Page 44 of These Old Lies
The mention of Betty’s name twisted a knife in Ned’s gut, but he kept an even smile on his face. “Miss Townsend is delightful.”
“She’s perfect for him. Impeccable taste in hats. She even likes to listen to the football matches with him on the wireless. They are such a handsome pair.” Kitty sighed wistfully. “Charlie shouldn’t be living in a draughty former storage room and working every hour of the day in this shop. He should have a home, a wife to look after him. Little ones of his own to play with.”
They both looked over at Charlie, who was sitting on the ground now, waving around dolls to the laughter and delight of his nieces, with the baby already asleep in his lap.
“He’s always been so good with children. When baby Geoff had colic, he went over to Mary’s and would spend whole evenings walking the baby back and forth so the rest of them could sleep.” Kitty’s face grew more resolved. “So if you have any influence over my brother at all, for the love of God get him to actually ask Betty this Christmas.”
Ned swallowed hard. He knew all too well Charlie’s easy empathy, remembered his watchful eyes on the youngest recruits. He could easily imagine Charlie as a loving father.
Before Ned could figure out what to do with these thoughts, Charlie came round the counter. “Kitty! What are you doing bothering Ned?”
Ned could only smile at Charlie’s exasperated look as Kitty took the baby out of his arms, kissed his cheek, and sauntered off.
“Mary had a bit of a crisis at the grocer’s this morning and needed me to watch her children. Scamps, although you wouldn’t believe it when they are all quiet like this.” Charlie jerked his head towards the workroom. “Care to take a look at the work in progress?”
Ned followed Charlie back into the workroom. This was not the first time they had used this pretence to be alone together, so Ned was somewhat surprised that after Charlie closed the door behind them, he did in fact pass Ned a hat box. “A Christmas present for you.”
Now Ned was totally flummoxed. He couldn’t remember ever having received a gift from a lover before. Certainly not since Oxford. He gripped the box as if it were going to be snatched away from him.
“Thank you? I mean, no, that shouldn’t be a question. Thank you. You really didn’t have to. I don’t have anything for you.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s only December first.” Charlie dismissed his concerns with a wave of the hand. “But I wanted you to open this now.”
The idea that he might need to wait to open his gift until the twenty-fifth was not even worth considering. Like an impatient child, Ned was already pulling at the ribbons and working out how to remove the lid. Inside was a hat, one of Charlie’s bold creations, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it still took Ned’s breath away. It had sweeping waves of deep blues and greens in the cloche style currently in fashion for women. It was rounded like a bell that framed the face, but with all the fragility removed, and the decoration was stripped down to the two colours of felt used to make the hat. Its flared brim, Ned imagined, would give the wearer a bit of intrigue. Ned was in awe. “It’s magnificent, Charlie.”
“Do you want to try it on?” Charlie’s voice had gone a bit gravelly.
Ned placed it on his head, and Charlie adjusted it, fixing his hair, checking that everything was just right, and then turned Ned’s shoulders so that he faced a mirror. Ned almost gasped at his reflection. He looked… gorgeous? The hat completed his face, made him elegant without minimising his strong features. Somehow Charlie had captured how Ned imagined himself in his mind.
Charlie leaned in and kissed him. “I made it for you.”
“To say I love it doesn’t even begin to capture my feelings.” Ned never wanted to take the hat off. But this was no subtle lip tint, this was loud and bold. Even at The Pillars, this would be considered far too effeminate. Still, maybe he could wear it around his flat.
“There is something else.” Charlie gestured back to the box.
Ned had been so completely taken by the hat that he had missed the small white envelope at the bottom. He reached in to open it, not even beginning to imagine what could be inside.
“Tickets to Lady Malcom’s Servants’ Ball?” The cheap printed tickets included a date and a time for a West London venue. “Are you taking me to a ball, Charlie?”
Ned had no idea why Charlie was proposing to take him to a servants’ ball, but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face at this rare romantic gesture.
“Yes, but it’s more than that.” Charlie traced the patterns and whorls of the wood in the old worktable. “You know Lady Malcolm?”
Ned tried to remember, the name ringing bells somewhere in his mind. “Wasn’t her mother the mistress of various royal princes? Jeanne is more respectable than that, though. Her husband is some Scot in the House of Commons?”
“Apparently Jeanne Malcolm is a bit of a social progressive for all that she has charmed society. She is keen on giving London’s servants a chance to celebrate the festive season.” Charlie paused and then looked up at Ned before he continued. “So that no one needs to worry about getting decked out to the nines, she is insisting on fancy dress. I heard some of the shopboysfrom down the street gossiping about it. Apparently, the ball is going to attract a certain type of person, as everyone is getting in the spirit of wearing whatever they please.”
“Oh.” Was Charlie saying what Ned thought he was? This was more public than Ned would have ever dreamed of asking Charlie to be.
Charlie took Ned’s hand in his own. “I know you have your Bright Young Things, and The Pillars, but I thought this might be something different. With everyone else also dressed up, and Lady Malcolm asking for it specifically, we wouldn’t need to worry about the police. But if you don’t want to spend the night dancing with a bunch of servants, I won’t be offended.”
“Only if I can wear my spectacular new hat.” Ned’s voice was raspy with emotion as he pulled Charlie into his arms, head tucked against his chest.
???
The hotel ballroom had seen better days and was packed to the rafters with attendees in homemade interpretations of fancy dress. The music was too hard to hear, the dance floor too packed, and the queues to the bar too long. Ned had rarely attended something as unsophisticated, unrefined or inelegant. Yet, Lady Malcom’s Servants’ Ball was the most magical evening in Ned’s life to date, and he had been to Buckingham Palace and two different royal weddings.
The atmosphere was brimming with joy, and without the stiff uncomfortableness that Ned remembered from the servants’ balls of his childhood, where everyone only pretended that social convention had been thrown out of the window. Tonight, hundreds of men and women had a rare evening for themselves and were making the most of the opportunity.