The Bannister Girls Read Free

stopped, after what seemed an interminably long ride. They had presumably arrived at Beezer’s Club. To Angel’s dismay, she realised it was in Soho, to which would go yet another black mark against this evening’s excursion.
    The streets, dimmed by government decree, gave no indication of what was behind the stark sign swinging sadly in the rain above a steep flight of steps leading towards a cellar. Angel couldn’t help thinking she was being extremely foolhardy as the Flying Corps officer held on tightly to her arm, while Reg paid the cabbie. As the vehicle trundled off into the night, Angel felt sudden panic.
    â€˜Having second thoughts?’ Jacques said in her ear. ‘I promise you this is not an abduction, though I can think of no more delightful companion if it was.’
    Before she could answer, she was being hustled down the flight of steps and out of the rain. Once at the bottom, the four of them squashed tightly together until an outer door was closed before an inner one could be opened. As soon as it was, Angel realised why.
    The contrast was stunning. Outside, all was gloom and depression. Here at Beezer’s, the gaslights popped and flickered and made dazzling reflections of the glitteringly smart dresses worn by the women. They were mostly young, their hair rigidly waved, arms clattering with bracelets,mouths scarlet or orange. Their feet tapped gaily in a whirl of dancing on the tiny dance floor as their male companions swung them around to the music of a heavily-perspiring band. Without exception, all the men were in uniform, and several Union flags waved like banners across the top of the stage at the rear of the room.
    â€˜A uniform is your entry ticket,’ Jacques spoke loudly against the noise. ‘Though they do expect you to pay up as well!’
    â€˜You must let me pay my share –’ Angel began at once, reaching into her bag. Jacques pushed her hand away.
    â€˜Don’t be so modern,’ he grinned. ‘No Frenchman would let his lady pay for herself.’
    Angel allowed the girl at the paying desk to take her coat and hat and the overnight bag, and give her a ticket in return, for her to reclaim them later. She saw Jacques’ eyes take in the shiny white silk blouse that rippled against her figure, the perfect little cameo brooch at the high neckline that had been her parents’ eighteenth birthday present to her, and the elegant grey wool skirt that matched her coat.
    The rest of the women in the room might be dressed up like peacocks, but Angel Bannister outshone them all with her style and class. Jacques de Ville felt more drawn to her than to any other woman he had known in his life, and it had little to do with the fact that from the moment he had seen her, he had ached to paint her.
    A man held up one finger to them to indicate that there was a table available for the officer and his party. As Angel followed Jacques, with Dolly and Reg right behind her, weaving their way in and out of the crush of people, she felt a little shimmer at his words. His lady? It was another of his preposterous comments, but one which had undoubtedly made her heart beat faster.
    â€˜We got here just in time,’ Dolly hissed, as they took their seats, and the flickering gaslights were lowered one by one. ‘Any later, and we’d have missed the start of the show.’
    The couples on the dance floor dispersed like ghostly figures silhouetted against the brightness of the stage. A troupe of dancing girls came on, kicking their legs high to the wild applause of the uniformed men and their companions.
    The dancers wore bright pink satin shorts and blouses that didn’t quite reach the waist, so that every time they moved an intriguing little expanse of flesh was revealed. On their heads they wore a froth of matching pink feathers, and their mouths were identical glossy pink bows of colour. Their bosoms bounded joyfully with every kick, to the rousing