Chapter 88: COCKTAILS AND CIGARETTES

A moment later

Café du Dôme

Thomas scanned the room to locate the final member of the Dowager's odd trio. He needed no assistance to spot her in the crowded cafe. Ella was a wisp of a woman, but her smile filled half her face and her presence filled the entire room. She had short silver hair as did Lady Bennett, but Lady Bennett's curls were sleek and meticulously marcelled, while Ella's were unfussy and untamed. The tiny woman wore white lounging pyjamas topped by a man's tuxedo coat. Her wild curls were restrained by a man's black tie, which was properly knotted and secured about her head with a tie clasp over one ear. She must be one of those surrealists, Thomas thought to himself, although he was not certain why he thought so or what was meant by surrealist. No one seemed to object to Ella's odd mode of dress. On the contrary, she was greeted cordially by everyone she passed, and Thomas felt certain that the younger women present would be wearing the same outfit the following week.

Ella's escort barely registered with Thomas. He was appropriately dressed for an evening in Paris but lacked Thomas' panache. Thomas guessed him to be in his late thirties or early forties. His features were not unpleasant but neither did they draw the eye.

Thomas stood politely as Ella and her escort approached, but the Dowager let go of decorum and abandoned the table to embrace her dear friend whom she had not seen in too many years. Lady Bennett took charge of introductions all around. She had explained to Thomas earlier that Ella preferred to be known and appreciated in Paris as an artist, not as a peeress, so she did not mention Ella's title, just as she did not mention Thomas' lesser rank of butler. She introduced Ella's unobtrusive escort as Monsieur Lyle Giroux. He was a French native, but his mother was British, hence his excellent English.

Giroux's personality made a better impression on Thomas than his appearance. He was well-read and knowledgeable about the arts and artists but lacked any hint of condescension. He expressed sincere interest in others and sprinkled conversations generously with his good-natured laugh. "Shall we order cocktails?" he asked. "Perhaps the 75 for Monsieur Barrow and myself and Mimosas for the ladies?"

Thomas turned to the Dowager. "What do you think, my darling? Don't you always say that the more I drink the more adorable I become?"

The Dowager smiled indulgently. "You're confused, mon loulou. I say that the more I drink the more adorable you become. The more you drink, dear boy, the more dreary you become, and there's nothing adorable about that."

"Now I remember, my darling. Perhaps you shouldn't say these things to me after I've had a few."

"Quite right. But you must have one, mon loulou. This is a celebration."

"Yes, one won't make me too stupid. What is the 75, Monsieur Giroux?"

"A cocktail made with champagne, a bit stronger than a mimosa."

"That suits me," replied Thomas.

The five were chatting amiably when their cocktails arrived. Giroux proposed a toast to friendships, old and new. The others raised their glasses in agreement, and each took a sip.

Gin. Gin and champagne. I'm sunk, thought Thomas. He did not understand how a man as tall as he could be such a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but there it was.

The Dowager opened her bag and retrieved a handkerchief that she pressed lightly to her forehead. "I'm sorry to put a damper on our reunion," she began. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling quite myself. You'll have to put me in a taxi, mon loulou."

Thomas took the Dowager's hand, as planned. The Dowager would take her leave tonight, and both she and Lady Bennett the next night, making it easier for Thomas to become closer to Ella and Giroux and evaluate their relationship. "My darling, why didn't you say? I'll take you back to the house immediately."

"We'll all go, Vi," suggested Ella. "We'll have a night of cards."

"There's no better way to become acquainted," added Giroux.

"What do you say, my darling?" queried Thomas solicitously. "We'll play cards and get to know each other, and you may retire whenever you like."

"I wouldn't think of it, mon loulou," protested the Dowager. "I promised you Paris nightlife, not a night of playing nursemaid. Addy, won't you allow Thomas to be your escort?"

"Of course, Vi, if that's what you want."

"Well, it isn't what I want," objected Thomas. "You and I shall have a quiet night at home, my darling," he insisted.

"Nonsense, mon loulou. I'm going to take a powder and go to bed. You can't keep me company if I'm sleeping, can you? Monsieur Giroux, will you see to it that the dear boy has a taste of Paris and enjoys himself?"

"Certainly, Lady Grantham. It would be my pleasure."

Thomas tapped his chin twice and then the edge of his glass twice. "Very well, my darling. I surrender. You know best."

"Always," teased the Dowager lightly as she patted Thomas' cheek. She glanced at his cocktail and then at him. Thomas and Giroux stood, and Thomas pulled out the Dowager's chair as she rose. As she reached for her bag, her arm jerked and knocked over Thomas' cocktail. "How clumsy of me!"

"No matter," assured Giroux. "I'll order another."

Thomas held out his arm for the Dowager. "Thank you, Monsieur Giroux. Perhaps a mimosa this time. I have a craving for orange juice."


