‘The weather’s lovely today, Augusta. Have you been out in it yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve been cooped up in this shop, haven’t you? Never mind. We’ve just had a lovely stroll in Russell Square. Not that I stroll anymore, but you know what I mean.’

  The nurse wheeled Lady Hereford to Sparky’s cage on the counter.

  ‘Have you been behaving yourself today?’ she asked the canary.

  ‘Yes, he has,’ said Augusta. ‘He’s always on his best behaviour in the shop. But at home it can be a different matter.’

  ‘Does he still avoid his cage at bedtime?’

  ‘Yes, quite often.’

  ‘You need to be stricter with him. Withhold his apple pieces if he doesn’t comply.’

  ‘I shall try that,’ said Augusta, not intending to. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to visit today, Lady Hereford.’ The old lady usually called on Augusta once or twice a week.

  ‘I’ve come to invite you to something.’

  ‘To what?’ Augusta hoped it wasn’t a party.

  ‘A fashion show.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Lady Hereford, but I’m not a very fashionable person.’

  ‘Me neither. And I don’t particularly want to go. But my niece’s daughter, Daphne, is taking part, so I’m expected to. It’s a show being put on in Kensington by Vivien Kingsley’s fashion house. I take it you’ve heard of Kingsley?’

  Augusta nodded. It was an expensive brand beyond her price range.

  ‘To be honest with you, Augusta, my niece, Isabella, means well, but she’s hard work. And so for her daughter, Daphne… well, she’s a rather spoilt girl, I’m afraid. Prone to whining. I would really like some sensible company, so that’s why I’m asking you.’

  Augusta realised it would be difficult to refuse. ‘Alright then. When is it?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon. I realise it’s short notice, but Isabella wasn’t sure whether there’d be any spare tickets for friends and family. Unfortunately, it turned out that there were. It’s at the Holland Park Rink. I’ll collect you by taxi at two o’clock. Perhaps we’ll even enjoy it. Who knows?’

  Chapter 5

  Once she had closed her shop for the day, Augusta made some tea, then took it up to Philip in his office.

  ‘Thank you, Augusta. How did you know I needed a cup of tea?’

  ‘It was a lucky guess.’ She sat herself in one of the easy chairs. ‘We need to plan our visit to Mr Briggs.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’ Philip joined her in the other easy chair with his cup of tea in one hand and his notebook in the other. ‘Scotland Yard is going to pay us quite handsomely for this work,’ said Philip. ‘Thanks to Lord Montpelier’s donation.’

  ‘The money will help your detective agency, Philip. But there’s no need to pay me. I won’t be able to give this much time, anyway. I have a shop to run.’

  ‘I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Augusta. But I do insist on paying you.’ He took a sip of tea. ‘Now let’s think about the characters we’re going to play.’

  ‘Characters?’

  ‘Yes. This is undercover work. We need to take on characters.’

  ‘I’m not an actor.’

  ‘No, I realise that. But when you go undercover, you’re pretending to be someone else. It’s a form of acting, isn’t it? Just as we did in Belgium during the war. But we’re in peacetime now, so everything’s a little safer. Now then, because I’m a former police officer and this Briggs chap is wary of people like me, I think you need to be the person who’s most interested in the painting, Augusta. I can be your henpecked husband standing meekly behind you.’

  ‘Henpecked?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t want to speak too much or deal with Briggs directly because he’s going to be suspicious of me. If I can just be a meek husband who always agrees with his wife, then hopefully I’ll come across as a dull character who he won’t pay much attention to. On the other hand, Augusta, you’ll need to be the loud, flamboyant type.’

  ‘Loud and flamboyant, Philip? That’s the opposite of what I am.’

  Philip sighed. ‘I realise that, Augusta. But you’re playing a part. You can’t just walk into his office as yourself. You’re going to have to change your appearance and be someone completely different.’

  ‘I know that. But do I have to be loud and flamboyant? Can’t I choose how I can be?’

