Rags to Riches

by Nancy Carson

  The Wednesday morning that they were due to sail from New York was one morning when it was not so easy to shut out thoughts of Howard. She had dreamed vividly about him all night and was poignantly reminded of his care and tenderness that first night they made love. Her dream had been totally erotic; she relived his touch, the feel of his lips on hers. She even gasped when he entered her and experienced again the warm glow in her groin, culminating in an intense orgasm that succeeded in waking her up. She turned to hold Howard in her arms before she realised that, apart from her teddy bear, she was alone in her bunk. She was lost in an ocean thousands of miles from him, and began to weep again for her lost love.

  The Captain, Sir Edgar Britten, had requested that Maxine give a half-hour concert in the Cabin Class Lounge that afternoon. Some pleasant love songs were required; nothing too demanding of the attention; something easy on the ear to soothe the wealthy passengers after their heady luncheons. She’d insisted that bass and drums accompany her piano playing and it was agreed. Beforehand, she had drawn up a list of suitable songs that would form her repertoire and the time had come when she must sit at the Bechstein on the stage. Already, she had stressed that she wanted no other members of the band there apart from bass and drums.

  After Maxine had been introduced, she began with one of her favourites, ‘Where or When’, which attracted quite some applause. She followed it with ‘Making Whoopee’ and then, ‘I’ve got my Love to Keep me Warm’. By the time she finished singing ‘I’m in the Mood for Love’ she had her audience in the palm of her hand. Between numbers she talked to them unpretentiously and made them laugh with little quips. She joked about the awful weather in the Atlantic and announced her next song that she said was very appropriate: ‘Stormy Weather’.

  Much of what she was playing was unfamiliar to the Cabin Class passengers. Love songs were far removed from the lifestyles of most of these people, but she won them over with a performance that demonstrated her dexterity at the piano, her vocal enthusiasm and her innate charm. She didn’t force the music down their throats, but allowed them to partake of it with an open mind as if it were some new wine she wanted them to taste.

  ‘I hope you like this next one,’ she said into the microphone. ‘I wrote it myself on board this very ship. It’s called “Destiny Jests with Me”. Here we go…’

  Each performance she gave of this song was an improvement over the previous one. It was yet still new to her, even though she had penned it herself. But with each performance, her confidence grew and she was beginning to deliver it with panache. It drew warm applause.

  Maxine finished her concert with a song that was becoming one of her favourites, ‘He’s funny that Way’. As she sang the last chorus she looked up from the piano and saw, to her utmost surprise, a familiar face and couldn’t help smiling in recognition. Dulcie Fielding was walking along the edge of the room towards the stage. She stood and watched at the side of the stage while Maxine finished her number and took her bow, then walked directly up to her.

  ‘Dulcie!’ Maxine said gleefully. ‘This is a surprise. What brings you on board so soon after your last voyage?’

  ‘My father had a cable Monday evening calling him straight back to London,’ she said, giving Maxine a hug of genuine affection. ‘Some legal problem with a very important contract.’ She shrugged and sighed happily. ‘Gee, it’s great to see you.’

  ‘It’s great to see you.’

  ‘Won’t you come and have tea with me later?’

  ‘I’d love to. Look, Kenny’s here and Charlie.’

  Kenny left the borrowed set of drums and jumped off the stage to join the two girls, followed by Charlie Holt. Maxine noticed Dulcie’s fluttering eyelashes as soon as the boys got close.

  ‘Hi, Kenny! Hi, Charlie! Say, you two look great. Don’t they look great, Maxine?’

  Both seemed incapable of speaking.

  ‘Are you playing in the Verandah Grill later?’ Dulcie asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Maxine replied, ‘and the Tourist Class lounge before that, if you’d like to come along.’

  ‘Oh, sure, I’d love that. Is that okay, guys?…Listen, Maxine, my dad’s been listening to you. He wants to meet you. Can I introduce you to him properly?…Will you excuse us, boys? I’ll be back in two shakes…’

  Maxine followed her friend to a table towards the back of the lounge. Dulcie’s father, whom Maxine had seen before, stood up, offered his hand and invited her to sit.

  ‘And this is my wife, Grace.’ Maxine shook her hand and smiled amicably.

