‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’
‘Really? Tell me, you don’t want to be in the movies like everyone else in the world?’
‘Don’t tease her,’ Miss Waverley chided. ‘She doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Josef is a film director,’ she explained Eva. ‘And a world-class cynic.’
‘So.’ He had a way of staring directly into her eyes that made her uneasy. ‘You are the only girl in New York who doesn’t want to be a film star, is that right?’
‘I don’t think I can act, sir.’
He laughed. ‘That has never stopped anyone else! Everyone wants something. Go on, tell me your dream.’
‘Me?’ She looked to Miss Waverley, who just smiled at her. ‘I don’t think I have any dreams, sir.’
‘Really? That’s a shame. Because I might just be inclined to give some of them to you.’ He tipped his hat again and they continued on.
Tossing the chinchilla over her shoulder, Miss Waverley caught Eva’s eye and gave her a wink. ‘Do come and see me later,’ she called. ‘I have a present for you. But come after midnight. I’ll be out until then.’
It was half past midnight when Eva knocked on Miss Waverley’s door.
She opened it, wrapped in her dressing gown, and smiled. ‘I thought maybe you weren’t coming.’
The room was dark, just a few candles and a record playing. It was a hot night. The balcony doors were open. Eva could just make out the dark outline of a man, smoking in one of the chairs.
‘Oh.’ She backed away slightly. ‘You have company, miss.’
‘Oh, don’t mind him.’ Miss Waverley took her by the hand and closed the door. ‘He won’t trouble us.’ Then she walked over to the dressing table and poured Eva a drink. ‘Here. Want one? It’s about time you learned how to handle whisky.’
Eva looked at the outline of the man; at the glowing embers of his cigarette. Then she looked back at Miss Waverley, smiling at her in her scarlet silk dressing gown.
Eva took the glass, sat on the edge of the bed. She already knew how to drink whisky; she’d watched her uncle do it. She tossed the entire shot straight into the back of her throat, where it burned, searing down the centre of her. She held out the glass again and Miss Waverley laughed.
‘Well, look at you! So many hidden talents,’ she said, filling it again. Then she took a little package from the top of her wardrobe wrapped in pink tissue paper, tied with a white ribbon.
She laid it on the bed. ‘Here. Open it.’
Eva ran her fingers over the paper. She felt anxious; slightly woozy from the whisky. She tugged at the ribbon and the layers of paper floated to the side. Inside there was a tiny shell-pink demi bra and tap pants with embroidered lace silk stockings. They were extremely delicate and exquisitely made, with tiny bluebells hand-stitched along the borders.
‘They’re beautiful.’
‘Go on,’ Miss Waverley urged, ‘aren’t you going to try them on?’ She leaned back in the armchair, propping her feet up on the ottoman. ‘I want to see if they fit.’
Eva stood up; a reeling wave of light-headedness washed over her. She took the lingerie into the bathroom. The whisky had hit her hard; her hands seemed miles away from her body, her fingers tingling. She looked at her reflection in the mirror.
She didn’t want to change, but she didn’t want to seem rude either. Besides, they had played dress-up before.
Eva finished her drink. Then she put on the panties and bra, the silk stockings.
When she opened the door, Miss Waverley was waiting. She had changed the record. It was a slow song. The candles glimmered.
‘You look just perfect. Like a real lady.’
The man had got up and was standing in the shadows, by the doorway.
‘Now put some lipstick on. Just like I showed you.’
‘I’m not sure I want to.’ Her voice sounded small and far away.
Miss Waverley took a step closer. ‘Of course you do.’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘He wants to take us with him. To California. We’re going to live in a big white house in the hills and each of us will have a car and there will be maids and housekeepers and a screen test for both of us!’ She smiled, her eyes burning with excitement. ‘This, my dear, is what opportunity looks like.’
‘You mean you want me to go with you?’ Eva couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Of course! Do this right and we’ll end up in California, making movies. You’ll never have to pick up another dustpan and brush in your life.’ She pointed to the dressing table. There was a tube of red lipstick, its cap already off, waiting. ‘Go on.’