Later that night

The Folies Bergère

Ella watched Vi's young man with amusement. He didn't seem particularly interested in the bare-breasted women who decorated the lavish Un Vent de Folie sets, but he perked up during the Plantation number when Josephine Baker made her first entrance wearing a ragamuffin costume that exposed her long limbs. Her hair was pomaded in that style Parisian woman had tried to copy the previous year with their little jars of Bakerfix, but now she sported a large spit curl in the centre of her forehead.

Other women in the production had executed their studied choreography precisely, but Baker seemed to be making up her dances on the spot. Her energy was palpable, and her long bare limbs were almost too quick to follow. The young man's eyes shone as Baker's joy washed over the footlights to the far reaches of the house. He leaned back, disappointed, whenever she left the stage, and came to life whenever she returned. In one number, a film of Baker dancing the black bottom was projected onto the stage while the living Baker danced with her projected image. In another number, an enormous, flowered ball descended from the dome of the theatre. The ball split open revealing an almost naked Baker who danced on a mirrored floor until the ball closed and returned slowly to the dome.

Ella expected the young man to gush when the show ended as young men often did when they saw Baker dance for the first time. "What do you think?" she prompted.

"That woman," he answered in a hushed tone. "I wonder what it's like to be so alive." And that was all he said.


Late that night

Chez Bricktop

Thomas was enjoying himself. It seemed as though everyone in Paris knew and welcomed Ella and Lady Bennett. The four were devouring supper at Lady Bennett's favourite nightclub when a woman at the cashier's desk began singing. The woman was dark-skinned but had red hair and freckles. He realized this must be the proprietress, Bricktop, and watched her deliver her song, all while collecting payment from a Frenchman trying to give her the slip and calming an argument between a drunken woman and her embarrassed escort.

Later Bricktop joined their table, and Thomas remained standing until Lady Bennett finished her introduction. He offered his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle Bricktop."

Bricktop chuckled and shook his hand. "Likewise. So, Monsieur Barrow, are you a performer?"

"Oh, no."

"A writer?"

"No."

"Composer ... choreographer ... artist?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm quite ordinary."

"What a relief!" exclaimed Bricktop, eliciting hearty laughter from his party. At that moment shouting erupted from the kitchen. "Duty calls!" she shouted over the din as she hurried to the kitchen.

The four continued to enjoy the food and the jazz band, but Thomas noticed that Ella glanced several times at Giroux's wristwatch. "I hope that I'm not keeping you from something, Ella."

Giroux looked up with surprise. "What is it dear? Do you have an idea you need to sketch?"

"No, that isn't it. I'm terribly sorry," apologized Ella. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Thomas set his napkin on the table. "Please don't think that, Ella. You've given me a delightful evening, but it is getting late. Shall we call it a night?"

Ella smiled. "You're a darling, but it's not that late. You see, I wasn't expecting your visit tonight. Honestly, Addy, you could have given me a little warning. I have a little something I need to do. It won't take long. Will you excuse me?"

Thomas and Giroux stood. "Shall I come with you, darling?" asked Giroux.

"No, that won't be necessary." Ella paused for a moment. "Although ... Thomas, may I steal you away for a bit?"

Thomas was surprised but offered his arm. "Certainly."

Ella picked up her bag and took the offered arm. "We won't be gone long." As they exited, Ella turned to Bricktop who was stationed again at the cashier's desk. "Back in a jiff."


Ella knew the streets well and guided Thomas to a bench in a lonely alcove where they could sit apart from the nightclub crowd. The two sat together and Thomas waited quietly for Ella to disclose her purpose.

"So, you're Vi's new fellow."

"That's right."

"Why do I find that difficult to swallow?"

"I don't know. You have a fellow, don't you. What's the difference?"

Ella smiled. "Fair enough. Tell me, Monsieur Barrow, do you smoke?"

"Please call me Thomas. I can't call you Ella while you're calling me Monsieur Barrow."

"Very well. Do you smoke, Thomas?"

"I did, but I quit a few weeks ago."

"I quit years ago, but I still smoke now and then to ... mark an occasion."

Thomas chuckled. "My brother does that."

"Then you understand, and you'll join me?"

"All right. What's the occasion?"

Ella ignored the question. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to accompany me rather than Lyle or Addy."

"Yes."

"You're very obliging."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment, Thomas."

"No?"

"No. Lyle is very obliging. He's an intelligent, insightful man, but very obliging. When we met, he understood immediately what I was trying to accomplish with my art. He could express it better than I could. I thought, here's the man to help me break through. That was the beginning for us. But he's so very, very obliging. He never confronts. He always sees my point of view. We always do what I want. We always have what I want for dinner. We never argue. I can't stand it another minute!"

She watched Thomas turn and stare at his shoes.

"I would like it a little more if you were a little less obliging, Thomas."

"All right."

"So?"

"So? ... so, tell me why the hell you dragged me out here when I was having a perfectly good time inside, you crazy old bat!"

Ella stared at Thomas a moment and then exploded with laughter. "I knew I liked you, Thomas! I'll tell you why I wanted you and not Lyle or Addy. Lyle and Addy belong to my Paris life, but you ... you'll go home to England in a few days, and I'll never see you again. Understand?"

