A Brighter Tomorrow by Maggie Ford (read with me .txt) 📕

her paintings from him, and looked up into his face. ‘You really are kind to me,’ she whispered, moving close to him. She saw him shrug.

‘How else would one be to a friend?’

‘Not more than just a friend?’ she prompted coquettishly. She saw him smile, a sort of secretive smile she couldn’t interpret.

‘A good friend then, a very good friend,’ he conceded; but as she lifted her face up to his, her lips ready to meet his, already guessing how soft and gentle they would be, he surprised her by moving back a little.

Ellie tried not to let her gaze harden as she too moved back from him. She’d made a mistake. He was being loyal to this partner of his. Moments later, determination to get him away from the girl took hold of Ellie even more. But she could bide her time. ‘About you taking me to meet some other people this evening,’ she reminded, ‘is it still all right?’

‘Of course.’ He seemed a little embarrassed by the incident of a few moments ago. ‘I’d be thrilled to have you come along. Shall I collect you around eight, if that’s all right? Come just as you are. We’re quite informal.’

‘Will you be bringing your other friend?’ Ellie couldn’t resist asking.

‘I expect so. See you later then.’

Ellie tried not to frown. His friend!

She had already promised herself that the girl wouldn’t be his friend much longer, but what if she turned out to be sweet and unassuming? – could she still try stealing her man from her?

She almost wanted to call after Felix that she had changed her mind, didn’t want to go, but he had already turned the corner out of sight.

To Ellie’s relief, Felix was alone when he arrived. Ellie wondered as she looked beyond him if they might have had a row. Maybe he’d told his girl about her and she’d become jealous.

Yet he didn’t seem disturbed when she enquired, ‘Your friend not with you?’ as they moved off together.

‘No,’ he said lightly. ‘Other things to do, I’m afraid. He’s in the middle of completing a piece of sculpture and has got very wrapped up in it. He’s awfully good.’

He, Ellie almost echoed, but bit her tongue in time. Her heart soared suddenly as light as a feather. She had no reason to feel guilty at all. Why had she assumed his room mate to be a woman? She couldn’t remember now what had happened to make her think that. She felt so happy that she linked her arm through his, and didn’t notice the instant tension in the muscle.

It was a wonderful evening: a noisy little café, almost everyone having something to do with art of one sort or another, all talking shop, as it were.

Felix introduced her to his own circle of companions; and there were women there, mostly clad in colourful, flowing garments. Where conventional fashion was for the nipped-in waist, the puff-pigeon bosom and formal neckline, these gowns were loose, as tea gowns might be, but brilliant in colour, many with really low necklines and wide sleeves; and instead of wearing stiff hats, they were bareheaded or wore brightly patterned bandanas that bound the hair and forehead, some with a dyed feather or a cheap and gaudy brooch, while coloured beads festooned the neck, and earrings clanked. But they were all happy, noisy, talking non-stop. Ellie felt she’d never enjoyed an evening so much.

At first she was hesitant, but was so quickly welcomed that she soon relaxed – especially after Felix had brought her a small, milky-coloured drink he said was absinthe.

‘It can be a little strong if you’re not used to it,’ he said as she took it from him. ‘So I had some water added. Hope you like it.’

Water or no water, the first sip tasted so strongly of aniseed that it took her breath away, but by the time she’d sipped it for half the evening, she had unwound enough to join in with all the conversation, giggling at silly jokes, trying in fact to focus on the faces before her.

‘So you’ve caught Robert Hunnard’s evil eye, have you?’ someone said to her, at which she proceeded to tell those around her about her experience; and, to her delight, everyone listened avidly, pitching in from time to time with enthusiasm and snippets of encouragement, genuinely delighted for her.

‘You’re made,’ she was being told. ‘God, I wish I had your blasted luck! You won’t forget us when you’re rich and famous, will you? – us poor, bloody, struggling, Godforsaken daubers!’

She promised them that she’d never forget any of them but protested her ‘luck’ might be just a flash in the pan and she’d never be rich. But she preened herself about the fact that it might happen. She told them all that, but for them, she wouldn’t have been there today, thanking them profusely for all they’d done for her. Before she knew it, Felix was helping her to her feet, laughing.

On the way home in the small hours, he let her lean against him for support as the world moved around her in a giddy spin. He had his arm about her waist, and when she came to a sudden standstill, not quite sure which foot to put in front of the other, he held her close.

All she could think about was that the person who shared his room wasn’t a woman. It was wonderful. She lifted her face to his, her arms about his neck as their lips met in a lingering kiss, so it seemed to her befuddled mind, until suddenly he pulled his face away from her.

‘Don’t, love!’

She felt suddenly angry. ‘Don’t? After that sort of kiss, what d’you mean – don’t?’

‘I mean don’t, Ellie. What else can I say?’

She tried to turn from him in her anger and if he hadn’t held on to her she’d have fallen.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she blared at him, trying to pull away from his grasp. ‘Aren’t I your