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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

He stands, too. ‘Your place is here, Magpie. With the Forties. And with me.’ Annie Richmond may still be testing her, but Solly has made his own decision.

‘I know. Thanks.’

She is restless.

She returns to her room and unpacks and refills her handbag with items she might need tonight. She replays yesterday’s conversations with Harriet Littlemore. They had shared their enjoyment of the moving pictures. Harriet had offered her cake. They had laughed at the idea of giving up sugar for the sake of a man. And Harriet had watched her cross the bridge. She had been standing there, waving, when Ruby turned around.

Peter Lazenby had called Harriet sweet and stupid. He was not wrong. She can afford to be generous with a piece of cake because she is wealthy, and she can afford to be ignorant of how the world works because it has always worked to her benefit. It does, for people like that. But like the sugar lump in her tea, Harriet Littlemore will dissolve into nothing if anything or anyone hurts her because she is soft as well as sweet.

Ruby had kissed her on the cheek quite deliberately, guessing as Solly had guessed.

Now, she fiddles with the catch on her powder compact, opening it and snapping it shut, over and over.

Ruby has never felt ashamed before.

38

38

Tuesday evening

Ruby is still deep in thought when she reaches the Angel later. She trails down the street where she had met Harriet on Saturday evening. It was busier then, but it is Tuesday tonight. She sees only one or two men on their way out for a drink. A skinny dog cocks its leg against a streetlamp outside the entrance and limps away as Ruby approaches.

There is a new man attending the cloakroom – older, less attractive than Daniel. He takes her coat and hat without comment, boredom on his face. He doesn’t even appear interested in her dress – a vibrant turquoise green that brings out the colour in her eyes. Daniel would have noticed immediately. He would have complimented her, told her she was beautiful and sent her downstairs with a smile. He was a sweetheart.

Her mood is not lifted by the music. The orchestra is small in number, and the tune they are playing is as lifeless as she feels. There are a few customers, but no one who looks ready to buy her champagne and dance with her. She drifts to the bar, exchanges pleasantries with the barman and buys herself a drink using the money in her handbag. Champagne. She only drinks champagne at the Angel.