Lizzie nodded. ‘I quite like the thought of flower arranging. I’ve done lots of that. And I like dressmaking. But the thought of French conversation terrifies me!’
‘You’ve done flower arranging for your mother?’ Meg said.
Lizzie nodded. Her mother always roped her in if there were church flowers to be done. Lizzie tended to complain a lot but actually she enjoyed it and was considered to be quite good.
‘But I hardly know any French,’ she said, in case her friends thought she was claiming to be good at everything. ‘I’ve never been abroad.’
‘I don’t know any French or about flower arranging,’ said Meg. She looked at Alexandra. ‘Is the food here likely to be expensive?’
Alexandra shook her head. ‘It’s very reasonable and the toasted cheese sandwiches are really filling. I may be an heiress but I know all about watching the pennies so the pounds can take care of themselves.’
‘How come?’ asked Meg.
Alexandra shrugged. ‘I’ll tell you one day. It’s quite boring really.’
Lizzie had the impression there was quite a lot about Alexandra she wasn’t ready to tell them.
In the end, they weren’t allowed to pay for the cheese sandwiches, or the coffee, and Lizzie and Meg felt as much part of the family of the café owner as Alexandra was.
They walked back to the cookery school, which was in the basement of a delicatessen. ‘I’m quite looking forward to learning about other things, apart from cooking,’ said Lizzie. ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to be any good at it. I might have a chance with flowers or dressmaking. That’s my hobby.’ At least she was confident in her needlecraft. She used to embroider tray cloths for her mother, add lace to handkerchiefs, and other fancy but basically fairly useless things. But she’d always made clothes for her dolls and, although her mother discouraged it, she also made things for herself.
‘I like dressmaking,’ said Alexandra. ‘It’s easy if you have plenty of space. And you have a sewing machine.’
Lizzie yearned for access to a sewing machine; she’d left hers with her parents. ‘Do you make your own clothes?’ she asked, keen to know about Alexandra’s rather strange garments.
‘Kind of. I mostly adapt stuff.’ She frowned slightly. ‘My life sounds really weird now I’m talkingabout it to other people. Although of course it’s normal for me.’
Lizzie opened her mouth to ask another question and then closed it again. How could this glossy, aristocratic girl, who had told them she was rich, possibly need to save money? She shrugged and walked on. She’d find out soon enough, she was sure.
Chapter Two
Lizzie was on the bus to her Aunt Gina’s house, having asked the conductor to tell her when she should get off. Tired but very happy, she thought about her day.
Firstly, she felt she had found potential friends in Alexandra and Meg, which was very important. Her best friend from school, Sarah, had gone away to train as a nurse, and Lizzie missed her.
Secondly, although Mme Wilson was frightening, compared to some of the other girls who seemed not to have even ventured inside a kitchen, Lizzie felt she knew a bit more about cooking and so hoped she wouldn’t be the focus of her sarcasm.
As the bus drove through the streets she spotted landmarks. There was Harrods (which she’d visited with her mother), and the Victoria and Albert Museum (which she hadn’t). In spite of her tiredness she was excited and thrilled to be in London.
She got off the bus at the right place and set off, relatively confidently, in what she thought was theright direction for the little cul-du-sac where Aunt Gina lived. She was soon climbing the steps. As Gina hadn’t given her a key, she rapped on the door.
‘Oh, darling!’ said Gina when she saw her standing there. ‘You’re back quite early!’
As there had been a fair amount of chatting among the girls after the French conversation and flower arranging, it was now half past four. Some of the others had been rushing off to tea parties as part of their Season. It didn’t seem early to Lizzie.
‘I hope it’s not inconvenient.’
‘Don’t worry about it!’ Gina smiled, obviously a bit put out. ‘Come in. I have a friend here for tea. I’m sure it won’t be long before you can rustle up little French fancies and make yourself useful!’
Her parents had driven her up the night before so she knew her way round Gina’s flat, which Gina had recently moved into. Although Gina was her mother’s younger sister, they had very little in common so family visits were infrequent.
Now, Lizzie put her outdoor clothes in her bedroom and then went into the little sitting room at the front of the house. Gina and a man were sitting on the sofa. There were teacups on the little table in front of the sofa and Lizzie noticed that one of the teacups had fallen over.
‘Let me introduce you,’ said Gina as both she and the man got to their feet. ‘Barry, this is Lizzie, or Elizabeth as her mother prefers, Lizzie, this is Barry.’
Barry took Lizzie’s hand and kissed it. ‘And what name do you prefer?’
‘Lizzie,’ she said, trying to take her hand back and failing.
