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Only Time Will Tell Page 28
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‘But don’t you think she has a right to know?’ said Giles. ‘After all, she’s sacrificed everything to make it possible for you. Frankly, if they offered me a place at Oxford, I’d interrupt Mama even if she was addressing the Mothers’ Union. Don’t you agree, Deakins?’
Deakins removed his glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief, always a sign that he was deep in thought. ‘I’d ask Paget’s opinion, and if he raises no objection—’
‘Good idea,’ said Giles. ‘Let’s go and see the Page.’
‘Are you coming, Deakins?’ asked Harry, but then noticed that Deakins’s glasses had been returned to the end of his nose, a sign that he had been transported to another world.
‘Many congratulations,’ said Dr Paget once he’d read the telegram. ‘And well deserved, if I may say so.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Harry. ‘I wondered if it would be possible for me to go to the Royal Hotel so I can tell my mother the news?’
‘I can’t see any reason why not, Clifton.’
‘Can I trot along with him?’ asked Giles innocently.
Paget hesitated. ‘Yes, you can, Barrington. But don’t even think about having a drink or smoking while you’re in the hotel.’
‘Not even one glass of champagne, sir?’
‘No, Barrington, not even a glass of cider,’ said Paget firmly.
As the two young men strolled out of the school gates, they passed a lamp lighter who was standing on his bicycle, stretching up to light a street lamp. They chatted about the summer hols, when Harry would be joining Giles’s family in Tuscany for the first time, and agreed they would have to be back in time to see the Australians when they played against Gloucestershire at the county ground. They discussed the possibility, or, according to Harry, the probability, of war being declared now that everyone had been issued with a gas mask. But neither of them touched on another subject that was on both of their minds: would Giles be joining Harry and Deakins at Oxford in September?
As they approached the hotel, Harry had second thoughts about interrupting his mother while she was at work, but Giles had already barged through the revolving doors and was standing in the foyer waiting for him.
‘It will only take a couple of minutes,’ said Giles when Harry joined him. ‘Just tell her the good news and we can go straight back to school.’ Harry nodded.
Giles asked the doorman where the Palm Court was, and he directed them to a raised area at the far end of the foyer. After climbing the half dozen steps, Giles walked up to the desk and, keeping his voice low, asked the receptionist, ‘Can we have a quick word with Mrs Clifton?’
‘Mrs Clifton?’ asked the girl. ‘Has she made a reservation?’ She ran her finger down a list of bookings.
‘No, she works here,’ said Giles.
‘Oh, I’m new here,’ said the girl, ‘but I’ll just ask one of the waitresses. They’re bound to know.’
‘Thank you.’
Harry remained on the bottom step, his eyes searching the room for his mother.
‘Hattie,’ the receptionist asked a passing waitress, ‘does a Mrs Clifton work here?’
‘Not any longer she doesn’t,’ came back the immediate reply. ‘She left a couple of years ago. Haven’t heard a dickybird from her since.’
‘There must be some mistake,’ said Harry, bounding up the steps to join his friend.
‘Do you have any idea where we might find her?’ asked Giles, keeping his voice low.
‘No,’ said Hattie. ‘But you could have a word with Doug, the night porter. He’s been here for ever.’
‘Thank you,’ said Giles and, turning to Harry, added, ‘There’s bound to be a simple explanation, but if you’d prefer to leave it …’
‘No, let’s find out if Doug knows where she is.’
Giles walked slowly across to the porter’s desk, giving Harry enough time to change his mind, but he didn’t say a word. ‘Are you Doug?’ he asked a man dressed in a faded blue frockcoat with buttons that no longer shone.
‘I am, sir,’ he replied. ‘How can I help you?’
‘We’re looking for Mrs Clifton.’
‘Maisie don’t work here any longer, sir. She must have left at least a couple of years back.’
‘Do you know where she is working now?’
‘I’ve no idea, sir.’
Giles took out his purse, extracted half a crown and placed it on the counter. The porter eyed it for some time before he spoke again. ‘It’s just possible you’ll find her at Eddie’s Nightclub.’
‘Eddie Atkins?’ enquired Harry.
‘I believe that’s correct, sir.’
‘Well, that explains it,’ said Harry. ‘And where is Eddie’s Nightclub?’
‘Welsh Back, sir,’ replied the porter as he pocketed the half a crown.
Harry left the hotel without another word and jumped into the back of a waiting cab. Giles got in beside him. ‘Don’t you think we should get back to school?’ said Giles, looking at his watch. ‘You can always tell your mother in the morning.’
Harry shook his head. ‘It was you who said you’d interrupt your mother even if she was addressing the Mothers’ Union,’ Harry reminded him. ‘Eddie’s Nightclub, Welsh Back, please, cabbie,’ he said firmly.
Harry didn’t speak during the short journey. When the cab turned into a dark alley and came to a halt outside Eddie’s, he got out and walked towards the entrance.
Harry banged firmly on the door. A shutter slid open and a pair of eyes stared at the two young men. ‘The entrance fee is five shillings each,’ said a voice behind the eyes. Giles pushed a ten-shilling note through the hole. The door swung open immediately.
The two of them made their way down a dimly lit staircase to the basement. Giles saw her first and quickly turned to leave, but it was too late. Harry was staring, transfixed, at a row of girls seated on stools at the bar, some chatting to men, others on their own. One of them, wearing a white see-through blouse, a short black leather skirt and black stockings, approached them and said, ‘Can I help you, gents?’
Harry ignored her. His eyes had settled on a woman at the far end of the bar who was listening intently to an older man who had his hand on her thigh. The girl looked to see who he was staring at. ‘I must say, you know class when you see it,’ she said. ‘Mind you, Maisie can be choosy, and I have to warn you, she doesn’t come cheap.’
Harry turned and bolted back up the steps, pulled open the door and ran out on to the street, with Giles chasing after him. Once Harry was on the pavement, he fell to his knees and was violently sick. Giles knelt and put his arm around his friend, trying to comfort him.
A man who had been standing in the shadows on the other side of the road limped away.
EMMA BARRINGTON
1932-1939
44
I’ll never forget the first time I saw him.
He came to tea at the Manor House to celebrate my brother’s twelfth birthday. He was so quiet and reserved that I wondered how he could possibly be Giles’s best friend. The other one, Deakins, was really strange. He never stopped eating and hardly said a word all afternoon.
And then Harry spoke, a soft, gentle voice that made you want to listen. The birthday party had apparently been going swimmingly until my father burst into the room, and then he hardly spoke again. I’d never known my father to be so off-hand with anyone, and I couldn’t understand why he should behave in that way towards a complete stranger. But even more inexplicable was Papa’s reaction when he asked Harry when his birthday was. How could such an innocuous question bring on such an extreme reaction? A moment later my father got up and left the room, without even saying goodbye to Giles and his guests. I could see that Mama was embarrassed by his behaviour, although she poured another cup of tea and pretended not to notice.
A few minutes later, my brother and his two friends left to go back to school. He turned and smiled at me before leaving, but just like my mother, I pretended not to notice. But when t