The Air Raid Book Club(65)
They had reached the bookshop when Margery noticed Gerald browsing through the window. She gestured for Gertie to follow her.
“Mr. Travers,” she said by way of greeting, sweeping in through the door. “Aren’t you in need of a new ARP warden?”
Gerald glanced up from the George Orwell novel he was perusing, apparently unsurprised by her direct line of questioning. “I am.”
“Well, don’t you think this young lady would be perfect for the job?” said Margery, gesturing toward Hedy.
Gerald appraised her for a moment. “I do.”
“Really?” cried Hedy. “But won’t you get into trouble with the recruitment office?”
Gerald tapped the side of his nose. “What they don’t know won’t harm them. Training starts tomorrow at six sharp. Don’t be late.”
Gertie opened her wardrobe with an air of defeat. It had been years since she’d had cause to dress up, and she couldn’t remember the last time she attended a dance. Surely she was too old to be gadding about anymore. She rummaged through the garments, stroking the smooth cool pleats of her turquoise silk ball gown and wondering why on earth she’d kept it. Gertie could only ever recall wearing it once to one of her uncle’s literary dinners and that must have been at least twenty years ago. Really she should have donated it to the war effort. She could imagine Margery transforming it into at least a dozen handkerchiefs.
“Oh this is hopeless,” she cried, staring at the columns of frumpy skirts and plain old dresses.
“Are you all right?” asked Hedy, appearing in the doorway, eyeing the curlers in Gertie’s hair and the look of desperation on her face.
“What does one wear to dances these days?” said Gertie.
Hedy shrugged. “Nothing fancy. Just a nice dress and good shoes for dancing. Would you like me to help you?”
“Yes please. And if you could teach me the Charleston while you’re at it, that would be splendid.”
Hedy laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry. You should just enjoy yourself.” Gertie knew she was right and yet, the idea felt so alien. When was the last time she had done anything for the sheer joy of it? Was that even allowed when the world was in turmoil? Then she looked at Hedy with all her cares and worries. She kept cheerful, went to the cinema or out dancing with her friends. She kept going because, what else could you do? Life ticked along and all you could do was tick along with it. “I think you should wear this,” said Hedy, retrieving a navy-colored tea dress with a tiny white apple blossom design. “It’s so pretty.”
“I’d forgotten I had that,” said Gertie.
“Would you like me to style your hair?” she asked. “I used to help Mama prepare for her concerts so I know how to.”
Gertie smiled. “I would like that very much. Thank you, my dear.”
Charles was waiting for Gertie in the hall as she made her way down the stairs a while later. “I feel as if I’m watching a Hollywood star descend the red carpet,” he said, framing his hands and pretending to take a photograph.
“It’s all because of Hedy. She picked my outfit and styled my hair,” she said, patting at her neatly coiffured curls.
“Bravo, Hedy,” said Charles. “You look beautiful, Gertie.” He took her hand and kissed it before offering his arm. “Shall we?”
“See you later,” called Gertie over her shoulder.
“Have fun,” said Hedy, waving from the doorstep with Hemingway sitting faithfully by her side.
Gertie needn’t have worried about being too old for the Orchid Ballroom. Most of the couples dancing that evening were either in their sixties or young women in pairs. Regardless of this fact, the hall was buzzing with a certain carefree energy as people enjoyed a welcome escape from the drudgery of their wartime existence. A three-piece band complete with singer was playing “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” as they arrived, making it impossible not to be enticed immediately onto the dance floor. Fortunately for Gertie, Charles was similarly lacking in dance experience, but they made a passable attempt at keeping up with the assembled company, managing to move around the dance floor without crushing each other’s toes. Gerald and Margery, on the other hand, proved to be extremely elegant dancers, receiving many admiring glances for their stylish waltz. Apparently, as well as being an aspiring opera singer in her youth, Margery had been a promising dancer, while Gerald and Beryl had danced together ever since they met at school at the age of twelve. Gertie soon forgot her lack of ability. She found herself following Hedy’s advice as she fell into a fit of helpless giggling during her and Charles’s failed attempt to keep up with “Pennsylvania Polka.”
“I think this could be our cue for a rest,” said Charles.
“Jolly good idea,” said Gertie, allowing him to lead her to the plush red sofas at the side of the hall and sinking gratefully into the seat beside him. The band had struck up a Charleston, and they watched in surprise as the crowd parted to reveal Gerald and Margery and a handful of other dancers taking center stage. “Margery Fortescue never ceases to amaze me,” said Gertie to Charles, watching them swivel and kick their way back and forth.
“We rather missed out on the Charleston, didn’t we?” he said.