‘Oh dear me. I’m running late!’ Kate was panicking as she gathered up Bel’s dress, as well as her own wedding outfit.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Maisie said as she idled through Kate’s open door and into her bedroom. Kate had to bite her lip. She would have preferred to have been left on her own. She had a dozen and one things on her mind and just needed some space to think and make sure she didn’t forget anything. But, she couldn’t be rude, and Maisie was only trying to be helpful, after all. She really did feel like Cinders going off to a ball that everyone else wanted an invite to.
As Kate turned to throw a few more ‘just in case’ bits and bobs into her big tapestry bag – and look around for her own small clasp bag which matched her outfit – Maisie watched her like a hawk.
Then, as Kate bent over the top of her little sewing table and started to push around strands of ribbons and threads and pincushions in an effort to find her favourite thimble, Maisie very stealthily slipped her hand through the slit of the large cotton garment bag that was being used to transport the wedding outfits, and unhooked Bel’s custom-made fascinator from the coat hanger.
Carefully she placed it on the floor, then pushed it under Kate’s narrow bed with her bare foot.
‘I’m ready when you are!’ George’s voice sounded out from the bottom of the stairs. It was his job to round everyone up and get them to their chosen destinations on time; at present his cherished MG was parked up outside the house, ready to take Kate and Vivian to the Maison Nouvelle where they were to dress and coiffure the bride and the mother of the bride for the big day. He was thankful he hadn’t used up all his petrol rations so there was no chance of him conking out on the way to the Registry Office.
‘Blimey, George,’ Lily said turning away from the front door, which had been left ajar. ‘You could eat your dinner off the bonnet it looks so clean.’
‘Well, it’s not every day the old gal gets to chauffeur a bride on her wedding day,’ he said, puffing his chest out with pride. ‘I’ll be putting a ribbon on her when I come back from dropping Kate and Vivian off … The plan,’ he added, looking at his gold fob watch, ‘is I come back for you, my dear, transport you to the wedding, then go and pick Bel up – do a lap round the town so she can be a few minutes late, as is the tradition – before delivering her to the Registry Office.’
‘I’m sure, mon cher,’ Lily said, ‘that you’ve got it all timed to military perfection … Now, I’m going off to try and disguise the ravages of time and look the best a woman of my age can look.’
George was going to say something in response, but instead smiled and watched as Lily turned and sashayed her way up the stairs. As she did so, Vivian came hurrying down and was just about to run down the last flight when she was stopped in her tracks.
‘Arrête! It’s bad luck to cross on the stairs, Vivian,’ Lily scowled at her. ‘You do want to get married one day, don’t you?’
‘Sorry, Lily,’ Vivian said, forgetting that one of Lily’s many superstitious beliefs stipulated that anyone crossing on a flight of stairs would never walk down the aisle.
‘I’m in a bit of a tizzy this morning,’ she added while she waited for Lily to reach the landing. Vivian had been run ragged all morning, doing everyone’s hair – her own, Lily’s, Kate’s – she’d even been asked by George for a quick short back and sides.
As Lily continued on her way up to her boudoir on the second floor, Kate appeared from her room on the third floor, her skinny arms wrapped round the bulging cotton garment bag. In seconds she was squeezing past Lily in her rush to get to the shop.
Lily stood still, dramatically rolling her eyes.
‘Nobody takes a bit of notice of me,’ she mumbled to herself, before carrying on up the stairs and disappearing into her room.
Two minutes later after a chorus of ‘See you there!’, Kate and Vivian clambered into the MG and were driven away by George, who was clearly enjoying his role of taxi driver for the day.
Lily, meanwhile, was settling herself down at her dressing table to make good her promise to George.
And Maisie was quietly tiptoeing into Kate’s bedroom and stealthily retrieving the fascinator from where she had hidden it, before sneaking back into her own room – where she, too, started to get ready for the ball.
On the other side of town Polly was hurrying towards the five-storey Queen Anne-style Grand Hotel on Bridge Street in the town centre. She had her boxed gas mask slung across her shoulder and an overnight bag in one hand; the other had a tight grip on her little handbag as it contained an entire week’s wages, plus overtime. As she stepped through the hotel’s huge entrance with its folded-back oak doors, she spotted Dorothy and Angie. They were waiting by a mahogany partitioned wall under one of the stained-glass windows that had stripes of brown tape across it. Both were dolled up to the nines and looked exactly like two young women on their way to a wedding. A couple of uniformed Admiralty officers, who had been billeted at the hotel, passed them and touched their caps as they passed.
