.
"We really would appreciate your silence on this matter," Ma said. "It's no fun at all being hunted for your life, and just a word out of place reaching the wrong ears... well, it could have very serious consequences. This isn't like that time when we got caught out of bounds because you shouted that you'd seen a kingfisher. Nobody's going to give us a hundred lines or take away our excursion privileges."
"These people have guns," Miles said and caught Hayman's eye as the young man went very pale. "We were being shot at only a few days ago. I would prefer it not to happen again."
"Oh my dear," Cynthia placed her hand over her heart. "I am so sorry. I was joking, really. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you or this young person."
"You may call me Millie," Miles said. "Millie Carstairs. My husband Brian is keeping watch. You should both be safe enough. Keep doing what you normally do, and if you see us please remember that this is your old school friend Emily Stonehouse - but just calling her 'Emily' will do."
"And what should I do?" Hayman asked, still looking a bit clammy around the forehead.
"It's quite simple. Don't volunteer information to anyone. And if anyone makes a point of asking, remember that she's Mrs Stonehouse and I'm her daughter, Mrs Carstairs, to whom you have only just been introduced so you know very little about us," Miles said. "And it would be useful if you could let us know who makes the enquiries. You will come to no harm, and will have the undying gratitude of His Majesty's Government, though I very much doubt that would translate into monetary terms."
"We'll do that, won't we, darling?" Hayman moved his chair closer to Cynthia, and took her hand, though who was comforting who would be anyone's guess.
Once it was clear that Mrs ffoulkes-Collinson and her young beau understood the severity of the situation, Miles let the subject drop and he and Hayman listened while the two ladies caught up with their gossip. It was noticeable that both Ma and Cynthia avoided the subject of Torquil, whoever he had been, and did not dwell on exactly how long Hayman had been in Cynthia's keeping. Miles had met several such individuals of both sexes in the course of his duties, and while being a kept man was not a means of making a living that appealed to him he supposed that the exchange of loving companionship for bed and board could be fair. He caught the young man glancing at his exposed calves, but the glance seemed the automatic reflex of any young man and Hayman gave almost all of his attention to Cynthia. To his credit, he seemed genuinely interested in her conversation with Ma. Miles, on the other hand, quickly tired of the discussion of people he didn't know, though the subsequent discussions of fashion and hat modes might prove to be useful.
He gave them half an hour to chat, then cleared his throat. "We promised to meet Brian at eleven, Ma."
"Oh, yes." Ma glanced at her wristwatch. "We had better go and find him. Don't want the poor chap to feel neglected, do we?" She shot a smile at Hayman that made him colour, and he stood to say goodbye.
"Maybe we'll see you at dinner time?" he suggested as they stepped past.
"I should imagine so," Ma said. "We'll be catching the midnight train for Paris and I understand that the pre-embarkation dinners can be very merry."
"Paris!" Cynthia sighed. "You lucky thing. Ah well, enjoy your trip."
#
They left the drawing room arm in arm, and made it into the hotel foyer before Ma let out a long exasperated breath and Miles said, "Ma, honestly now, do you think we can rely on her discretion?"
"Going by past experience? Not in the slightest. She's just the worst at keeping secrets. We all got used to keeping things from her. But that young man - "
"Hayman, yes, he looked scared enough to cooperate." Miles glanced back towards the drawing room. "He impressed me, just a little. He seems genuinely fond of her. Maybe he can persuade her to keep her mouth shut?"
Ma raised crossed fingers.
"Good morning." Ruby and Janice were arm in arm, straw-hatted in gauzy summer frocks. "Such a lovely day."
"It is," Miles agreed. "But you seem to have lost Jonah."
"Hah, like a glove or an umbrella." Ruby giggled
"Have you checked with lost property?" Miles asked. "He may have been handed in."
"No, he's up in our suite," Janice said. "Doing some work, he claimed, but I believe he's waiting out a hangover. We decided that life's too short to sit and listen to him grumble so we went for a walk to the park and there was an amazing castle there, and the prettiest little chapel."
