Ellie (72 page)

Now, at last, Bonny’s days with The Toppers were almost over. Ellie had finally become disenchanted enough with being an actress to want to team up again as a double act, and they would be off to open in Manchester in two weeks’ time. Six months of touring with Ellie would make everything right again. But meanwhile Bonny was determined to cement her relationship with John firmly: she wanted him for a husband, hopefully within a year, two at the most.

Today, when he came to visit her in Southampton, she’d suggested they went to visit Aunt Lydia. It was Sunday, so there was no evening performance to rush back for. She had no intention of letting him meet her parents until she was forced to. Lydia had style, though, and Bonny knew the moment he set foot in Briar Bank he would be impressed.

‘Well, this has been such a lovely surprise,’ Lydia said, ruffling Bonny’s hair after she’d set down a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table. ‘I don’t see nearly enough of her, John, so thank you for bringing her to see me.’

Lydia thought Bonny had never looked lovelier. Her hair was set in loose waves, she still had traces of a golden tan, and the blue crêpe frock she was wearing was the height of fashion with its long, slender skirt.

Bonny smiled sweetly, and tucked her arm through John’s as they sat on the couch. ‘John thought I was exaggerating about how lovely Briar Bank is,’ she said. ‘So I insisted we came.’

‘She does tend to exaggerate.’ Lydia looked at John Norton and smiled.

It had been quite a shock to find Bonny at her door this afternoon. At New Year, she’d clearly been deeply unhappy about something, which Lydia had assumed to be a broken love affair, although Bonny couldn’t be drawn on the subject. Since then Lydia had only had an occasional postcard from different towns on the south coast, sometimes containing an odd reference to the man who was with her now.

Johh Norton wasn’t the kind of man Lydia had expected. Comparing him to Jack was like comparing a terrier to a Red Setter. He was a gentleman: suave, polished and extremely intelligent. But Lydia was warming to this quiet, serious man, and it pleased her to see Bonny looking happy again.

‘Well, she didn’t exaggerate one bit about you, or your home,’ John replied. ‘In fact, she omitted to tell me how beautiful you are.’

John had pictured Lydia Wynter older and more stern-faced. She had to be in her forties, but she looked much younger because of her slender figure and chestnut waved hair. Her cashmere twin set and straight skirt were expensive chic, and her vivacious sparkle and lack of spinsterish coyness set her apart from most women of her age.

‘Such flattery will get you everywhere,’ Lydia laughed. She thought John was handsome, especially when he gave one of his rare smiles. Everything about him was neat: his dark hair, small moustache, slender nose and even white teeth. His dark suit was hand-tailored, he had good shoes, a knife-edge crease in his trousers. His dark eyes, though, were his best feature – kind eyes, which seemed to confirm there was nothing shifty or devious about this man. ‘Now let’s have our tea and tell me everything. I want to know about the dancing. Bonny, and all about this charming man.’

Lydia listened as Bonny spoke of all the towns she’d danced in during the last nine months, the other girls in the troupe, the terrible digs, and how John had made it bearable by coming to see her when he could.

‘He’s amazing. Auntie,’ she said, eyes dancing. ‘He turned up in Canterbury, Margate and Brighton. I don’t know how he could bear to see such an awful show over and over again.’

Lydia smiled knowledgeably. John Norton was clearly head over heels in love with Bonny. She just hoped he knew what he was letting himself in for.

‘I had business in those towns. Fortunately I get a bigger ration of petrol than most people, and hotel expenses while I’m on company business.’ John blushed in embarrassment. ‘Besides, the show wasn’t awful. I enjoyed it.’

‘Bonny described you as a big shot in the oil business? Is there oil in Brighton?’ She couldn’t resist that little quip, if only to warn him he couldn’t fool her.

‘I wouldn’t call myself a big shot,’ John said evenly. ‘I’m a chemist by profession, Miss Wynter, I analyse soil and rock samples to enable my company to find oil. But when I’m not out working in the field, I also organise buying tools and equipment for the laboratories. Most of this equipment is bought here in England, then shipped out to wherever we need it. Brighton and Margate are both towns where scientific equipment is made. Canterbury I had to squeeze in on the way to Dover.’

Lydia was suitably impressed by this reply. Obviously he wasn’t just a ‘stage door Johnny’. ‘Bonny says you travel abroad a great deal too. You’ve recently been working in Texas, I believe?’