  ‘Very well. But do you understand what I’m attempting to achieve here? You need to be the dominant one, the one who wants to buy the painting. I need to be the one who hangs back and nods and agrees with everything you say and do. But obviously, I do have a purpose, Augusta. Because if there’s any trouble, I can protect you.’

  ‘I think I need a bit of time to think about how I’m going to present myself.’

  ‘Yes, by all means, have a think about it. And then you can tell me tomorrow what sort of character you want to be.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. We want to get on with this, don’t we?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t want to come up with something by tomorrow.’

  Philip regarded her for a moment. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t like being hurried.’

  ‘I’m sorry if you think I’m hurrying you. Are you feeling nervous about this?’

  ‘I’m nervous about being married to you, that’s for sure!’

  They both laughed.

  ‘Take all the time you need. And I shall think about my character.’

  ‘Presumably if you’re not going to say or do very much, then it won’t take you long.’

  ‘It will still take some time, Augusta. I need to ensure I can inhabit the character convincingly. I need to be very thorough about it. Even if I’m not saying or doing very much, my appearance and the manner in which I conduct myself needs to be carefully planned.’

  Augusta thought Philip was in danger of taking the work too seriously. ‘Surely all we need to do is turn up, pretend we’re a married couple, then speak to Briggs about the works of art he’s selling. And if he happens to show us Sunset at the Temple of Artemis, then we know he’s got it, and we can tell the Yard.’

  ‘That’s the essence of it, yes. But it’s important we stick to a plan. If Briggs realises we’re working for Scotland Yard, then that could be the end of us, Augusta. This man could be ruthless.’

  ‘I thought you said this was safer than the work we did in the war?’

  ‘It is. But only a little bit.’

  Chapter 6

  The following afternoon, Augusta and Lady Hereford’s taxi pulled up on Holland Park Road in Kensington. The driver helped Lady Hereford out of the motor car and Augusta helped her into the bath chair which had been strapped onto the back of the vehicle.

  Holland Park Rink had been a popular roller-skating venue before the war. It had a grand, arched facade topped either side by two turrets. The building’s name was emblazoned across the arch in bold brass lettering. Advertisements for future events, including dog shows and boxing matches, were attached to the railings.

  A steady stream of people was passing through the ornate iron gates. Augusta followed them, pushing Lady Hereford in her bath chair. A steward at the entrance checked their tickets and ushered them through.

  Inside, the cavernous room echoed with music and lively chatter. It was decorated with elaborate floral displays, and a string quartet played a waltz. A temporary stage had been erected at one end of the room. A raised walkway led out from it and was surrounded on three sides by rows of chairs. These were almost filled with ladies in fancy hats and a few gentlemen. The rink-side seats were full, as was the gallery seating from where spectators could look down on the stage and walkway.

  ‘I don’t know where you’re going to put me, Augusta,’ shouted Lady Hereford over the noise. ‘It looks rather full.’

  Another steward spotted them and guided them to a place close to the stage, where he moved two chairs out of the way to make space for the bath chair.

  ‘Now you have one of the best seats in the house,’ he said with a grin. Lady Hereford thanked him, and Augusta sat on a chair next to her.

  ‘Auntie! I’m so glad you came!’

  A middle-aged lady in a plum purple crepe dress practically fell onto Lady Hereford and embraced her.

  ‘Hello Isabella,’ said the old lady.

  ‘I’m so proud of Daphne today!’ She stood upright again and adjusted her plum purple hat.

  ‘I’m sure you are. She’s done very well for herself.’

  ‘Do you know it’s possible these days for a young woman to make a career out of modelling clothes?’

  ‘A career? Goodness. I’m sure Daphne is marvellous at it.’

  ‘The pay isn’t very good. Miss Kingsley only pays five pounds a week.’

  ‘Is that all? It’s lucky Daphne comes from a wealthy family then. This is my good friend Augusta Peel. You remember Mrs Peel, don’t you?’

