Across town, while Nancy and Temperance were doing their best to convince a rabbi to let them care for children, Violet found herself sitting happily at a window table at the Lyons Corner House enjoying her afternoon off. Eamon sat opposite her with a table full of delicate fine leaf china placed between them. As the nippy placed an assortment of fruit buns on the table, Violet felt a wave of excitement, unsure whether to look at her dining companion or the cake in front of her.
As if sensing her dilemma, Eamon chuckled with laughter and pushed the plate of buns towards her.
‘You take first pick,’ he offered.
‘Thank you,’ Violet breathed, hesitant for a moment and then more certain as she helped herself to the bun closest to her. As Eamon poured the tea and then helped himself to a bun Violet began to relax. She had been counting down the hours and minutes since Eamon had asked her to step out with him and now the moment had finally arrived she couldn’t get a word out.
She took a deep breath to steady herself as she peered into Eamon’s large round eyes. They looked like huge pools of warm chocolate and she wanted to dive right in.
‘So how are you finding the Palais?’ Eamon asked easily. He took a bite out of his bun and encouraged Violet to do the same.
‘It’s good,’ she told him. ‘A lot to learn.’
‘I bet. I remember when Temp first started, she would come back and have a notepad scribbled full of notes. It seemed worse than school.’
Violet laughed. ‘Isn’t it like that down the docks?’
‘Nah.’ Eamon shook his head. ‘That’s pure shifting and carrying crates of wood.’
‘You must be ever so tired of an evening,’ Violet said. ‘I don’t know how you’ve got the strength to go out and play piano after a day like that.’
At the mention of the piano, Eamon’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s the thing, to me piano is something I have to do, it relaxes me. It’s not work, never has been.’
Violet nodded, remembering when she first saw Eamon play the piano in the Palais restaurant. It was as though all that had mattered to him was the music, as though he were lost in his own world.
‘Do you have anything like that?’ Eamon asked her now.
Violet thought for a moment. Did she have anything she was that passionate about? She felt a pang of sadness as she realised she didn’t. The only thing driving her was a desire to escape her home life.
‘No,’ she replied honestly. ‘You must think I’m ever so boring.’
Eamon shook his head as his eyes came to rest on her.
‘That’s the last thing I think,’ he said gently. ‘I think you’re strong and determined. And I think you just haven’t found your passion yet.’
At the compliment Violet felt her cheeks flush red. She looked down at her bun feeling embarrassed.
‘Sorry,’ Eamon said, ‘I didn’t mean to say something wrong.’
‘You didn’t,’ Violet said, lifting her gaze. Impulsively she reached across the table and rested her hand on his. At the feel of his flesh against hers she felt a jolt of excitement and judging by the flicker of joy in Eamon’s eyes he felt it too.
‘You didn’t,’ she whispered. ‘I suppose it’s just been a while since anyone’s said anything nice to me. Home’s been a bit difficult, especially since Roy died.’
Eamon wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed her hand before he withdrew it. Then he reached for the teapot and topped up her cup.
‘I know how that is,’ he replied. ‘Roy was your twin weren’t he? You must miss him.’
Tears pricked Violet’s eyes as she thought of her strong, handsome brother. Older than her by two minutes but she always thought of herself as his protector. Roy though had always been her confidant, her best friend she told all her secrets too. They had never needed anyone else, preferring to spend all their time together.
‘I do,’ she managed. ‘But you know about that, with your dad. Were you close?’
Eamon nodded and Violet saw his jaw tighten as if he were staving off emotion he didn’t want to feel.
‘Dad was a good man,’ Eamon said, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘He worked down Drapers paper works. But that wasn’t his passion – he fought for people like us, you know, people that weren’t white shall we say.’
Violet nodded, wanting to hear more.
‘He fought for better hours and conditions, he also fought for more coloureds to be given greater responsibility rather than just all the lumbering. What he wanted was equality. For everyone to be treated the same.’
‘He sounds lovely,’ Violet said with sincerity.
‘He was,’ Eamon said simply. ‘And I miss him every day. I want to do him proud.’
‘I’m sure he’d be proud of you now,’ Violet said fiercely, because looking into this handsome man’s eyes she couldn’t imagine anyone not being proud of this passionate, honourable young chap sitting opposite her.
‘I don’t know,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I wanted to fight for my country and was told I couldn’t. I think Dad would have done more and I just took it.’
