Fallen Skies Read online

  “He might tell me he doesn’t like me,” Lily said.

  “He won’t say that,” Madge replied. “Anyone can see that he’s crazy about you. But he won’t say so. You want to move him on a bit, Lil. Get him going. There’s only a fortnight left of the tour and then you might never work with him again. If you want him, you’d better catch him while you can.”

  10

  LILY WALKED HER WAY THROUGH the evening performance and was white and silent at supper at the digs. Even the conjuror noticed it. “Have you got a gyppy tum, darling?” he asked. “I can let you have a drop of brandy if it would settle it. I happen to have a little bottle in my room.”

  Lily flushed scarlet while Madge snorted on a laugh. “No, no, I’m fine,” Lily said. “Just a bit tired.”

  “Better go to bed early then,” Madge said with a wealth of meaning.

  Lily shot a reproachful look at her. “I’m fine,” she said again.

  After dinner had been cleared away and the teapot served and Madge had poured everyone a cup, the cast started drifting off to their rooms. In the first weeks of the tour they had often gone out after supper, to clubs or late-opening pubs. But as they had moved further and further west the towns had become smaller, and even in June at the start of the holiday season there were few late-night bars. They would still go out on a Saturday night, booking a table for all of them and going out as a gang. But in the middle of the week even the chorus girls would go to bed after the late supper and sleep in until midday.

  Lily lay wakefully in her bed. She shared her bedroom with Susie, who had sat at the mirror for ten minutes, creaming her face, and was now fast asleep. She had a little travelling clock by the bed and Lily could see it in the moonlight if she leaned up. She had promised herself that she would go to Charlie’s room at midnight. The clock said five minutes past and Lily still had not found the courage to make a move.

  The minute hand clicked to six minutes past and Lily sat up in bed. From there she could see her own reflection in the dressing table mirror: the smooth bobbed hair, her big dark eyes and the prosaic candy-stripe of her pyjamas. Lily thought with envy of Sylvia de Charmante’s lace-trimmed negligee. Charlie would probably take one look at her in her faded hand-me-down pyjamas and laugh aloud. Lily grimaced at the mirror and swung her bare feet to the cold oilcloth floor.

  On the dressing table was Susie’s turquoise and gold bottle of eau de cologne. With a guilty glance at the girl fast asleep in her bed, Lily put a generous dab behind each ear, down her neck, and then tipped a chilly rivulet which ran down between her breasts under her pyjama jacket. She screwed the little metal cap back on, and tiptoed for the door.

  It creaked as it opened and Lily froze, expecting Susie to wake and call out. Nothing happened. Susie turned over in her bed and stayed asleep. Lily shut the door cautiously behind her and crept down the corridor.

  There was a narrow strip of red and blue patterned carpet over the stained wood floorboards. Lily slid her bare feet cautiously down the carpet runner, flinching from boards which creaked as they received her weight. Charlie’s room was at the back of the boarding house, near the bathroom. If anyone should open their door and see her, Lily could say that she was going to the toilet. Only her intent face and the strong waft of eau de cologne would deny her story.

  Lily reached Charlie’s door and put her hand on the door knob. It turned easily under her touch. “Oh blimey,” Lily said miserably and stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.

  The curtains were drawn open and the room half-lit by moonlight. Lily could see Charlie lying on his back, one hand behind his head, the other hand outflung. He was wearing pyjamas but the buttons of the jacket were undone. Lily could see his pulse beating steadily and unhurried at his throat, and the smooth skin of his chest. She felt her longing to touch him rise up like a fever and obliterate her nervousness. As she watched his eyelids flicker as he dreamed, and his chest rise and fall with his steady confident breathing, she knew that whatever it cost her in embarrassment or even shame, she had to feel the skin of his chest against her face. She had to lie beside him. Even if it were only for a moment. Even if it were only once.

  Lily untied the cord of her pyjama trousers and dropped them to the floor, undid the buttons of her jacket and shrugged it off. Then she lifted the bedclothes and slid into bed beside Charlie.

  He did not wake at first. He moved over to the far side of the bed as if to make room for her and he smiled in his sleep as if he welcomed her. He stretched out a hand and touched her shoulder, and, as if he had been shaken awake by the sense of that smooth skin under his fingertips, his eyes flew open and he said at once: “Oh my God, Lil! You’d better go.”

  Lily didn’t move. She lay on her side, her head on his pillow, her eyes fixed on his face, and said nothing.

  Charlie flinched away to the far side of the bed and gathered his pyjama jacket around his body. “Lily, you must go!” he said again. He passed a hand quickly over his face, to rub his sleep away. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Lily extended a hand cautiously, like someone reaching out to touch a strange animal. She put her fingers on the base of his throat where she had seen his pulse beating steadily as he slept. Under her touch she could feel his pulse speeding up. Lily smiled. She no longer felt like a young girl, a silly girl, with an infatuation for a man who cared nothing for her. She felt his pulse thudding faster at her touch and she knew he desired her.

  “I love you,” she said wonderingly. “I couldn’t bear for you not to know it. I’ve loved you from the moment I first met you.”

  Charlie sat up in the bed, drew up his knees, and rested his head on his crossed arms, his whole body armouring itself against her. “Lily, this is crazy,” he said. “You must get out of my bed and go back to your own room and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  Lily shook her head. “No,” she said simply. She sat up beside him. The sheet slid away from her and Charlie could see the smooth pale skin of her shoulders and the curve of her breasts.

  “This is very unfair.”

  Lily chuckled irresistibly. Charlie felt himself smiling in response.

  “Put your arm around me,” she commanded.

  He put his arm around her and she leaned her fair head on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her skin through his thin pyjama jacket, he sensed her nakedness and he felt the start of the long ache of his pain.

  “Don’t you care for me at all?” Lily asked.

  Unconsciously his grip tightened. “Don’t think that,” he said softly. “I do care for you.”

  Lily turned her face up to him. “I don’t mean like a friend, or a pupil. I want you to love me. Like a lover.”

  Charlie’s face was dark with tension. “You don’t understand,” he said softly. “You’re too young, Lil. You don’t know what you’re asking. And I cannot . . .”

  Lily tipped her head back. In the moonlight the smooth column of her neck was pale, her breasts emerged from the rumpled bedclothes. Charlie, despite himself, put a hand to her cheek, her chin, stroked down the sensuous line of her neck, cupped her breast in his hand. Lily put her arm around his neck and drew his head down to kiss her. They slid down into the pillows together and Charlie kissed her face hungrily, like a man snatching at a meal; kissed her lips and her closed eyelids, kissed her ears and her neck, kissed her breasts and then lipped tenderly, and then more roughly, at her nipples. Lily moaned very quietly and arched her back, reaching up for his touch. Charlie’s arms held her close. Lily buried her face in his neck. She could smell the clean smell of his hair, the tang of his sweat, she could smell the overpowering scent of warmed eau de cologne. Charlie sighed and then rolled on top of her, Lily opened her legs and wrapped them around his thighs, tightened her arms around his back and arched her body upwards to meet him.

  “Oh yes,” she said.

  As if that word of assent broke a spell, Charlie wrenched himself away from her and flung himself to the edge