  Isabella gave Augusta a blank look. ‘No, I don’t think we’ve met.’

  Augusta recalled meeting Isabella at a dinner at Lady Hereford’s home when she had first arrived in London. Isabella now looked her up and down, possibly wondering why someone in a dowdy blouse and skirt would be interested in a fashion show.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Daphne’s outfits,’ said Lady Hereford.

  ‘So am I! She’s going to look quite beautiful, I’m sure of it. Oh look, can you see Vivien Kingsley?’ She pointed across the walkway at a lady with silver bobbed hair who was wearing a black velvet jacket and pleated skirt. The jacket was trimmed with bright pink ribbon and buttons and a line of pink buttons ran down one side of the skirt. The designer was talking to a lady in orange who had a cascade of beaded necklaces around her neck. Standing close by was a tall, pale-faced man with a square jaw. ‘That’s the Russian duke with her. Nikolai Volkov.’

  ‘London is practically overrun with exiled Russian dukes these days,’ said Lady Hereford. ‘He’s courting Miss Kingsley is he?’

  Isabella nodded.

  ‘They make an interesting pairing,’ said Lady Hereford.

  ‘But they’re quite devoted to one another I’ve heard,’ said her niece. ‘I’d better get back to my seat. Let’s find each other again after the show.’

  She went on her way and Augusta watched the Russian duke for a moment. He looked a little bored.

  ‘How funny that Daphne could make a career out of this,’ said Lady Hereford to Augusta. ‘She was always an odd-looking child. Quite angular in the face and no shape to her at all. She’s tall and slender. A little too slender, I’d say. But I suppose that’s the fashion these days, isn’t it?’

  A po-faced gentleman with a camera positioned himself alongside them and glanced around. He had oiled hair and was impeccably attired in a burgundy jacket with thin stripes of gold. He wore burgundy trousers, a gold waistcoat, a lace cravat and a large white carnation as a buttonhole.

  Augusta watched him from the corner of her eye as he sucked in his cheeks and surveyed the scene.

  Then he spoke to them. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he said to Lady Hereford, ‘but you’re going to have to move.’

  The old lady allowed a long, uncomfortable pause to pass. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said eventually.

  ‘You have to move. I’m Cedric Langley, the photographer and I need to stand here to take photographs.’

  ‘Aren’t there any other places where you can take photographs?’

  ‘Yes. But I need to move around during the show, you see. I’m currently identifying the best vantage points. And you’re sitting in one of them.’

  ‘This is the only space which can accommodate my bath chair,’ said Lady Hereford. ‘So I’m not inclined to move, I’m afraid. There’s simply nowhere else to put me.’

  Mr Langley pulled at his cravat. ‘It’s the fault of the organisers,’ he said. ‘They haven’t thought about the layout of this place properly. But I have to work with what I’ve been given, and that means asking a few people to move, I’m afraid. You’re not the only one. I’m going to be asking those ladies over there to move, too.’

  ‘You certainly know how to make yourself popular, don’t you?’ said Lady Hereford.

  He gave a sniff. ‘This is a prestigious event. The photographs from this show will be featured in all the society magazines. I’m afraid I really don’t have time to negotiate with everyone. Instead, I require some understanding that I have an important job to do.’

  ‘And I’ve got an important job to do, too. I’m going to be watching my great niece in this show. It’s been difficult enough trying to secure a place where I can see the show properly. I simply don’t want to miss her.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your great-niece is in the show?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Daphne Chatsworth.’

  ‘Miss Chatsworth? I see.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘Yes. I photograph Miss Chatsworth quite regularly for Kingsley. If you’re her great aunt, then are you Lady Hereford, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s mentioned you a few times.’

  ‘How nice of her. Do you still want me to move?’

  ‘No!’ He held out a palm to stop her. ‘There’s no need for you to move at all, Lady Hereford. Please accept my apologies for speaking to you in the way I did just now. I get nervous before a show and my manner can be quite brusque at times. I’m so terribly sorry. I hope you’ll accept my apology.’

