4.

Gloria crossed the street, handbag swinging, a broad smile on her face as she strode over. Belle smiled back and Gloria kissed her on the cheek, her film-star lips painted crimson.

‘How’s our little songbird liking Rangoon?’

‘Haven’t had time to see much yet, but yes, I love it. There’s so much going on.’ She paused for a moment and wiped a hand across her brow. ‘But, golly, it’s hot! I was wondering where to go for a drink. I’m dying of thirst.’

‘I know a little place. And, while we’re at it, we’ll buy you a hat. Rowe’s will have one. Just the ticket, I’m sure. While we’re there you must pick up a copy of their catalogue. You can literally get anything.’

‘Sounds terrific.’

‘And it’s beautiful inside. Fans everywhere, cool black-and-white marble floors throughout and only Britishers serving. Harrods of the East, darling.’

Belle grinned. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘My dear, you are misguided. Truth is, you intrigue me. I get so easily bored, you see.’ Her sigh was long and languorous as if to prove her point. ‘And you seem like you need someone to look after you.’

Belle felt she might become something of a toy to the older woman and would as swiftly be put down as picked up, and as for being looked after, she had long been used to looking after herself. Still, if that was what Gloria wanted to think, so be it. She matched her step to Gloria’s and they walked off, crossing the gardens of Fytche Square and turning back on to Merchant Road.

‘The yellow stuff on their faces?’ Belle asked. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s called thanaka. They believe it’s good for the complexion and prevents sunburn too.’

‘Looks terribly drying. Have you tried it?’

‘Not my cup of tea, darling.’

And Belle could see her friend’s chiselled cheeks would never be sullied by native remedies.

Inside the bar, Gloria ordered two long cold Pimm’s.

‘Oh, not alcohol,’ Belle said. She didn’t trust alcohol. If it could change you for the better, it could also change you for the worse. She’d become accustomed to denying herself since the age of eight, when she’d cottoned on that with a little self-control she could eke out a single chocolate bar for longer than anyone. ‘It’s … relatively early,’ she added. ‘Can I have a pot of tea?’

Gloria laughed. ‘Tea! Utterly revolting here unless you like it with condensed milk. I know some do.’

‘Why condensed milk?’

‘The Burman population think it disgusting to milk a cow. Anyway, you wanted a drink and in my book a drink means only one thing.’

Belle gave her a determined look. ‘Just lemonade. Honestly.’

Gloria shook her head and contemplated her with faux sad eyes. ‘You’re missing out. The Pimm’s here is the best in town. But never mind, tell me what you’ve been up to.’

‘Not much. Getting my bearings, really.’

Gloria smiled with a look that suggested she was pleased with herself. ‘Well, I have something to tell you that might well be of interest.’

‘Go on.’

The next evening, before her first performance, Belle was checking the running order in her head while applying her make-up. She stared at her reflection in the brightly lit dressing-room mirror and applied a burgundy lipstick that highlighted the red-gold of her hair, though what she would do with her hair she hadn’t decided. Loose? Up?

Was she feeling nervous? A little, but she’d learnt to use her nerves when she sang. More importantly, she felt a wild new kind of happiness and was absolutely determined to make a good impression. They would be kicking off with some of her favourites – a good omen. She loved Billie Holiday, of course, but also Bessie Smith, the queen of blues. Any of their songs were firm favourites but she’d chosen ‘Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out’ and ‘Careless Love’.

After saying hello to the dancers, she’d been concentrating so hard she hadn’t taken much notice of them changing on the other side of the room. But now she became aware of her name being mentioned in overloud whispers, intended most certainly for her ears. She gave no sign that she’d heard and carried on applying her make-up.

The whispers continued, and Belle worked out they were saying she had only got the job because of her connection with Gloria de Clemente. She twisted round and stared at the scowling faces of the four girls.

‘I barely know her,’ she said with a smile, hoping to dispel the ill humour. ‘Really.’

Rebecca stared at her. ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? Annie here was in line for the job and then suddenly up you pop, arriving on the same boat as Mrs de Clemente.’

‘And I saw you in a bar with her yesterday,’ the girl called Annie added. ‘Very chummy.’

‘I met Gloria for the first time on the boat.’

‘Gloria, is it? She never lets us call her Gloria.’

Belle felt her anger rise as she got to her feet. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, this is ridiculous. I saw an advert for the job and I applied like anyone else.’

‘Oh yes, and I’m the king of England,’ Rebecca retorted.

Annie snorted with laughter and Belle felt her jaw clench as she spun round to face her. ‘Maybe you didn’t get the job because you bloody well weren’t good enough. Ever occur to you?’

‘Easy for you to say. We’ve seen your type out here be–’

‘My type? You know nothing about me. Nothing!’ Belle felt her cheeks inflame so calmed herself before speaking again. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have a performance to prepare for.’

She sat down stiffly, trying not to show her upset, and attempted to detach from them. Floating off in her mind had always been her way of escaping conflict and she was good at it. But she had hoped her relationship with her room-mate would be friendlier and the unpleasant exchange bothered her. After a few slow breaths she regained her self-control but couldn’t help worrying that the unpleasantness might harm her performance. Of course, it was exactly why they’d done it. Well, she was blowed if she’d come all this way only to let some vindictive jealous girls ruin things for her. She would go out, smile, and sing her heart out.