Roses and Champagne. Betty Neels

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      She wasn’t there long. The illustrations were approved, she was asked if she would undertake another commission for a jacket cover, given coffee, promised a cheque within a few days, and took her departure. She had to walk a little way before she could get a taxi and the traffic was heavy. She got to the Connaught ten minutes late, to find Lucius sitting in the bar with no sign of impatience.

      She sat down opposite him and took off her gloves. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t find a taxi. Have you been waiting long?’

      ‘A few minutes. What will you drink?’

      Over their drinks they talked without saying much. Katrina felt awkward; it hadn’t been so bad in the car, sitting beside him while they carried on desultory conversation, but now with him opposite her, his grey eyes friendly, she had the absurd wish to ask his advice about what she should do. However, she didn’t. She told him about her new commission, enlarging upon the weather, which was chilly, and agreed nervously when he suggested that they might lunch without further delay.

      She discovered that she was hungry once they were seated, to Lucius’s suggestion that they might try the smoked trout she agreed immediately, and then went on to boeuf Stroganoff and ruche glacée. It was over their coffee that Lucius suggested that as he was free for the afternoon he might accompany her on her shopping expedition.

      ‘You’d be bored stiff,’ said Katrina forthrightly.

      ‘No, I won’t. We’ll leave the car here and walk.’

      ‘But I thought of going to Harrods or Liberty’s.’

      ‘Let’s try Bond Street and Sloane Street first.’

      They were on the steps of the hotel when she said: ‘Look, you’ll hate it—tagging from shop to shop, and I never go to boutiques…’

      He took her arm and began walking her along the pavement. ‘Why not?’

      ‘I’m not that sort of girl—I mean, I’m not smart or pretty.’ She added pettishly: ‘And for heaven’s sake, why do you ask? You’ve known it for years.’

      ‘I know a couple of shops where I’m sure you’ll see you’re mistaken.’

      She stopped walking to look up at him. She didn’t mind in the least that he hadn’t denied her lack of good looks, during all their years of friendship he had never made any bones about that, but she was curious about something else. ‘How do you know about boutiques?’ she wanted to know.

      Lucius chuckled. ‘Don’t be so inquisitive, Katie.’ He walked her on again and presently stopped before an elegant plate glass window, sheltering a vase of flowers, a gossamer scarf over a little gilt chair, and a black dress, displayed on an impossibly slim plaster model.

      ‘That’s a nice little chair,’ observed Katrina, who was interested in furniture.

      ‘Charming, but you can’t wear that to the Hunt Ball,’ he said as he opened the door and swept her inside.

      Dove grey velvet, more little chairs, delicate lights and an elegant creature in black crêpe left Katrina without words. But it was obvious that Lucius had no intention of helping her. She asked to see some evening dresses and shot him a smouldering look.

      The saleslady smiled with quite a human warmth. ‘For yourself, of course, madam. Had you any particular colour in mind?’

      Lucius had made himself comfortable, on a button-backed sofa in one corner. ‘Green,’ he suggested. ‘That bright peacock green-blue—taffeta, if you’ve got such a thing.’

      Katrina went and sat beside him on the sofa. ‘I never wear bright colours,’ she hissed.

      ‘That’s the trouble, my dear.’ He turned to look at the saleslady, followed by another one, bearing an armful of all the colours of the rainbow. ‘Try them all on.’

      ‘Size twelve?’ fluted the saleslady. ‘Madam has a slim figure, and of course we can do any alterations necessary.’ She signed to the other girl, who held a patterned organza creation in shades of green. It had a full skirt and a frill around its low neckline. ‘Or this,’ she coaxed, and displayed a rose taffeta with long tight sleeves and a square neck. ‘Or perhaps this is the colour?’

      She was a good saleswoman; she had merely whetted Katrina’s appetite with the first two; the third was exactly what Lucius had suggested—taffeta in a rich green shot through with blue with short billowing sleeves, a tiny bodice and wide skirts. ‘Try them all on, madam,’ she begged again.

      Katrina didn’t look at Lucius. He really had a nerve, bulldozing her into coming into a shop like this in the first place, sitting there like a possessive husband! She wasn’t going to buy anything, just to teach him a lesson, but since she was there, she might just try them on…

      The organza was charming, not at all her usual sort of dress, and it certainly did something for her, Without asking the saleslady swept back the silk curtains and invited her to show herself to Sir, and since there was not any way out of that, she did so, rather shyly.

      ‘Very nice.’ He studied her for such a long time that she frowned a little and went back into the dressing room, where she tried the pink, which was even prettier.

      ‘I like that,’ declared Lucius, ‘but let’s see that green thing first.’

      The green thing was exactly right, although so different to her other evening gowns that she hardly recognised herself. Lucius took his time looking her over. ‘That’s the one,’ he said finally. ‘I like the neck.’

      Katrina pinkened. The neck was low, not at all the kind of thing she usually wore—now Virginia would look gorgeous in it…

      ‘Madam has splendid shoulders and a very pretty bustline,’ observed the saleslady. ‘If I might say so, the dress is just right for her.’

      Katrina kept her eyes on the silk wallpaper above Lucius’s head. ‘I’m not sure…’ she began.

      ‘Have it, Katie, and the pink one as well.’

      She was quite out of her depth. Years of going to one of the better stores and choosing the unobtrusive clothes which she had always believed helped her to be a little less plain hadn’t prepared her for this. Now she was landed with two eyecatching dresses she might never wear. She changed back into her well cut suit, tidied her hair, and, once more the self-possessed young woman, went back into the shop to find the dresses already packed and Lucius putting away his cheque book. It was hardly the place to argue. She waited until they were out of the shop before she started.

      ‘There was no need for you to pay. I’ve plenty of money of my own. Whatever did the woman think?’

      He took her reluctant arm. ‘I’ve never minded what people think. In any case, why are you fussing about it? You can give me a cheque later.’

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