[MaC] And So it Begins ... Nicola

[Jonathan Katalenic]

Nicola Douglas was a vision- if she did say so
herself. Her elegant black velvet evening gown fit as
though it had been tailored exclusively for her and
not bought in a last-minute frenzy of shopping earlier
that morning. Her mother had always told her that a
true lady would never be caught dead wearing the same
dress to more than one party; this was advice that
Nicola took very seriously. She had been lucky enough
to find the dress in one of the few upscale shops left
open during the Blitz. She had spent many more coupons
than she could afford on it, but it had all been worth
it- and besides, it wasn't like she would be in London
much longer anyhow.

A bolero jacket acquired as a gift from a fashion
designer in New York adorned her otherwise bare
shoulders and arms. In matching black, it served  to
allow everyone in the room to know that she was
up-to-date with the very latest fashions. Her hair was
done up and held in place by several expensive jade
combs. The glittering green on her red hair looked
most festive, she thought with a grin.

Nola would be wearing green, she recalled. Poor, sweet
Nola. She was a darling girl, really, but somewhat
odd. No, scratch that: very odd, and getting odder by
the day... Nicola liked her anyway- had liked her
since the mix-up in the mail resulted in their meeting
and exchanging letters. Nola Diamond, Nicola Douglas-
the names were similar enough to excuse the mistake,
but not so similar as to result in it not being
irritating.

So she was certain, then, to be the loveliest in the
room. All the better to engage that handsome Lord
Richard in conversation. "Lovely to see you this
evening, Lord Richard," she said in a practiced drawl.
Good- losing her voice had been a temporary
malfunction after hitting middle C near the end of
"Stuff Like That There" earlier that day. Thankfully
it had been the last number of her set, and a few
hours gargling with a salt rinse had brought her voice
back to its melodic self.

In fact, there were few people Nicola was not looking
forward to seeing. She was looking forward to chatting
with young Lady Pamela over the latter's WAAF works.
She wished for a conversation with Miss Mauberly, the
journalist. Really, the only one she wasn't looking
forward to seeing was Mrs. Evans, owner of the
beast-cat from Hell. The fourth floor had entered an
uneasy peace following several confrontations between
that... thing... and Nicola's own darling terrier, Mr.
Bob.

Nicola slipped on a pair of white gloves and checked
her makeup one last time before leaving her flat.
Tonight was to be a night of fun and revelry, she
reminded herself. She had no reason to worry. No
reason at all.

But still, she planned to keep her eyes open and to
remember any suspicious behavior. She didn't know who
he was, but he certainly knew who she was, of that
much, she was certain. She walked into the hall just
in time to hear the creeeeak-rattle-rattle of the lift
heading past her floor.

"Damn," she whispered to herself. She glanced at the
stairs with a scowl and began to walk up them. Even
one flight in her highly fashionable and impractical
shoes caused her feet to plead for mercy. She emerged
onto the fifth floor just in time to see Marjorie
Higgins heading down the hall. She must have arrived
on the floor just before Nicola herself. Nicola took a
moment to adjust her hair and walked over, arms wide.

"Marjorie, darling!" she said with a friendly smile.
"How lovely to see you. You look absolutely smashing
tonight. How are you, darling?"

<tag Marjorie>


		
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