Bourbon Creams and Tattered Dreams Read online

  ‘Oh, do sing “Love is the Sweetest Thing”, Miss Gilbie. It’s my absolute favourite!’

  Neville played the introductory bars, there was a pause and some automatic response drew the sound up from deep inside her. For Matty, it was as irresistible as breathing. She opened her mouth and sang in a low, reflective tone. So low, that it would force those who were speaking to fall silent, if they wanted to hear. She matched the style to the audience, letting the words emerge, almost reluctantly, as though she were having a conversation with herself.

  Love is the sweetest thing, what else on earth could ever bring

  Such happiness to ev’rything, as Love’s old story?

  And the conversation could not help but be a sad one, for as Tom turned an intent face towards her, she felt powerless to stop ‘love’s old story’ from turning into a tragedy once more. Whether he wanted to hear or not, she sang on, meeting his gaze.

  Love is the strangest thing, no song of birds upon the wing

  Shall in our hearts so sweetly sing, that love’s old story?

  The end of the song was greeted with applause, but Neville wasn’t to be deterred, running the end of the first song into another, assuming she would know them all. She saw that Tom had recognized the opening bars of ‘I’ll See You in My Dreams’ before she had. But there was no way she could refuse to sing it without making a scene. She was aware of a stillness. Perhaps it was the presence of attentive listeners, but it felt more as if it were a stillness inside herself, as though all the mistakes and clutter of her life counted for nothing and only one thing held any importance – that Tom’s eyes should not turn away as she came to the final words of the song.

  Lips that once were mine, tender eyes that shine

  They will light my lonely way tonight, I’ll see you in my dreams.

  19

  A Family Without Secrets

  New Year 1932

  Neville monopolized her for the rest of the evening. He was full of praise for her singing style. ‘You really can do intimate spaces very well, Miss Gilbie. If we couldn’t tempt you back on to the stage, what about performing at soirées such as tonight’s? Or I could introduce you to a few select private clubs where I’m sure you’d be in great demand!’

  ‘That’s kind, but—’

  ‘Don’t say “but”! If you’re nervous about your performance skills being a little rusty in places, I’d love to help coach you. In fact...’

  Here he drew nearer and shielded her from the rest of the room. ‘I have a bijou bolt-hole in your neck of the woods, overlooking the river, near the Angel pub. An old sea captain’s house, I believe.’ He leaned even closer and whispered into her ear. ‘It’s such a romantic little spot, nothing but a passing Thames barge to interrupt us.’

  ‘The Angel? Of course, it’s by Cherry Garden Pier,’ Matty said in a stage whisper which had the desired effect of catching Lady Fetherstone’s attention. She left Tom with a word of apology and glided over, her concave figure leaning proprietorially against Neville’s.

  Matty smiled at her, half with relief, half with mischief. ‘Lady Fetherstone, Mr Piper was just telling me about his little “bolt-hole” in Bermondsey – it’s such a small world!’

  Lady Fetherstone raised first her cigarette holder and then an eyebrow. Turning deliberately to Neville, she said, ‘A small world indeed. In fact, that’s given me a marvellous idea. Perhaps, Neville, you’d invite me to stay in your little “bolt-hole” so that I can see Mr Robert’s pioneering film work on the spot!’

  Neville didn’t answer Lady Fetherstone. Instead he kissed her lightly on the cheek and said, ‘Time to toast the New Year, Marjorie darling. Champagne for your guests?’ He plucked a bottle from the ice bucket and popped the cork, sending a foaming fizz over the silver tray as he filled glasses. ‘Come on, everyone,’ he addressed the room, ‘let’s drink to 1932!’ Neville kissed Matty as he handed her the champagne glass and she pulled away, flustered. The only New Year kiss she was interested in would come from Tom, but when Matty looked around the room for him, he was not there.

  *

  The following morning was taken up with showing Lady Fetherstone the films they’d brought with them. The projector was set up in her sitting room, which had been blacked out for the purpose, with the shutters and heavy curtains drawn. She proved surprisingly knowledgeable about the benefits of childcare and sunray treatment and seemed genuinely moved when Matty told her Billy’s story. By the end of the screenings, she had virtually guaranteed them the funding for the new series of films featuring Matty.

