“Oh, isn’t this just the bee’s knees!” Delilah threw herself onto one of the twin beds in the cabin she was sharing with Poppy, her navy-blue silk culottes sliding across the white satin counterpane like a bobsleigh on ice. She giggled and pushed out her hands to steady herself.
“Are you sure you don’t mind sharing with me?” asked Poppy, who knew Delilah had given up a more luxurious cabin – with double bed, sitting room, and en-suite hot tub – to “room” with her chum, hence allowing Aunt Dot an upgrade. Poppy flopped onto the second bed, wriggling her shoulders to test the firmness of the mattress. Nice, very nice.
“Of course not! It’s going to be such a jolly!”
“Well, thank you,” said Poppy. “I don’t think Aunt Dot would have survived for long in that pokey little cabin. I know it’s the best Miss King could get at such short notice, but second class…” said Poppy, putting on an affected theatrical tone.
“… I think not, darlings!” finished Delilah, sounding just like Aunt Dot. The two girls collapsed into fits of giggles.
Delilah rolled over onto her side, pulling up one leg and leaning her chin on her elbow. “So what do you want to do first? Tennis? Swimming?”
Poppy laughed. “Heavens, Delilah, we’ve barely left land!”
Delilah grinned, flashing her perfectly straight white teeth. “I know! But speaking from experience, if you don’t make your mark on these cruises early, you’ll never catch up.”
Poppy screwed up her nose. “Make our mark? Whatever do you mean?”
Delilah swung her legs off the bed and sat up. “Watch and learn, old girl, watch and learn.”
The dark-haired girl unstrapped one of her trunks and rummaged through a mountain of silks, satins, and organzas. She pulled out three swimsuits with matching caps and held them up one at a time. “I assume you haven’t brought one with you…”
Poppy’s wide-eyed stare was all the confirmation Delilah needed. “So you can wear one of mine. Which do you want? The gold and green, the red, or the blue and white stripe?”
Poppy, who hadn’t worn a swimsuit since she was ten years old – and even that had just been a pair of bloomers and a long-sleeved undershirt – tried to imagine herself in one of Delilah’s flamboyant outfits with the very short shorts.
“Come on,” said Delilah. “We’ll be in New York before you’ve made up your mind. Should I choose?”
“No, it’s all right. I’ll have the blue and white horizontal stripes please,” said Poppy, quickly assessing that out of the three on offer it would show the least amount of flesh.
“Good choice,” said Delilah, tossing it to her. “Although you would look scrumptious in the poppy red!”
Delilah selected the exotic green with oriental-style gold flowers twirled across the bodice and down one leg.
Fifteen minutes later and the girls arrived at the pool wearing white towelling bathrobes over their suits. The indoor pool was heated, letting off warm steam. Half a dozen or so passengers had already laid claim to the deckchairs and benches around the poolside. Delilah paused in the doorway, striking a subtle but attractive pose, with her bathrobe open to reveal her beautiful bare legs, exposed from mid-thigh down, and waited. No one looked up. Poppy sensed the actress tense beside her. Delilah was not used to not being noticed. Poppy, though, was relieved. Frankly, she didn’t know if she’d even have the courage to take off her robe; so the fewer people who noticed her, the better.
As the girls made their way to two available chairs and draped their towels over them, the other guests’ collective gaze was riveted on a sleek, silver-clad swimmer, surging through the water like a dolphin, doing length after length. Poppy and Delilah sat down and were approached by a waiter asking for drink orders. Delilah requested a cocktail and Poppy a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
As the waiter retreated, the swimmer slowed and glided towards the pool steps. Then she – for by now Poppy had realized it was a woman – grasped the bars and pulled herself up. Gasps of admiration echoed off the tile walls. The swimmer stood at the top of the steps and slicked back her hair with both hands, allowing the other bathers to drink in her tanned skin and fantastically toned limbs.
“Good golly, it’s Annette Kellerman!” observed Delilah. “No wonder no one was looking at us!”
“Who’s Annette Kellerman?” asked Poppy, although the name rang a bell.
“Who’s Annette Kellerman?” asked Delilah, laughing. “What Women Want, Queen of the Sea…”
Poppy bit her lip in mock contrition. “Oh, that Annette Kellerman!” The famous Australian synchronized swimmer and film star. The first woman to design and wear swimming shorts that revealed her knees – and who was arrested for it! The first woman to appear completely naked on film… Poppy felt herself starting to flush.
