The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Charlotte quickly. ‘One of my friends was at school with Kate. Apparently. she once slept-walked into the housemistress’s bedroom, took off her pyjamas and got into bed with her. The only reason they all found out was because the fire alarm went off two hours later and Kate emerged from Miss Gregory’s bedroom like a furious cat.’

  ‘Lucky Miss Gregory,’ said Rocky, looking at Charlotte with respect.

  ‘They’re both far too pretty for the real world,’ went on Charlotte. ‘Looking like that makes a girl very lazy. After all, no one’s going to care what you’re talking about as long as your face is that good.’

  ‘Very true,’ agreed Rocky.

  Goodness, but looks like his were powerful stuff. He had the most divine way of making one feel like a little girl and a thoroughly cosmopolitan woman at the same time, and I had never known anyone make me feel like that. He was wearing an immaculate charcoal grey and black suit with a bright green and pink silk shirt that no Englishman — except perhaps Bunny Roger — could have got away with. His shoes, I noted in amazement, were blue and black suede — Charlotte could barely tear her eyes away from them. We relaxed under the spell of his intoxicating accent to such an extent that when at last Harry reappeared, spraying cards into the air with one hand and catching them in the other, I had almost forgotten about him. I had also drunk three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

  ‘Penelope!’ Harry spotted me and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw who I was talking to. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Quite fine, thank you.’ I managed a stiff smile. If Harry was going to go swanning off with Marina before the night had even begun, then I was certainly going to spend as much time as I could entertaining myself.

  Rocky stuck out his hand. ‘Rocky Dakota.’

  Harry gave him a wintery look and shook his hand. ‘How do you do?’ he said, then frowned. ‘Ah! I’ve been looking for that. So sorry!’ He leaned forward and plucked a potato from behind Rocky’s ear. I glared at him, but Rocky was laughing.

  ‘That’s real clever,’ he said. The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by a stout man in tails barging up to Rocky and dragging him across the room to meet his wife. Harry and I were left alone.

  ‘Where’s Marina?’ I asked pointedly.

  ‘I don’t know. She said she needed some air.’ A shadow of despair crossed Harry’s face. ‘And why on earth didn’t you tell me you were so thick with Rocky bloody Dakota?’

  ‘I’m not.’ I blushed. ‘And how come everyone but me knows who he is?’

  ‘Oh, Penelope, don’t you know anything?’ said Harry infuriatingly. ‘He’s an agent and a producer. For actors, singers, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Singers?’

  ‘He’s made more money than he knows what to do with. He’s just bought himself a place in Cadogan Square. Apparently he had a Chevrolet shipped over here from Los Angeles—’

  ‘I know!’ I squeaked. ‘I saw him getting into it at Didcot! I’ve never seen a car look so out of place!’

  ‘He’s never been married,’ went on Harry primly.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So don’t you think that’s a bit odd?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I said firmly. Yes, must investigate further, I thought.

  I lost Harry again as Marina re-entered the room. She looked as wilful and as powerful as she had done at Dorset House, her red hair piled on top of her head with a diamond-studded comb, her wide mouth never still for a second. She saw me and blew me a kiss.

  ‘There she is,’ said Harry softly, ‘the girl who rips my soul apart.’

  ‘Sounds painful,’ I snapped. I didn’t see what gave Harry the right to criticise Rocky when he was fawning over the ridiculousness that was Marina.

  ‘You’re so bloody tall, Penelope. Oh, it’s the heels, of course,’ he said absent-mindedly.

  I rather liked the way that he couldn’t resist pretending that he hadn’t planned it all. ‘My fairy godmother has wonderful taste, don’t you think?’

  For a moment he glared at me, then he couldn’t help himself, and his face broke into an unfamiliar smile — all boyish and pleased and quite unlike his usual self-aware smirk. He looked very young suddenly — young and vulnerable and sweet.

  ‘I couldn’t resist the heels,’ he admitted. ‘Even though they make me ridiculous. I know I said I didn’t want you to tower over me, but actually I think it’s pretty sexy.

