Hotel du Barry by Lesley Truffle Page A

can’t remember her name, it was something bogus. Fancy French names were all the rage for whores. Gentlemen love throwing away their money on girls called Gigi, Colette or Mimi. It makes them feel cosmopolitan. Well, after the automobile crash she disappeared. Completely. Being uncommonly pretty, she stood out in a crowd. So believe me, the staff would know if she was still around London. Jim covered all bases.’
    Cat nodded, pressing up the cake crumbs and licking them off her fingers. ‘Daniel warned me never to ask Edwina about her brother. Why?’
    Bertha lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘It’s hard to say, really. Edwina is a strange creature.’
    Cat cut an extra piece of cake and wrapped it in a napkin. Bertha remained sitting at the kitchen table. She stared at the wall. A forgotten cigarette dangled between her fingers and ash fell onto the table. Cat removed the cigarette from Bertha’s hand and butted it out. ‘Please tell Chef the cake was out of this world. And thank him.’
    Bertha stirred and shook herself back into the present. ‘Will do. And make sure you don’t stay out too late tomorrow with Susie and Milly.’
    â€˜How did you know?’
    â€˜I know everything, pet. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. In fact, I know what you are going to do even before you do. Even Jim, who is quite the cynic believes in my intuition. There’s no harm in you going to an afternoon tea dance, but under no circumstances are you to end up in the pub with those two. I want you to promise me.’
    â€˜I promise.’
    Bertha assumed a sterner tone. ‘If a boy treats you with anything less than complete respect, you must distance yourself. And make sure you always have enough money for your cab fare home. A young lady can’t possibly ruin her reputation if she leaves at the first sign of trouble. And remember to sit as far away as you can from the cabbie. You don’t want to encourage familiarity.’
    Cat giggled and flung her arms around Bertha’s neck. She inhaled Bertha’s unique scent. It was a mixture of starched linen, rosewater and complexion powder, the scent of her childhood. And it still made her feel special and safe.
    The painting of Matthew Lamb exerted a strange power over Cat. Sometimes she went up to the old nursery at night just to talk to him. In the darkness she could just make out his sapphire eyes in the reflected glow of the street lights. She’d often sneak him up to the rooftop, so they could watch the moon over London. He was the perfect friend: silent, attentive and willing to go wherever she pleased. Cat could tell Matthew Lamb her deepest, darkest secrets and he wouldn’t rat on her.
    Cat was surreptitiously working her way through Daniel’s collection of erotic and banned books. She smuggled them past Edwina by concealing them in copies of the Ladies’ Home Journal . Edwina was thrilled Cat was finally showing an interest in feminine pursuits. But what she didn’t know was that the Marquis de Sade had displaced Cat’s interest in D.H. Lawrence’s erotica. Lady Chatterley’s Lover now seemed tame to her. She found French sadism and Henry Miller’s sexually explicit novels far more informative.
    When a Supreme Court judge was found dead and hanging on the doorknob of his hotel room, Cat remarked to Jim Blade, ‘Obviously he was masturbating and rather overdid it. Probably using self-asphyxiation to heighten his orgasm. Poor man. I feel sorry for his wife, too, given that he was kitted up in lady’sundergarments and gold high heels. Size thirteens. What is it about cheap black corsets that men find so appealing?’
    Jim couldn’t think of a suitable reply. He anguished over the possibility that he hadn’t protected her enough. At what point had the kid become so worldly and knowing? Obviously she’d been talking to someone. Who? I’m going to