Page 71 of Lessons in Life

‘Hey, girls!’ A couple of lads in Levi’s and checked Ben Sherman shirts were standing on the pavement outside The Boot and Shoe, drinking pints. ‘Come and have a drink.’

‘They won’t let you into the Rooms in jeans,’ Janice advised. ‘It’s Saturday night. Suits only.’

‘Well, come and have a drink with us first, then, if you won’t be enjoying our company down there. Who’s your mate?’

‘Shall we?’ Eileen asked. ‘Come on, we’re too early to be going down to the Rooms. We don’t want to be the saddos in there first.’

‘You all right with that, Eloise?’ Janice asked.

‘Oh, don’t worry abouther,’ Gail said slightly cattily. ‘She’s fine. If she’s out with us, she needs to join in with us.’

‘Really, yes, lovely,’ Eloise stuttered. Maude had pressed a couple of pound notes into her hand – ‘For a taxi back if you need one,’ she’d said. ‘And no walking home in the dark.’ How did she pay her way? Did she pay for a round? But the other four girls appeared happy to have their drinks bought for them and Eloise ordered a vodka and tonic – Muriel’s drink of choice – while, to her embarrassment, the other girls asked for halves of lager and cider.

‘So, are you from round here, then?’ Bob, who was apparently a neighbour of Eileen’s, asked, placing an arm around Eloise’s waist and drawing her in to him. His breath smelt strongly of beer, but there was another overpowering scent she couldn’t identify.

‘Erm, Beddingfield,’ she finally said, not sure what to do with the sweaty hand that was moving down to her buttocks, pulling up the fabric slightly. In the short Mary Quant dress, she felt if it moved any lower it would be on her pants’ elastic. Nervously, she downed the vodka quickly, the tonic refreshing her mouth, which seemed to have dried up of any conversation. Château Mont-Choisi had never offered instruction as to what one should do when an unwanted stray hand was inching up towards one’s knickers.

‘Get your hand off Eloise’s backside,’ Janice warned. ‘Buying us a drink doesn’t mean you get to handle our bums. And, you’ve totally gone overboard on the Brut.’ Janice waved a hand in his direction. ‘Never heard of subtlety?’

Bob laughed, obviously finding Eloise’s lack of response an utter turn-off. He moved instead to Gail, who didn’t seem to mind him peering down her low-cut dress.

The alcohol swirling in her veins was making Eloise feel unsteady and she wished she were back home in the garden at Hudson House, the heady scent of night-scented stocks pervading her senses as she bowled endless cricket balls to Michael. Wished, even, she were back with Maude and Les Dawson.

‘Come on, it’s nearly nine,’ Janice ordered the girls. ‘Let’s get off. I’m dying for a dance.’

‘You’re dying to see if Paul Dyson’s there,’ Gail chortled, poking Janice in the ribs.

Janice linked one arm firmly with Eloise, while Jean took the other and, laughing, they swept her off the pavement and across the road to the Regent Rooms.

Escape, it appeared, was no longer an option.

23

ROBYN

The day after the extremely stressful Sunday lunch with the Carringtons, I drove over to Mum’s place once school was over. I’d enough worries what with my lesson planning, which, Mason had informed me, was not up to scratch, as well as with Sorrel’s problems. The biggest elephant in the room – that which had come to light over lunch in Ilkley – I was refusing to even think about at the moment. Time for all that when I was back home with Fabian.

We’d left the restaurant as soon as we could, me driving the Porsche – very badly, convinced the one glass and a bit of champagne would have me over the limit – once I saw Fabian was pale and incapable of being at the wheel after developing one of his debilitating migraines. Concentrating on the early Sunday evening traffic, I’d allowed Fabian to drift off and, once home, he went straight to bed. For the first time ever, we slept turned away from each other, going to sleep without making love and without loving words.

I’d had a 7.30a.m. start at school that Monday morning – Mason demanding an early staff meeting, where I knew he was going to be on the rampage about both planning and marking – and I’d left Fabian to sleep.

Mum, Jess and I had all insisted that Sorrel stay in bed instead of going to school, despiteher insistence that she needed to be up and going through her routine for the audition that week.

‘You’re looking much better,’ I now said, pleased to see that Sorrel was dressed and sitting on the sofa with Roger Rabbit, revising for her final mock exam the following day. ‘D’you feel all right? Should we still have a word with the GP?’

‘Since when can you actually get to see a GP these days?’ Jess had immediately come round to Mum’s. ‘Look, I had a word with the doctor who was up at Hudson House this morning to see one of the old ladies. He was happy to give me some general advice about Sorrel. Good nutrition, plenty of sleep and, when she feels like it, go out for a walk. An iron tablet, just in case, and if she has a fever or heavy bleeding, that’s when we get her to A&E.’

‘She has youth on her side,’ Mum said, ‘but I’m not convinced she should be heading for London. I really don’t think it’s a good idea. What if something happens? What if she starts bleeding heavily? She shouldn’t be dancing.’

‘Will you stop talking over me as if I wasn’t here?’ Sorrel snapped. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’ve been through an awful experience, darling,’ Mum soothed. ‘You shouldn’t be going to this audition in London.’

‘Good job I’ve cancelled it, then.’ I folded my arms, looking directly at Sorrel.

‘You’ve donewhat?’ Sorrel’s eyes immediately filled with tears. ‘You’d noright. How could you, Robyn?’ Tears streamed down her cheeks and Mum was immediately at her side. ‘You’re just jealous,’ Sorrel sobbed. ‘Of my chance of being in the West End… Just because you’ve had it… you’ll never dance again…’

‘You’re not ready, Sorrel,’ I said gently, taking her hand, which she immediately shrugged off. ‘You won’t do your best if you insist on going on Wednesday. So, you’ve got Covid…’

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