Ellie (70 page)

But of all the good things that were happening, Ellie felt most thrilled by Sir Miles’s interest in her. He had come with his wife on opening night and called briefly at the dressing-room afterwards to compliment her on her performance. He had asked politely about Bonny, but Ellie felt his curiosity was all centred on her. She still didn’t know whether to believe he really was her father. She could see no similarity between them, and sometimes she wished Marleen had never told her about her mother’s affair with him. It made her want too much.

Bonny had turned up to see the pantomime with her Aunt Lydia at the start of the new year. Because Lydia was by her side there was no opportunity to really talk, but Ellie felt she was still very distressed by Magnus giving her up. A week later she wrote from her parents’ home to say she was joining a dance troupe called The Toppers because otherwise she might strangle her mother. Then she went on to say John Norton was in America but had written to her and that she hoped to see him again when he got back. As Ellie had heard nothing further since then, she had to assume Bonny was recovering.

Then there was Ray.

From that first supper date with him back before Christmas, Ellie had known it was inevitable they’d become lovers eventually. Ray charmed her on every level: he was funny, intelligent and warm, he could chat easily about anything, he was as fascinated by the theatre as she was, in tune with her in every way. The only reason she had held out this long was because she hoped for something more. She wanted him physically, she had from the very start, yet she knew she wasn’t in love with him.

‘That wonderful meal was enough without champagne,’ Ellie smiled, taking the glass of sparkling wine from him and clinking it against his. ‘Here’s to the abolition of food rationing!’

‘I think it’s going to be around for a few more years yet,’ Ray said, his blue-grey eyes looking seductively sleepy; they’d already drunk two bottles of wine with their steaks in Maria’s in Flask Walk. ‘I dream of one day going into a shop and being allowed to have everything I want, to load up a shopping bag with pork chops, bacon, ham and twenty different kinds of cheeses.’

‘Is there more than one kind?’ Since Ellie had been in Hampstead and met many of Ray’s rather Bohemian friends she’d become highly aware of her lack of sophistication, and she chose to cope with this by pretending to be even less knowledgeable than she really was.

‘My little innocent,’ Ray said tenderly, moving closer on the couch. ‘There’s so many things I’d like to teach you.’

Ray was glad he’d had the foresight to spend this afternoon cleaning and tidying. The fire he’d lit then was roaring away now; he’d even changed the sheets. Ray didn’t normally go to so much trouble for his girlfriends – usually a smelly paraffin stove and an unmade bed was all that greeted them – but he was determined to seduce Ellie tonight. He’d even visited the barber’s this morning with the sole purpose of buying some sheaths. It was so rare to find a beautiful actress of her age who was still a virgin. Even her kisses were chaste.

‘What would you like to teach me?’ Ellie put her glass down on the floor and snuggled closer to him leaning into his shoulder. She was just tipsy enough to lose her inhibitions. Ray had put a record on, of lovely dreamy music. She hadn’t liked to show her ignorance by asking what it was, but she thought it was Mozart.

‘To trust me, for a start,’ Ray whispered, nuzzling at her ear. ‘To let yourself go and stop thinking about tomorrow, or next week, just the moment.’

He held her face in both his hands, kissing her so lovingly it sent delicious tingles down her spine. Ellie responded to his probing tongue by opening her lips just wide enough to receive it, and the tingles became tremors.

‘Mm,’ she sighed contentedly. His fingers were already unbuttoning her cardigan. The thought flashed through her mind that maybe she ought to have foreseen something like this tonight and bought some new underwear. Was it dark enough in here by candle-light that he wouldn’t notice how shabby they were? How was she going to get her dress off? It had hooks and eyes on the side! And what if she got pregnant?

An hour or so later, most of her anxiety had gone, lulled into a blissful world where nothing mattered more than his kisses. They were lying on the rug in front of the fire. Ray had pulled her dress over her head, all but one candle had burned itself out, her underwear had been slowly removed and surreptitiously shoved by herself under one of the cushions. She’d seen Ray take a packet from his jacket pocket and place it beside him on the floor. The only worry she had now was whether she should instigate him taking his trousers off, or wait for him to do it.

His chest was bare and as endearingly thin and narrow as a young boy’s, winter white and entirely free from hair. She ran her fingers through his curls as he sucked at her breasts, wanting to tell him how much he was pleasing her, but yet not knowing how. It was like a delicious dream she never wanted to wake from, wave after wave of sensual delight which she was taking selfishly, offering nothing in return. His fingers were probing into her, finding sensitive spots she hadn’t known were there. She wanted it to go on and on for ever.

