Fallen Skies. Philippa Gregory
breath. ‘He does have favourites. You.’
They went to their dressing room. It was empty, the other girls had gone out for tea. Lily dropped into the broken-springed armchair, the only furniture in the room. Madge sat before the mirror and scowled at her reflection.
‘Are you courting?’ she asked. ‘I can’t tell with you two. He takes you out a lot and you went out for the day on Sunday but then he treats you like he treats the rest of us when we’re all together.’
Lily slung her legs over the arm of the chair and picked at the frayed edge of the loose cover. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think he’s wonderful. Sometimes I feel like he really likes me, and then other times I don’t know. He makes a big fuss of my singing and he’s really taught me a lot. But he’d do the same for you, I think.’
‘He doesn’t take me out for a day in the country,’ Madge observed. ‘Did he kiss you?’
Lily flushed. ‘Sort of. Actually, Madge, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a proper boyfriend and Charlie is so …’
‘So what?’
‘When he looks at me,’ Lily said slowly. ‘When he looks at me and smiles and his eyes are so dark and his smile is so …’
‘Well?’
‘I just want to take all my clothes off and crawl all over him!’ Lily said defiantly. ‘I do! When he smiles at me I don’t care what I do. And I don’t care what anyone thinks.’
Madge shrieked with laughter. ‘Lily!’ she said. ‘Your ma would go mad!’
Lily’s face was alight with mischief and desire. ‘I don’t care! I don’t care what she would think. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I must be in love with him. I must be. This must be what it feels like.’
Madge nodded. ‘Head over heels,’ she said.
Lily looked at her wonderingly. ‘D’you think so? Is this it? I’m in love?’
Madge nodded.
‘Just think of that!’ Lily said. ‘I’m in love with Charlie Smith.’
‘But what about him?’
Lily frowned and picked at the threads of the armchair cover again. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He kissed me on the beach and he held me really tight. But then he said we shouldn’t. That my ma would be angry. And then he didn‘t touch me for the rest of the day.’
‘He thinks of you as a little kid,’ Madge advised. ‘He knows your ma and he dressed you up in the choir boy costume. He thinks of you as a little girl still. You’ll have to show him you’re a woman if you want him to take you seriously.’
Lily’s dark blue eyes were huge. ‘How?’
Madge shrugged and then giggled. ‘If I felt like you do I’d wait till everyone had gone to bed and then I’d sneak down the corridor and just get into his bed.’
Lily gave a short delighted scream and clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I’d never dare!’ she said. ‘What if he threw me out? What if he was angry?’
Madge shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t be angry. There isn’t a man in England who would be angry! He might say you were too young or that your ma wouldn’t like it but at least you’d be there – wouldn’t you? And he’d have to do something!’
‘He might tell me he doesn’t like me,’ Lily said.
‘He won’t say that,’ Madge replied. ‘Anyone can see that he’s crazy about you. But he won’t say so. You want to move him on a bit, Lil. Get him going. There’s only a fortnight left of the tour and then you might never work with him again. If you want him, you’d better catch him while you can.’
Lily walked her way through the evening performance and was white and silent at supper at the digs. Even the conjuror noticed it. ‘Have you got a gyppy tum, darling?’ he asked. ‘I can let you have a drop of brandy if it would settle it. I happen to have a little bottle in my room.’
Lily flushed scarlet while Madge snorted on a laugh. ‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Lily said. ‘Just a bit tired.’
‘Better go to bed early then,’ Madge said with a wealth of meaning.
Lily shot a reproachful look at her. ‘I’m fine,’ she said again.
After dinner had been cleared away and the teapot served and Madge had poured everyone a cup, the cast started drifting off to their rooms. In the first weeks of the tour they had often gone out after supper, to clubs or late-opening pubs. But as they had moved further and further west the towns had become smaller, and even in June at the start of the holiday season there were few late-night bars. They would still go out on a Saturday night, booking a table for all of them and going out as a gang. But in the middle of the week even the chorus girls would go to bed after the late supper and sleep in until midday.
Lily lay wakefully in her bed. She shared her bedroom with Susie, who had sat at the mirror for ten minutes, creaming her face, and was now fast asleep. She had a little travelling clock by the bed and Lily could see it in the moonlight if she leaned up. She had promised herself that she would go to Charlie’s room at midnight. The clock said five minutes past and Lily still had not found the courage to make a move.
The minute hand clicked to six minutes past and Lily sat up in bed. From there she could see her own reflection in the dressing table mirror: the smooth bobbed hair, her big dark eyes and the prosaic candy-stripe of her pyjamas. Lily thought with envy of Sylvia de Charmante’s lace-trimmed negligee. Charlie would probably take one look at her in her faded hand-me-down pyjamas and laugh aloud. Lily grimaced at the mirror and swung her bare feet to the cold oilcloth floor.
On the dressing table was Susie’s turquoise and gold bottle of eau de cologne. With a guilty glance at the girl fast asleep in her bed, Lily put a generous dab behind each ear, down her neck, and then tipped a chilly rivulet which ran down between her breasts under her pyjama jacket. She screwed the little metal cap back on, and tiptoed for the door.
It creaked as it opened and Lily froze, expecting Susie to wake and call out. Nothing happened. Susie turned over in her bed and stayed asleep. Lily shut the door cautiously behind her and crept down the corridor.
There was a narrow strip of red and blue patterned carpet over the stained wood floorboards. Lily slid her bare feet cautiously down the carpet runner, flinching from boards which creaked as they received her weight. Charlie’s room was at the back of the boarding house, near the bathroom. If anyone should open their door and see her, Lily could say that she was going to the toilet. Only her intent face and the strong waft of eau de cologne would deny her story.
Lily reached Charlie’s door and put her hand on the door knob. It turned easily under her touch. ‘Oh blimey,’ Lily said miserably and stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.
The curtains were drawn open and the room half-lit by moonlight. Lily could see Charlie lying on his back, one hand behind his head, the other hand outflung. He was wearing pyjamas but the buttons of the jacket were undone. Lily could see his pulse beating steadily and unhurried at his throat, and the smooth skin of his chest. She felt her longing to touch him rise up like a fever and obliterate her nervousness. As she watched his eyelids flicker as he dreamed, and his chest rise and fall with his steady confident breathing, she knew that whatever it cost her in embarrassment or even shame, she had to feel the skin of his chest against her face. She had to lie beside him. Even if it were only for a moment. Even if it were only once.
Lily untied the cord of her pyjama trousers and dropped them to the floor, undid the buttons of her jacket and shrugged it off. Then she lifted the bedclothes and slid into bed beside Charlie.
He