  ‘While I can understand you being nervous, Mr Langley, you should remember your manners before you speak to people.’

  ‘If I had known you were Lady Hereford⁠—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who I am, does it? A little politeness goes a long way, you know.’

  ‘It does.’ He gave her a little bow. ‘I shall go and look for other vantage points.’

  ‘What an obnoxious man,’ said Lady Hereford once the photographer had left. ‘I wonder if everybody in the fashion industry is as unpleasant as that? It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s probably similar to show business. A world with an awful lot of people thinking they’re much more important than they are.’

  ‘His mood soon changed when he realised you were important though, didn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not that important though, am I Augusta? I have a title which sounds impressive and people kowtow to me. Just think what you could do with your title, Augusta. You could revert to the name Lady Rebecca Buchanan and prance around this place in an expensive dress. Everyone would fall at your feet.’

  Augusta laughed. ‘And I would hate it. I’m a lot happier being Augusta Peel than Lady Rebecca.’

  ‘Good for you, Augusta. I admire you for choosing your path.’ The quartet stopped playing, and the lights dimmed. Then the quartet struck up a new tune. ‘Here we go,’ said Lady Hereford. ‘It’s time for the show!’

  Chapter 7

  A procession of young women paraded onto the stage. They wore knee-length silk dresses in shades of gold, emerald, red, silver, and pink. Each dress was embellished with a long silken scarf in a matching colour. The scarves draped from shoulders and waistlines. They looped around necks and hung in long bows at necklines.

  The models held their poses on the stage for a moment, before proceeding along the walkway so everyone could get a good view of their outfits. Each woman maintained an impassive expression with a steady gaze which avoided all eye contact with the audience.

  Lady Hereford pointed out Daphne to Augusta. She was tall and elegant, like her companions, and had prominent cheekbones and a sharp nose. Her dress was a glimmering gold and had full sleeves which ballooned at the wrist.

  Augusta spotted Cedric Langley, the photographer, lurking by the walkway and taking photographs. Daphne and her companions filed off the stage as the music changed and a second group made a well-coordinated arrival. They wore travelling coats in turquoise, burgundy, magenta, and olive green with matching hats and handbags. Some coats were trimmed with fur at the collar and hem while others had wide plaid collars and large cuffs. The hats were brimless and fitted close to the head, with some appearing to be little more than a wrap of thick fabric.

  ‘I don’t like some of these styles,’ said Lady Hereford. ‘Whatever happened to a proper hat?’

  She was even less impressed with the parade of tea gowns which came next. Augusta had heard they were the latest fashion to come from Paris. They were light garments in shades of lilac, lemon, and dusky pink with lace panelling in the bodices and skirts. Silk flowers were sewn onto necklines and waistlines.

  ‘They may as well be parading about in their petticoats,’ muttered Lady Hereford.

  The continuous colourful processions meant there was always something new to look at. Augusta realised she was enjoying herself. The evening gowns made her wish she had a special event to dress up for as she admired the elegant ankle-length dresses. They draped from the shoulder or waist in folds of silk, and some featured bold geometric prints. Others were influenced by the Orient, with intricate embroidery, beads and tassels.

  Lady Hereford’s great niece, Daphne, conducted herself perfectly. Augusta imagined the frantic activity in the changing rooms as the women hurriedly changed in and out of their outfits. There was no hint of any backstage chaos as they calmly showed off the clothes in front of the audience.

  As the show concluded, all the models gathered together on the stage. There looked to be about thirty of them. Vivien Kingsley strode out from among them to receive a standing ovation from the audience. The designer grinned and bowed as she received the applause. The show had concluded, and everyone appeared to have enjoyed themselves.

  The models began to file off the stage, the lights went up, and the audience readied itself to leave.

  ‘What did you think, Augusta?’ asked Lady Hereford.

  ‘I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I’m even thinking about buying a new handbag now.’

 

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