The Lido Girls. Allie Burns

stepped, barefoot, into the shorts.

      She splayed her hands over her exposed legs, redeployed her fingertips to read the zigzagged Braille of the elasticated seams that pinched against the tops of her thighs. Then she twisted her torso to get a good view of the shorts across her behind. She smoothed them again and then lifted her knees to skip lightly on the spot. The fabric glided across her skin with an elegance that spread to her state of mind, her movements, and she added a light bounce at the top of each skip.

      Wonderful. But not meant for the likes of her, not really. They were as likely to introduce a uniform like this here at Linshatch College of Physical Education as they were to have a beauty contest; and if she got caught wearing these clothes, well she’d be in more trouble than Margaret Wilkins.

      Angling her hand mirror this way and that, she inspected her legs in the shorts. Athletic, sturdy and of course, dove white. She hadn’t embraced the new fad for sunbathing; she much preferred to be on the move.

      There was a knock at the door and the hand mirror fell to the linoleum floor with a clatter, but she hadn’t the time to flip it over and see if it had survived. She dived into bed instead, eyeing the keyhole, with nowhere to hide in her room but under the bedclothes.

      ‘Miss Flacker, are you there?’ It was her secretary, Miss Bull. ‘Miss Lott wants to see you in her office.’

      ‘Very good. I’ll be there right away,’ she called back, hoping Miss Bull wouldn’t think it odd that she hadn’t opened the door to her. ‘I was just er…’ There was no explanation to be had. ‘I’ll be with Miss Lott right away.’

      *

      The sight of Olympia in tram-sized lettering made the hairs on Natalie’s arms stand on end. She’d seen pictures in the newspaper last year; Mosley’s British Fascist party rally had filled every inch under that hall’s giant glass roof. Now it was the turn of the Women’s League of Health and Beauty.

      Tributaries of the League’s members jostled into her as they left the station in one giggling river, and were lured across the busy London street to the exhibition hall.

      She paused at the top of the underground station’s steps. It’s not too late to make a run for it. She wasn’t sure what she feared the most: Miss Lott finding out she’d come here today or her friend Delphi’s disappointment if she let her down. She curled her hand into her satchel, felt around for the satin shorts and rubbed them between her thumb and forefinger.

      Delphi waited for her by the station entrance. She faced the imposing red-bricked Olympia across the road. Keen to make a good impression today, her friend wore an asymmetrical red felt hat and the feathery tendrils of her hatpin danced in the breeze. Natalie watched as she blotted the bridge of her nose with a puff, then lowered her hand to steady herself on the wall.

      Natalie shook her head. Perhaps she should have done more to discourage Delphi from pursuing her idea of becoming a teacher for this increasingly popular movement. Delphi’s health made training for a career in physical education difficult, but many years ago they’d made a pact to support one another in their professional life, and she’d be true to her word. Today she would see just what this group was really like, and whether they were a suitable target for her friend’s ambitions.

      The compact clicked shut. Delphi turned her head; her poppy-red lips spread to a smile.

      ‘There you are, Natty.’ She untangled herself from a group of younger girls in her path. ‘You look as though you’ve just arrived at your own funeral.’

      ‘Well, there is a risk that you bringing me here has murdered my career.’ As she saw Delphi bite her bottom lip, she winked to let her know that she’d been teasing. They linked arms, and joined the stream of women to cross the road.

      ‘This is going to be an education for you. The old establishment is being shaken up, Natty. Imagine if you led that change.’

      ‘I don’t think the Board of Education would listen to my ideas.’ Natalie sighed as they reached a standstill at the back of the queue. ‘They’ll argue that their way of doing things has worked very nicely for decades, and it will continue to do so for many more. And they’re probably right.’

      ‘Well, today you’ll see a different way of doing things.’ Delphi steadied her hat as she tilted her head around the older ladies in front of them, searching for acquaintances further up the queue.

      They would see and experience enough today to feed the volley of correspondence between the two of them for at least a month.

      ‘And,’ Delphi continued, ‘I think you’ll be impressed. You’ve always been bothered by the way the Phys Ed colleges exclude girls like the ones here today. The League is for everyone.’

      It was true; they were in the main privileged girls who trained at her physical education college, and with only five establishments in the whole country places were in demand.

      ‘Do you know what else, Natty?’ Delphi poked her in the ribs. ‘You’re going to see how much fun exercise can be.’

      ‘But we get enjoyment from playing lacrosse or cricket, or diving, and you know that.’ Natalie thought of the students’ ruddy faces out on the playing field on a frosty February morning. How could Delphi say that they didn’t have fun? She wrote to her often enough to report on the exhilaration she’d felt in the heat of competition, how the bond between the team became as present in the air as the steam from their mouths.

      ‘You did promise to give this a go today.’ Delphi looked at her closely.

      ‘Of course, if you’re serious about training with these people then I want to see what they’re all about.’ But Natalie’s approval was the least of Delphi’s worries. Her ill health put her under her mother’s control, and Natalie couldn’t imagine Delphi’s mother would ever agree to her latest idea. ‘I just hope it isn’t frivolous.’ She’d been taught that exercise developed good character in testing circumstances in the words of Madame Forsberg, her college’s founder. ‘I am worried about the lack of science in their work.’

      ‘Yes, I was a little as well, but times are changing, Natty. You said it yourself, the Board is too wedded to its way of doing things.’

      ‘I didn’t exactly say that.’ Natalie back-tracked on whatever she might have said in her letters after a bad day at Linshatch. The Board thought the Women’s League a bunch of cranks, and called their work unscientific and dangerous. It would take an event as major as another war to persuade them to consider another approach. ‘Let’s just see whether I think this is right for you.’

      ‘Just don’t be too sensible.’ She waved, spotting a friend from her training class, and left Natalie alone in the queue.

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with being sensible,’ Natalie called after her. The woman in front, a good deal older than Natalie, but with curls as luscious as Ginger Rogers’, turned to look her up and down.

      Natalie was glad she had a moment alone to let the sting of Delphi’s remark fade. Yes, she had been prudent when she’d invested her father’s inheritance in her teacher training. It had meant she could support herself, but being responsible wasn’t always easy, or much fun.

      ‘Quick! The hall is nearly full,’ Delphi said as she returned. ‘They’re expecting two and a half thousand. That’s double last year’s rally.’

      Delphi hooked her by the arm and swept her past the snaking queue. ‘My friend Francine is saving us a place near the front.’

      Adorned with black kohl, stem-thin eyebrows, Francine took Natalie by surprise with a forceful hug more appropriate for a long-lost friend. Just as they passed through the arched doorway, a man edged by with a sign: house full; then his arm formed a barrier just behind Natalie. The whines and tuts of disappointed women faded behind them. Francine’s affections, Natalie realised, were short-lived. She’d already run on ahead, leaving the two of them to descend into the bowels of Olympia together.