‘Are you sure you want these, George? They’re a bit fuddy-duddy, you know. It’s all about the oval silhouette these days.’
‘Stuff that – these are gorgeous.’ Georgia trailed her hand across the satin and tulle. ‘Look at this,’ she said, pulling out a deep jade dress with a full skirt. ‘It’s the colour of a mermaid’s tail.’
‘I wore it for Fiona Meadows’ cocktail party at Claridge’s,’ said Clarissa, balancing her cigarette on an ashtray she had pulled out from under the bed.
‘Put it on.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
With little more encouragement, Clarissa stripped to her bra and pants and slipped into the dress.
‘You look lovely.’
‘Fat lot of good it did me,’ Clarissa said, sinking to the floor, the yards of fabric spilling across the carpet like a pool of Caribbean water.
‘So how are things in the love department?’ said Georgia, sitting down next to her and grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the bed.
‘A very handsome Coldstream Guard asked me out the other day.’
‘Are you going to go?’
‘Of course I am.’
The two girls giggled.
‘Are you looking forward to it? The Season, that is.’
‘No. Did you enjoy it?’ Georgia turned away and blew a smoke ring.
‘I loved it. But don’t make the same mistakes I did.’
‘Which are what?’
An expression of grave wisdom clouded Clarissa’s face.
‘The Season isn’t about having fun, George. This isn’t about parties or dresses or table manners. It’s a competition. Don’t ever forget that.’
Georgia gave a loud snort.
‘A competition? So what’s the prize?’
‘The best man,’ Clarissa said bluntly. ‘The good ones get snapped up early. Apparently the Duke of Kent has already got a girlfriend, which is rather annoying. And avoid the Cirencester lot. You’ve got to jostle hard for position, for status,’ she continued, enjoying her role as experienced sage, even though her advice was falling on deaf ears. ‘I mean, do you think girls get chosen for the Queen Charlotte’s, the Berkeley Dress Show, Deb of the Year by accident? You’ve got to watch some of the mothers, too – they can be the worst. This isn’t polite society. It’s a jungle in tulle. And believe me, because the Queen is abolishing the curtseying, the competition is going to be especially tough this year. Did you see the portraits in Tatler? There are some very beautiful girls.’
Georgia was laughing.
‘Clarissa, I don’t want to be Deb of the Year – I don’t even particularly want to be a deb.’
‘Well, you’re about to be presented in front of the Queen, so I would say it’s a little late for second thoughts. Have you been to see Madame Vacani?’
‘Who’s she?’
‘An old lady based in Kensington. Former dancer – apparently she taught the Queen and Margaret how to foxtrot, plus she is the Curtsey King. Been doing it since before the Great War, and has taught it to anyone who’s anyone.’
‘Well, she hasn’t taught me.’
‘Then how are you going to do it properly?’
‘You mean there’s a proper way to curtsey?’ Georgia was dimly aware of a curtseying lesson at Madame Didiot’s, but she clearly hadn’t being paying attention.