  After lunch, Matty stood on the terrace watching the boys traipse off to shoot at clay pigeons. As she was about to go in she spotted the bizarre figure of Frances disappearing down the drive, dressed in an even more outlandish outfit than the day before – it reminded Matty of coalmen with their improvised coal-sack hoods. Frances’ sacking garment reached only halfway down her thighs and she wore thick woollen stockings held up by cross garters. On the front and back of her wide-shouldered tunic she had appliquéd a lightning bolt.

  ‘Poor girl, she does look ridiculous, but she won’t listen to me. I’m told she’s organized a very important gathering of the local Kindred of the Kibbo Kift in Fonstone Wood.’ Lady Fetherstone’s brow creased as she followed her daughter’s progress. ‘I’m not sure which of my children I’m more worried about.’

  ‘They both want to make the world a better place,’ Matty offered and Lady Fetherstone smiled suddenly. ‘Come for a walk in the park, Miss Gilbie. It’s such a beautiful day.’

  Matty was certain the cherry-red two-piece Milly had made for her was unsuitable for a country walk, but it was all she had and the detachable fur collar meant that at least the jacket was warm. She went to put on her oval black hat, setting it at a fashionable angle and adding a pair of black gloves. Lady Fetherstone was waiting for her on the terrace, dressed in tweeds and sensible shoes. A flicker of surprise crossed her face at the cherry-red outfit and Matty, smiling brightly, pulled up the fur collar and crossed the terrace as if it were a stage. The woman set off with a long, brisk stride, but Matty was a match for her. They walked through the gardens towards a small lake, with Lady Fetherstone pointing out specimen trees and a folly on the way. It was a bright, crisp afternoon and Matty was beginning to enjoy the walk when the woman stopped.

  ‘This is the heart of Fonstone, Matty. May I call you Matty?’

  They had come upon a tall block of weathered stone, sticking out at a drunken angle from the level grassy area.

  ‘The story is that it’s a stone from the original castle, dislodged by a trebuchet in one of the many sieges. But it’s actually much older than anything else on the estate, probably just one of a stone-age circle. There are others scattered around the area, but this is the largest. No one could ever move it, there’s far more stuck below the ground than on top of it, see?’

  ‘We have a stone in Bermondsey, but a tenth smaller! They say it’s the only relic from our old abbey. Did you know that kings and queens stayed in Bermondsey Abbey?’ Matty said, running her hand over the smooth stone.

  ‘It’s certainly a place that attracts a motley assortment. Speaking of which – I do hope Neville wasn’t bothering you too much yesterday evening,’ Lady Fetherstone said suddenly. ‘He is quite naughty. I don’t expect fidelity, but I do expect good manners, and if he put you in an embarrassing position...’

  Matty smiled and shook her head. ‘I’ve been on the stage most of my life. I had to learn how to deal with – attention at an early age.’

  ‘Well, my dear, you dealt with it admirably last night, and I appreciated your tact. I was teasing Neville slightly, but I really did mean it, about coming to Bermondsey to see your work. You see...’ she gave an almost imperceptible sigh and her tall figure caved in a little more, ‘I lost one of my own children to scarlet fever.’

  Matty’s surprise must have shown on her face, for she had only ever thought of it as a disease of the poor, spread in cro
wded, unhygienic, poor housing.

  ‘Privilege is not always a protection, but it’s a help. At least I didn’t lose all my children, as some of those poor mothers in your films have done.’ She heard Lady Fetherstone’s voice break and her heart immediately went out to the woman. Ignoring polite convention, she took her hand. ‘It’s a terrible thing, to lose a child,’ she said softly and Lady Fetherstone nodded, squeezing Matty’s hand.

  They walked on in silence till they reached the almost circular lake and sat on a bench, watching a pair of swans glide towards them.

  ‘Now tell me about your handsome Mr Roberts – he’s obviously head over heels. So what’s the trouble between the two of you?’