The music had stopped long ago, the needle scratching in the middle. The fire crackled and groaned as the coals grew smaller, the last candle spluttered and went out and Ellie slid her hands down Ray’s back towards his trousers, desire greater now than her anxiety about the proprieties in love-making.

He moaned in delight as her fingers reached for his buttons, his belly arching away from hers to admit her hand. ‘I want you so badly,’ he whispered huskily. ‘You’re so beautiful, Ellie, I never want tonight to end.’

‘Show me what to do,’ she whispered, remembering suddenly that it had been at this point when everything went wrong with her and Charley.

‘Just hold me, angel,’ he whispered back, pushing his fingers hard inside her making her moan with more pleasure.

Passion welled up more intensely as she felt his hardness. He was wriggling out of his trousers, mouth back at her breasts sucking and biting. He had to be much more experienced than Charley was to have such control, because she was losing all hers.

But even when Ray was naked, he still made no attempt to enter her. He caressed her sex with such delicacy, she felt herself being drawn into a fiery tunnel that made her buck beneath him and clutch him tighter to her. She could hear herself making noises exactly like those she’d overheard from Bonny when she was with Magnus in the flat in Pimlico, but she didn’t care any longer, she just wanted to reach the end of that tunnel, wherever it was leading.

‘Come, baby, come,’ he whispered against her breast. ‘Then I’ll fuck you and make it happen again.’

Something extraordinary was happening. She was on fire, a burning sensation spreading all over her that made her tremble and gasp in pure delight. Ray’s fingers were doing it, it was birthdays, Christmas, first nights and brass bands all at once, then she found herself crying, clinging on to him, shaking from head to toe.

‘Nice?’ Ray murmured sleepily much later. They had moved into his bed some time ago and made love twice more, and she thought it must be nearly morning now. All the mysteries had been revealed to her – why Bonny couldn’t get enough of it, why songs and poems were written about it – and it had exceeded even her wildest expectations.

‘It was wonderful,’ she whispered, snuggling tighter into his shoulder. Tomorrow she would probably blush when she thought of some of the things Ray had done to her, or recalled the things she’d said. But right now she felt utter peace, her body satiated and complete. ‘That was the best birthday present ever.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

September 1948

Wet coats, umbrellas and condensation created a steamy fug in the crowded Hampstead teashop. Rain splattered hard on the bow-windows, the lace curtains fluttering each time yet another drenched person burst in to find refuge from the wet street.

Edward and Ellie were tucked into the furthest corner table. The teapot had long since been drained and the two-tier cake stand was empty aside from one unappetising slice of gingerbread. They studiously ignored the elderly waitress who was clearly hoping they would leave to make room for someone else.

It was mid-September and Ellie had been in Hampstead just over nine months since taking over the role of Prince Charming. The pantomime had run until the last week in February, but Ray Kennedy had kept her on since then in repertory, giving her parts in each new production. She had gained an enormous amount of acting experience during this time, from plays by Ibsen, Shaw and Noël Coward, to the present farce in which Edward had a role as the butler.

Edward had come back to London in March as the resident pianist in Churchill’s, a smart West End night-club. Ellie had introduced him to Ray and persuaded him to try Edward out in this part. In all these months Bonny had remained in The Toppers, touring the provinces, and Edward had all but forgotten the influence she once had on Ellie. Now, though, it seemed Bonny was asserting it again: Ellie was about to join up with her for a double-act in a touring show.

‘But why, Ellie? Dancing with Bonny is a step backwards,’ Edward argued. ‘I don’t understand you. You’ve been making quite a name for yourself in comedy. What on earth made you agree to this?’

‘Because I want to keep up dancing,’ Ellie said in a low voice, aware that a couple of middle-aged ladies at the next table were listening. ‘It won’t be any good turning up for an audition in a musical comedy if I’m out of condition. I’ve been trying to keep up dance practice, but it’s impossible when I’m living in digs. My voice is suffering too. A six-month tour will set me up again.’

‘Touring’s exhausting,’ Edward said, leaning back in his seat and lighting up yet another cigarette. He was jealous. He and Ellie had been having such a happy time here in London without Bonny to spoil it. He thought she was being very stupid. ‘A week here, a week there, seedy digs, living out of suitcases and all that travelling, what kind of life is that?’

