November 6 1926.
Dinky got us into the KitKat club by putting on an outrageous American accent and telling the doorman we were on our honeymoon. Everyone was so gay they sparkled. It was like a magical cave full of beautiful people running wild. Dinky made very cosy friends with some of the members who said we could come back as often as we liked.
I was so very happy yesterday that I met Dinky after he finished work, he works for Heals, and took him to the pictures to see The Triumph of the Rat because we both love Ivor Novello.
After the film I invited Dinky back to my room. His dream is to decorate rich people’s houses for them. ‘Interior decorating’ he calls it. It seems like an odd way to make money, but then who am I to talk!
I open the door and before I can make excuses for the rusty old dresser he throws his hands up and exclaims he loves it! I thought he was joking, but he explains that is very French and chic and that I should get a little wire brush and scrub all the rust off it and paint it.
So I asked him to help me unstick the jammed drawer. We pulled and tugged for a while until Dinky ducked underneath and found a hook of wire that was keeping it shut.
He prized it out with his fingers and now I am sitting here with my chin in my hand wondering what to do about what we found inside. We found a wedding ring and the Last Will and Testament of Sylvia Stubbs. It isn’t easy to make out the writing as it is a little bit smudged from having been in the moldy old drawer. But it appears to bequeath all her worldly possessions to her sister Emma. There are three witnesses. Their names are quite hard to read.
At first we were all excited when we snapped open the little box and saw the gold wedding band. Dinky was bouncing on the bed, but he stopped short when I held up the will. We both fell silent wondering what this all means.
No one would leave these things behind willingly, would they? But if Sylvia had come to a sticky end wouldn’t the police have searched her room? Was this even her room? I will have to ask Mrs Pankhurst. But that will surely lead to her calling the police.
Obviously I cannot have anything to do with the police. I looked at Dinky and wondered if it was too soon to tell him about what I do with men for money. Or about my family. He did ask me where I came from and what my story was, but I gave him a silly answer and he didn’t press the point.
He has just left saying that I should decide what I want to do. The room feels so dark and chilled. I am going to try and sleep. I hope to God I don’t have gruesome dreams.