Daisy Waugh - Melting the Snow on Hester Street

HarperCollins Publishers

77–85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by HarperCollins Publishers 2013

Copyright © Daisy Waugh 2012

Daisy Waugh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007431748

Ebook Edition © March 2013 ISBN: 9780007487608

Version: 2014-12-17

Darling Bashie,

movie star in the making (maybe)

This book is for you

Contents

Cover

Title Page DAISY WAUGH Melting the Snow on Hester Street

Copyright Copyright HarperCollins Publishers 77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB www.harpercollins.co.uk Published by HarperCollins Publishers 2013 Copyright © Daisy Waugh 2012 Daisy Waugh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780007431748 Ebook Edition © March 2013 ISBN: 9780007487608 Version: 2014-12-17

Dedication Dedication Darling Bashie, movie star in the making (maybe) This book is for you

Max & Eleanor Beecham’s October Supper Party Max & Eleanor Beecham’s October Supper Party

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

The Nickelodeon on Hester Street

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Divorce Capital

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Floor Eight

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Sun on San Simeon Bay

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Read on for an extract from Daisy’s new book, Honeyville

Author’s Notes

Acknowledgments

Also by Daisy Waugh

About the Publisher

Santa Monica, 17 October 1929

‘What did he say, Charlie? Did he say it was gonna be just f-fine? Did he say it was OK?’

She was sitting at her dressing table, watching Charlie’s approach with anxious eyes, blue as the sapphires round her throat. But Charlie didn’t reply at once. He was thinking how graceful it was, the line of her neck: the nape, did they call it? He was sauntering towards her, across perhaps the most opulent bedroom in America. The sound of softly lapping waves filtered through the open windows and, beyond them, a long white beach gleamed in the early evening moonlight. Not bad, Charlie thought, as he often did. Not bad for a workhouse boy. And a chorus girl not so young as she pretended.

Beneath the sweet smells of her innumerable lotions, and the particular perfume, flown in from the fragrant hills of Tuscany, there was still a faint whiff of newness to the room: new fabrics and paints; new draperies and furniture … Marion’s beachside house (if you could call it a house) was only recently completed. One hundred and eighteen rooms in all, her lover had built for her. Thirty-five bedrooms, fifty-five bathrooms, a brace of swimming pools, a private movie theatre … everything, really, a woman’s heart could desire, so her lover believed. Wanted to believe.

And somehow Marion pulled it off: transformed this preposterous white elephant, into – not a home, exactly, but a place of merriment and warmth. A place where, despite the marble and the gold and the high ceilings and important stairways curling this direction and that, people could have a good time. They could feel relaxed. Charlie Chaplin felt very relaxed. At Marion Davies’s beachside palace. More relaxed, perhaps, than Marion’s long-time lover would have preferred.

But what can you do?

Charlie came to a stop just behind her, and then, absently, he dropped a warm kiss on that part of her – the nape? – which had been so distracting him, and breathed in the familiar perfume.

‘I didn’t ask,’ he replied at last.

‘You didn’t ask? Charlie! Why ever not?’

He kissed her again: inhaled the smell of her skin. ‘You really are … very lovely,’ he murmured.

‘Why didn’t you ask him, Charlie? I thought you were going to do that. Because I’m all ch-changed now, and ready to l-l-leave. You can see for yourself! I thought you were going to ask him!’

‘Well I didn’t ask, I informed. I told him that I would be bringing you along.’

‘No!’

‘In fact – now I think about it, I didn’t even do that … I informed whoever it was picked up the telephone. The maid, I guess—’

‘Oh God. Charlie!’

‘Sweetheart – it’s a small party. Max and Eleanor Beecham are splendid people … Smart people. You know them well enough. What do you think they’re going to say? The biggest movie star in history wants to come to their party, bringing with him the reigning Queen of Hollywood—’