A Royal Night Out Page #3

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dirty, painful business.

Stop!

- Where are you going?

- This way.

I need to get to Trafalgar Square.

The people in that public house

love their king and their country.

War's over,

and for some reason I came back

to the same old column-dodging posh gits

with plummy voices on the wireless...

Plummy voices like mine, I suppose?

Exactly.

Well, let me tell you,

whatever your name is,

my whole family served in this war.

Sandwiches, maybe.

La-di-da.

As a matter of fact, my mother

did exactly that in the Blitz.

And did you help with the sandwiches?

I'm in the Auxiliary Territorial Service,

Mechanical Transport Training

Section, Second Subaltern.

A bloody officer.

In that dress.

Well, mostly in that dress.

Lost your uniform?

What are you, then, incognito?

How long?

- Incognito.

- ATS.

Eleven weeks.

Shoe. Shoe. Give me the shoe.

What's your name, then?

Eliza... Lizzy.

Jack.

- Pleased to meet you.

- Handmade.

Family well off by any chance?

- We manage.

- Hmm.

And your sister is lost.

Well, that's what

I've been trying to tell you.

Will you please take me

to Trafalgar Square?

No.

Why not?

Because... We're already here.

Come on.

All right, boys! We won the war!

Look at you! Marvellous!

Good luck.

Wait for me!

Jack!

I suggest we start by the lions.

She looks a little like me.

Her dress is pale pink.

- Flowers. Oh!

- Sorry, folks.

Steady on.

Cosy, Lieutenant?

I can see that you have certain

expectations for this evening,

but the fact of the matter is,

I'm sort of, well, taken.

Unavailable. Very much so, actually.

Fair enough.

Jack! Help! Help!

How are you?

Help!

Jack?

It's a long way to go...

Margaret?

Come on, in you get.

There you are.

Margaret.

Margaret, no, you can't!

Oh, here! What's your game?

Get your own fella.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Should think so too.

- Come on, you.

- All right.

- What's your name?

- Stan. What's yours?

Have you seen my sister,

like me only older?

She'll be here any minute.

- Shall we go dancing?

- Oh, yes.

The Curzon. It's in Mayfair.

Barely a Bath Oliver's throw

from Claridges', actually.

Awfully outr.

They do the Lindy there, you know.

Then let's go.

We can, er...

We can pop back later for your sister.

Oh, OK.

Thank God.

Shall we carry on with the search?

This is Mary and this is Jane.

- Hello. Hello.

- Hello.

We're going to The Mall.

What about my sister?

The girls here are dying to see

their King and Queen,

which is probably what

your sister's gone and done.

I really don't think so.

Don't you speak posh!

Ladies.

- Bye.

- Let's go to Buckingham Palace.

Fine. If that's what you want, go.

I'll just carry on looking on my own,

surrounded by strangers,

which could be very dangerous

to a person in my position!

Here we are.

Gosh, look.

Huh.

Madam.

I knew the Curzon was hot.

We want the King!

We want the King!

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

There.

Long to reign over us

God save our King

Oh, you.

Where are the princesses?

In an awful lot of trouble.

It's pandemonium down there.

I could murder a G&T.

Oh, me too.

Why aren't you waving, then, Miss La-Di-Da?

They got us through this bloody war.

You really think so?

Some of us.

Did you lose someone?

Ten,

nine, eight,

seven, six,

five, four, three,

two, one!

Excuse me.

Do you make a habit of kissing

other people's boyfriends?

Boyfriend? Take him, then.

Spoilt for choice tonight.

Are you absolutely determined

to ruin my evening?

I thought you were going to help me.

My sister mentioned something

about the Curzon Club.

Could you please show me the way there?

And afterwards...

Afterwards?

We could go for another drink.

But you're sort of taken.

He's abroad.

But you know what they say in the forces.

Overseas doesn't count.

Well?

All right.

Come on.

Let's go and find your sister.

Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me...

Wake up, old man.

Time to get the princesses

back to the palace.

The princesses!

Excuse me.

Sir!

Not generally known

but we are descended

from King Macbeth himself.

Oh, God!

Sir.

- Oh, God.

- Yes, sir.

He got a bad press, you know,

from that Englishman.

Sorry, sir.

This way!

I'll go look...

Burridge!

Oh, it's you!

Where is she?

Such bad luck about the Curzon.

What a swiz. I so wanted to Lindy.

Lord Stan's is the place for the Lindy.

Is it hot?

- Very.

- Wizard.

Ooh...

Evening, Raymond.

- Did you order, sir?

- Oh, Golly.

Follow me.

- Drink? Large one, presumably.

- Yes.

- Head on through. I'll be right behind.

- OK.

There you are, gentlemen.

Evening, Andrew.

- Two pink gins, doubles.

- Of course, sir.

And a...

Pair of bennies to make the night fly.

Certainly, sir.

Oh, gambling.

- Enjoy.

- Place your bets.

- Oh!

- No more bets.

- Cheers.

- Cheers.

Mmm.

This is the Curzon Club.

Excuse me. Mind your backs, please.

Excuse me.

Good evening, doorman.

I'm looking for my sister.

Perhaps you've seen her?

Pink dress, flowers?

I can't be expected to remember

everyone who comes in here.

Watch it.

Forget something, bomber boy?

Let's have that again, airman,

this time like you mean it.

Piss off.

Jack.

Sir.

Now I remember.

There was a girl in a pink dress.

She was with some bloke. Erm, Officer.

- Navy.

- Where did she go?

Oh.

We've got to talk about money.

Lord Stan's. It's a club...

- Sort of.

- Where?

Soho. Silver Place,

round the back of Dean Street.

Jack, do you know where that...

Jack... Jack?

Honestly. Which way?

Oh, you take a left, go straight ahead,

left into Lexington,

first right onto Broadwick,

second left, up St Anne's Court,

through the alley on your left

and it's on your right.

Can't miss it.

Things are getting out of hand.

They'll wear themselves out soon enough.

I wonder what it's all

going to be like now,

now the war's over.

Mr Churchill will keep everything on track.

If he wins the election.

Darling.

The people will be grateful.

He'll get everything

back to normal in no time.

Normal?

I wonder if those people quite realise

what a demanding new world

they're waking up to.

Lillibet's world.

Excuse me. I wonder if you could help me.

Where might I find Broadwick...

You love it.

Oh! Don't hurt me!

That wasn't what I had in mind.

- You're back.

- Yeah.

Sorry about disappearing.

First you stand up to that

silly little captain,

but when he comes back at you,

you just turn tail and run.

It wasn't the brown job captain.

It was the Red Cap he was with.

Come on. I know blue funk when I see it,

I don't need help from the type like you.

All right, it's only Soho,

criminal heart of the capital.

Home of razor gangs and opium dens

and murder incorporated.

Won't bother an ATS Second Subaltern

with 11 weeks in.

At least I didn't run away during them.

You didn't have time to.

Please, just...

Tell me where Broadwick street is.

Yeah, they took 'em off of me.

- For what?

- Talking back.

There's more to it than that.

You think?

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