“She’s a goddess,” swooned Delilah.
“She is that,” said an appreciative male voice with an American accent. Poppy and Delilah looked up to see a handsome young man with chestnut hair and ocean-blue eyes putting his towel on the bench beside them. “May I?” he asked.
“Indeed you may, sir,” said Delilah, repositioning her legs to their best advantage.
The man was wearing a blue and white striped one-piece bathing suit; a masculine version of the one Poppy wore. The fabric stretched across his broad chest and thighs and it took all Poppy’s willpower not to stare.
He reached out his hand first to Delilah, then Poppy. “Dr Toby Spencer, Long Island, New York. And this,” he said, indicating a shorter but equally handsome man, “is my cousin, Mr Miles Spencer. In fact, he’s directed Miss Kellerman in one of his pictures, haven’t you, old sport?”
“I have indeed,” said the darker-haired cousin, smiling warmly below his trim moustache. “But goddess that she is, she does not have a patch on these beautiful mermaids.”
Delilah giggled and thrust out her hand. “Well, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Spencer. I’m Delilah Marconi and this is my good friend Poppy Denby. Poppy is a frightfully clever lady journalist and I’m –”
“A frightfully talented actress.”
Delilah’s eyes widened in delight. “You’ve seen me?”
“Indeed I have. I was in London last autumn and I managed to catch a few shows. You were sensational in The Cherry Orchard. Have you ever been on film?”
Delilah was now sitting up, her bathrobe fully open to reveal her petite figure. “I have not, Mr Spencer. But I’m hoping that might change.”
At that point the waiter arrived with their drinks. Miles Spencer insisted that they be put on his tab and then ordered drinks for him and his cousin.
The afternoon passed with lots of laughter and good-humoured conversation. Miles and Delilah spoke mostly of the film business, but Poppy, as arts and entertainment editor at the Globe, was able to contribute her tuppence-worth.
“And what did you think of The Sheik?” asked Toby, who had told them that yes, he was indeed a “real” doctor and worked in a “real” hospital.
“Spectacular!” declared Delilah.
“Disturbing,” said Poppy, before she could stop herself.
Delilah and Miles looked at her aghast; Toby tossed back his head and laughed.
“Ah, a feminist, I see.”
Poppy tightened the belt of her bathrobe. “If by feminist you mean I don’t think a woman should aspire to be forced to have intimate relations with a man and then still want to marry him, then yes, I’m a feminist.”
Delilah, her forehead creased ever so slightly, laughed fetchingly. “Oh, do forgive my friend. As I said, she’s frightfully clever, and has very modern ideas.”
Poppy’s lips tightened. Was Delilah criticizing her? She whose mother had died for the sake of women’s suffrage?
But before Poppy could say anything, Toby Spencer interrupted, speaking to Delilah but looking fully and appreciatively at Poppy. “Oh, there’s no need to apologize, Miz Marconi; I couldn’t agree more. I would expect nothing less from a lady of Miz Denby’s intellect and character.”
If Toby’s comments were meant to imply that Delilah was lacking in the intellect and character department, Poppy could not tell, but she was grateful that that seemed to be the end of it.
“Enough of this jaw-wagging. Let’s swim!” declared Miles and, with a short run, he dived into the pool, splashing water over all of them. He surfaced and called out to them: “Who’s joining me? It’s divine!”
Delilah jumped up and headed for the steps. Miles swam over and reached out his hand to help her in.
“Are you coming, Miz Denby?” asked Toby.
Poppy smiled at him. “Not today. It’s been a long time since I was last swimming. I would prefer my re-acquaintance with water to be slightly less public.”
Toby nodded his understanding. “Do you mind if I do?”
“Of course not,” said Poppy and watched as he joined his cousin and Delilah in the pool. Poppy laughed as, led by Miles, the three of them started a game of Marco Polo, splashing around like toddlers in a paddling pool. Soon other bathers joined in and shrieks of laughter filled the room. Toby participated with gusto, but whenever he was on the side of the pool closest to Poppy, he kept trying to catch her eye. The young journalist wasn’t sure how to respond and wished she had a book with her so she could pretend she hadn’t seen him – or his impressive physique.
Oh, he’s good looking, thought Poppy appreciatively, but not as good looking as Daniel. Her heart clenched as she wondered what she would be doing if her former beau were here now. She sighed. I’d probably be swimming.