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Bundle Brent could take a gut punch. She was athletic and well built in her own right. Thankfully this fact was never actually put to the test as no one in polite British society would punch a woman. Alas that left her to deal with the far harder to cope with pain of metaphorical injuries.
The worst of which having to be the betrayal of Loraine Wade.
Bundle was sensible. She was amicable, and despite what her father said she believed she was a fairly good judge of character. But like every single one of the poor fools she seemed constantly surrounded by, she’d been just as taken in by the angelic other woman.
Bundle recalled first meeting Loraine, in the diffuse sunlight of Jimmy Thesiger’s living room. Loraine had looked like a painting of Persephone. She’d sat there and gave the air of being something more than just mere human. Even in ridiculously modest clothes, her hair worn long, she’d pushed Bundle off her feet. And finding out the strength that was concealed by Loraine’s meek exterior? Bundle was a goner.
But like a vision of Persephone she wasn’t real.
Bundle swirled the whiskey in her glass, listening to the light tinkle of the half-melted ice. There was nothing in the glass to remind her of the other woman, but Bundle’s mind didn’t need prompting.
“Bundle? Bundle darling?” Bill’s voice was right in her ear. She transferred her scowl from the glass to the man whose arm rested over her shoulders. The ever-sweet Bill Eversleigh, “What’s the matter?”
He had the same big blue doe-eyes as Loraine. Though in Bill’s face they took on a distinctly puppy-like appearance.
Bundle placed her glass on the table, amongst everyone else’s. She and Bill were celebrating with the rest of the Seven Dials at a pub. She didn’t intend to be a downer, but the news was still far too fresh, “Oh Bill,” she lowered her voice, “I just can’t get over Loraine’s role in all this. She was just too sweet.”
Bill, dopey grin in place, if a bit pitying, responded, “She was just batty for Jimmy,” he reached for his own glass, “She’d do anything for him.”
Bundle pressed her lips her lips together and huffed out of her nose, “So you’ve all said. That doesn’t change a thing.”
Bill tilted his head back and forth. Then nodded, sipping. Combining the two latter movements led his to spill some gin down his chin, “My God!” He yanked his arm from around Bundle’s shoulders to mop up the drips before they soiled his shirt. Even amongst it all he spared Bundle a glance, another smile, and tried again, “It’ll take us all a bit. It’s awfully horrid. I’m sorry I can’t help more; I’ve never been in love with an international criminal.”
“I was not in love,” Bundle hissed.
Bill smiled his silly little smile, “Darling Bundle, it’s okay that you were. She wasn’t my type, a little too soft-spoken, but-“
“Oh for God’s sake,” Bundle said, voice raising, “You’re insufferable. I’m going to go smoke outside.”
Bill shrugged, offering his lighter, “Okay, shall I come with you?”
“No.”
He started to stand regardless.
“Sit,” she snapped as if commanding an over clingy dog.
And Bill sure looked like one when he pouted. Bundle almost felt bad. Operative word being almost. They’d known each other for too long for the guilt to stick.
And, expectedly, though he watched her leave, he was quickly drawn into whatever discussion the other men at the table were having.
҉
“Ah, Lady Brent,” Babe St. Maur greeted from where she was crouched on the curb, smoking her own cigarette. The high transatlantic accent and distinctly American mannerisms were still jarring after having only known the woman in the character of the Hungarian Countess, "joining me for a smoke?”
Bundle stood next to the other woman, towering over her. She lit up before answering, “Yea.”
Babe stood, in heels she was just barely taller than Bundle. Though the added height was offset by the artistic slouch she affected. It was a posture that allowed the other woman to knock her temple against Bundle’s shoulder. Before leaning back into her own space. Though she still stood close, enough so that the fur on her jacket brushed against Bundle’s bare shoulder, “What’s the occasion? Bill driving you up the wall?”
“No, not more than usual,” Bundle took another drag.
Babe nodded, wafting cigarette smoke and flowery perfume directly into Bundle’s face. A strange combo, but nonetheless pleasant. Babe’s lips were painted the same eye catching red that they’d been back at the Abbey nearly a week ago. She looked at Bundle out of the corner of her eyes. They were surprisingly big when she wasn’t playing an intentionally sultry character. They were still startlingly dark brown, “Y’know Bill means well,” Babe started. Bundle did not like her tone. She let the other woman say her piece though, “As ingenious as he can be sometimes, he’s pretty tactless when he’s concerned,” Bundle felt a drop in her stomach, “All I’m saying is you’re going to have to forgive him,” Bundle turned to stare directly at the other woman. Said other woman, holding her gaze, looking quite apologetic, continued, “He wanted to know how to support you. So he let slip your feelings for the little lady that-“
“God. Goddamn it Bill. You stupid oaf,” Bundles said, voice raised and teeth clenched. She jerked her head towards the door of the pub. She glared with enough intensity that she hoped he could feel it through the wood and distance between them. Her hands fisted and shoulders set. Her cigarette lay in the street, an unfortunate casualty.
Babe looked down at it with pity, “I did say you’d want to forgive him,” she looked up to where Bundle was now glaring down at her, “Now I didn’t do anything,” in the same fashion as Bill she smiled in the face of Bundle’s frustration, “I just wanted to offer a listening ear since we both know Bill can’t understand.”
With a suspicious sparkle in her eye, Babe took a leisurely drag from her all but finished cigarette. When she pulled it away from her lips to blow smoke up into the air, her lipstick left red smudges on the filter.
Staring at those smudges perhaps a second too long, Bundle conceded, “I’ll have to think on it.”
Babe nodded. She turned back to staring across the street. She seemed purposefully avoiding looking at Bundle when she said, “My favorite flowers are violets too, y’know. Ronny knew. Though I’m sure there’s a lot about Ronny you didn’t know,” her painted lips didn’t frown exactly, just became thinner. The blankness in her gaze said enough, “So, I’m always here.”
Bundle turned towards the street as well, “I’m going to have to deal with Bill.”
Babe’s laugh was a paltry thing, “I’m the only one he told if that helps.”
Bundle looked at Babe’s profile. Bundle all but whispered, “I’ll have to think on it,” then she pivoted towards the pub, “You had better come back in, the night’s only supposed to get colder.”
Bundle tried not to spare a backwards glance at Babe as she began walking back. When she heard a small laugh and the scratchy sound of a cigarette butt being crushed out against the street, she indulged herself. Babe smiled in a crooked way, one side of her lips pulling up higher than the other, “Aren’t I the one with a jacket?” She caught up to Bundle, “You can just invite me in without an excuse.”
Babe proceeded Bundle back into the warmth of the pub. And the company of their companions.