The last part of this sentence was said rather loudly, just when the church had silenced before the closing prayer, and the wordsall about sexechoed around the nave.
Whispers ensued, accompanied by a few giggles, one or two people peering across to see who’d said it. Miranda burst out laughing while Lucy apologized to Betty, who glared ahead, reddening by the minute.
Loud organ music heralded the end of the service, and the bride floated beatifically down the aisle, her arm clinging to her new husband. Lucy tried to catch her eye, exchange a smile, but Shirley didn’t even turn to find her in the crowd.
The wedding reception was held in the church hall, a buffet table laden with sandwiches, cold pies and ham, followed by tarts and jellies. Wine and beer were flowing, and spirits were high, and before long, the wedding cake was being cut.
The Buckingham Palace group sat together, repeating how lucky Shirley was to marry Vernon. Maybe they would have their honeymoon abroad. Vernon had a car, so they could take the ferry to France and drive to the Riviera.
But Lucy wasn’t listening. It sounded so very mundane compared to Richard’s French château.
Then the conversation moved to the latest palace gossip. A journalist by the name of J. Marshall was writing newspaper articles about the coronation.
‘It’s in a New York paper, of all places,’ Hilda said.
‘But there’s no one at the palace by that name.’ Betty looked at Miranda. ‘You used to live in New York, didn’t you? Why do you think it’s being published over there?’
‘I don’t know how newspapers work.’ Miranda shrugged. ‘Maybe the New York papers pay better money than the British ones. Do they know who’s leaking the details?’
‘They think it’s one of the underbutlers, but there’s no proof yet,’ Hilda went on. ‘With so many extra staff brought in for the coronation, it’s hard to make sure everyone’s honest. Miss Driscoll is saying that she has proof it’s someone working in the offices.’
‘Well, whoever he is, I hope they find him soon,’ Miranda said, her attention straying to the stage, where a band was setting up. ‘Oh, look, a jazz band!’
To everyone’s delight, ‘In the Mood’ rang out across the room as the band belted out the popular wartime number. Immediately, the dance floor filled.
As soon as the music started, Lucy felt herself relax. It was as if the music unwound her on the inside, reminding her of her heady days on the stage.
It was a complete big band, with trombone, trumpet and a double bass, the saxophonist in the middle giving it his all. A drummer sat at the back beside an upright piano, the pianist’s hands moving dexterously over the keys.
How she wished she were up there, dressed in a floor-length gown, all eyes on her.
Hopefully Richard’s friend could bring everything within her grasp.
The saxophonist began a soaring solo centre stage, the audience cheering as he reached the final, swooping notes.
But it wasn’t until he bowed that Lucy had to look again.
Didn’t she know him?
As he stood back up, she let out a gasp.
Wasn’t that Richard’s assistant? What was his name, Morris?
He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair was combed more fashionably. Dressed in a beige linen suit and a trilby hat, he looked stylish and young, like the students in Bloomsbury.
Caroline saw her watching. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I’ve seen him around the palace. He must work there.’
‘I think I’ve seen him, too,’ Miranda added, ‘but goodness knows where.’
It was surprising that Morris, a man Richard dismissed as stuffy and immaterial, could perform like that. He didn’t seem the modern type at the palace; but here, rather than the flustered assistant, he looked relaxed, moving easily to the music. It was as if he’d taken off his work suit and was showing a whole new side of himself.
‘Why don’t you get up and sing, Lucy?’ Caroline said. ‘They don’t seem to have a vocalist. You can show us what you can really do.’
Overhearing, Miranda began to insist. ‘You always say how you don’t get to sing anymore. Well, now’s your chance.’
They were right, thought Lucy. This was why she came to London; this is what Richard saw in her. She walked across to the stage, and when Morris recognized her, he immediately went over to speak to her. He promptly agreed to have her sing the next number, taking her hand to help her onstage before making an announcement.