"Oh yes," Ma said. "They are so worth a visit. Millie, we must go next time we are in Budapest. Wonderful Romanesque architecture. And what do you two plan to do this afternoon?"
"Before our midnight departure?" Ruby beamed. "It's so romantic, isn't it? One imagines the great engine thundering across the steppes, plumes of steam illuminated by the full moon!"
"Do they have steppes in Hungary?" Janice asked.
"And there's no moon tonight," Miles added.
"Pooh, a mere detail. In Hollywood there's always a full moon."
"Even at lunchtime," Ma agreed.
"Speaking of which, we are going to change for lunch then go shopping," Janice said. "That's always fun. And how about you?"
"We had an easy morning," Miles replied. "Ma met an old friend and caught up with her, and now we're going to find Brian. I'm not sure what we'll do then."
"We spotted him about ten minutes ago in the bar with Diana and your other friend." Ruby's lips tightened a bit. "Diana seemed to be keeping the peace."
"Oh dear." Ma shook her head. "John means well but he can be terribly dour. We'll go and rescue Brian."
"Rescue Diana while you're at it," Ruby suggested, "before she beats them both over the head with a bar tray."
#
Briers had obviously been keeping his eyes open for them and his smile, as always, made Miles's heart lift, but the smile faltered as they approached.
"Hello," Briers said. "Who kicked your kitten? What on earth happened?"
"The silliest woman in the world happened," Ma growled. "Oh I could kill her."
"Might we have to?" Briers asked with a grin. "Because, you know... "
Ma punched Briers lightly on the shoulder just before Miles could. "Brian, you are awful. No, Millie was very... assertive and told her not to be silly."
"And I have the feeling the young man - Gervaise Hayman, have you ever come across him, Briers? Well he seemed to be taking my words to heart." Miles frowned. "But it might not hurt to follow up. The lady claimed it was a joke when she asked us to pay her hotel bill - "
"Who did?" Diana must have sensed that they had worries because she wormed her way past Briers and into their group alongside Ma. "What's going on?"
"First, where's Smethwick?" Briers demanded. "Because this is personal rather than state, if you know what I mean."
"Gone to powder his nose," Diana said. "So who did what, and can I help?"
"A very silly and childish attempt at blackmail," Miles said. "Basically Mrs ffoulkes-Collinson said she will keep her mouth shut if we pay her hotel bill." He struck a pose and continued in a fair facsimile of Cynthia's overly posh accent. "Un petit cadeau for the quid pro quo."
"Oh, for goodness sake," both Briers and Diana said in chorus.
"She could actually have some financial difficulties," Ma said. "She could never keep her budget balanced when we were in school."
"Well that's her problem," Briers said.
"But if she blabs, it'll be ours," Miles said. "What do you think we should do?"
Briers shrugged and slipped his hand into the front of his jacket.
"Oh good grief." Ma stared at them both. "I thought you were joking. I'm sorry but I really can't condone an assassination, even if it's for my benefit."
Briers put his arm around Emily and gave her a comforting hug. "Emily, if there's the slightest chance that she could do anything that would get you or Diana or Millie killed I would put a bullet into her without hesitation."
"It is on our list of normal duties, Ma," Miles murmured.
Emily turned to Diana. Miles assumed she was looking for reassurance, but Diana just shrugged.
"Ditto," she said. "But it might not come to that."
"How about we let them mull it over," Briers suggested, "and just when they've decided that you weren't serious, I'll approach them and have a word?"
"Oh let me!" Diana clasped her hands under her chin and made big eyes at them all. "I went on all the usual 'how to be terrifying' training courses and, much as I love working for you, Mrs S, I so rarely get the chance to put it into practice."
"Oh, go on then," Miles said. "Never pass up the opportunity to practice a skill. But shall we give them time to talk it over by having coffee first?"
"Already ordered," Briers said. "I just need to catch the waiter's eye."
This was easy enough to do and shortly a white-jacketed waiter arrived bearing a huge tray and began to distribute cups. "Tea and coffee," he said. "And I brought papers from home."
That he laid down copies of the London Times and Manchester Guardian was of rather less interest to Miles than that the phrase 'papers from home' was one of the call signs he had been taught by Charles Naylor.