  ‘Gosh, Harry!’ I wasn’t sure I knew how to react to words like this from him. I changed the subject quickly. ‘So how did you get them into my— Harry placed his fingers on my lips. ‘I’m a magician,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask silly questions.’

  The conversation at dinner was fast and furious and peppered with noteworthy exclamations like No! But I only saw her last week in Monte Carlo! She looked like a Polish whore, I tell you! and Well my dear, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I wish I could live in a mud hut and be done with interior design altogether.’ I was supposed to have a man called Ivan Steinberg on my left and Harry on my right, but just as we were sitting down George reshuffled things and I found Rocky in Ivan’s place.

  ‘Steinberg’s plane’s been delayed,’ explained George. ‘Won’t get here until we’re on to brandy, at the earliest. Thought I’d move Rocky up your way, since you seem to be such good chums.’

  ‘First sensible idea you’ve ever had, Rogerson,’ said Rocky, sliding up and holding my gaze. We sat down, and in my flustered state I knocked my glass of Chablis all over the table and onto Rocky’s beautiful suit.

  ‘You clumsy oaf,’ he said, not unkindly.

  ‘Oh goodness!’ I gasped, ‘I am sorry!’

  ‘Don’t be. The laundry service in this hotel is exceptional.’

  ‘Staying here, are you?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Sure am.

  I think Harry would have liked to find something smart to say to this, but he couldn’t think of anything, so instead he drained his first drink of the evening and reached over for the bottle to recharge his glass. Unfortunately, Marina, sitting diagonally across from him, caught his eye and he lost concentration and sent the bottle flying.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Delancy?’ asked George with a bark of laughter, retrieving the bottle and whipping a napkin onto the soaked tablecloth.

  ‘He’s in love, of course,’ drawled Rocky, nodding in my direction. ‘Can’t ya see it?’

  I noticed Marina flush. ‘Don’t embarrass him, George,’ she said. ‘It’s just a little spill. You know what, guys, last week at the races, my plate of prawns slipped right out of my hands and into the princess’s lap. You know what she said to me? She said, “Marina, dearest, I don’t believe I ordered the shellfish.”’ She put on a very good impersonation of the princess to deliver this line and everyone, including me, roared. Marina, sensing an audience, was off. Just like the last time, I found myself fascinated and horrified in equal measures. She was like trifle: irresistible, but too much made one feel distinctly queasy. For every time that Rocky looked at me and smiled, I fidgeted and grabbed at my glass and sipped and gulped and refilled, and before long I realised I had drunk too much, but of course it was too late.

  ‘…next day, I found him rummaging around in the garbage looking for her diamonds!’ Marina concluded.

  Everyone roared again, and a great tidal wave of laughter filled the room and swamped Marina in praise. She laughed herself, and her eyes watered slightly. I felt an unexpected and most unwelcome rush of affection for her.

  ‘In this country we call it rubbish, not garbage, darling,’ said George fondly.

  ‘Ah well. It’s all trash to me,’ Marina said lightly. but I sensed her irritation and I felt sorry for George. He was a curious character, like something out of a book. The way he spouted on about the wine, the insistence with which he talked us through every mouthful of our starter (a cheese soufflé so stunning that I suppose it did merit some discussion) and the way he hung on every
word Marina said made him difficult to take seriously, but for all that there was a softness about him, an unconscious kindness, that made him more teddy bear than teddy boy, and I couldn’t help liking him’. I wondered if he was too stupid to notice the fiery looks that were passing between his future wife and her former lover, and I decided that yes, he was. Or maybe not too stupid, but too blindly in love.

  ‘I like George,’ said Rocky as if reading my mind when Marina had finished her story and we were allowed to talk amongst ourselves again. ‘He’s good with her.’

  ‘I think so too,’ I found myself saying. Harry, overhearing us, frowned at me. I ignored him.

  ‘So,’ went on Rocky, ‘tell me everything.’

  About what?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Oh, you know — what you were doing on the train the day that we met, what you like to watch at the movies, how old you were when you realised you could sing—’

  ‘I can’t sing!’ I spluttered.

