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She arches a brow. “You don’t say?”
“We are from the Spence Academy for Young Ladies.”
She takes in our unchaperoned state. “My. A lady’s education has changed rather dramatically since my time. Not that my time was so long ago.”
“We think you are the most marvelous actress in the whole world, and we simply had to meet you!” Ann blurts out.
“And how many actresses have you seen?” Miss Trimble asks. She notes Ann’s blush. “Mmmm, thought so.” She sits before her dressing mirror and rubs cream over her face in practiced strokes.
“Our Ann, er, Nan is quite talented,” I say in a rush.
“Is she?” Miss Trimble does not turn around.
“Oh, yes, she can sing beautifully,” Felicity adds.
Ann looks at us in horror, and for a moment, the illusion flickers. I shake my head and smile at her. I see her close her eyes for a moment, and everything is as it was. Lily Trimble opens a silver case and pulls out a cigarette. The shock registers on our faces. We’ve never seen a woman smoke. It is terribly scandalous. She places the cigarette between her lips and lights it.
“And I suppose you’d like me to secure you a berth in the company?”
“Oh, I c-c-couldn’t ask s-such a thing,” Ann stammers, red-faced.
“In my experience, my dear, if you don’t ask, you do not get.”
Ann can barely force the words from her lips. “I should like…to try.”
The actress appraises our friend through a stream of cigarette smoke. “You’re certainly pretty enough to be on the stage. I was that pretty once.”
She pulls her hair forward and grasps it tightly in one hand, brushing the long ends with the other.
“No one is as beautiful as you are, Miss Trimble.”
Another smoky laugh escapes from Lily Trimble. “There, there, you’re not auditioning for me, darling. You can keep a lid on the charm. And speaking of charm school, what would your mother have to say about all of this?”
Ann clears her throat softly. “I don’t have a mum. I’ve no one.”
Lily puffs thoughtfully on her cigarette. She blows a ring of smoke.
“The hand you hold the longest is your own.” She glances at herself in the mirror, then holds Ann’s gaze there. “Miss Washbrad, this life is not for the faint of heart. It is a vagabond’s life. I have no husband, no children. But my life is my own. And there is the applause and the adoration. It helps to keep a girl warm at night.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Ann manages to say.
Lily regards her for a moment. She puffs on her cigarette. Her words push out in a stream of hazy smoke. “Are you quite certain this is what you want?”
“Oh, yes!” Ann chirps.
“A quick answer.” She drums her fingers on her dressing table. “Quick answers often lead to quick regrets. No doubt you’ll return to your charm school, meet a perfectly respectable man at a tea dance, and forget all about this.”
“No, I shan’t,” Ann says, and there is something that cannot be ignored in her answer.
Lily nods. “Very well. I’ll secure you an appointment with Mr. Katz.”
“Mr. Katz?” Ann repeats.
Lily Trimble places her cigarette in a brass ashtray, where it smolders as she tends to her hair. “Yes. Mr. Katz. The proprietor of our company.”
“Is he a Jew, then?” Ann asks.
In the mirror, Miss Trimble’s eyes narrow. “Do you have an objection to Jews, Miss Washbrad?”