‘Goodness,’ Polly said, seeing the officers’ approving looks, ‘it’s so strange to see you both in something other than your overalls. You look gorgeous.’
Dorothy and Angie self-consciously smoothed down their figure-hugging fishtail party dresses that looked almost identical, except that Dorothy’s was red and Angie’s blue. Polly’s compliment caused two big smiles to appear on their faces.
‘Ta, Pol,’ Angie said, ‘yer dinnit look too bad yerself.’
Polly knew Angie was being kind, but she also knew that she looked a little plain next to her two friends.
‘Come on, then,’ she said mischievously, ‘let’s do this.’
The three women all took a deep breath and approached the front desk where Polly pinged the brass bell on the counter.
Seconds later a grumpy-looking old man, dressed in what looked like a butler’s outfit, came bustling through from the back office. Polly spoke in the poshest voice she could muster.
‘Good morning, sir, we’ve come about the honeymoon suite for Mr and Mrs Elliot.’
Dorothy and Angie nudged each other and suppressed a giggle as they held their shoulder bags, which seemed to be abnormally bulky, down by their sides.
As Maisie finished rubbing a translucent face cream into her face, she leant forward and inspected her reflection in the oval-shaped mirror on her small vanity table. Normally, if she was going out – or even if she wasn’t – she would have carefully and very artfully applied a light foundation to her skin. Today, however, she was more than happy for her true skin colour to be exposed for all and sundry to see.
For today was all about revelations.
Maisie moved her chair back and stood up, pushing her bobbed hair up with both hands and enjoying the feel of her soft, tight curls, as well as the way her shiny, chestnut brown hair enhanced her look. Then she walked over to her wardrobe and slipped into an ivory, floral crêpe tea dress which hung perfectly on her slender frame, the V-shape of the neckline showing off just a hint of her modest breasts. The dress looked casual but elegant and contrasted perfectly with her olive-brown skin.
Checking herself in the narrow full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, she then glanced at her delicate gold wristwatch and knew it was time.
As she picked up the fascinator from her bedside table, she took one final look in the mirror and walked purposefully out of her room.
Standing on the landing she could hear the chink of a crystal decanter stopper and knew Lily was having a sneaky splash of brandy. She knew that her boss, in spite of her brash outward appearance, felt nervous when it came to mixing with what she called ‘the general public’. Maisie understood that feeling – but, like Lily, she too had learnt to hide it well.
As she started walking down the stairs, Maisie sucked in air and reminded herself what a convincing actress she had been for just about all of her life. She could do this.
‘Oh my goodness!’
Maisie shouted down the stairs as she began her performance.
‘Lily, look!’ She hurried down the two flights of stairs and reached the bottom just as Lily came rushing out of the front office, a large bulbous brandy glass in her hand.
‘Ma chère, what is the matter?’ she asked, her face all concern.
‘It’s Isabelle’s fascinator. I’ve just found it on the stairs. Kate must have dropped it on her way out.’
Lily looked at Maisie and then down at her hand which was holding the beautiful coral pink fascinator. ‘Oh gawd,’ she said, reverting to her native tongue and putting her drink down on the little hallway table. ‘Kate’ll be in a right state. She’s put blood, sweat and tears into that thing.’
Lily looked around her, as if she would find the answer there.
‘Bloody typical! George said he had to do some kind of errand after dropping them off at the shop, so he’s not going to be back for a little while.’
She looked at Maisie.
‘Could you be a real darlin’ and take it to Kate? I think it’ll break her heart if Bel gets married without it.’
Maisie didn’t miss a beat. ‘Of course I can, Lily. Let me just get my coat. I can be there in fifteen minutes if I hurry – and quicker still if I manage to hail a cab.’
‘Oh, you are a treasure,’ Lily said, hurrying back into the front office to fetch some cash. When she came back out, Maisie was pulling on her fur coat which had been hanging from the stand by the door.
‘Here,’ Lily said, pushing a small purse full of coins into Maisie’s hand. ‘For the fare. It’s Saturday so you might get lucky.’
And with that Maisie slipped out the front door and was gone. She didn’t want to waste any time in case George returned earlier than expected and took the headpiece to the shop himself.
So far, so good, she thought as she hurried down the path and out on to the street.