‘I don’t think you just took anything,’ Violet reasoned. ‘If I’ve learned anything in this life it’s that it ain’t always easy.’
At that they both smiled and Eamon cocked his head to one side. ‘So why ain’t your life easy, Miss Violet?’
At the moniker Violet glowed. ‘I dunno. I thought it might be easier now my dad’s joined up but Betty’s even more unhappy if that were possible. I thought she’d be delighted now he’s no longer lying to her and running rings around her, nicking her housekeeping, but she’s got a face like a busted clock.’
Eamon laughed. ‘What’s up with your dad then?’
Violet rolled her blue eyes dramatically. ‘What’s right with him? He’s a never-ending womaniser and has never held a steady job in his life. Ma’s spent her life bitterly disappointed and worn it like a badge of honour.’ She paused to take a sip of tea. ‘When Roy was alive it weren’t so bad, we could lean on each other, but now he’s gone, it all seems so much worse. Least I’ve got Nan, she’s a character.’
At the thought of Queenie Violet chuckled. They had always been close, and although she might be a force of nature, Violet was incredibly fond of the matriarch.
‘My dad ain’t someone to be proud of,’ she finished. ‘You should be glad you had a dad like yours to set you an example.’
‘And that’s why I want to try and carry on what he started,’ Eamon explained suddenly, reaching again for her hand.
As he did so Violet heard a sharp intake of breath from the table next to theirs. Glancing around she saw two white women her grandmother’s age staring at them with disgust in their eyes.
Violet felt appalled. How dare they judge her? She was about to open her mouth and say something when she felt the squeeze of Eamon’s hand.
‘Ignore them. You won’t win the fight by mouthing off.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘I learned that the hard way. It’s why I’ve joined the League of Coloured Peoples. I’m going to a talk next week in Camberwell – you should come.’
Violet’s cheeks flushed red. ‘Oh I dunno. I’m not very good at politics or nothing like that.’
‘It’s not political,’ Eamon reassured her. ‘It’s more of a group that wants to see a bit of fairness in the world.’
Violet bit her lip. But seeing Eamon looking at her questioningly she realised she was going to have to be blunt.
‘But is it for folks like me?’ she asked quietly.
‘What, women?’ Eamon teased.
‘No! White folks.’
Eamon’s face broke into a toothy grin. ‘Everyone is welcome. The LCP wants people to all be treated equally. I’d love you to come.’
‘Then I’d like to,’ Violet said with a brief nod of her head, realising as she said the words out loud she very much meant it. She wanted to learn everything she could about this man and his world. He made her feel curious about life, reminding her there was an existence outside the borough of Hammersmith and Fulham.
As she agreed, Eamon smiled a smile so wide it lit up his entire face and Violet felt happiness surge through her. She hadn’t known what to expect from this afternoon out with Eamon, but already it had surpassed her expectations. As they continued to talk over their tea and cake, ordering another pot and ignoring the unwelcome glances from disapproving old women, Violet felt as if she belonged for the first time in her life. It felt as if the outside world and war didn’t exist that afternoon.
In fact she was so happily lost in her own world she didn’t see the nippy gently place the bill on the table, or the way the staff quietly cleaned the tables around them as the café closed. All that was left in the world was Eamon. And as he paid, and slipped her coat around her shoulders then led her outside, all Violet could think was how glad she was she had found work at the Palais, that a job at the most legendary dance hall in Europe could have led to finding something so special with someone so special.
Outside on the busy Piccadilly street Violet felt as if she were walking on air as Eamon guided her towards the bus stop. They didn’t have to wait long and together the two sat on the near-empty trolley bus. All too soon they were back in Hammersmith and as they alighted, Violet suddenly realised that their precious time together was over. As Eamon walked her towards her home, Violet wanted to let this man know how much he already meant to her.
She pulled at his arm as they walked along the pitch-black road. ‘Would you think badly of me if I told you how much I wanted to kiss you?’ she whispered.
Eamon bent down, his face nearing hers and shook his head. ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I saw you.’
And with that, he pulled her into his big strong arms and pressed his lips against hers. His lips were as soft as the silk of one of Renee’s dance dresses and as she gave herself to him Violet knew there was nowhere else she would rather be, and nobody else she was ever meant to be with. After years of searching, she had finally found the one thing she hadn’t realised she had been looking for – in this man she had found her home.