Page 57 of A Sky Painted Gold

At that moment Patricia comes swaying up to the table, one arm around the waist of a handsome boy not much older than me. He is looking very pleased with himself, as is Patricia. I wonder what her husband would think about it, but no one else seems worried.

“She’s eating the food!” Patricia exclaims, catching sight of me and falling into peals of laughter.

I roll my eyes. “Is it really so strange?” I ask. “You should have one. They’re good.”

Patricia laughs even harder at this, swiping at her eyes with her fingers and smudging her heavy make-up in the process. “Are we moving on soon, darling?” she says to Caitlin.

“Moving on?” I ask.

“Yes,” Caitlin sighs. “I told you. This place stops serving at twelve-thirty, which is any minute now. They’ve been raided too often. We have to go and find … alternative … entertainment.”

“Oh.” I nod, not completely sure what this alternative entertainment might be. But Caitlin is staring into space, with a look on her face that I can’t quite read.

“Caitlin?” Patricia asks again, momentarily removing her mouth from where it has been nuzzling her new friend’s neck.

“Yes,” Caitlin says, going very still. “Find Bernie, we’ll head to Al’s.”

“Al’s!” Patricia squeals. “Oh, darling, heaven! It’s been an age since we went there.”

“Yes.” Caitlin’s voice is dangerously quiet. “It has.” Her hands are clutching at the white tablecloth, and her knuckles turn white. Something about this decision has her shaken, but I have no idea what it is. I don’t know where or what Al’s is, or what to expect when we get there.

Patricia disappears, towing her young man behind her, and Caitlin catches a passing waiter by the elbow. “Two gin rickeys, please,” she says, and then she lingers, holding on to his arm for a little longer as he begins to pull away. “Heavy on the gin,” she adds.

“Is something wrong?” I ask as soon as the waiter vanishes.

Caitlin shakes her head. “It’s nothing,” she replies. “I’m just thirsty.” It is perhaps fortunate, then, that moments later the waiter reappears with our cocktails. I take mine and sip at it, wincing at how strong it is. Caitlin, on the other hand, lifts the glass to her mouth with a trembling hand and drinks the whole thing in one go. Then Patricia appears again, this time with Bernie in tow.

“I hear we’re going to Al’s?” Bernie says. “What a thrill. It’s really been too long.”

“Yes,” Caitlin says, getting unsteadily to her feet. “It has been too long, and Lou should see it.” She turns to smile brightly at me, but it seems as though her eyes aren’t quite focused on my face. “You’ll love it,” she finishes, clasping her hands in front of her.

“I’m happy to go wherever you like,” I say carefully. “What is Al’s? Is it another nightclub?” There’s something else going on here, but I don’t know what it is. If the thought of going to this Al’s place is upsetting her so much, then why has she decided we should go?

“Oh, yes,” Bernie drawls. “But it’s nothing like this place, I can assure you of that, my little snowdrop.”

Whenever Bernie refers to me as a daisy or a snowdrop or a buttercup, I know that it means that we are about to get up to no good. I think he quite likes the idea of shocking me, and I’m stubbornly determined not to let that happen. I pull my shoulders back. “Well, then,” I say, “what are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Wherever Al’s is, perhaps it holds the answer to what is bothering Caitlin. I just hope that whatever is there won’t do any more damage.

“You heard the woman,” Caitlin says now. “Let’s go!” and she flings her arm out, gesturing towards the door, before setting out on a slightly unsteady path in that direction.

We tumble out of the club, laughing and rowdy. A row of photographers wait outside and at the first pop of a bulb Bernie steps neatly in front of Caitlin. These men must know Caitlin, must know about Robert’s deal, the one Bernie told me about, because they turn their cameras away from her and on to me. “Over here, love,” one man calls. “Give us a smile!”

I stand frozen as the flashes of light explode around me, leaving stars dancing in front of my eyes. “Save your film, gentlemen,” Bernie calls imperiously. “She’s nobody of interest to you.”

I am torn between relief at the men turning away, and the hollow feeling that comes with the words “nobody of interest”. It’s another painful reminder that I don’t really belong here with these people. Bernie hails a cab while Patricia says goodnight to her new friend, winding herself around him like a boa constrictor going in for the kill. Caitlin leans against me, and although the night air is still quite warm, I can feel her trembling. After dragging the young man from Patricia’s clutches, the four of us pile into the back of a car, with Caitlin sitting on Bernie’s lap. She is as animated as I have ever seen her, rattling on as though she can’t bear to stop talking for even a second. Her cheeks are flushed, and she seems almost feverish, bouncing impatiently on Bernie’s knee as the car rumbles along.

When we pull over we are in a different part of town. The others spill out of the car and stand in the street while I clamber out behind them. I take a moment to look around me. This is definitely nothing like the other places I have been with Caitlin today. The road we are on is narrow and dingy. Tall buildings line the sides, looming over us and casting threatening shadows. I notice that several windows are boarded up, and apart from the four of us there seems to be no one else around. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I ask in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the dark stillness.

“Oh, this is the place, all right,” Caitlin says, and I think her voice sounds a little grim. “Come on,” she calls over her shoulder as she starts walking towards one of the closed-up-looking buildings.

When we reach it, I notice that there is a black iron staircase leading down to some sort of basement. The others charge down the steep steps and come to a halt at a green door. As usual, I am left trailing behind, looking nervously over my shoulder. I’m no longer sure that I know what is going on. This dingy street seems like an unnatural fit for Caitlin, Bernie and Patricia, who look as out of place as peacocks in all their finery, with the easy mantel of privilege draped around their shoulders. I realize with a start that tonight I am one of them as well. The gold embroidery on my dress glints in the muted glow of the street lamp, and only I know that I don’t belong in it – that I am only shamming – gold leaf, not solid gold.

Caitlin reaches up and pulls the bell beside the door, which swings open a few moments later, revealing a tall black woman in a green evening dress. She has glowing, amber eyes, and a slow smile spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well.” There is wryness in her voice, something a little taunting. “If it isn’t Lady Cardew.”

“Hello, Al.” Caitlin smiles up at her. “It’s been a long time.”

“It certainly has,” Al says, and the air seems charged with something that I don’t understand.