at her mother’s insistence on the premise that you never knew when they might come in useful for “important society gatherings.” On the final evening on board Evangeline and her naval suitor stumbled their way through the Viennese waltz, his clammy hand suctioned to a small area of Evangeline’s exposed flesh. The cutaway lozenge on the back panel of her evening gown provided the impetus for a whisky-drenched suggestion that the assistant captain might introduce her to his widowed mother who lived in Liverpool and who would so enjoy hearing tales of the New World in Evangeline’s charming accent.
In more ways than one, Evangeline was looking forward to reaching Liverpool but above all she was excited about the reunion with her schoolfriend. She was particularly pleased to have found the perfect gift for Wallis, a belated Christmas present as well as something that would remind them both of the years of affection and of memories that still bound them together. A week before she sailed for Britain Evangeline paid a visit to Hochschild’s. The shop’s familiar yellow and black delivery vans still darted through the Baltimore streets, bringing a flash of colour to the grey asphalt. After much thought, nostalgia encircling her as she browsed through the departments she and Wallis had once known so well, Evangeline had stopped in the music department and come across a box of jazz records marked “old stock.” There, near the top of the pile, was a recording of W. C. Handy’s “Memphis Blues,” the band’s top hit in 1909 and re-released in the 1920s under Hochschild’s own label, Belvedere Records. The name was clearly imprinted on the yellow vinyl record. What a perfect present to take to Wallis at her new address at Fort Belvedere! The coincidence could not fail to delight her friend. How the gift would confirm to Wallis how much she had missed her teenage companion! She had made a couple of other purchases too. For Joan there was a stylish umbrella with the Hochschild logo stamped on the black and yellow waterproof. And for Philip there was a pair of loafers, the latest casual shoes all the rage amongst fashionable men, who had adopted the American variation on the Norwegian moccasin with gusto.
Even as she made her way down the gangplank at the crowded Liverpool docks, with Wiggle hidden underneath her coat, Evangeline was still trying to shake off the persistent assistant captain’s attentions. She was relieved to spot her name written in uneven script on the large piece of card held up high by a bulldog of a man in uniform. His cap was sitting slightly askew on his head as he waited for her beside a glistening blue Rolls-Royce on the quayside.
Philip’s chauffeur, Cropper, was to bring her straight to London and Evangeline’s luggage had been strapped to the back of the car by the taciturn driver, who was evidently reluctant to open his mouth even in cursory greeting. Not until she had settled herself and Wiggle on the leather seat beneath a thick, plaid rug did Evangeline detect a whiff of whisky in the air.
Deciding that the least confrontational and therefore most pleasurable way to spend the long journey was to remain silent, she gazed out of the window, relieved when they left the grim-looking streets of Liverpool behind them. As the car gathered speed along the monotonously grey roads of the North of England, Evangeline fell asleep. She only came to during brief stops at the side of the road when Cropper muttered that he needed to check that the luggage was still securely tied to the back of the car, but she soon dozed off again until they eventually arrived in London.
CHAPTER FIVE
When May and Sam squeezed their way into the tiny front room in Bethnal Green they found three people waiting for them. A tall girl with wide-open grey eyes, rose from her chair beside the coal fire to greet the new arrivals. An older, balding man, his shirt buttons perilously close to detaching themselves from the straining fabric of his shirt, tucked his arm into the crook of Sarah’s elbow and smiled at May and Sam. His facial resemblance to Sarah was unmistakable.
The third member of the greeting party, a woman wearing a floral apron tied tightly over her cardigan, faced the visitors from her position in front of the fire. She had hitched up the back of her skirt almost to her waist and was warming herself on the coals. Releasing