Free After the Cabaret by Hilary Bailey Page A

awful there. And my dress is ruined. But I don’t suppose Cora will want to open up. So depressing – my big night!” She dropped the bundle, and what appeared to be a cat streaked out and away somewhere.
    â€˜I hope someone frightfully nice will adopt it,’ Sally said.
    â€˜The rest of us were listening to the sound of a solitary bomber approaching.
    Sally went on. ‘“Quite frankly, in Madrid the bombardment just made people angry and obstinate, like apes being furious when another lot of apes starts throwing coconuts on their heads out of the trees.” The noise of the bomber grew louder.
    â€˜â€œActually,” Pym said, “I’m so frightened all I want to do is fuck and fuck and fuck.” Then there was a massive explosion two streets away. The sky flared up, the ground shook. We all, except Sally, flung ourselves on the ground.’
    Here Bruno paused to call for the bill, and now he andGreg went into the battle of the wallets. Greg knew early on in the struggle that Bruno, determined, would win.
    Once the bill was paid and Bruno was tucking away his wallet, he told Greg, ‘Briggs said later, “You must admit it’s frightfully irritating, us hiding in a cellar while Sally digs people out of the rubble. And being so superior about having been bombed before – it’s almost intolerable.” Then Pym remarked that Sally was rather brave and there was an odd look on his face as he spoke, but I didn’t understand it at the time.
    â€˜Well,’ Bruno said, standing up. ‘Thank you so much for your company. Where can I drop you?’
    They walked out into the still gloomy afternoon. As they strolled towards the car Bruno said, ‘The raids went on, night after night, but La Vie opened a week later.
    â€˜Vi was a nice singer – she had a clear soprano but with a few true deep notes. Sally’s voice was small and husky, but she had the knack of putting a song over which made up for some of her deficiencies. When she sang “The Last Time I Saw Paris” I must say there were a few damp eyes and a bit of swallowing. She’d often end up singing “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone”.
    â€˜Oh, my goodness,’ Bruno said suddenly, as they approached his vehicle, ‘I can suddenly see her again, singing under the pink light, and all the time you could hear the crashes in the distance and the sounds of the fire engines coming and going.’ He smiled at Greg and walked towards the car, singing in his harsh, unmusical voice, ‘“Makes no difference how I carry on, Please don’t talk about me when I’m gone.’”

Chapter 16
    Katherine Ledbetter and Greg leaned, side by side, over the bridge crossing the Cam near King’s College. Before them the college stood white, soaring, like Gothic Lego, in its acres of green turf. Rooks cawed and hopped on the grass.
    A man in corduroys was propped at the other parapet, reading. Two ducks eddied, unresisting, under the bridge.
    â€˜You shouldn’t have done this, Greg,’ said Katherine, in her clear voice.
    â€˜I figured you planned to leave town before I came,’ he answered. ‘That’s sneaky too. Whatever else I am, I’m an old friend, aren’t I? Who’s the guy?’
    â€˜What guy?’
    â€˜The guy you’re having an affair with.’
    â€˜Greg,’ she said, ‘it’s been six years. And it’s no business of yours.’
    â€˜Just a friendly question. You haven’t changed a bit. Still evasive.’ Then he added, ‘Still beautiful.’
    She was a tall, slender woman, with a long, pale face, very big brown eyes and a mass of shiny dark brown hair piled at the back of her head and secured by a tortoiseshell comb. She had a large, curving mouth. She wore moccasins on her feet and a long black linen dress with a brown coat over it.
    â€˜Still beautiful,’ he