The Grafton Girls - Annie Groves [113]
‘Savoy Hotel, buddy,’ Nick told him as he threw both his own and Myra’s overnight bags into the back of the taxi.
Already the taxi rank was a seething mass of uniformed Americans, all in search of a taxi. Their driver was about to set off when another GI called out, ‘Hey there, any room in that cab for another passenger?’
‘Only if you’re going to the Savoy, mate,’ the taxi driver called back.
‘Then my luck’s in. That’s where I’m going too – at least it is now,’ he grinned, adding, ‘Mind if I join you?’ as he opened the door and climbed in without waiting for a reply.
He wasn’t army, Myra could tell that. He had a bit of a look of an Italian about him, what with his dark hair and his olive-toned skin. She glanced uneasily at Nick, not sure how he would take this intrusion. Along with the other men in their carriage he had been drinking for most of the train journey to London, and had even disappeared at one point, telling her he had some business to attend to, returning grinning from ear to ear after an absence of over an hour to show her his winnings from a poker game in another carriage.
He didn’t seem too bothered about the presence of the other man, though, even offering him a cigarette.
‘Up for the weekend, are you?’ the man asked Nick as he accepted it.
‘Yeah. And you?’
‘Yeah. I’m ready for a bit of R and R. Name’s Joe, by the way,’ he told Nick, extending his hand. ‘Joe Cavelli.’
‘Nick,’ Nick introduced himself, shaking this hand. ‘Nick Mancini.’
‘Stayed at the Savoy before, have you?’ Joe asked.
To Myra’s pique, he had glanced at her once and then looked away, totally ignoring her, and Nick was just as bad, she fumed. He wasn’t making any attempt to include her in the conversation and hadn’t even bothered to introduce her.
‘Nope, but I’ve heard it’s an OK place.’
‘Sure, it’s a real home from home, but without the steaks and the malt.’
Myra had had enough. She wasn’t used to being ignored and she didn’t intend to get used to it. ‘We’ve heard that the Savoy’s band, the Orpheans, are just wonderful to dance to. We’re looking forward to having a really romantic couple of days, aren’t we, Nick?’
Very deliberately she played with her new ring, and gave Nick a slow smile. There! That should do the trick and let Joe know the situation and that three was a crowd. He had certainly registered the ring, because he was frowning as he looked at it. If he was in London by himself he had probably been hoping to pal up with Nick and he was frowning because now he realised that all Nick’s time would be taken up with her, his fiancée.
Myra hadn’t been to London before, but after Nick’s comments to her about New York when they had first met she was very much on her mettle not to look as though she wasn’t used to city living. The truth was, though, that London was much bigger than she had imagined and much busier as well, with people hurrying this way and that, and with Americans in uniform looking so at home that the city might just as well have been theirs.
Their driver turned into the Strand, and then suddenly there was the hotel. Myra caught her breath, her eyes rounding with excitement and awe as she saw the doormen in their uniforms, decorated lavishly with gold braid.
‘I’ll get the fare,’ she heard Nick saying to Joe as one of the doormen stepped forward to open the door for her.
It was seldom if ever that Myra allowed herself to feel at a disadvantage, but as she saw the guests hurrying in and out of the revolving doors, the women dressed in the kind of clothes that set them far above someone like her, even if those clothes were war worn and no longer new, and wearing jewellery, Myra drew in her breath. If only the girls she worked with could be here to see her now.
Nick and Joe, still talking, had caught up with her.
‘See ya around, bud.’ Joe was shaking Nick’s hand. ‘And if I do we can have a few beers together.’
Not if I have anything to say about it you won’t, Myra thought to herself, as she slipped her hand possessively through Nick’s arm, refusing