Page 44 of The Last Night in London
Eva returned the smile, her spoon moving back and forth in the teacup, the sugar clumping on top in the lukewarm tea. Precious rejoined them, unaware of all the heads turning as she crossed the room.
“To reinvention,” Sophia said, lifting her cup.
“To reinvention,” Precious agreed, doing the same.
“To reinvention,” Eva repeated before bringing her cup to her lips and taking a long sip. She didn’t taste a thing.
—
“No, thank you,” Freya said with a dismissive snort at Precious. “I’ll stick with the Bromo-Seltzer. It’s what we’ve always used before a show, and I don’t see a need to change now.”
Despite the other models’ refusal to try her preshow concoction, Precious remained cheerful. “You don’t know what you’re missing. But that’s fine. More for us. Right, Eva?”
Eva looked suspiciously at the bottles of Coca-Cola and the bowl of shelled monkey-nuts Precious had set on the dressing table. Precious referred to them as peanuts, but Eva had known them only as the food fed to elephants at the circus. She’d been to one once when she was a little girl, sneaking in through an opening in the tent.
“Maybe I should take the Bromo-Seltzer, too, just in case.”
Precious laughed as she funneled her hand and let the little nuts slide into the neck of the bottle. She’d already instructed Eva to take three sips to make room. Handing the bottle to Eva, she said, “Go ahead.”
Eva hadn’t been prepared to like it, but after she took the first salty-sweet sip, she couldn’t stop. “It’s not bad,” she admitted. “I’ll let you know if I still have energy after I’ve shown ten frocks, but it’s surprisingly drinkable.” Smiling at her friend, she asked, “Are you ever wrong?”
“I’m sure I am, but I tell myself that being wrong is just an opportunity to look for another answer. It makes decisions a whole lot easier to live with—that’s for sure.” Precious put her own bottle to her lips and tilted her head back. Eva did the same. Precious leaned toward her, her gaze scrutinizing. “The makeup on your neck has rubbed off, and you can see the little dark spot. Personally, I think it gives you an air of mystery. You shouldn’t bother covering it up.”
Eva’s hand immediately went to her neck in an attempt to cover the dark birthmark. Although it was no bigger than a sixpence, she’d been afraid that Madame Lushtak would notice it. She placed her empty Coke bottle on the table and stood. “I’ll go find Mr. Danek. I hate it, and I don’t want to have to look at it every time I see my reflection.”
“All right. I’ll save you some peanuts.”
Eva nodded distractedly as she knotted her belt over her dressing gown and left. The show wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour, but Mr. Danek had already finished painting the faces of the six models and was having a rare break before the mayhem began. Hesat, leaning back in his chair, the front legs off the floor. He was reading the newspaper and smoking a cigarette, a scowl on his face.
“Mr. Danek?” The scowl remained as he looked up, but when he saw it was Eva, he smiled. “I need a little touch-up, if you have a moment.”
“For you, always.” He stood, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and turned her face from side to side. “I only see perfection.”
“Then you need glasses. Just a little more makeup on my neck, please,” she said as she sat and lifted her chin to show him.
“It is invisible already, but if you insist, I will do my best.” He sat down on a stool next to her and began searching through the piles of cosmetics on the table.
She scrutinized the jars as he searched. “Why were you scowling? The birds are singing and the flowers are blooming, and I can’t imagine there’s anything that would make me frown right now with spring going on right outside my window.”
He picked up a small jar and gave Eva an exasperated look. “You should try to be more informed, Eva. There is a lot going on in this world that you should know about. Poland is continuing to refuse to capitulate to Germany’s demand to annex Danzig and the Polish Corridor. Herr Hitler does not like to hear the word ‘no.’”
“But that’s so far away,” Eva said, tilting her head so he could apply the makeup. “I’d rather wait to worry about it when—or if—I have to.”
His dark eyes bored into hers. “That’s what the sleeping fly said before the newspaper hit it. Has your Graham said nothing to you about what’s going on? He works in Whitehall, yes?”
She smiled softly. “We don’t talk about things like that. He takes me to lovely buildings in the city and tells me about their history and design. We go on long walks and talk about things we like and the people we know and sometimes nothing at all. And we’re going to Kew tomorrow to see the cherry blossoms. You see? There’s so much more to life than worrying about Hitler. I say, thank goodness for the English Channel separating us from Europe.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Hitler views the Channel as a mere pond he can wade through to get what he wants.” Mr. Danek pulled out a powder puff and dabbed it on Eva’s nose and neck. “Sometimes I wish I had the ignorance of youth. How much happier I’d be.”
The sharp edge of his voice made Eva regard him warily. “I’m not ignorant, Mr. Danek. I’m just trying to be happy.” She winced, realizing how that sounded. “I’m not frivolous—I know there is real suffering and danger in the world. But I lived in misery for the first eighteen years of my life, and I finally have real happiness within my grasp. I don’t want to let it go.”
His eyes were sad when he spoke, and Eva remembered his dead wife and how little she really knew about Mr. Danek. “I have found that happiness is simply the absence of all other emotions. Remember, it’s best to always keep one eye open. Bad things usually happen when we’re not paying attention.”
“Is that why you had to leave Prague? Because you weren’t paying attention?”
He straightened. “It’s one of the reasons.”
“And your friend from the café, Mr. Zeman. What does he say?”
