Last Voyage of the Valentina(11)

Viv’s voice rose in tone and she clipped her consonants with even more emphasis than usual. “Oh, darling, that’s tremendous. Of course, one must do one’s duty. One mustn’t keep one’s public waiting. After all, I need them as much as they need me.”

“Great, I’ll get on to them this morning.” He paused as Viv took a sharp intake of breath; he imagined her dragging on a Silva Thin in her purple kitchen. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked, hopeful of an invitation.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” In the shadow of Fitz’s news Alba had paled into insignificance. “Come for supper tonight. I have a job for you. I think you’ll enjoy it. A certain damsel in distress needs a knight in shining armor to rescue her from a ghoul of a stepmother and a walrus of a father. It’s right up your street and besides, you fancy her, don’t you? Just don’t fall in love, Fitzroy.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, his voice hoarse with excitement.

Viv rolled her heavily made-up eyes and put down the receiver. She didn’t think she was doing him any favors in the long run. It was all going to end in tears.



Alba awoke to a terrible emptiness. She rose and made a cup of tea. There was nothing to eat in the fridge, only half a pint of milk, a couple of bottles of wine, and rows of nail varnishes. It was a chilly morning and she was cold in spite of the paraffin stoves. She wrapped her dressing gown about her and rubbed her eyes, yawning loudly. She’d do a bit of shopping to cheer herself up and perhaps lunch with Rupert, who worked for an estate agent in Mayfair. Maybe he could take the afternoon off and they could roll around in bed until dusk. He was just what she required to lift her depression and make her feel good about herself. He had made love with great tenderness as well as enthusiasm and was exceptionally good at it. No fumbling and heavy breathing; she hated that, and she hated grabbers too. Rupert didn’t grab and so far he hadn’t pestered her with telephone calls either. He was simply there when she needed him and she felt better for his company.

She was about to telephone him when there was a heavy knock on the door. She recognized it immediately and smiled. It was Harry Reed, also known as “Reed of the River.” In his stiff blue uniform and cap he patrolled the Thames as part of the River Police. Besides stopping off every now and then for a cup of coffee, he had warmed her bed on more than one occasion. However, his rough loving was not what she needed today. “Hello,” she said, poking her head around the door. Harry was tall and willowy, like a bulrush, with soft brown eyes and a wide, cheeky smile on a handsome, though slightly coarse, face.

“I’d forgotten what you look like in the morning,” he said longingly, taking his cap off and holding it in his large, calloused hands.

“Is that why you’ve come knocking on my door?”

“Do you have time for a cup of coffee with a cold policeman? At least you know you’ll be safe!” He had said that before and laughed at it, too heartily.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Harry. Sorry. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have an appointment,” she lied. “Why don’t you pass by tonight, before dinner?” Harry’s eyes shone in the cold and he put his cap back on, rubbing his hands together happily.

“I’ll pop in for a drink at the end of the day. I’ll be meeting the boys in the Star and Garter after my shift, perhaps you’d like to come along?”

Alba remembered Viv’s invitation to dinner with Fitzroy what’s-his-name and had to decline, although she rather enjoyed sitting in the fug with the off-duty police in their blue pullovers.

“Not tonight, Harry.”

“I’ll take you for a ride sometime. Do you remember when I had to drop you off at Chelsea Reach? The sergeant would have had my guts for garters if I’d been caught.”

“That was fun,” she agreed, recalling the exhilarating feeling of the wind raking through her hair. “I’ll try to keep out of sight, though I might like your sergeant.”

“He’d certainly like you, Alba.” They all do, she thought. Sometimes it was wearisome being so adored.

“A drink then?” he confirmed, not wanting her to forget.

“If you’re lucky and I feel like it.” She smiled at him, revealing her crooked tooth. He seemed to wilt with pleasure.

“You’re one in a million, Alba.”

“As you keep reminding me, Harry.”

“See you tonight, then.” And he climbed back into his launch and sped off up the Thames, waving his cap at her with gusto.



Alba went shopping. She bought a shirt and flares at Escapade on the Brompton Road for £14 and a pair of shoes at the Chelsea Cobbler for £5 before making her way by taxi up to Mayfair for lunch with Rupert. Rupert was barely able to conceal his delight, having worried that he had bored her. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again. To his frustration he had a client to see in the afternoon, so they parted at two and Alba was left to brood in the park while Rupert showed people around houses in Bayswater, imagining a honey-colored Alba lying in every bed he looked at.