Edward’s appearance had gradually changed from that of a very correct English gentleman into a more artistic image in the last couple of years. His blond hair was longer, corduroy trousers and casual jackets replacing his old dark suits and stiff collars. His lifestyle of late nights, lack of fresh air and exercise had given him a slightly haunted pallor, and even his once very correct speech was peppered now with slang picked up in West End clubs and bars.

‘It’s a good experience,’ Ellie said firmly. ‘And I like seeing new places. You’re just cross because I’ll be with Bonny.’

Edward blushed. He hadn’t thought he was so transparent. ‘I thought she had a new man? Or has that fallen through?’

Ellie bristled a little. She didn’t like it when Edward was sarcastic about Bonny. She had no intention of passing on what Bonny had revealed in her letters regarding John Norton. ‘No, it hasn’t fallen through, in fact he sounds like a permanent fixture in her life,’ Ellie said tartly. ‘But he’s abroad a good deal of the time and anyway, Bonny does make her own living, you know!’

‘What about Ray Kennedy?’ Edward changed tack. It was a mistake to cast aspersions about Bonny; Ellie was always fiercely defensive of her. ‘Does he mind you going away?’

Edward liked Ray. He was intelligent, amusing and a good producer. But Edward couldn’t help but be jealous of him too. He didn’t actually mind him being Ellie’s lover, he just resented the man encroaching on his territory, that of Ellie’s best friend.

‘Ray’s another reason I’m going.’ Ellie bent forward across the table, her tone confidential. ‘It’s not going anywhere with him, Edward. He’s good fun and very sexy, and it would be so easy just to stay here and let the months drift by, but I must move on. Six months away will sort out everything, including how I feel about him.’

There were times when she had almost convinced herself she was in love with Ray. They liked the same things, their goals in life were similar – but there was something lacking. She didn’t feel that all-consuming passion she had for Charley.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Edward sighed. He couldn’t make out which was worse, Ray’s or Bonny’s influence on her. Ellie looked very shabby these days. He knew she earned very little, but she was developing a strange Bohemian look that worried him slightly. Her coat appeared to have been made out of tapestry curtains and her brown felt hat brim was pinned up with a vulgar ruby glass brooch. He wished he could be the only person in her life and buy her the kind of clothes that would show-off her beauty. ‘Maybe I’m only being a dog in the manger because I’ll miss you.’

Ellie often thought that she and Edward were a real pair: two oddballs, who had so much in common. But although she loved him as a brother, there was no sexual chemistry between them. ‘Oh Edward,’ she grinned. ‘We’ll always be pals. Besides, you’ve got Marcia, and Ray’s included you in his next two productions.’

Edward was pleased about his roles in the next two plays, but less enthusiastic about Marcia. He’d met her when he was working in Churchill’s. She was several years older than himself, a tall, slinky blonde croupier whom he couldn’t resist, yet who at the same time disgusted him. She was as voracious in her sexual appetite as Bonny, but common and crude. Although she’d completed his sexual education, he knew there was something dark and unnatural about their relationship. He couldn’t tell Ellie this.

‘I suppose we’d better go.’ Edward looked at his watch. It was nearly four o’clock and he’d arranged to see Marcia at half-past. ‘Are you going back to the digs?’

‘No, nipping down to see Ray,’ Ellie admitted, a naughty glint in her eyes. ‘I’ll see you at the theatre later.’

Edward turned away to summon the waitress for the bill. He didn’t like to picture Ellie in bed with Ray. Not even when he was on his way to screw Marcia.

As Ellie scurried through the rain down Heath Street to Fitzjohn’s Avenue she wondered what exactly Ray had that made him so attractive, not only to her, but to many other women.

Such an ordinary face, not one remarkable feature other than his gentle blue-grey eyes and his curly hair. He didn’t concern himself about appearances – his broken tooth, or his clothes. She supposed it was purely that his personality shone through. He had such zest for life, always full of enthusiasm, whether it was for a new production, or just a day out. He wasn’t a thinker, but a doer. He didn’t agonise about the future, the state of the world, or care about making money. He was a well-adjusted man with no hidden complexes who made her laugh and whom she could really talk to. Ray had been good for her: with him she’d learnt so much, to forget her origins and concentrate her energies on living now. She read more, she listened to music and he’d helped her to stretch her abilities on stage. She was going to miss him when she went away.