  Matty blushed and pulled at the fur stole.

  ‘Have I shocked you? I’m sorry, my dear, but I have an antenna when it comes to matters of the heart, and I can spot one that’s breaking a mile off.’

  It was strangely comforting to unburden her heart to this virtual stranger from another world. Matty would have thought she’d have nothing in common with Ma Feathers except her son and her philanthropy, but she soon discovered the woman had an uncanny knack of drawing her out. She seemed genuinely interested.

  ‘The truth is, I kept something a secret from him for a long time and then I told him, and now he doesn’t trust me...’ Matty confessed.

  ‘Ah, secrets, yes. I’ve always found them a great inconvenience.’

  ‘Your son told me you were a family without secrets,’ Matty said and Lady Fetherstone gave a short ringing laugh that caused the swans to look haughtily in their direction.

  ‘It’s true, I try to do without them. But sometimes it is tempting – to avoid hurt.’

  Matty nodded vigorously. ‘That’s what I thought, but that only seemed to make Tom angrier.’

  ‘I don’t think you need worry too much about him, Matty. Last night he was manfully trying to stay focused on our conversation, but his eyes gave him away. They were always on you, my dear.’

  *

  That evening another guest joined them, a former tutor of Will and Feathers, who’d been researching Hadrian’s Wall. He had been invited to stay the night on his return south. He was a short, roundish man, with a benign face and tufts of white hair crowning his bald head. Will told her Professor Dubbs was a fearsomely intelligent and respected academic, though he looked to Matty more like a grocer. Even the addition of an evening suit didn’t eradicate the impression. But the boys both seemed in awe of him. Matty had never seen Will quite so deferential to anybody and Feathers’ nonchalance had deserted him.

  The professor exchanged a few pleasantries with Matty after dinner, but she felt oddly as though she were in the presence of a character actor. Each of his pronouncements was followed by a short, hearty laugh, and though his smile was broad and the corners of his eyes crinkled, the gaze that held her was pinpoint sharp. She felt like a butterfly impaled on a pin, held up to the light and impassively studied. Perhaps that was what a fearsomely intelligent mind did, but Matty didn’t like it and she was glad when he turned his chilly attention back to the boys.

  She went instinctively to the fire, which was ablaze with logs brought in from the park. Whether it was the flames or the dazzling light from several huge chandeliers hanging in the room, the unsettling exchange with Professor Dubbs had left her feeling exposed. She realized he’d found out much more about her in those brief minutes than she had about him.

  Tom came to her side and she turned to him with a smile. They were going home tomorrow and Matty felt disappointed they’d had no chance to talk.

  ‘Come out for a bit of air?’ she asked, indicating the doors leading to the terrace, and he followed her.

  Tonight she was wearing a midnight-blue velvet gown and matching wrap which, once outside, she pulled more closely around her shoulders. The stars here were more numerous than she’d ever seen – even in America. The thin northern air and lack of London fog seemed to boost their brilliance against the deep black night.

  Tom lit them both cigarettes and she waited for him to speak. He looked at her with eyes that seemed to catch the starlight.

  ‘You look beautiful.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s no good, Matty...’

  She held her breath, a dread, colder than the night air, clutching at her stomach.

  ‘I was an idiot to expect you’d come home from America without a history. I’m sorry.’

  What was he sorry about? Sorry that he couldn’t live with her secrets? Sorry he had expected her to trust him enough to reveal them? She had no idea.

  ‘It’s all right, Tom, I understand. You can’t ignore my past. It’s a lot to expect of any man.’

  ‘I’ve tried to make myself not care what happened between you and Rossi, but I do. Sometimes when I look at you all I can see is you in that photo. I don’t think I even blame you. I just can’t get the picture out of my mind, and I want to smash his face to a pulp. But he’s not here, so all I do is get angry with you. I know it’s not fair, but I keep thinking about what you said at Winchester.’

  She was trembling, not from the cold, but from fear of what he would say next. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

  ‘What did I say?’ She heard her own voice, shaky and thin.

  ‘You said, Don’t go back for me, and I know you meant the gangs, but perhaps you were right in another way... I shouldn’t have gone back for you.’

