Chapter Twenty-two

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The August Bank Holiday weekend saw the month go out in style. The final event for the YCCS fundraiser was a 40's themed dance. It was being held in a huge marquee in the grounds of Yewell Manor, and, as 'heir apparent' Dolly's presence was mandatory. As his 'future wife', so was mine. Entering the covered walkway leading to the 'Dance Hall' Sir Dickie's voice could be heard holding forth on what had lately become his favourite topic. Ever since he had declared his intent to stand for local office, Dickie had been pressing Dolly to take over as estate manager.

'Need to learn the ropes, boy. Get used to being the top man. You'll be Sir Damien one day,' he had told Dolly only days earlier.

“Where has the boy got to?” His voice boomed out in the evening air; clearly he had not gone inside yet. “Damien and Emily should be here by now! I want them to stand with us when we greet the VIP guests. On the job training.” He paused for breath, said in a quieter tone, “Do you think he'll have some news for us? About the engagement?”

“Quiet Dickie!” Lady Cecilia scolded. “Don't push it. Young people aren't in such a hurry these days.”

“Annabelle was when she married that American chap” Dickie snorted in reply.

Dolly and I directed our steps toward the makeshift cloakroom; he was determined to steer clear of his uncle at all costs.

There was someone I was keen to avoid too. Through the tent flap I spied d.b.cooper, journalist extraordinaire, on route for the marquee. He looked very dashing in a dark-grey three piece and trilby. Dolly looked handsome too, though his charity store buy was a little baggy in the rear. My own ensemble, classic 40's Tea-dress, was a recent purchase, the style being currently back in fashion.

Dolly had spotted Daniel as well.

“Want me to keep him busy?” he offered, tightening the knot on his tie, bunching the sleeves of his jacket and cracking his knuckles like a heavy in a gangster movie.

I couldn't help a small smile at the thought of my best mate putting the squeeze on someone a good head taller. A picture flashed through my mind �" Chihuahua vs Great Dane.

“Let's just stay far away.” I took his arm as we made our way through to the main area. “Far away from both of them.”

Inside the marquee had been decorated like a 1940's dance hall. I had half expected to be swamped by a sea of peacock blue, the signature colour of the charity. But, no, thank goodness. Somebody had gone overboard with a theme of red, white and blue; Union Jacks, bunting, even the lighting was colour co-ordinated. The local wartime history group had loaned the flags and some vintage posters; 'Britain needs you' and 'Keep calm and carry on', to name but a few.

A proper band was playing Glen Miller's 'Little Brown Jug' and they, too, had dressed up for the occasion, all decked out in US army uniforms.

Circular tables were dotted around the edge of the marquee, leaving room for a dance floor at the centre. As Dolly and I walked across to the refreshments we discovered that it was also authentic. A proper sprung floor had been laid, which must have cost a fortune. Sir Dickie 's idea, no doubt.

“It's a good job Dickie offered to pay for all this” I commented to Dolly as I accepted my drink from the barman.

“He didn't” Dolly told me, taking his own glass. “Aunt Cecilia did. She organised everything and had the invoices forwarded to the estate office. Dickie stumped up regardless.” Dolly took a sip of his drink before adding, “probably got an ulterior motive; some nefarious scheme I'll bet.”

“He's hoping you're going to propose to me, and he's got a pop-up party already.”

“Don't jest”, Dolly spluttered, looking around frantically as if expecting to find his uncle bearing down upon us.

But Sir Dickie and Lady Cecilia were on the far side of the marquee, talking to Mayor Pratt and his wife. Dolly slid into a chair nearbehind a huge bunch of balloons, manoeuvring them to provide inadequate camouflage. I sat beside him.

We were entertained for a while by a trio styling themselves as 'The Edwards Sisters', with renditions of wartime classics such as 'Don't sit under the apple tree'. Then a comical little man with a ukulele did 'When I'm cleaning windows' á la George Formby. He was replaced by the band who struck up a rousing number to which a couple danced the Lindy Hop, a brilliant display, jumps, hops and all. Everyone cheered and clapped when they took their bows, and headed to the dance floor themselves.

“He's watching you”, Dolly warned me, his eyes focused across the tent. Daniel was standing with his back to a tent pole. He looked to sad, so - melancholy, that was the word. He drained his drink and started in our direction.

The band was playing 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' as I grabbed Dolly by the hand and tugged him to the dance floor.

“Quick, dance with me!”

But the upbeat tune came to an end and one of the Edwards sisters took up the mic and crooned 'It had to be you'. Before we could merge with the throng Daniel was upon us. I spun and made a bee-line for the exit.

“Emily, wait, talk to me!”

I could hear Daniel's pleas as I fled, and I hesitated, only briefly, long enough for him to catch up with me. Dollly, my wing man, stepped between us.

“She doesn't want to see you, mate”. He planted a hand on Daniel's shoulder, momentarily stopping his progress. “Let me go after her.”

Outside the air felt cool on my flushed cheeks. The moon was full, a glowing orb casting eerie shadows on the grass. I stared at it, willing myself to be calm, trying to regain control of my emotions. From deep within the marquee I heard the mellow tones of a saxophone; 'Ain't misbehavin'' drifted out towards me. One of the Edwards sisters was crooning.

'I know for certain, the one I love, I'm through with flirtin', it's just you I'm thinkin' of.....'

The words paralysed me, flooding my body with warmth. Daniel had played that song for me. It was almost unbearable; the words tugged at my heart, made me retrace my footsteps. I paused at the entrance, listened.......

'Ain't misbehavin', I'm savin' my love for youuuuu!'

I nearly ran inside, intent on throwing myself into Daniel's embrace; would have, had Dolly not suddenly arrived with my jacket.

The sight of him grounded me, reminded me there were reasons why I chose not to be with Daniel any longer.

“You should talk to him, Bella. He didn't mean to keep anything from you. It just happened that way.”

“Not tonight, Dolly. I'm not ready,” I choked.

“Don't let the meadow grow under your shoes,” he advised me, placing my jacket around my shoulders, before we set off across the car park, our gala evening over.