He picked up the Guardian with a smile. "I wonder if it will tell us the weather in Croydon," he replied - the standard response that meant 'speak freely'. A reference to Birmingham would have ensured the man waited until he was alone.
The man nodded and busied himself pouring drinks. "My name is Sandor," he said in excellent English. "I was requested to keep an eye open for you and offer assistance if necessary. I think the hotel is fairly safe, though people come and go continually, but I wouldn't venture far outside."
"We're booked on the midnight sleeper to Paris," Briers said. "I suppose we could try to change our tickets... "
Sandor gave a very discreet shrug. "I think that the midnight train should be all right. I wasn't sure how long you planned to stay. Certainly no longer."
"Is there any special reason?" Miles asked.
Sandor scowled down at Ma's tea cup as he filled it. "It's less than a month since the new prime minister took office and there's a lot of tension as we wait to see what he will do. The Communists are demanding he address the peasants' grievances, others feel he should be more closely aligned with Mussolini."
Briers snorted. "Just like in Belgrade. There's unrest everywhere. Do you have anything concrete?"
"Does anyone ever? People who are normally calm seem on edge, others I would expect to see about the place have disappeared. Something is going on, but I have no way of knowing what. And none of the activity may be connected in any way to your situation."
Briers and Diana were both nodding, and Miles too took the warning to heart. So many disasters might have been averted if men in offices had taken note of the gut feelings of men on the streets.
"Thank you, Sandor." Ma picked up her cup. "It makes me feel better to know someone is watching out for us all."
"My pleasure, madame." Sandor smiled and tucked the tray under his arm. "I'll do my best to be here to see you off but Saturdays are always busy and we'll be having a big party coming in for supper before the cars leave to take you all to the train. I have a driver, Gergo, on my payroll so I'll make sure that you get him." He nodded, accepted a tip, then went on his way.
"Something going on." Diana cradled her coffee between her hands. "Is that unusual for Budapest?"
"No," Briers said. "Quite apart from the current political upsets, this is a main route west-to-east and north-to-south. People with conflicting interests are always coming through. On any given day there are bound to be a dozen different plots afoot. As Sandor says, a lot depends on whether they involve us or not."
"Here's hoping none of them do," Miles said.
#
Lunch was satisfying, though Smethwick's sour expression almost put Miles off his plum dumplings. He had seemed a little more relaxed when he had joined them at the threshold of the dining room, but soon they were joined again by Ruby and her expanded entourage and it was clear that their bright chatter, and enthusiastic demands that Miles, Ma and Diana join them in their shopping trip, did not meet with his approval.
Miles heard him mutter some orders to Briers that boiled down to keeping to their rooms and not emerging until time to leave for the station. "Tell them Mrs S is ill or something."
"As if they'll believe that," Briers scoffed. And Miles had to agree that his mother had never looked better. "It would attract more attention if we refuse. If you can't bear it Diana, Millie and I will go and with Nik and Ari as well - "
"I'm not passing up a chance like this," Diana said.
“And I need to replace my dressing case,” Miles said. “It will make life more convenient for Pritchard.”
"Then I wash my hands of the lot of you," Smethwick snarled.
"Ah well, you see, you can't actually do that, can you?" Briers grinned at him. "Not if you want to keep your job at the embassy."
Miles bit back a comment to the effect that Smethwick, even as head of embassy security, was outranked by Briers's impeccable field agent status, but felt that wouldn't help with the mood of the discussion, and was relieved when Smethwick took himself off.
Ruby, however, had no discernable inhibitions. As they all left the hotel she said, "Diana, what's put that bee in your brother's bonnet? He's been a complete bear since we first set eyes on him?"
"I'm sorry," Diana said, slipping her arm through Miles's mother's. "I have to apologise for him. I don't think he means to be so abrupt. He just has no time for feminine frivolity."
"Oh, one of that type of queer is he?"
Miles, arm-in-arm with Briers, saw both Diana and Ma start.