  At that moment Neville Piper stuck his head out of the terrace door. ‘Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt,’ he said, looking anything but sorry. ‘But Lady Fetherstone requires your presence. She wants to try one of those Gibson cocktails and apparently I’m making a mess of it. Could we borrow Mr Roberts to be our barman?’

  Tom shot her a miserable look and murmured, ‘I’m sorry’, leaving her to the terrace and her tears, which she found impossible to stem. It was only gradually that hushed voices made their way into her consciousness. They were coming from below the terrace and she instinctively moved back from the balustrade, not wishing to eavesdrop – until, that is, she recognized Feathers’ voice. She knew she shouldn’t be listening, but the young man’s tone was high-pitched with urgency.

  ‘It’s not just myself I have to think of. I’m part of a family with many responsibilities. There are certain duties, expectations, of someone in my position.’

  ‘And that is exactly why, my dear boy, you are perfectly placed to play this role. Who would suspect someone in your position? You will have access to certain information that will further our cause. You wanted to make this a fairer, more just world, didn’t you? You told me you have felt the burden of guilt all your life, for your privilege, your unearned right to all the things denied to most of humanity. Now is the moment in history when you can make that difference. You only need the will. You’ve made a start – albeit an abortive one, but what we are asking of you would be a lifetime commitment. Putting the comintern cause above country, family, friends, personal happiness, that is what is required of a young man in your position, that is the expectation, that is responsibility.’ It was the mesmerizing voice of Professor Dubbs, and tonight there was no hint of the grocer in it. It was both forceful and reasonable, so that Matty realized with disgust that she was almost willing Feathers to agree to the ‘great enterprise’, which would undoubtedly ruin his life, if not end it. She felt sick. Had Dubbs given the same speech to Will? If he had, she didn’t doubt what his reply would have been. She’d been naive to think the two boys had acted alone in their foolhardy trip to Germany. Wasn’t there always someone who stayed safely at home and pulled the strings? She gripped the balustrade, her heart thumping so loudly she thought the sound must reach the two below and give her away.

  She heard Feathers clear his throat. ‘I do, most sincerely, wish to do my bit, Professor, and I think I’m up to the challenge. What is it you had in mind for me...’

  She heard shuffling feet and she saw the two glowing tips of their cigarettes move slowly along the lower terrace. Professor Dubbs
’ answer was lost to her as they moved out of earshot. She realized she’d been holding her breath, and now before Tom could come out and reveal her presence she hurried inside.

  She bumped into Will, who was on his way out to join her. He took her elbow, leading her back into the warm bright room.

  ‘Bit uncle willy out there, ain’t it?’ he said, in his other voice, which for some reason tonight she found endearing rather than irritating. She slipped her arm through his. ‘I’ve been thinking, Will. You should really get a proper job.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Now you do sound like our mother.’

  ‘I’m not joking. You want to give your father’s money away and International Red Aid might be a good cause, but have you ever thought about working in Bermondsey? Can’t you make a better world starting there?’

  ‘What’s sparked all this off? Seen too much privilege this weekend?’

  She steered Will towards the gramophone, which was playing a version of ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’’. Then, lowering her voice, she said, ‘Has Professor Dubbs made you a proposal?’

  The beginnings of a blush spread up Will’s neck and she could see him fighting with surprise. ‘What on earth could old Dubbs propose, apart from a dusty life in the groves of academe – not for me, Matty.’ He gave a strained laugh and she knew he’d accepted.

  ‘Don’t give me that old flannel, Will. You bloody well tell him to shove his comintern cause up his arse, hear me?’

  This was the last thing he expected from Matty and his eyes widened with what looked almost like terror. The greatest secret of his life, probably less than an hour old, had been blown to the four winds by his sister, the faded music hall star, and for once Will was speechless.

  ‘I’ve just heard him having a go at Feathers too. And the silly sod’s going along with it! Please, Will, our mother was all for changing the world, but what that feller’s asking sounded like treason! Don’t have anything to do with it,’ Matty urged fiercely.