  ‘No? Betcha can.’ Rocky grinned.

  ‘My brother’s the singer,’ I said. ‘It’s all he ever wants to do —sing and play the guitar.’

  ‘I must meet him some time,’ said Rocky.

  I laughed because I was starting to feel whizzy with champagne. Rocky would love Inigo, I thought. Inigo would love Rocky.

  Between mouthfuls of soufflé, I started to talk and found that once I had started, I couldn’t stop. I talked about Johnnie and Charlotte, and about Mama and Inigo and everything in between. Occasionally, Rocky interrupted me with a question —what actress would I most like to invite to Magna for tea? (Grace Kelly, naturellement.) What did I miss most during rationing? (I lied here and said new stockings but the true answer was Cadbury’s chocolate) and was my mother really only thirty-six years old? (Yes, and more’s the pity, I said indiscreetly.) Then our main course appeared, and I felt a wave of fear and nausea. It was duck.

  ‘Pretend it’s goose,’ murmured Charlotte, sensing my unease, and I smiled thankfully at her and took another gulp of champagne. Charlotte was opposite me, sandwiched between two very beautiful boys of about twenty. They were obviously very taken with her, vying for her attention, telling elaborate stories about people she knew, filling up her glass and lighting her cigarettes, and she responded amiably enough, but there was none of that fire, the nerves, the jittery legs, the spark that there had been when we had been out with A the T at the caff These boys, with their two addresses and fast cars and their Garrick Club membership, bored her.

  ‘Sometimes I find it hard, being eighteen,’ I said to Rocky. Waiters were clearing our plates away now. I was amazed to notice that I had eaten almost all of my duck.

  ‘You hate being eighteen?’ Rocky looked amused, but not in the edgy, self-conscious way that Harry did. Rocky was amused because he could afford to be. ‘Why would anyone hate being eighteen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Guilt, I suppose. That Papa died fighting somewhere I can’t even imagine in the middle of the Pacific, yet I spend more time thinking about when I’m going to see Johnnie Ray or what to wear to parties.’

  ‘My dear Penelope, your father would expect nothing less. He fought and died so that you could think luxurious thoughts about pop singers and Yardley perfume.’

  I had one of my odd moments when I thought I might cry, so I drank some more and went on talking.

  ‘It was hard, during the war. Mama kept it together until the news came through about Papa. Even then she refused to believe it. Inigo and I were so little that when she told us that he wasn’t coming back, it didn’t really mean much. We hated her being sad more than anything else. Still do.’

  ‘I guess the strangest thing about your generation is that you grew up with the war as your normality. That’s something I can’t imagine.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said slowly. because it was the first time that anyone had articulated this, although I had always felt it somewhere inside. ‘When it ended, it seemed completely unreal to me. I think I was a bit scared of what would happen next. Isn’t that craziness? Scared of life without war?’

  Rocky lit a cigarette and passed it to me. I took it with shaking hands and our fingers touched.

  ‘Frightening to think what you lot will do with yourselves,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘All this freedom after all that deprivation!’

  ‘Sometimes I think I want to do something mad, something outrageous. I talk to Johnnie all the time, and imagine myself with him. My friend Charlotte and I, we just want to be’ different, I suppose. She’s much more successful than I am in that sense. She just doesn’t really care what anyone thinks; she’ll wear strange hats and make them look right, she’ll spend all her money on one pair of silk stockings. I can’t even eat a whole packet of sweets myself without feeling bad.’

  ‘You will, darling, you will. And if you can’t, your children certainly will.’

  Children! Heaven forbid, I thought, and hastily changed the subject. ‘So how do you know Marina and George?’

  Rocky leaned in towards me. ‘Ah. That’s an interesting question. Unfortunately for me, you’re the type of girl who makes a guy feel bad unless the truth is told.’

  I wasn’t entirely sure if this was a good or a bad thing. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Marina was auditioning for a movie I produced.’

  ‘Was she any good?’

  ‘She was wonderful,’ confessed Rocky. Oh, terrific, I thought, wanting to throw all my toys out of the pram or whatever the expression was. I had always imagined that the reason Marina wasn’t a famous actress was because she wasn’t any good.

