Maria swept out of the room and the man turned and looked in their direction. Seeing him properly now, Dorothy gasped. He was tall and dashingly handsome. With dark hair, smiling eyes and a neat moustache, he reminded her of Clark Gable.
Feeling at ease with Clara and bolder than usual after all the drinks, Dorothy whispered, ‘Golly! Who isthat?’ The man walked past their table and headed over to the bar.
Clara followed her gaze. ‘Ah, Douglas. Or, should I say, Dangerous Douglas! Yes, he’s devilishly good looking, but equally devilish with the ladies, if you know what I mean!’
Clara’s brow furrowed as she continued, ‘That’s interesting,’ she muttered, almost to herself. ‘They’re playing their roles very well, I must say!’
‘Playing their what?’
‘Oh, sorry, I should explain. It’s highly unusual to see Douglas on his own, he normally has at least one adoring female in tow. It was Maria da Costa for an awfully long time, but rumour has it that she’s now engaged to be married to stuffy old Bernard Pemberton, who’s at least ten years older than she is and looks like a fish!’
Dorothy giggled at the description.
‘But Fish Face Pemberton is loaded,’ Clara continued, ‘and set to inherit a title and a big old castle back in Berkshire.’ She shrugged, as if this explained everything.
‘So I suppose they’ve had to call it off. Or, at least, make it look as if they have.’ Clara added the last part almost under her breath.
‘He’s so handsome; like a movie star!’ Dorothy whispered. She was still gazing at the side profile of the gorgeous Douglas when he looked over, a drink in each hand, and made his way out of the bar. Their eyes met for a brief moment and he gave her an amused nod.
Dorothy’s cheeks flamed instantly and she turned away. ‘Oh, what a fool I must have looked, staring at him like that!’ she muttered.
Clara laughed. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s used to having women staring at him.’ Then her tone became more serious. ‘But will you promise me one thing, Dorothy?’
‘What’s that?’
‘I know he fits your tall-dark-and-handsome criteria, but please stay away from that one; he’s dangerous with a capital D!’ Then she brightened again. ‘Anyway, you know what time it is?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Dorothy started to look at her wristwatch, causing Clara to burst out laughing.
‘Oh sweetie, you are funny! It’s time for . . . ’ and she tapped her fingers on the edge of the table to create a drumroll, ‘the Singapore Sling!’ She waved to a passing waiter, who came straight over and took their order.
While they waited for the drinks to arrive, Clara explained the origin of the drink. ‘So the story goes that women were not allowed to drink alcohol when they came to the hotel – another example of female oppression, if ever there was one!’ Clara made a disparaging face. ‘Then a few years ago, the head barman here came up with the clever plan of making a cocktail for the ladies that looked like a fruit juice. You’ll see, it’s pink and fruity; it looks completely innocent! So that’s how the ladies got round the stupid archaic rules. Oh, and here they are now.’
The waiter appeared and placed the fruity, pink drinks on the table in front of them.
‘Cheers!’ said Clara as they clinked glasses. ‘Here’s to you, to us, and to having a bloody good time in Singapore!’
The room was swaying as Dorothy followed Clara back to their table a while later. She squinted over towards their group, trying to bring everything into focus, and saw that her father was deep in conversation with a young man seated next to him. Her stomach sank when she saw that it was a handsome young man with movie-star looks.
‘Ah, girls, there you are! Dodo, do come and meet one of my new work associates; Douglas. Douglas, may I present my daughter, Dorothy.’
Clark Gable stood and took her hand in his, before lifting it to his lips. He gave her that same, slightly amused smile and in her tipsy state she wondered if he was laughing at her.
‘Dorothy, a pleasure!’ he said, his deep voice as smooth as silk. She felt her face flush as she stared up at him. He was even more handsome up close and she felt girlishly tongue-tied and awkward.
The crowd clapped as the musicians brought their number to a close and Douglas, still holding her hand, nodded in the direction of the dance floor. ‘May I have the next dance?’
Amid her parents’ approving murmurings, Dorothy nodded mutely and let him lead her out into the hot, sweaty throng of dancers. The band soon started up again with a rousing rendition of ‘I Got Rhythm’ and Douglas took her in his arms. She stared up into his dark eyes and breathed in his scent, a mix of alcohol, tobacco and strong cologne. It was overwhelming to be so close to this handsome man and her insides were doing strange things. Just breathe, she told herself, realising that she was so tense that he must feel like he was dancing with a wooden broom.
He smiled down at her, as if sensing her tension. ‘Relax Dorothy, I don’t bite. Well, not too hard, anyway.’ He winked at her and for a moment she was consumed by a heady mixture of exhilaration and terror. She took another deep breath and arched an eyebrow at him, trying the sophisticated ‘Down, boy!’ look she had seen Daisy use on over-enthusiastic suitors back home in London. She wasn’t sure it had the desired effect as he burst out laughing, carefree and easily.
‘Oh, Dorothy, something tells me that you and I are going to have some fun!’ He winked again. ‘So tell me, how are you enjoying Singapore so far?’ he asked conversationally as he twirled her around the dance floor.
But the whirling was too much for Dorothy and she never managed a reply. The heat, the noise and the alcohol – not to mention the closeness of Douglas and his handsome looks – all came together in a billowing wave that rose up inside her. With a look of utter panic, she stepped out of his embrace and fled from the ballroom. She made it out to the garden just in time for the contents of her stomach to reappear all over one of the perfectly manicured flower beds.
CHAPTER 10
Singapore
