Fallen Skies Read online

  “That’s all, Sally,” she said graciously. “Thank you.”

  Sally nodded and went out of the door, closing it carefully behind her. Lily waited until she heard the girl going downstairs before she let herself grin. Then she ate her eggs and her toast and drank her tea. It tasted infinitely better than anything she had ever made for herself. It tasted infinitely better than anything she had ever paid for.

  She was ready for Stephen promptly at eleven, wearing a summer dress of wild silk in a rich pink-peach colour. The silk was slightly rough to the touch, the surface marked with little bobbles of thread. Lily had pointed them out in the shop. “That’s not right,” she had said. “Silk ought to be smooth.”

  The shop assistant had shaken her beautifully marcelled head. “This is wild silk, Madam,” she had said. “Very exclusive. This is the proper texture of wild silk.”

  Lily had nodded, committing two words to memory—“wild” silk and “exclusive.” They had altered the dress so that it fitted perfectly. It was cut square across the neckline with two broad straps over the shoulders. It came with a little jacket with broad shoulders and neat square lapels. Lily glowed in it like a peach herself.

  “By jove, Lily, you are a lovely thing,” Stephen said as he met her in the hall. “Got a hat? It’s quite a scorcher.”

  Lily had a sun hat of woven white straw.

  “And I’ve ordered a picnic,” Stephen said. He was wearing white flannel trousers and a white shirt with a cravat at his neck. Lily looked at him with approval. He looked younger when he was not wearing his dark office suits. “Something rather special,” Stephen said, indicating the hamper. “Cook has done us proud.”

  Lily suddenly remembered the doorstep sandwiches and shared bottle of lemonade on the picnic with Charlie. Stephen’s treats were always planned ahead, he was like an adult planning excursions and amusements for a child. Charlie and she had been like two children, run away for the day together. Even Stephen’s play was constrained. At his most easy he was always formal.

  Lily beamed at him. He was her husband and Charlie was far away. “Divine!” she said firmly. “Too, too divine.”

  Coventry was waiting at the car. He came up the steps and took the hamper from Stephen. He loaded it into the boot and then shut the passenger door on Stephen and Lily.

  “Take us down the Chichester road,” Stephen said. “Keep an eye open for somewhere nice to stop. If you don’t see anywhere, take us to Bosham. It’s a pretty little village,” he said to Lily. “Right on the water’s edge. When there’s a high tide they get sea water in their sitting rooms! Ever been there?”

  Lily shook her head, enjoying the sunlight and the bright colours of Southsea Common rolling past the car window. “It sounds lovely.”

  “And then we’ll go on to Chichester and have a look round the cathedral. Maybe get a cup of tea before we come home.”

  Lily nodded.

  Stephen put his hand confidently on her knee. Lily did not move. She had a private certainty that his hand was damp and would mark the delicate silk, or crush it and take the desirable new stiffness from it. She remained silent for as long as she could, but then she could bear it no longer. “Mind my skirt,” she said, lifting his hand a little.

  With a slow challenging look Stephen lifted the fabric of the skirt up out of the way, and then put his hand back on her knee, moist and warm against her stocking. Lily flushed scarlet and glanced towards Coventry in front of them, his eyes on the road.

  “All right,” Stephen said pleasantly. “I’ll mind the skirt.”

  17

  LILY AND STEPHEN LOOKED AROUND Chichester cathedral for a little while until Stephen grew gloomy over the memorial stones.

  “Such a fuss,” he said irritably. “Such a fuss about death.”

  “Tea!” Lily declared. “I am longing for tea!” She was learning to manage him. More importantly, she was learning that she must manage him to secure her own comfort.

  Stephen’s face cleared. “I know the very place!”

  They left the cathedral by the main west door. It opened on to a little green edged with large trees. Beyond them was the street, the shops and hotel of the little market town. Lily liked the way that the cathedral was part of the buildings of the town, as if you might purchase or pray depending on which door you entered. She was learning to like cathedrals and museums and art galleries. Before her marriage she had never so much as inspected the outside of a public building. She had been amazed in London at how much arduous sightseeing they had done. She was beginning to learn that the problem for Stephen’s class was how to fill their empty leisure time. They had no labour to exhaust them, they had no education left incomplete. They had to take up sports, and drive aimlessly around. They had to change for different times of the day, several times a day, and make a fuss about the timing of different meals and different drinks. There was nothing else for them to do.

  In Lily’s childhood everyone she knew had worked so hard that when they had days off, they rested. It was a rare family that even bothered to take the short bus ride to the sea. Only children had the energy for play, the adults were in a permanent state of weariness. It was strange for Lily suddenly to be within a class where getting tired was the purpose of half of their activities.

  “Here we are,” Stephen said.

  The Dolphin and Anchor hotel faced the cathedral, and was painted white on the outside, dark and cool inside. Stephen and Lily sank into deep leather armchairs in the hotel foyer and Stephen ordered tea, sandwiches and cakes.

  Lily waited until he had eaten and she had poured him a second cup. Only then did she open the subject that had been on her mind since she had woken in smiling confidence in the morning. “I’ve had a letter from my friend in the Midsummer Madness company, Madge Sweet.”

  “I saw you had a letter. What did she want?”

  “Nothing. Only to tell me that there is a show being put together at the Kings, Southsea. She thought I could try for a part.”

  Stephen’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why?”

  Lily looked at him inquiringly. “Because it would be a good show . . .”

  Stephen’s moustache moved with his smile but his eyes were stern. “I hardly think my wife need hop about the stage for a pittance of a wage.”

  Lily replaced her tea cup in the saucer. “I know I don’t need to. But I never thought that I would stop work just because I was married.”

  “You’d better think it now then. I have no intention of seeing my wife high-kicking in the chorus line on stage.”

  There was a silence. Lily was measuring Stephen’s determination.

  “It wouldn’t be the chorus line, it would be a solo. I am a soloist.”

  “Makes no difference.”

  Lily fell silent again. “I didn’t know you felt like this,” she started. “I had thought that I would go back to work as soon as we came home.”

  Stephen shook his head.

  “My ma was very proud of me,” Lily said. There was a slight quaver in her voice. “She thought that I would be a star. The Midsummer Madness tour was just the start. And she was right. I’ve had a letter from the Kings offering me an audition.”

  “No,” Stephen said shortly.

  “Wait!” Lily said. She could feel her rising irritation. “You don’t even know what kind of show it is, or what kind of part I could get. I wouldn’t be a chorus girl, I’d be a singer. There are many married women who are singers. I wouldn’t necessarily go on tour even. And I thought you liked my singing?”

  “I do like your singing. But my wife does not give public performances, Lily. It’s simply not on.”

  Lily gritted her teeth. “It’s a wonderful chance for me, Stephen. If I don’t take it I might never get another.”

  Stephen smiled. “You’re right on both counts. You won’t take this and you won’t take another. You are my wife now, Lily, not a chorus girl. The two roles are entirely separate. You cannot do both.”

  “Y