‘Yes, that’s right, my company works with all the big oil companies out there. I shall be doing my usual stuff, making the scientific judgements before they waste time and money on drilling. I’m off to the Persian Gulf soon.’

Lydia wanted to know why he was unmarried still, but she could hardly ask that without sounding impertinent. Perhaps it was the war; a great deal of men seemed to find it hard to settle afterwards. ‘So what will you do then, Bonny?’ she asked instead, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

‘Oh, I’ve signed up for another tour.’ Bonny looked at John in an odd sort of way. Lydia had a feeling she wanted his approval. ‘Ellie and I are getting back together again as partners. We go to Manchester next week.’

‘Well, that’s wonderful.’ Lydia had driven Bonny back to London after her visit at New Year and they’d gone to see Ellie’s pantomime together. It was the first time she’d actually met Ellie, though she had seen her perform in that ill-fated show at the Phoenix. Somehow she’d always imagined her as very much like Bonny in character and it was a delightful surprise to discover the girl she’d heard so much about was not only very talented, but levelheaded, warm-hearted and seriously ambitious. She felt she was a good influence on Bonny. ‘How do you feel about Bonny being back in tandem with Ellie, John?’

‘A little relieved,’ John said, colouring up suddenly as if he felt he’d let something slip. ‘I mean, Bonny’s been rather lonely on the last job, some of the girls weren’t very pleasant.’

Lydia smiled wryly. She was delighted to see Bonny, but she hadn’t forgotten what a little minx she could be.

‘Where is your home, John?’ Lydia asked after a brief interval of less penetrating questions.

‘That’s not an easy question to answer.’ He smiled as he spoke and she guessed there was a story there. ‘I live in hotels most of the time, but when I’m in London I stay with my godmother, Penelope Beauchamp.’

‘She’s Lady Penelope,’ Bonny butted in. She’d been dying to inform Lydia about that.

‘But where did you grow up?’ Lydia ignored Bonny’s boastful remark, but noticed that John blushed at it.

‘A tiny Somerset village in the Mendips called Priddy.’ John smiled again, as if he liked to recall that. ‘I had a wonderful childhood there, roaming the woods and heathlands with my two brothers.’

‘Your brothers, do they still live there?’ Lydia asked.

‘They are both dead now.’ John’s moustache quivered just slightly, and his eyes dropped from hers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Was that in action? Bonny said you were in the Guards.’

‘Joseph was killed during his platoon’s retreat into Dunkirk,’ John said. ‘Matthew died four years before that of malaria out in India. He was only eighteen.’

‘How terrible for your parents,’ Lydia said. Maybe this was why John had such kind eyes; grief always seemed to make men more sensitive.

They coped with Matthew dying fairly well,’ John sighed. ‘But when Joseph went too, they kind of just gave up. All through the war they became more and more eccentric. Of course I couldn’t get home, I was in the army, in France and latterly in Germany, and when I got a rare couple of days’ leave it was too far to go. They died within weeks of one another, soon after the war ended.’

‘Oh dear,’ Lydia said, wishing she hasn’t asked so many questions. ‘I’m sorry, John.’

‘A great deal worse happened to some families during the war.’ John shrugged his shoulders. ‘They’d had a good life – until my brothers died, a very happy one. I don’t think they were sorry to go. They left me the house – it’s called “The Chestnuts”. As you can imagine, it’s surrounded by chestnut trees. It’s a lovely old Georgian house, but terribly dilapidated. At first I intended to sell it – it’s not the most convenient place to have a home, not in my line of work. But sentimentality got the better of me, and I’m intending to get men in to restore it. I have made a start – the roof is mended and electricity put on – but it’s a big job.’

Lydia excused herself later and went out into the kitchen to prepare a meal. She decided she really liked this new man of Bonny’s. She sensed he was lonely; perhaps until he’d met Bonny he had nothing in his life but work. Strong, dependable and honest, all qualities she had always looked for in a partner, but rarely found. She hoped he would have a permanent steadying influence on Bonny.

Lydia was just laying the dining-room table when Bonny came and joined her.

‘John’s looking around the garden,’ she said. ‘Do you like him, Auntie?’

‘Very much,’ Lydia replied. She could see John through the window, bending over to look at a patch of cyclamen. The leaves were turning brown on the trees, another week and they’d all be down. Autumn always made her feel a bit sad. ‘He’s sensitive, serious and very well-mannered. Just about as opposite to you as possible. But more importantly, do you like him?’

