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whirled a petite, black-haired, absolutely perfect specimen of the species
Flapper Americanus. She was quite obviously just coming in from the night's
entertainments, although it was well past nine o'clock in the morning, and her
clothing and makeup were very much the worse for wear. Both of her silk
stockings were out at the knees stockings that I knew from my earlier bout of
shopping cost nearly five dollars an English pound for a pair of stockings!
The hem of her abbreviated skirt cried out for the attention of an expert
seamstress, her collar was smudged with face-powder, and unless wearing a
single earring was the fashion here, she'd lost one of her diamond pendants.
What I found most shocking, however, was the lack of reaction on the part of
her mother, who merely shook an affectionate head at the bedraggled state of
the newcomer.
"Mummy, darling, " the jazz-baby was exclaiming before she had cleared the
door-way, "Jeeves says you have a guest what on earth are you doing bringing a
guest home at this hour, I thought that kind of goings-on was reserved for the
younger generation? And even I only drag friends in for breakfast after we've
been out all night, I don't begin the day with abductions. Oh! I've been with
Trudy for the past three hours, stuck on the other side of Market Street with
that pig of a parade the children are putting on twenty thousand boys, they
say, God, what a nightmare thought, all of them banging away on instruments
and marching and pulling floats, so that even if you weren't drunk beforehand
you'd need to be by the time you'd got past it and she's just given up smoking
and I'm dying, just dying for a smoke, tell me you don't mind, Mummy dearest,
and if your friend objects I'll just have to skulk away into the conservatory
and puff away among the orchids. "
In the course of this speech, the girl had made her way across the room in
that languid, loose-limbed shuffle characteristic of her species, moving as if
her shoes were too large and threatened to fall off, or to trip her up.
Neither mishap occurred, however, before she reached a swooping sort of
octopus-armoire whose many arms were each topped by a small Benares-ware tray,
seven in all. Drawing a brightly enamelled cigarette holder a good eight
inches long from somewhere about her person, she flipped open the lacquered
box that sat on one of the trays and pulled out a cigarette, sliding it into
the holder with a frown of concentration. She lit it with a grenade-sized
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cigarette lighter that matched the enamel of her holder, drawing in a dramatic
lungful of smoke and emitting a small cloud along with a sound of
satisfaction. She then hurled herself onto the chaise beside the fireplace,
crossed her knees in a manner that would have had her grandmother swooning,
and looked at me brightly.
I was hard put to keep my hands from applauding.
"But this is Mary, my dear, " Mrs Greenfield explained. "You remember Mary,
your best friend when you were a little thing? She used to play dollies with
you. "
This was, as I had suspected, my former play-mate, Flo.
"I remember she used to play a vicious game of kick-the-can with Frank's
friends, and one time climbed up to the top of that tree that Billy Murrow
broke both legs falling out of. " The flapper's tired face creased in
amusement, and she gave me a languid wave of her cigarette holder by way of
greeting. "Hi. "
"Hullo. "
She tipped her head a fraction, and asked, "Do you have an English accent
now?"
"Didn't I before?"
"I suppose you did, and I'd forgotten. You live in England, then? So what are
you doing here?"
"She's touring the world, " Mrs Greenfield broke in. "I opened the paper this
morning to the society page and what should jump out at me from under the
'gossip from hotel lobbies' section but the name Miss Mary Russell, and I just
knew it had to be her, had to be. So I had Jeeves send for a car and went
right down to welcome her home. We've just had breakfast, although we'd have
waited if I'd known you were on your way."
Flo grimaced, making me suspect that there might be a link between the red of
her eyes and her lack of enthusiasm over Mrs La Tour's cooking. "Thanks but no
thanks, " she said. "So, Mary shall I call you Mary?"
"Of course."
"What are you doing in the City?"
"There's some business to take care of here; my father's holdings need
attention. As I was sailing the Pacific, it was easy enough to stop here for a
few days."
"But is that all?" Mrs Greenfield cried. "You must stay longer and see your
old friends. Flo, tell her she must stay on."
"I'd be happy to show you something of the night life, such as it is, " Flo
drawled, and stifled a yawn.
"Oh, what a good idea!" exclaimed her mother. "I was going to invite some of
her mother's friends over for a morning tea and perhaps treat her to a night
at the theatre, but you young things might have a hotter time dancing and
having fun."
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Neither jazz-dancing nor provincial theatre was high on my list of passions,
particularly while inhabiting a skull that still gave twinges of protest at
the previous day's crack on the pavement, but it was difficult to say so in
the face of the mother's enthusiasm. Or of the daughter's flagging attention.
Flo yawned again hugely, not bothering to pardon herself, then stood up to
grind her cigarette out in an ash-tray.
"There's a party on for tomorrow night that doesn't sound too frightful. Shall
we pick you up at nine, then?" she asked me. "That's early, I know, but we
could have a bite to eat first. "
Nine o'clock as the opening hour of a night's adventures sounded ominous, but
I was trapped for the moment. Well, I thought, I could always telephone to the
house and say I had developed a sudden rash from oysters or something. "That
would be grand," I told her.
She merely nodded, and directed her steps towards the door-way, already half
asleep on her feet.
Mrs Greenfield shot me an apologetic smile. "She's a good girl, just going
through a silly phase. She worked so hard with the decorator, when it was
finished she was at something of a loss what to do. Blowing off steam, you
know?"
I nodded to say I knew, although it seemed to me the girl might find a manner
of release less destructive to both body and possessions. But Flo's
involvement in the renovations wrought on the house did explain the style
better than if Mrs Greenfield had been supervising them. And I thought that,
once a person got used to the vigorous style, there was an appeal in Deco. In
small doses, preferably.
Flo's departure gave an excuse for my own, although it took many promises and
an acceptance of the Greenfield telephone number to free me from the
establishment. Mrs Greenfield told Jeeves to have the motor brought up, but I
countermanded the order.
"No, really, I'd rather walk a bit. It's a lovely morning, and I could use the
exercise."
"Oh, you young girls, " she gushed, "it's all faddishness with you, isn't it?
Exercise and education why, next thing you'll be running for public office and
joining the Army!"
The descending seven notes of her laugh followed me down the steps to the
drive.
Running for office; what a mad idea.
***
I suppose Mrs Greenfield thought I was strolling the five streets over to my
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