person in London I’ll let touch my hair. You should go to him. He’s a miracle worker. Have you got a spare ciggie?’
‘Just there.’ Grace nodded to a silver cigarette box on the table. She took another gulp of tea and put it down on the dresser.
Mallory took one out. ‘What are you wearing tonight?’
‘The blue taffeta.’
‘Old faithful!’ Mallory smiled, shaking her head. ‘We have to take you shopping, my dear. There are such beautiful things out at the moment.’
At thirty, Mallory was only three years older than Grace but already established on the London social scene as one of the fashionable young women. Married to Grace’s cousin, Geoffrey, she tried to take Grace under her wing. However, Grace proved frustratingly immune to her instruction.
‘You don’t like this dress?’ Grace asked.
Mallory shrugged. ‘It’s perfectly fine.’
Grace held it up again. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s just, oh, I don’t know. You know what Vanessa’s like. Everything’s always cutting edge, up to the minute. The very latest look of 1956 …’
‘Which is remarkable because it’s only 1955, Mal.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean! She’s ahead of her time.’
‘Yes, but I don’t have to compete with Vanessa, do I? We can’t all be trendsetters. That woman has far too much time on her hands and far too much money.’
‘Perhaps, but nobody wants to miss one of her parties, do they? You need to start entertaining properly too. Tonight will be a good opportunity to steal some names from Vanessa’s guest list. I’ve got a little notebook and pencil in my handbag if you need it.’
‘Oh God!’ Grace shuddered. ‘I can’t bear the thought of it!’
‘Honestly!’ Mallory rolled her eyes. ‘What did you do up in Oxford for entertainment anyway?’
‘My uncle is a don. We had people round for cauliflower cheese and played bridge.’
‘How ghastly!’ Mallory laughed. ‘You’re going to have to get over this aversion to speaking to other people if you want to be an asset to your husband. He’s not going to be promoted on his good looks alone.’ She smiled. ‘You haven’t got a light, have you? Do you like this?’ She stood up, twirling round, showing off the full skirt of the deep red off-the-shoulder dress she was wearing. ‘It’s new. From Simpson’s.’
‘Very fetching.’ Grace stepped into her navy dress. ‘There’s a lighter in there, isn’t there?’
Mallory rifled round in the cigarette box. ‘Not that I can see. Here.’ She popped the cigarette into the corner of her perfectly rouged mouth. ‘Let me do you up.’
Grace stood in front of her while Mallory zipped up the back of her dress. ‘Roger must’ve taken it. We’re always losing lighters. That one’s my favourite though. I’ll kill him if he’s lost it.’
Mallory tugged at a good two inches of fabric that should have been fitted closely to Grace’s waist. ‘This is too big. You’ve lost weight again.’ There was an accusatory tone in her voice.
Grace crossed to her dressing table, opened a drawer and took out a box of matches. She tossed them to Mallory, who caught them midair, with the hidden athletic reflexes of a childhood tomboy. ‘Light me one too, will you?’
‘With pleasure. After all, you are my date tonight.’
‘Thank you for that.’ Grace caught her eye in the mirror and winked, as she put a pair of pearl clips on. It wasn’t lost on her that Mal was actually trying to help her. ‘It was good of you to invite me.’
‘We can’t have you wasting away while Roger’s out of town.’ Mallory lit two cigarettes and passed one to Grace. ‘Besides, it’s not often I get to ditch my husband for someone who actually listens to what I say. He can’t bear Vanessa anyway, thinks she’s a bad influence.’
‘Is she?’
‘Of course.’ Mallory picked up a pamphlet lying on top of a stack of books on the table. ‘What’s this?’
‘Nothing.’ Grace wished she’d had the foresight to put them away now. ‘Just a schedule of classes.’
‘The Oxford and County Secretarial College?’ Mallory flipped through; it naturally fell open to the pages Grace had already dog-eared. ‘Advanced Typing and Office Management? Bookkeeping?’ She made a face. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘You never know,’ Grace slipped on the navy pumps, ‘it might be quite helpful. Roger may well open his own offices one day. I could be a valuable asset to him; organize his appointments, type letters …’
‘But Grace, you have a job,’ Mallory pointed out. ‘You’re his wife.’
‘That’s not a job, Mal.’
Mallory flashed her a look. ‘Really? I wonder if you’ve read the fine print on your marriage certificate. It’s up to you to create a home, a family, a vision of where you all fit in the world and where you’re going. Think about it – the children’s schools, where you spend the weekends, your entire social circle – it’s all down to you.’ She put on an exaggerated accent. ‘Oh, the Munroes? Of course I know them! Isn’t she wonderful? Her son is at Harrow with our eldest. And I love what she’s done with the house, don’t you?’ Mallory took another drag, tossing the leaflet down. ‘Believe me, Ducky, you have a job. Besides, this place is in Oxford. How many times do I have to remind you that you live in London now?’
‘Yes, but the courses only last a few months.’
‘A few months? Are you mad? What’s Roger supposed to do while you’re gone?’ Mallory exhaled. ‘Honestly, you should learn something useful in your spare time.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know …’ The whole idea of self-improvement was alien to her. ‘Flower arranging. Or the harp, perhaps.’
‘The harp? What’s useful about a harp?’
Mallory thought a moment. ‘It’s soothing. Isn’t it? And you get to stroke something between your legs in public!’
‘Good God, you’re depraved!’ Grace laughed. ‘I’ll tell you what’s soothing — rearranging a filing cabinet, ordering new stationery or getting the books to balance.’
‘Grace …’ Mallory threw her hands up in despair. ‘Do you listen to anything I say? Honestly, you’re not in Oxford now. And I’ll tell you a little secret,’ she dropped her voice to a stage whisper, ‘men don’t like clever wives, they like charming ones!’
‘No!’ Grace gasped in pretend shock. ‘You don’t think I’m charming?’
Mallory rolled her eyes. ‘You’re delightful. I’m only saying—’
