Lauren's Designs - By Elizabeth Chater Page 0,4

were seated in a spacious, elegant dining room by attentive, smiling stewards, and the models were well pleased. Lauren, who had done her homework, realized that this was not the most posh of the four restaurants, but it suited her very well to keep a low profile at the moment. The table, centered with fresh roses, seated eight. Lauren found their five table companions delightful. When the dining steward had noted everyone’s choices from the impressive menu, she introduced herself and her models.

The older of the two men, Derek Strange, presented his party. They were an English dance troupe, returning home after a five-week tour in the United States. Derek Strange and his wife, Violet, were obviously older than Lauren; Tony Carr, lean and handsome, was about her age; Polly and Dolly Darby, twins, were in their early twenties, Lauren judged. Their manners were charming, but Lauren sensed an underlying depression that even their determined, chins-up cheerfulness could not hide. Halfway through the meal, interrupting a debate on the differences between English and American humor, Nella clutched at Lauren’s arm.

“The ship is rolling. I can feel it.”

Everyone at the table stared at the statuesque redhead, who was very pale. The men glanced at each other, frowned, then shrugged.

“I don’t feel any motion,” Dani argued. “You’re imagining it.”

Lauren got up. “Let me see you to the cabin, Nella,” she said gently. “You’ve had no sleep for nearly thirty-six hours. I’m sure when you’re rested you’ll feel better.”

“I’ll stay with these people,” said Dani. “I’m not tired.”

Lauren glanced at Violet Strange. “Where will you be, later, Mrs. Strange?” she asked softly, helping Nella to her feet.

“Here or the pub on this deck,” the woman answered her with a friendly smile. “We’ll look after your mannequin as if she were a doll.”

“We’ve got a business meeting after dinner,” explained Lauren. “Dani will need to know the stage, dressing rooms—all sorts of details.”

“You’ll be back before we’ve finished dinner,” Mrs. Strange assured her. “Not to worry.”

Lauren got Nella comfortably settled in bed with a cold cloth on her forehead and then sent for a stewardess and requested some Dramamine. The Englishwoman came back in a remarkably short time with some tablets and a glass of water. “Doctor says give her these and she’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

“Thank you very much,” Lauren replied with real gratitude.

Nella accepted everything docilely. Then she sobbed, “I just know I’m going to be sick. I shouldn’t have come.”

Within ten minutes, however, she was sleeping peacefully. Lauren hurried back to the dining room. Dani and the dance troupe were still enjoying their dinner, which was superb and served with style. Lauren sat down at the table with relief. In response to their kind queries, she explained that Nella was a bit of a hypochondriac.

“She’s a nitwit,” Dani announced coldly. “Just because Mr. Masen told her all those stories about storms at sea, she’s sure that we’ll all drown or something. Seasick. It’s as calm as an oyster.”

The men chuckled. Dinner proceeded without any further problems, and Lauren enjoyed both the food and the service very much. The company of the dance troupe could, she felt, have been pleasant, had it not been for the unhappiness she sensed in them in spite of their attempts to be cheerful.

Finally she turned to Violet Strange. “Is something wrong? Can I help you in anyway?”

Violet gave her a wry look. “Is it that plain, then? We were trying to keep a stiff upper lip.”

There was a little pause as the waiter served their desserts. Dani had ordered a fruit-and-cream concoction, but Lauren hadn’t the heart to object. There had been enough trauma at the table already. When they were eating again, Violet smiled at Lauren. “We expected to be rejoicing at this point. Our tour of your country was most successful. Then yesterday our promoter disappeared with all the receipts from the trip. All he left us was our return tickets. So we’re going home broke.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” breathed Lauren. “What a rotten trick.”

Violet shrugged. “It’s happened before to dancers and it will again, I’ve no doubt. But we were good. We deserved our moment of celebration on the ship.”

It was time for Lauren and Dani to go to the Royal Court Lounge for their briefing, yet she really hated to leave Violet and the rest of the troupe. “Perhaps we might meet later, at the pub?” Lauren proposed. A vague idea was drifting around in her head. She wanted to think it