‘I expect it does. Actually, just over there is the oldest church in London, St Bartholomew the Great; I’ll show it to you later. My godmother was married there. Right now we have to find a lovely friendly butcher.’
The butchers all proved lovely and friendly – to Diana at least. The arcades, divided into stalls, housed shops, and behind them, they were told, were the vast refrigerators that stored the meat. But the vast refrigerator rooms were plain, no arches or domes or painted ironwork – just rows of slaughtered animals. ‘It’s all a bit brutal. And they don’t even look cold,’ said Diana. ‘Shame. Nice idea though.’
‘We can fix that,’ said Freddie. ‘Dry ice, we can bring it in, it’ll send up clouds of the stuff. We could use a couple of these guys in their overalls as props; it’s all only background, we’ll use some exterior too if it kills me, and you’ll make the pictures. Nothing brutal about you.’
Freddie threw the contacts onto Blanche’s desk four days later. ‘They’re sensational,’ he said modestly.
They were. Diana stood there, wrapped in sable and ermine and dark brown mink, and one particularly glorious full-length white fox, the clouds of dry ice rising round her, the porters going about their business apparently unconcerned, the carcases hanging just slightly out of focus behind her, and thus not distressing to the more tender-hearted readers of Style. She had worn a much paler than usual make-up, with huge smudged brown eyes, her lovely mouth a brilliant red, her hair drawn tightly back, so as not to distract in any way from the fur.
‘My God,’ said Blanche, ‘these will make the papers, I wouldn’t wonder. You two are an amazing team. I love them. What would you like to do next? Swimwear in a reservoir?’
‘That’s a good idea,’ said Freddie.
‘It’s a terrible idea,’ said Diana. ‘Swimwear somewhere very, very warm. Otherwise count me out.’
She was interested to discover that Freddie no longer seemed particularly attractive. Maybe because of the dreadful business of the miscarriage, maybe because she knew him better, but for whatever reason, she had no desire to go to bed with him. He was mildly indignant about it the first night, having given her a wonderful dinner at the Connaught, but by the second had found some other gorgeous creature to lure into his room.
It was odd, Diana thought, because when they were working, and through the lens, she could almost see the raw attraction between them; but the lights off, the cameras packed away, they were just easy, professional friends. And they were a great team, they sparked ideas off one another, Freddie inspired her; her body seemed to come alive with ideas and energy and even risks for him. Only Norman Parkinson could persuade models to do the unspeakably dangerous things that she did.
Freddie watched her incredulously over the next few weeks, as she climbed a tree in Richmond Park to reach a mistletoe clump, so that he had to use his latest toy, a telephoto lens, to properly display the drama; as she rode a bicycle down Piccadilly without holding the handlebars; or sat in the open doorway of a helicopter as it took off, her long legs dangling.
When these came out, in the Daily Mail as well as Style, not only her mother but also Johnathan made disapproving phone calls.
‘You are still a mother,’ were his terse words, ‘even though you seem to give less and less time and thought to it. Jamie told me he was really frightened when he saw the pictures, wanted to ring you and make sure you were still alive and hadn’t fallen out.’
Jamie did indeed say this to his father; to his classmates, he boasted shamelessly about the fame and beauty and courage of his mother, adding that he couldn’t wait to try it himself.
Diana and Freddie didn’t quite realise it, but they, along with a very few other photographers and models – including of course Parkinson and his coterie – were in the vanguard of an entirely new, free-thinking approach to fashion photography. The clothes were still comparatively formal and glamorous, but the pictures took hold of them and gave them a shake. Freddie and Diana were seen as entirely original, to be relied upon to produce pages that were startling, and filled with humour as well as glamour. Vogue tried to put them under contract, but they refused; Style had provided their first showcase, and with the great Ernestine Carter of the Sunday Times booking them for a story about the new ease in fashion, as displayed by the genius of Coco Chanel, they felt altogether rather pleased with themselves and the way their careers were turning out.
‘Get you out to the States next,’ said Freddie, as he said goodbye to her after a month-long spell in London. ‘I’d like to see you in Glamour magazine. You familiar with that?’
‘Not very. It’s Condé Nast, isn’t it?’
‘Yup. Used to be called Glamour of Hollywood. Now it’s very much us, tag line “For the girl with the job”. So a bit forward looking. It would suit you. And us. I’ll go and see them, let you know.’
‘Yes, sounds fun. Well, as long as you don’t start working on it with some American girl.’
‘Darling, I really only like working with you these days,’ said Freddie. ‘We seem to have struck a gold seam.’
‘Not a mine?’
‘Not quite. Seams are more exciting, they have to be really worked for. Bye, darling.’
‘Bye, Freddie. I’ll miss you.’
London seemed rather empty and her life with it.
She wondered how she might fill it up a bit, and, as always on such occasions, her thoughts turned to Tom.
Chapter 38
1954
‘Diana? This is Persephone Welles. Hello, my dear. Apologies for not being in touch before, but I had to dash back to Cornwall. No, nothing serious, of course, just some stupid man being more so than usual. Anyway, I’m back now and staying with Ned, and we would love you to dine with us either tonight or on Thursday. Any good? Oh, splendid. And shall we say Aurora’s? You obviously like it there, as do I. Seven thirty then? See you then. Goodbye, Diana.’
But when Diana arrived at Aurora’s, Persephone was alone.
‘Hello! How lovely you look. I feel like an old frump.’
‘Persephone, don’t be ridiculous. How could anyone be less of an old frump than you? You’ve got such style, so original, I just follow the fashion.’