  ‘How come she hasn’t been in anything big yet then?’ I asked. ‘Ah. There’s a question.’ Rocky shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘She’s trouble. She’s a difficult, spoilt girl and she drinks too much.’

  ‘Drinks too much?’

  ‘Of course. If your whole life’s a dinner party, then what do you expect? She can’t be trusted, but I believe she’ll sort herself out one day. It may take longer than any of us expect, but she’ll wake up to the truth eventually.’

  ‘So she auditioned and you became friends?’

  Rocky nodded. ‘She’s vulnerable and self-destructive. I’ve always found myself attracted to people like that.’

  ‘A-attracted?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that’s ever gone on between us,’ said Rocky quickly. ‘She’s far too exhausting, even by my standards. But it was me who introduced her to George.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘It was a funny thing. I arrived for a week in London and invited them both to a dinner at Harry’s Bar. I couldn’t believe they’d never met before. Two months later, they were engaged.’

  ‘Gosh,’ I managed. ‘Did Marina ever talk about — er — anyone — anyone else?’

  ‘Oh no, she was dead set on George the moment she met him George confided in me that there had been some other guy the year before that she had been involved with, some jazz fan with no cash. I don’t know what happened to him.’

  Charlotte, listening intently, raised her eyebrows. ‘Poor thing,’ she said rather loudly. ‘The jazz fan, I mean.

  ‘Ah, he’ll be OK,’ said Rocky. ‘If you’re into jazz, you gotta get off on being lonely.’

  George plainly believed in keeping his friends close and his enemies closer. How odd it was that Rocky was unaware of the fact that the jazz fan in question was sitting between Kate and Helena Wentworth right now.

  ‘I used to read what they said about me in the papers, but I’ve learned to turn a blind eye to it nowadays,’ Helena was saying. ‘And you can’t trust a soul any more! At Marina’s engagement party I met this awful girl who said she was George’s cousin, then wouldn’t leave me alone all evening. She kept on and on at me —who designed my dress? what did I think of the party? — until I was ready to scream. I mean, there’s only a certain amount of time that one’s prepared to waste with people like that. I told her that I never spoke to the press at
private parties, and the next day she stuck the knife in. Helena Wentworth turns orange after eating nothing but carrots for two weeks in order to fit into Chanel couture dress borrowed from Princess Margaret was about the worst of the lot. Evening Standard. I’d have thought they’d have better things to write about.’

  ‘People always say that when they can’t imagine for one moment that anything could fill the public with more excitement than reading about themselves,’ Rocky whispered to me.

  ‘… she was this fat little thing, voice like a foghorn,’ went on Helena.

  ‘Hope Allen!’ I cried gleefully. ‘She and I studied Italian together for a time. When she was twelve, Patrick Reece used to take her to the theatre and offer her cocaine in the interval.’

  Everyone barked with laughter. Holy Moses, I thought in horror, what was I saying? But they all loved it. I had offered them something scandalous, something they could feast on later with friends.

  ‘Don’t you just love Paddy Reece?’ boomed a blond man down the other end of the table. ‘I must invite him to the box at Lords this summer.

  ‘It was cabbage not carrots, and the diet lasted a month, not a fortnight, and actually it was Tania Hamilton she borrowed the dress from, not the princess,’ shouted Kate.

  Everyone roared again and Helena yelled and threw a bread roll at her sister. Harry looked over to me, raised his eyes and grinned. Rocky clocked the look.

  ‘He loves you,’ said Rocky.

  ‘Oh no. He’s — well, we’re…’ I faltered, knowing that I was supposed to be encouraging Rocky to think what he thought. But how could I, when all I wanted was for him to tell me that I was the prettiest girl in the room and could he please walk me home? ‘It’s not what you think, he and I,’ I said feebly.

  Charlotte gave me a warning look. ‘They’re crazy about each other,’ she said. ‘But Penelope’s very un-American, Mr Dakota. You won’t get any gossip out of her.’

  Too right, I thought.