Page 41 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

40

LONDON, 1941

I was so wired from what happened that first night in London with Trafalgar that I barely got a wink of sleep. Thankfully, I was so excited by what had happened, I didn’t really need any, and I turned up promptly at the rehearsal studio in a part of London called Maida Vale.

For all his obvious flaws, I’ll give Bertrand credit that he provided me with some fine musicians to work with. The guitarist and drummer were both from America, and the keyboard player and saxophonist were Brits but considerably older. It didn’t occur to me until afterwards that this would have been due to all the younger British men being conscripted into the army and, of course, America was yet to join the war. I was relieved and flattered to discover that the guys had done their homework and knew all my songs and were ready and raring to go. All the way through our rehearsal, thoughts of Trafalgar hummed away like a bassline in my mind, and I kept coming back to two questions. Would he still want to see me that evening, and if so, where would he take me?

We finished up at the studio at around four in the afternoon, and after a quick bite to eat, I took a cab back to the Savoy. I checked at the reception desk to see if there were any messages for me, and my heart lifted as the woman fetched me an envelope. I tore it open right there and then, but my heart sank as I saw it was from Bertrand, giving me some final details about my show the following day.

I went up to my room and sank down onto the bed, feeling suddenly exhausted and trying to fight the creeping feeling that I’d been stupid and I’d never see Trafalgar again. This feeling grew as the afternoon turned to night and there was no sign or word from him. I eventually fell asleep, fully dressed on top of my bed.

The next morning, I woke feeling greatly refreshed and much more my normal self. So what if Trafalgar had turned out to be a disappointment? I’d successfully accomplished my mission for Emilio and the Allies, and I was in London for my first ever show there. I still had plenty to be grateful for.

A car came to fetch me at three and took me to Queen’s Hall. Even though I knew it was London’s premier music venue, I was completely unprepared for the splendour of the building. Situated on Langham Place, with a grand, rounded front and a domed roof adorned with glass panels, it was nothing short of majestic, and I could see instantly why Londoners had nicknamed it the People’s Palace.

As I made my way to the entrance, I noticed brass busts of Wagner and Handel in the wall. They were both German of course, and it gave me a pang of sorrow. If only we could return to the days when people made music to uplift each other rather than bombs to kill one another. But that was exactly what I was there to do, I reminded myself, and I vowed to give the hardy Londoners in attendance that evening a show they’d never forget.

When I stepped onto the stage that night, beneath the largest set of organ pipes I’d ever laid eyes on, I felt like a woman possessed. Possessed by the desperate desire to bring hope to a people who’d endured so much. The show passed by in a blur and was a wonderful success, ending in the longest standing ovation I’ve ever received. After giving three encores, I hurried into my dressing room, ears still ringing from the applause. I’d done it! I’d performed my first show in England.

‘Oh, Mama, I wish you could have seen it,’ I gushed as I sat down at my dressing table. ‘I even had those formal Brits up dancing in the aisles! It was absolutely bloody brilliant,’ I added in a jokey posh English accent.

‘It certainly bloody was,’ a voice replied.

I gasped in shock and spun around, but the room was empty.

‘What did you say?’ I asked, my voice quivering.

‘I said it certainly bloody was bloody brilliant,’ the voice said, and I realised it was coming from the wardrobe. And although he was also putting on a posh accent, I felt certain it was Trafalgar.

I bit on my lip to stop myself from grinning like a fool. After he’d had the audacity to not show up last night, there was no way I was going to let him get back into my good graces without an apology and a bloody good explanation, as the Brits might say.

‘So, are talking wardrobes a British thing?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Trafalgar replied in his normal voice. ‘Getting dressed would be a lot more fun if they were.’

There was a pause and I continued staring at the wardrobe door, wondering how he’d managed to get backstage and how long he’d been in there. I guessed that being a member of the SOE, sneaking around was part of the job description.

‘So, is it safe to come out?’

‘Why would it not be?’

‘You might want to kill me for standing you up last night.’

‘No, I do not want to kill you.’

‘Phew!’ The wardrobe door opened and Trafalgar stepped out. He was wearing a smart, charcoal-grey suit and a flat cap and looked infuriatingly handsome.

‘I am obscenely disappointed in you though,’ I quickly added, not wanting to let him off lightly.

‘Obscenely?’ He raised his eyebrows, and I had the feeling he was trying not to laugh. ‘Yep, I can understand that, but I can explain. Well, I can sort of explain.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I really think I deserve more than a sort of explanation.’

‘Yes, but—’ He broke off, and I realised that he looked genuinely distressed. ‘I’m not actually able to tell you.’