"Er - no, that wasn't quite - "
Ruby laughed. "I know some perfectly lovely men who are great company, very easy to love, and would make wonderful husbands except for they don't want to... you know, and they tend to have perfectly lovely 'husbands' of their own, but there are always a few who behave as though women are devils intent on sucking their souls dry. Give me the other type any day." She cast an arch glance back at Briers. "Sorry if I'm shocking you, Mr Carstairs, Mrs Carstairs, but I prefer to be honest."
"Oh, don't mind us," Briers replied.
Miles gave him a gentle jab in the ribs because he could feel the little quiver that meant Briers was desperate to laugh.
"I do not believe so." Nik Utkin spoke up, his brow creased in thought. "Because he keeps looking at your legs, Ruby."
"Well, though I say it myself," Ruby said, "I do have a fair pair of gams."
"Gams," Ma said. "I must remember to use that."
Over the next two hours they learned that Mr Smethwick was a 'Mrs Grundy', but that the rest of their party were 'darb', also 'the berries', also 'the cat's pyjamas' and Ruby wanted them all to dine with her once she reached London. Ma also bought several small items of personal adornment, and Miles bought a birthday gift for his father plus the new dressing case to replace the one abandoned in Bucharest.
As a pastime it was quite satisfactory. They attracted less attention that they might have feared, mostly because everyone was watching Ruby who flirted shamelessly with everyone, and to rather more purpose with Utkin.
"Awww, Nik," Lacroix sighed when his arrival at Miles's other elbow coincided with a burst of laughter from Nik and Ruby.
"What's the matter, Mr Lacroix?" Miles asked.
"Nik's smitten," Lacroix murmured. "I hope she doesn't break his heart."
It went without saying that Ruby was capable of it, but Miles felt it would be without malice aforethought. At the moment all Miles could see were two incredibly attractive young people doing what attractive young people did. They made a stunning couple.
"Is Nik in the habit of falling in love?" he asked.
"Horrifically," Lacroix sighed. "At least once a week. And then they leave and he says 'my life is over, ve vill drink wodka, and contemplate the arid vastelands of our souls until dawn'." the impression was uncanny. "Then we all have desperate hangovers next day. A week later he does it all over again. We're going to need a lot of 'wodka' when Ruby leaves us."
'Us' was an interesting word to have used.
"Have you been friends for long?" Miles asked.
Lacroix looked away for a moment then shrugged. "About a year. I was working at that hotel playing piano and Nik - well he came as a guest, but ended up staying as a dance pro."
They both watched as Nik turned around and almost demolished a stand of umbrellas.
Lacroix's smile was very fond. "Not that you'd think it to look at him, but Nik's a really fine dancer. He just needs more space than most people."
"I thought someone mentioned the ballet," Miles said.
"That's true. He was doing really well, front row chorus, being trained up as an understudy, then he had a growing spurt and grew four inches and added 40lbs, mostly of muscle." Lacroix grimaced. "They let him go."
"That's so unfair. With a little patience he'd have got used to himself and been just as good."
"Yes, well we both figured a change of scene would be good"
"Why London and not New Orleans? Surely you'd have more connections there?" Miles asked.
"Big difference between Bourbon Street and Tottenham Street. It's a long time since I've been home," Lacroix said, but his attention was on Nik and he excused himself and went to help pick up the umbrellas.
"Interesting." Briers had been eavesdropping shamelessly and Miles took his arm again.
"Not least because, all the Americans I've ever met," Miles said, "say 'Tot-ten-ham'."
"Rather than 'tottnum'." Briers hummed the M as he stooped to nuzzle Miles's ear. "How much longer do you think they are going to be? Any chance we could slip away?"
Miles nodded towards Ma, who was being urged to try on a frock. "She's having so much fun," he said. "And if we did and anything happened, never mind that we'd never forgive ourselves, we'd have to endure Smethwick saying 'I told you so'."
Briers groaned. "That's something I want to avoid. Come on, Millie, let's find something utterly ridiculous and insist that your mother tries it on."
"Hats," Miles insisted, "then there's less chance they'll try to make me do it too."
"Oh Lor', yes." Briers gave Miles a little squeeze. "Sometimes I forget."