A Double Life (The Yellow Cottage Vintage Mysteries Book 5) by J. New

Author:J. New [New, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Phantom Press
Published: 2020-07-25T22:00:00+00:00

My aunt’s idea of ‘a little place’ was a three-storey private members’ club in Soho named The Gargoyle. It occupied the upper floors of a pair of elegant Georgian town houses, the ground floor being home to a printing works. I had expected to enter through a door but she led me around the corner from Dean Street to Meard Street. After flashing her membership credentials, we stepped into a rickety external lift, enclosed in shining metal like an old-fashioned steamer trunk, with two other people I vaguely recognised but couldn’t put a name to, and began our ascent.

“We’ll go all the way to the top to start with, darling. I think you’ll like it up there.”

“To the roof?”

I couldn’t possibly see what interest a roof would have for me, but I bowed to my aunt’s obvious knowledge of the place and waited. Imagine my surprise when we stepped out into a perfectly wonderful garden. It was set up for dining and dancing and all around, the chimneys of the neighbouring buildings were painted a bright vibrant red. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Oh, it’s marvellous! What a perfectly wonderful idea to put a garden on a roof.”

“Wait until you see the rest of the place.”

“I don’t think it can get any better than this, Aunt Margaret.”

But of course I was wrong. The whole place was a lavish mix of high society and Bohemia. A theatrical social setting where the upper crust rubbed shoulders with those in the arts.

We went downstairs to the bar, a bright and tastefully decorated area with several paintings by Matisse adorning the walls, whom my aunt informed me was a member and responsible for much of the interior decor. It was a vivacious spot, crowded with people discussing art and politics, and Aunt Margaret ordered a Pimms with a dash of Curacao, a house specialty and delicious.

From there I was given the tour of the other rooms. A very large ballroom with, of all things, a fountain in the dance floor. The Tudor room, a coffee room and a drawing room. Then we moved to the restaurant via a stunning staircase in glittering steel and brass. Again, designed by Matisse. The room had been modelled on the Alhambra at Granada with an elaborate coffered ceiling painted with gold leaf. The walls were adorned with imperfectly cut-glass tiles which reflected the light and clientele beautifully, and the whole thing was topped off by a wonderful four-piece band delivering lively, cheerful music.

We were led to a table for two on the outer edge of the room and in the spirit of the place, my aunt ordered a bottle of the finest Club ‘fizz.’

“I’m really quite astonished, Aunt Margaret,” I said as our Oysters arrived. “As soon as I think I know everything there is to know about you, you do something like this and completely knock my socks off.”

She laughed. “I thought you’d appreciate it, Ella.”

“Oh, I really do. I adore the place, it’s the perfect antidote to murder and espionage and just what I needed.

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