"No."

"I'm getting old, Thomas. I've been holding onto a secret for too many years, and it's eating away at me. I need to share it. I'm desperate to share it."

"Oh ... and you want to share your secret with someone you'll never see again?"

"That's right. Are you willing to hear my secret and take it away with you?"

"Yes. I can do that. I'm flattered that you trust me, Ella."

"I'm not usually so trusting, Thomas. Perhaps it's because you arrived on this date ... I don't know ... but I felt immediately that you were the one to hear my secret. Of course, the arrangement is reciprocal ... if you'd like, Thomas. That's up to you."

"I don't know, Ella. I'll think about it."

Ella opened her bag and removed cigarettes and a lighter. "Will you do the honours?"

Thomas took the cigarettes and raised one to Ella's lips and one to his own. "Ready?"

Ella nodded.

Thomas lit Ella's cigarette, and she took a deep drag, leaned back on the bench, and exhaled. She watched as Thomas lit his own cigarette and did the same.

"Do you know anything about me, Thomas?"

"No much. I know that you met Violet and Lady Bennett when you were presented. I know that your mother was not sympathetic when you wouldn't accept a suitor and you escaped to the states for a while."

"I've never told anyone about my life in the states. I found a job in Boston working in a print shop. Eventually, I learned to set type. One day my employer caught me sketching. He thought I had talent, and he helped me start my own business sketching advertisements."

"Your own business! Is it your employer's birthday we're celebrating?"

"No ... our daughter's." Ella took another drag and waited for Thomas' reaction.

"Ella, I didn't know you were married!"

"I wasn't."

Ella watched as Thomas' brows knit. "He ... refused to marry you?"

"No, I never told him I was pregnant."

Thomas sat upright. "But ... why?" he sputtered. "Was he violent? Did he drink?"

"No."

Thomas pushed himself to his feet and backed away. "But Ella, that's awful! How could you?"

"You don't understand what it meant to be a woman back then, Thomas. When a woman married, she forfeited her identify."

"Not always, Ella! There have always been men who respected their wives."

"You mean I should have hoped for a benevolent dictator? I should have given up all my rights under the law?"

"Fine, have it your way. But you didn't have to marry him. You still could have told him!" Thomas stepped closer. "You could tell him now, Ella. Is he still alive?"

"I don't know."

"But you could find out. Where's your daughter now?"

"She's gone."

"Gone where?"

Ella did not respond.

"Ella ... you mean ... ?"

"She died a few days before her third birthday. Cholera."

"Oh, Ella ... no!"

"Do you still think I should tell her father?" Thomas sank onto the bench. He lifted his head and met Ella's gaze. She was shocked by the depth of feeling in his eyes. "I apologize, Thomas. I don't know why I said that."

"What was her name?"

"Sarah."

Thomas knocked the ash from his cigarette and leaned back next to Ella. "Happy birthday, Sarah." He took a drag from his cigarette.

Ella held up her cigarette. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." She took a drag.

The two sat in silence while they finished their cigarettes.

Ella was the first to speak. "Was it so terrible, what I did?"

"Perhaps not to some men. Some men would have preferred not to know."

"What do you think?"

"I think it was terrible."

"I wouldn't have expected a man like you to be interested in children."

"A man like me?"

"I could have sworn you were a confirmed bachelor, Thomas."

"You mean an auntie?"

An unbecoming snort escaped Ella's sombre face, destroying her dignity and relieving the tension between them. The two fell into a shared fit of laughter. "Do Vi and Addy still use that word?"

"They do. I thought I'd heard them all, but I never heard that one. Ella ... even an auntie like me can want children."

"To carry on your name?"

"I don't care about that."

"What then?"

Thomas shrugged. "There's something wonderful about a new life. Someone to protect and nurture. Someone to love without question."

"And to love you without question?"

"I suppose."

"I've known men like you who marry and have children."

"I know, but I can't father children. A doctor told me."

They sat in silence. Ella watched the young man as he reached up and touched a leaf on a branch dangling over their heads. "Another cigarette?"

Thomas shook his head. "Better not."

"It's your turn, Thomas. Do you have a secret you want to tell me?"

Thomas stared at Ella for a moment before speaking. "My brother."

"Yes?"

"He tells everyone we're half-brothers, but he made it all up."

"Why?"

"I was sick for a bit and have no family. He wanted a legal right to protect me, so he became my half-brother."

"He must be fond of you."

"Yes. He's married and has two children now, so I'm an uncle ... an auntie who's an uncle."

"So you have two children to love without question."

"That's right."

"And your secret is that he's not truly your brother?"

"No. That's a secret, but not the one I wanted to tell you."

"So ... tell me."

"I can't."

Ella watched the young man as he turned away. The poor lad. "That's all right, Thomas. I think I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

Thomas turned to face Ella. "Then I'm glad I told you." And the two laughed.