A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

showy, quite modest in their way as expected of a young girl of only just eighteen, neither would look out of place tonight.

She finally chose the blue with its floating drapery about the upper arms, tasteful silver embroidery about the neck and narrow skirt. The black, glacé kid court shoes which she’d not worn since leaving home and the black velvet Juliet cap from last year which she still wore would go very well with the blue. A pity she had only the one coat, but on a chill February evening who would pause to pass judgement? For so long Madeleine had worn only plain, shapeless garments while awaiting the baby, but this material felt good to the touch as did the silk stockings that had lain so long unused until now.

The day was endless. With no interest in food as she waited, it was just as well there was little in the cupboard, half a small loaf – she’d have to buy another one soon – some margarine, a bit of cheese, some milk, a couple of eggs. She’d finally learned to make an omelette after several unsuccessful attempts, the ruined results of which she had bolted down in desperation at the time, all the while thinking of all those sumptuous meals she’d taken for granted at home.

Now at seven o’clock she waited on tenterhooks for Dolly’s tap on her door. There came a moment of panic as she paced the room. Was she overdressed? If the others were casually attired she’d look silly. She’d dabbed her cheeks and nose with a little face powder in the box she’d taken with her to the home though with little use for it there. Regarding herself yet again in the tiny hand mirror she’d found on some second-hand stall, she stood biting at her lips to make them look pinker.

Manoeuvring the mirror carefully this way and that she surveyed herself, realizing that she looked quite pretty. While pregnant there had seldom been any wish to look at her reflection in any mirror, the face staring back drawn and blotchy, the once slim shape become gross, the breasts heavy, the stomach more bloated by the day. Now that was all suddenly gone, her slim figure back to normal, her blue eyes, once dull, seeming to glow. Her hair, lifeless during pregnancy, had regained its blonde sheen. She’d lost all interest in herself during that time. But now she was…

She almost jumped out of her skin as a sharp rap came on the door, hurrying to open it.

Dolly stood there in a nice but cheap-looking dress of pink crêpe de Chine, Madeleine experiencing a glow of relief that by comparison her own was of far finer quality. Neither did she feel out of place any more.

The girl gave an instant sigh of appreciation. ‘My, you look a proper lady. That dress must’ve cost a fortune!’

‘No,’ Madeleine said quickly, almost apologetically, suddenly feeling bad for her moment of superiority though not for the sense of relief she’d felt.

‘It’s second-hand really,’ she continued to lie, though it wasn’t that much of a lie, having worn it before which might in truth make it second-hand.

‘The only decent thing I have,’ she went on, which was a lie. All the clothes she’d brought with her were of fine quality and expensive. She would have to take great care of them, make them last. She’d also take care of what she wore when with Dolly so as not emphasize their quality too much.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Dolly.

Madeleine nodded, hurriedly closing the door behind her.

Dolly’s four friends, Bess, Millie, Florrie and Hilda, turned out to be chatty and sociable and instantly enfolded her in their midst, calling her Maddie which was nice and for a while she forgot that lurking, insidious weight in her chest each time thoughts came of the baby taken from her.

Gabbling and giggling, they introduced her to her first ever experience of the Underground, helping her on to a noisy, swaying train that had her on edge the whole time though they seemed not to notice the racket at all, merely lifting their voices above it.

Alighting at Tottenham Court Road, they wandered along Oxford Street gazing into half-darkened store windows and on to crowded Piccadilly to revel in being ogled at by young uniformed men most out looking for fun not knowing how long before they’d be sent to France and possibly the front line. Thus banter was exchanged eagerly, unashamedly, almost desperately.

Like Dolly they were from lesser backgrounds than hers, but had the advantage of still living with their families. London was their home. They wandered their city without fear whereas she had never before been let loose in London much less unchaperoned. But the war had changed a lot of things and tonight was an experience. Even so, they were expected to be home by eleven and would honour that. Though before then there was fun to be had.

Hovering by the vast incurving display windows of the huge Swan & Edgar store, itself darkened against Zeppelin raids, Florrie grabbed hold of Madeleine’s arm.

‘Now they look likely,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you think?’

Everyone’s eyes discreetly followed her sidelong stare, careful not to look directly at the group of four uniformed men who had begun to slow their pace, having seen them. ‘Don’t look!’ she breathed urgently, holding one hand up to her face as if to shield her words as the soldiers began to move casually across the Circus towards them as if by one accord.

‘That’s a pity. There’s only four,’ she continued to whisper as they drew nearer. ‘Maybe they know some more friends.’

The girls spread themselves out as the young men reached them. Madeleine stood back, her eyes concentrated on the pavement, uncertain, loath to meet any of the male glances and appear forward. It had not been the way she’d been brought up.

Seeing her reaction, Dolly too moved back to stand with her. ‘Are you all right, Maddie?’ she asked. Madeleine