Page 9 of Shadows In Paris
Lizzie and her sisters, Juliet and Evie, had all rushed home so they could make the pictures in time.
‘I’m so pleased we’re going to see the film,’ said Evie, buzzing with excitement as she helped herself to a modest portion of mashed potato.
‘Sorry about the lumps,’ said their mother, Rose. ‘It’s difficult to make smooth mash without using much butter and milk.’
Lizzie tasted a forkful of the potato with the flourish of a connoisseur. ‘It’s delicious, Ma.’
Rose said, ‘It’s good of you to say, darling Lizzie, but we can’t hope for it to be at the standard of our Seagrove mash. I used to put huge chunks of butter in it and even a dollop of Jersey cream.’
‘It was gorgeous,’ Juliet chimed in. ‘But Lizzie’s right. Thisis good too. You make marvellous meals, especially considering the rations.’
‘Where’s Violet?’ Evie, the youngest sister, asked, her copper curls bouncing about like a shimmering halo as she moved her head.
‘She’s got the day off. I had to queue at all the shops this morning. Violet is an absolute godsend; it took ages without her.’
Their new housekeeper had fitted in as though she’d always been with the family, and the girls were relieved to see their mother had help running the Regent’s Park house, and some company when they were all at work for long hours most days.
Juliet, the eldest of the three sisters, who was a salaried employee of the Mechanised Transport Corps, jumped up to clear the plates away as soon as she finished the meal. ‘Come on, let’s get moving or we’ll be late. I want to change.’
‘Me too,’ Lizzie said.
They ran upstairs and Reg settled in his favourite armchair, content at the prospect of a rare evening alone by the fire. He was proud of his girls, but they were noisy, and it would be a treat to read his newspaper in peace.
He worried about Lizzie and prayed the Special Operations Executive wouldn’t send her on another undercover mission. It was dangerous enough in London without risking her life in occupied France.
Reg hadn’t mentioned a word about it to his wife. He had never kept any family related secrets from her before, but he was bound by the Official Secrets Act so when his colleague Drake from the War Office broke the news to him that his daughter had been selected to join a new secret organisation commissioned by Churchill to support the Resistance and set Europe ablaze, he had to keep it to himself and hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it if the truth came out.
Rose poured him a whisky and dropped a tender kiss on his head before putting her coat on.
‘How do I look?’ she asked.
‘As beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you,’ he said.
Rose beamed at her husband. ‘You old romantic.’
‘Every word is true.’
Their daughters trampling down the stairs like a herd of elephants broke the spell. Reg once again declined their offer to join them for the film and, one by one, they kissed his cheek and headed out the front door into the freezing evening following their mother. The cold didn’t dim their spirits, and they chattered all the way down the street.
‘This reminds me of the old days when we used to go to town in Jersey,’ Juliet said. ‘We would take Nan to see a film and sometimes she nodded off, remember?’
They laughed at the vision of their grandmother grabbing forty winks in the cinema, but the memory was tinged with an unspoken sadness.
‘Come on,’ said Rose, and they walked arm in arm and entered Baker Street station. Just being there reminded Lizzie of Jack, and she wondered if he was still at work. Knowing him, she guessed he probably was.
It wasn’t far to travel and soon they alighted from the Underground in Piccadilly Circus and walked the short distance to Leicester Square and entered the Ritz Cinema, whereGone With The Windwas showing.
Despite the film already showing for a long time, when they arrived, the cinema was packed, and they snagged the few remaining seats. The crowd was mesmerised by moving pictures and when the film started, a hush descended over the auditorium.
‘Isn’t Vivien Leigh beautiful?’ gushed Evie at the intermission when they went to the ladies and then queued for a bag of Dolly Mixture and a drink of fizzy pop to share.
They all agreed she was quite something, and it was strange that in the book she was described as not being all that pretty.
‘Rhett Butler is so dreamy. He could come and visit me any night of the week,’ Evie continued, in between sweets.
‘Evie!’ Rose said, appalled. ‘What promiscuous language you’ve developed since you’ve been volunteering in that sewing circle. Sometimes I wonder what goes on there.’
‘Oh Ma, it’s just a bit of fun. The men in the films are the only young men we get to see, what with them all away fighting. A girl can dream…’
