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Lucille
The people were beautiful, Lucille noticed. It was like walking through a collection of wax figurines of dancers and artists that would be likened to the China dolls she could remember her mother loving. Her mother. Adds' grandmother. What would she think?
Her mother would have loved it here. She was always one for big parties and rolling streets and a busy lifestyle. It was why she would always take Lucille to Paris. She had always wanted to see England too.
Now, as she glanced around the vast room at the hoards of Englishmen and woman, dancing and smiling as the jazz band played at the front, Lucille wondered if she would approve. Both of the manor of party and Tommy. And of the fact that she had birthed a child out of wedlock. Her mother may have been a woman who enjoyed modern movements, but she was as old fashioned at heart as Lucille's grandmother.
She watched as Tommy made his way to the back door, Grace in tow. John met them there, dumping down tied sacks that clattered to the floor with a jangle that even Lucille could hear. As if feeling her stare, he lifted his head in her direction, smiling cheekily as he lifted his hand to wave, which she happily returned.
She faced away as he made his way toward Kimber. It was his business, and she wanted to play as little a part in it as possible at the moment. There was plenty time for that. He didn't want her to be involved either, and involved she wouldn't be. She couldn't do that to their daughter.A drink was placed in from of her by a handsome bar man. A gin, of some sort, that tasted as if it were flavoured by roses, the sharp perfumed taste even tickling at her nose.
A short while later, there was a sharp cough from behind her.
"Lucille, this is Billy Kimber. He has asked for a dance," Tommy said, motioning to the man beside him.
It took great effort to keep her painted lips from upturning in disgust. Kimber looked even greasier up close: his hair slicked back with too much oil and moustache combed so much that it looked as if it were patchy. A scent lingered beside him too, of too much after shave and a mingling stench of sweat. He looked her up and down, his small eyes hungry and lips upturned.
"If you will," he said, though with the harsh tone of voice, it was obvious that there was not much room for her to disagree.
"Okay." Lucille nodded, forcing her self to smile, although grimly, as she begun to follow him to the dance floor.
But Tommy stopped her by the waist, saying, "The minute you feel uncomfortable, find me. I'll be by his table."
She nodded gratefully and continued to walk toward the man. The quicker she started, the sooner she'd get away. Kimber placed his hands to her side, not bothering to stop himself from getting carried away, but Lucille stood tall, her eyes never leaving the position of looking straight behind him.
