The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(46)
Rita watched her, thinking how she’d blossomed from the terrified, tongue-tied child she had been at Christmas when she and Jack had rescued them from Charlie and brought them to the farm. Now Megan seemed perfectly happy to imagine a creature in the shadows and yet not be worried about it. Rita reassured herself that all children dreamed up monsters and ghosts and all manner of things and were none the worse for it. She did her best to push to the back of her mind the incident in the shop yard when she could have sworn someone had been watching her. That had been the cat, nothing more. It was her intense concern for her children, combined with the never-ending way she missed them so much, that made her fear the same person, thing, whatever it was, was also targeting Megan. Stop it; you’re making something out of nothing, she told herself.
Gratefully she stepped inside the kitchen and gasped in delight at the spread Joan had laid on: pies, tarts, sandwiches and, in pride of place, a beautiful fruit cake, topped with carefully arranged, very slightly askew, nuts in a circle.
‘Do you like it?’ Megan asked, suddenly shy.
Rita hugged her daughter tightly. ‘I can’t imagine anything better.’ And it was true, she thought, gazing around. Here she was with her beloved children, where they were safe, and here was Jack with them. Michael was pointing out to him which sandwiches he’d helped to cut, and Jack was solemnly inspecting them. If only he was able to admit he was the boy’s real father – what a wonderful role model he would be. Michael obviously thought he was the bee’s knees. Charlie would never have bothered with such a small domestic detail, but she could see how Michael swelled with pride under Jack’s approval. This was how it should be. She would hold on to these moments, and that would help her to face whatever the future might bring.
‘It’s frightfully good of you to ask us along,’ Laura said, touching Elliott’s arm briefly as they pushed their way out of the busy Tube station. Crowds were milling about, around the entrance, along the street, and in Leicester Square in the distance. ‘I thought you two lovebirds might want some time alone.’ She turned her full-beam smile on him and shook her lustrous blonde hair.
Kitty silently reflected that her friend might well be right – it was a kind offer of Elliott’s to all go out together, but he was going back to Liverpool tomorrow and every moment was precious. She told herself not to be mean. It wasn’t often that Laura and Marjorie would have the chance to be escorted to the West End by a handsome young doctor – especially one who’d promised to take them to one of his favourite haunts. They all deserved a night out – for the three young women to have a weekend evening off together was rare, as they worked so hard, and even when they planned a trip to the cinema, the odds were that a raid would prevent them from going.
Laura gazed around. ‘So where are we headed for? I can’t believe you know of a club around here that I haven’t been to.’
Elliott looked as if he was having the time of his life, surrounded by three young Wrens all done up to the nines. Kitty and Marjorie had ended up borrowing more of Laura’s clothes, as there hadn’t been time to go shopping or make anything new. Marjorie had a puff-sleeve dress in lemon yellow, while Kitty wore a more dramatic deep-blue frock with a nipped-in waist. It was too hot for their coats, although Kitty had insisted they carried cardigans in case the temperature dropped later. She had slung her own cream knitted bolero around her shoulders. She clutched the sleeves as she asked, ‘Yes, where are we going, Elliott? Do we need to make our way through these crowds?’
Marjorie looked around apprehensively. ‘It’s terribly busy. I do hope there isn’t an air raid. We’d never all fit in the shelter if there was.’
Elliott turned to her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you all.’ He indicated a narrow side road leading them away from the bustling main street. ‘It’s just down here.’ He brought them to a corner of a small alley, deep in shade, and came to a halt in front of a dark-brown door.
‘Is this it?’ Laura looked at it askance. ‘It’s a good job we trust you, Elliott, or I’d be seriously wondering if this was another kind of club entirely.’
‘It’s one of those places you just have to know about; it doesn’t advertise its presence. It’ll be worth it, you mark my words.’ He knocked sharply on the door and a dark-haired man stuck his head outside, breaking into a broad grin when he saw who it was.
‘Fitzgerald! You old dog. Haven’t seen you for months. Nobody told me you were coming. And with such gorgeous girls, too. Come on in, you’ll love the band we have on tonight.’
He disappeared back inside and they all followed him, down a dimly lit staircase into a basement. Kitty began to have second thoughts. This was a whole new side of Elliott – he clearly had rakish friends who ran secret nightspots and who knew what else? She was struck by a wave of apprehension. Laura was in her element and surely Kitty wasn’t imagining that her friend was being flirtatious? She knew that was often Laura’s way, putting on a show of being outgoing and outrageous, but it still didn’t take much for all her old insecurities to re-emerge.
The stairs turned right at the bottom and Kitty gave a gasp. They were in a vast basement room, with a brightly lit stage at one end, a gleaming dance floor in front of it and a long bar down one side. The rest of the room was filled with elegant small tables, each with its own lamp, and slender chairs. People of all ages, some in uniform and others not, gathered at the tables and along the bar. Kitty had never seen anywhere quite like it.