‘That doesn’t give you the right to bring all and sundry here for a cheap thrill,’ Stanley hissed.
They heard the sound of two sets of footsteps and, just before a door slammed, Eustace said, ‘Now look here, Stanley, if you . . .’ Their voices faded.
Milly’s eyes were already pricking with tears. The artists didn’t want her there, so why had Eustace brought her? All she wanted now was to go home.
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ said Wanda.
Milly smiled. ‘It’s all right. It’s not your fault. Anyway, it’s I who should apologise. I had no idea we were gate-crashing.’
‘Men can be such pricks at times,’ Wanda went on. ‘I for one loved having you here. Take no notice, darling.’
Milly blew her nose into her hanky. ‘Please don’t worry. It’s fine.’
Eustace was waiting by the door. They said their goodbyes and left.
‘I think we should have something to eat before we go back,’ said Eustace.
Milly would have preferred to go straight home, but he was probably right. They had had nothing all day and driving all the way back to Worthing on an empty stomach was probably not a good idea. He didn’t seem to realise that she’d heard every word that had passed between him and Stanley, and Milly preferred to keep it that way. She smiled. ‘A meal would be just perfect.’
‘I would offer to take you to a show, but virtually all the theatres are closed now.’ He sighed. ‘We’re living in momentous times.’
He found them a small hotel nearby. The restaurant was open to non-residents and the menu was à la carte. As soon as she sat down, Milly realised how hungry she was. She ordered the lamb cutlets while Eustace asked for the steak. He ordered wine, and when an old woman came round the table with some stem roses, he bought Milly three. A crooner sang as they sat. It was a pity their visit to the studio had been such a disappointment because Milly thought this was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.
‘What did you think of today?’ he asked as they waited for their meal. ‘Can you imagine being in a studio like that?’
‘I think it would be fascinating,’ she said, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation about Stanley and his rudeness. ‘I enjoy doing the windows but this has rekindled my passion to be even more creative.’
He gave her a satisfied grin.
The waiter arrived with some bread rolls in a basket.
‘I really liked Roland’s wife,’ said Milly, taking one.
‘Roland’s wife?’
Milly was puzzled. ‘Wanda.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Eustace. ‘Wanda isn’t his wife. His wife is . . . well, I haven’t a clue where she is these days.’ Eustace leaned forward and whispered confidentially, ‘Roland and Wanda are both married, but not to each other. Wanda is his mistress.’
Milly did her best to look as if she already knew that, but she knew she had failed when he grinned at her. ‘You’re so innocent, darling,’ and taking her hand in his he added confidentially, ‘They all do it.’
Of course she knew that artists were notorious and in their private lives were often . . . different, but she’d never met anyone like that before. Eustace was still watching her.
‘You’re laughing at me,’ she accused.
‘Of course not, darling.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s just that one gets so used to something, one hardly even notices it any more.’ He reached for her hand across the table, but she snatched it away. ‘You’re angry with me,’ he remarked.
‘I’m angry with myself,’ she said. ‘I feel such a complete idiot.’
‘Not at all, darling,’ he said gravely. ‘You’re lively, fun to be with, you’re beautiful and you make the whole world light up when you come into a room. Don’t let this spoil our evening.’
The crooner was back again and Milly looked up at him. ‘Isn’t that . . .?’
‘Jack Buchanan,’ Eustace whispered.
Milly stared at the tall, suave man in a dark suit. Famed for his shows in London and on Broadway, he looked totally relaxed – some said almost lazy – in his performance.
Eustace held out his hand over the table. ‘Dance with me, darling?’
He led her onto the small dance area in front of the orchestra. His arm was gentle yet firm around her waist, and he held her hand close to his chest rather than extended. His head rested tenderly against hers and she breathed in his aftershave, only faint now that it was the end of the day, but still perceptively there. Gradually, she began to relax. It was odd being this close to such a famous musical star such as Jack Buchanan, and being in the arms of a man like Eustace was even more wonderful.
Later, much later, on the way out, the man who had parked their car was nodding his head. As Milly approached she thought she saw Eustace slip him something and the man touched his forelock.
‘The damned car has a flat,’ Eustace growled.
Milly stared aghast. ‘Oh no! What are we going to do?’
‘The fellow can get it fixed,’ said Eustace, ‘but not until tomorrow.’ He hesitated. ‘Look, my flat is only just around the corner. Let me take you there and then I’ll come back and do it myself.’
Milly felt a little uneasy. ‘I do need to get back,’ she said cautiously.
‘I will get you back tonight, I promise.’
His flat was literally only just around the corner. It was surprisingly roomy and he had a great taste in décor. As she relaxed on the sofa, he put the kettle on for some tea.
The tea made, he came towards her and bent to kiss her lips. It was wonderfully exciting and Milly could feel her heart banging away in her chest.
‘Oh Milly . . . darling.’