‘I see.’ I turned back to the mirror, annoyed at how hurt I felt by this. For some unknown reason, Trafalgar really seemed able to hit my weak spot – a weak spot I didn’t even know I had. ‘I think I can guess. You don’t want me to know that you were with another woman?’

‘What?’

‘Or, even worse, your wife.’ I began angrily wiping off my stage make-up.

‘What wife? I’m not married.’ He met my gaze in the mirror and seemed to be genuinely upset. ‘I’m not. And why the hell would I want to be with another woman when you’re here in London?’

I felt elated at this but made sure not to let it show on my face. He’d shaken my trust and made me realise that I’d been far too open when we first met – now I had to keep my guard up. ‘So why aren’t you able to tell me what you were doing?’

‘Because I was—’ He broke off and looked around the room. ‘I was working,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘And it’s not the kind of work that comes with a predictable schedule.’

I felt a pang of guilt. Of course his work would involve unpredictable hours. I should have known. I cursed Bing for making me so distrusting of men.

Trafalgar came and stood behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. ‘I’m so sorry. I feel awful about letting you down, and I’d really, really like to make it up to you – if you’d let me?’

‘And how do you plan to do that – take me dicing with death again?’

He looked genuinely crestfallen. ‘I thought you’d enjoyed it.’

‘I-I did.’ I felt my resolve begin to weaken. ‘I really enjoyed it.’

A smile lit up his face. ‘I’m so happy to hear that because I did too and I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Even when I was asleep, I dreamed about you – although in the dream you were really yelling at me because I hadn’t been able to come and see you.’ He shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Blimey, you were raging!’

I laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad that the dream version of me didn’t stand for any nonsense.’

‘Something tells me that the real you wouldn’t either.’ His grin grew. ‘So, what do you say? Will you allow me to try to make it up to you? Can I take you for a late dinner? You must be starving after the show – I’m guessing you didn’t eat at all before.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I studied drama at school. I remember what I was like when we put on a play. Anyway, I know this great little place in Soho, a proper authentic Italian café.’

‘You want to take me for an Italian meal in England.’ I frowned. ‘What about British cuisine?’

‘I could take you for some jellied eels if you’d prefer?’

I shuddered at the thought. ‘Italian will be fine.’

‘Great. Oh, and one more question?’

‘Go on?’

‘Do you have anything against motorcycles?’

‘No, why should I?’

‘I mean riding on them and, more specifically, on the back of one.’

‘Are you talking about now?’

‘Yes.’ He went back over to the wardrobe and reached inside, producing two helmets with a flourish. ‘I brought one for you just in case.’

‘In case I really am crazy,’ I muttered as I wiped the rest of my make-up from my face. ‘OK then.’

‘Yes!’ He punched the air with delight, and again I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. For the truth was, as much as I hated to admit it, I was as happy as he clearly was at this turn of events.

I instructed Trafalgar to wait in the corridor outside while I quickly got changed. I’d performed in a tight satin number that would have been hugely impractical for riding around town on a bike. Thankfully, I’d worn a pair of trousers and a silk shirt to the venue. Before I left the dressing room, I looked in the mirror. The only make-up I was wearing was a thin coat of rose-pink lipstick. But I felt no need to slap on a mask. Trafalgar was bringing out a wild and natural part in me – and I loved it.

‘Obviously, the roads are more perilous these days because of the blackouts,’ he said once we’d reached his motorcycle, which he’d parked down a side street.

‘Not to mention the bombs,’ I muttered.

‘Well, quite.’ He handed me my helmet. ‘So I’m afraid this really is compulsory. They have at least painted the edge of the kerbs white now to try to stop all the pedestrians from being killed, but still…’

‘Of course!’ I snatched the helmet from him and put it on.

‘Oh.’ He looked at me, surprised.

‘What?’

‘I thought you might have been worried about your hairdo. Most ladies get a little anxious that it might get flattened.’

‘Well, firstly I’m not most ladies,’ I retorted, trying not to think about the other ladies who’d ridden with him before, ‘and secondly, I’d far rather my hair was flattened than my skull.’

He burst out laughing. ‘You really are quite something.’

‘I really am quite starving, so if you don’t mind, how about we go to this Italian restaurant of yours.’

‘Yes, of course, m’lady.’

I grinned. It felt great to be bantering with him again and back in the rhythm of our first night together.

As we set off along the street, a huge full moon came into view, and I gripped Trafalgar’s waist a little tighter. Hopefully the German bombers wouldn’t have anything too horrible in store for us.