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Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

‘Ah. Now, she’s a darling. Mr Lazenby likes her. Likes her a lot, if you know what I mean. And he’s not always so partial.’ He laughs. ‘Wouldn’t have thought you would know people like them.’ There is a hint of curiosity in his voice now.

‘Well,’ she shrugs. ‘It’s a small world.’

He bids her goodnight and disappears back inside. The air outside is cold, and, compared with the club, even this sordid street smells clean. The clouds have lifted to unveil the crescent of the moon – but with hundreds of bright lights shining out from public houses and restaurants, Harriet cannot make out many stars. She takes a deep breath and goes in search of a taxicab, hat in her hand, clutching her bag close to her side, her heart still thumping.

33

33

Saturday evening

Ruby shivers. The night is chillier than she expected – but then, she has only just emerged from her flat, so how was she to know?

Peter left two hours ago, telling her to dress and to be at the club. Saturday is the club’s busiest night, and he wants her there.

She shivers again. Her coat is undone, so she wraps it tightly around her and folds her arms, concentrating on the pavement, hurrying her steps.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters as she bumps into another woman. ‘Oh.’ She blinks in surprise, seeing the honey-coloured coat. ‘You.’

Harriet Littlemore takes a step back. She is in a state of agitation, fiddling with her hat.

‘Are you alright?’ Ruby is curious. ‘What are you doing here?’ This is no street for a lady like Harriet Littlemore – even she should realise that.

Harriet straightens herself and stands taller. A habit, Ruby assumes. Something she does when she’s anxious or nervous. Like you would if you were in a fight. Ruby straightens up herself, instinctively, and is amused by her own response. She is the shorter of the two by a couple of inches, but it would not be an even match if it came to throwing punches.

‘I came to the club, to the Angel,’ Harriet says. Her voice trails away, lost in the sounds of other people out on the streets for the evening.

‘I wouldn’t have thought it was your sort of place.’ Ruby just about holds back the laugh.

Harriet bristles and steps back, the top of her head briefly illuminated by a streetlamp, surrounding her with a bright halo. ‘Why not? It might be. You don’t know where my sort of place is.’

Ruby stares, transfixed by Harriet’s hair.

‘You cut it!’

Harriet puts a hand to her neck, feeling the edge of her crop.

‘I did.’ She pauses, a neatly waved lock of hair brushing the tip of her finger as she moves her head just a little. ‘What do you think?’ She asks in an intense way, as if Ruby’s opinion, here in the street, really matters.