‘Mmm,’ Bonny said thoughtfully. ‘I want to marry him.’

If Bonny had hit her with the heavy box of silver cutlery, Lydia couldn’t have been more astonished. ‘Really! Is this in the air then?’

‘Not exactly.’ Bonny smirked and twiddled with a strand of hair. ‘He hasn’t asked me yet. But I’m sure he will.’

Lydia felt sure Bonny was right. She usually got what she wanted. ‘Perhaps this is a good time then to tell you. Jack got married.’

Bonny’s mouth dropped open. She had been about to enlarge further on Lady Penelope Beauchamp and the fact that she owned property all over London. She was intrigued by John’s godmother, not only because she was titled and rich, but because she was unmarried and was reputed to have been a beauty when she was younger.

‘He didn’t! Who to?’

‘Ginny Meadows. Do you remember her?’

Bonny gave a high, hysterical laugh, an unpleasant, bitter sound. ‘What, that ugly kid with hair like dirty straw?’

‘Ginny’s turned into a very pretty young woman,’ Lydia reproved her. ‘She made a lovely bride, and they are very happy. I’d like you to be happy for them too, Bonny. Jack is a good man and he deserved a nice wife.’

‘So where are they living?’ Bonny’s face had drained of colour. Lydia wished she’d kept the news to herself.

‘In the Tollhouse. Alec moved up here in the village and let them have it. They are struggling to do it up, of course they haven’t much money yet. But Jack’s prospects look very good.’

The sound of John coming back in stopped any further questions. He put his head round the dining-room door and smiled. ‘What a glorious garden, Miss Wynter,’ he said. ‘No wonder Bonny’s so enchanted with Briar Bank. She tells me your grandmother lived here before you?’

Lydia stood outside waving until John’s Jaguar had turned the corner by the church. She felt dejected now, regretting her impulse to tell Bonny about Jack and Ginny. It had quite spoilt the afternoon. Bonny hardly said two words during tea and John was clearly puzzled by this sudden mood swing. But why should Bonny be upset, when she threw Jack over?

Lydia sighed. She knew why really Bonny liked to keep everyone in her pocket, just in case. She just hoped John Norton realised what he was taking on!

‘Do I have to go back to my digs?’ Bonny turned to John as they drove into Southampton. ‘Can’t I stay in your hotel with you?’

It was an awful night. All day there had been intermittent rain, but soon after they left Amberley to go back to Southampton the rain had become heavier and now visibility was reduced to a few yards. Bonny had been staring silently at the driving rain in the car headlights for some time, brooding about Jack, and she knew that once she was back in the digs with the other girls she’d feel even more miserable.

She hated the thought of Jack living in the little Tollhouse, especially with skinny Ginny. Magnus had gone back to his wife, now Jack was married. Everyone had nice homes and security except her.

‘You can’t stay with me, Bonny!’ John looked utterly shocked. ‘What on earth would people think?’

If Bonny hadn’t been feeling so depressed, she might have laughed. She didn’t care what people thought, ever. ‘But I want to be close to you tonight,’ she pleaded. ‘I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Please, John!’

‘We’ll have dinner somewhere nice and then I’ll take you home,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m only human, Bonny, and I couldn’t promise to behave like a gentleman if you were to share my room.’

Bonny was stuck for an answer. From the night when John had turned up at the theatre in Wembley, some time after the gala night at the Savoy, Bonny had used John. He was a presentable escort, nothing more. She had teased him and played the part of a timid virgin because she was in love with Magnus.

John had just left for America when Magnus ended their affair, but even if he had been around, she wouldn’t have had the heart to embark on another love affair. Yet John’s letters had altered her perception of him. Not only were they her only comfort during all those miserable months, but she saw he was worth far more than just a place as a ‘reserve’.

He was kind, thoughtful and affectionate, even if he was rather starchy and proper at times. But although she was certain he was in love with her, he hadn’t admitted it, or talked even in general terms of their having a future together. Whether this was because he wasn’t convinced of her suitability as a wife because of the twelve-year gap in their ages, or whether he doubted her for some other reason, she didn’t know. But she suspected his reluctance to make love to her was tied up in this. Perhaps he knew once he’d stepped over that threshold there would be no way back.