awake”—she was informed—“and wishes to see you before you go.”
Caro was alone in a big four-poster bed, its curtains partially drawn. “Léonie,” she called, patting the bed beside her, “come here. I hope you slept well?”
“Oh, yes … but I wish I hadn’t because I didn’t want to miss a single moment.”
Caro laughed. “Now that we’re friends, I’m not about to lose you so soon. I’m giving a party on Thursday, why don’t you come? Please do, Léonie, it’ll be fun.”
“A party?” She could feel her spirits rising.
“You must come, I insist! Nine o’clock then, on Thursday?”
Léonie brimmed with happiness, she wasn’t to lose this world just yet! She kissed Caro on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, Caro, of course I’ll come.”
Gangs of workmen were clearing the pavements as Léonie trudged along, slipping on icy patches, splashed by passing trafficand oblivious to it all. She was floating again on champagne bubbles.… Thursday … the day after tomorrow. Oh, God. She stopped in the middle of the road, frozen in horror by a terrible realization. What would she wear?
–
• 4 •
“There’s no time to make anything,” said Loulou, “so that’s out. Bella, you’re the nearest in size, what do you have that might do?” They sifted through the contents of Bella’s wardrobe, making Léonie try on the red velvet and deciding that it made her skin sallow, and then the black lace, which was too old. Nothing was suitable, and the girls had been Léonie’s only hope. She wouldn’t be able to go, she knew it. How could she, without a proper dress? “Wait a minute,” said Loulou, “I think I’ve got the answer. Put on your coat, Léonie, we’re going to the theater.”
At any other time Léonie would have found the novelty of being backstage at the cabaret exciting, but her whole being was absorbed by her problem: she must find something to wear. She paused for a moment to peer across the footlights from the side of the stage, breathing in the smell of dust and paint from the ornate backdrop, then hastily followed Loulou and Bella down the dingy corridor into a long room stacked with rails of costumes. Loulou sorted through them rapidly, searching for the one she wanted. “Gloriette used it in the party scene a few months ago, Bella,” she said, her voice muffled as she thrust the tightly packed garments along the rails. “The gold one.”
“Do you mean this?” Bella held up a shiny little dress of gold satin.
“Try it on,” urged Loulou, “I know it will suit you.”
Hurriedly Léonie unbuttoned her dress and wriggled into the golden costume. It was a bit low on her bosom and her chemise stuck out incongruously over the top, but it nipped in at her waist, swirling in a flurry of tiny points at the hem. The long sleeves formed matching points at her wrists, and the low neckline peaked in little stiffened points just under her ears.
“As usual it’s too short,” said Bella, exasperated.
Léonie glanced down at the skirt floating around her calves. “Oh, Loulou,” she said despairingly, “what shall we do?”
Loulou examined the dress; there was no way to add another band of fabric to the bottom that would not be too obvious. There was only one alternative. “If you can’t change it, then you must make an advantage of it,” she announced firmly. “You’ll need stockings, Léonie—silk ones—and shoes … you’ll emphasize the shortness as though it was meant to be that way!”
Léonie stared at her doubtfully. Could she be right? She remembered the silk stockings at Serrat, but shoes were expensive. Loulou read her thoughts. “We’ll go to Hector,” she said. “He makes the shoes for all the shows and they’ll be cheaper than the usual shops.”
Bella hid the dress under her coat as they sneaked giggling past the concierge at the stage door and made their way through the slippery streets to Hector. It was a gloomy little shop, smelling of
Caro was alone in a big four-poster bed, its curtains partially drawn. “Léonie,” she called, patting the bed beside her, “come here. I hope you slept well?”
“Oh, yes … but I wish I hadn’t because I didn’t want to miss a single moment.”
Caro laughed. “Now that we’re friends, I’m not about to lose you so soon. I’m giving a party on Thursday, why don’t you come? Please do, Léonie, it’ll be fun.”
“A party?” She could feel her spirits rising.
“You must come, I insist! Nine o’clock then, on Thursday?”
Léonie brimmed with happiness, she wasn’t to lose this world just yet! She kissed Caro on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, Caro, of course I’ll come.”
Gangs of workmen were clearing the pavements as Léonie trudged along, slipping on icy patches, splashed by passing trafficand oblivious to it all. She was floating again on champagne bubbles.… Thursday … the day after tomorrow. Oh, God. She stopped in the middle of the road, frozen in horror by a terrible realization. What would she wear?
–
• 4 •
“There’s no time to make anything,” said Loulou, “so that’s out. Bella, you’re the nearest in size, what do you have that might do?” They sifted through the contents of Bella’s wardrobe, making Léonie try on the red velvet and deciding that it made her skin sallow, and then the black lace, which was too old. Nothing was suitable, and the girls had been Léonie’s only hope. She wouldn’t be able to go, she knew it. How could she, without a proper dress? “Wait a minute,” said Loulou, “I think I’ve got the answer. Put on your coat, Léonie, we’re going to the theater.”
At any other time Léonie would have found the novelty of being backstage at the cabaret exciting, but her whole being was absorbed by her problem: she must find something to wear. She paused for a moment to peer across the footlights from the side of the stage, breathing in the smell of dust and paint from the ornate backdrop, then hastily followed Loulou and Bella down the dingy corridor into a long room stacked with rails of costumes. Loulou sorted through them rapidly, searching for the one she wanted. “Gloriette used it in the party scene a few months ago, Bella,” she said, her voice muffled as she thrust the tightly packed garments along the rails. “The gold one.”
“Do you mean this?” Bella held up a shiny little dress of gold satin.
“Try it on,” urged Loulou, “I know it will suit you.”
Hurriedly Léonie unbuttoned her dress and wriggled into the golden costume. It was a bit low on her bosom and her chemise stuck out incongruously over the top, but it nipped in at her waist, swirling in a flurry of tiny points at the hem. The long sleeves formed matching points at her wrists, and the low neckline peaked in little stiffened points just under her ears.
“As usual it’s too short,” said Bella, exasperated.
Léonie glanced down at the skirt floating around her calves. “Oh, Loulou,” she said despairingly, “what shall we do?”
Loulou examined the dress; there was no way to add another band of fabric to the bottom that would not be too obvious. There was only one alternative. “If you can’t change it, then you must make an advantage of it,” she announced firmly. “You’ll need stockings, Léonie—silk ones—and shoes … you’ll emphasize the shortness as though it was meant to be that way!”
Léonie stared at her doubtfully. Could she be right? She remembered the silk stockings at Serrat, but shoes were expensive. Loulou read her thoughts. “We’ll go to Hector,” she said. “He makes the shoes for all the shows and they’ll be cheaper than the usual shops.”
Bella hid the dress under her coat as they sneaked giggling past the concierge at the stage door and made their way through the slippery streets to Hector. It was a gloomy little shop, smelling of
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