  ‘That was some performance, my dear,’ Grace Fielding said. ‘Wonderful.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Fielding. It’s the first time I’ve done a formal sort of concert. I wasn’t sure how these people would appreciate it.’

  ‘Hell, I’d say most of these folk don’t know commercial music from a lasso,’ John said, ‘but I guess you really got to them. I’m mightily impressed. Would you like a drink? Let me call the waiter.’

  ‘Thank you, I’d like a glass of water if that’s all right. My throat’s a bit dry after singing.’

  ‘Sure thing.’ John Fielding raised his hand and a waiter instantly appeared.

  ‘Daddy, I’m going to talk to Kenny and Charlie while you and Mom speak to Maxine,’ Dulcie said. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Sure, Honey…I don’t know whether my daughter’s told you anything about me, Miss Kite—’

  ‘Please call me Maxine.’

  He smiled benignly. ‘Sure. And you call me John. Maxine, I don’t know whether my daughter’s told you anything about me, but I happen to make my living in the entertainment world.’

  ‘Oh really? She never said.’

  ‘No, well I guess she wouldn’t. Anyway, I’m president of an outfit called American Music Producers, better known in the business as AMP. Our business is promoting commercial music throughout the USA – these days in Europe too – which is the reason we’re crossing the pond again. And, heck, we make a few bucks, Maxine. Well, ever since Dulcie heard you guys she pestered me to listen to you. She reckons she can tell a great band from a mediocre one. So I listened – on our last return voyage.’

  ‘I remember.’ But of course she had had no idea then of the significance of those moments.

  ‘Well, I thought you were pretty darned good. Anyhow, when I knew you were performing in a trio today, Maxine, I wanted to come and hear you – without the embellishments of a band. I must say I like your style. I like the way you interpret a song. You don’t try and sound exactly like the original artists. It’s fair to say you have your own distinctive style which is pretty damned appealing – and you’ve begun writing your own material – that’s swell. Now, I wonder…because of what I do, I have many contacts all over the USA who are looking for new artists. So, how would you like to play in New York next time you’re over?’

  ‘Gosh, I’d love it. We’d all love it…You do mean all of us, don’t you, Mr Fielding?’

  ‘John. Call me John.’

  The waiter delivered her drink, placed it before her and she thanked him.

  ‘I’m mainly interested in you, Maxine, but sure, if that’s what it takes to get you there. However…’

  ‘There always seems to be a however,’ Maxine remarked suspiciously.

  ‘Well, hopefully, this however is no big deal…But I might have a problem. You see, unless I can organise work permits for you in time, you might have to work without pay. Temporarily, of course – just one gig. The United States’ famous bureaucracy. Would you be prepared to do that for just one gig?’

  ‘I imagine so,’ she answered unsurely. ‘It depends on the others. It depends what you have in mind.’

  ‘It would definitely be to your benefit. I want you to play for some friends of mine at a place called the Onyx Club on West Fifty-second. Heard of it?…’ She said she had. ‘It’s a club that many professional musicians, broadcasters and club owners visit regularly. I’d like to assemble some people there who are influential in
the music business. If you come good, it could all come good. Standards are pretty darned high, as you can imagine, but I believe you guys have got what it takes. The punch line is, you’re English. We don’t get too many English jazz and swing artists in the USA.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit like taking coal to Newcastle?’ Maxine commented.

  John Fielding was amused at the analogy. ‘Sure, but what the hell? Americans love anything English. To us Americans, you’re different. That’s the difference.’

  ‘I reckon we would do it, Mr Fielding,’ Maxine said. ‘It sounds like a great opportunity and we’d like to be known in America. But I think we should confirm it with our agent in London first, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Naturally. Who is your agent, Maxine?’

  ‘A man called Seth Cohen.’

  ‘Seth!’ John Fielding laughed aloud. ‘Gee, Honey, Seth is my associate in London. The very guy I’m going to see this trip. He’s an AMP guy through and through. Consider it settled, Maxine. I’ll talk to Seth Cohen about you guys. You have nothing at all to worry about. Now listen – I’ve another proposition. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. I’d like you and your friends to join me and my family for luncheon. Can you make that, Maxine?’

  ‘Oh, that would be great. Thank you. Thank you ever so much, Mr Fielding.’

  ‘Swell. I’ve hired one of the private dining rooms just for the occasion.’

  Later that same afternoon, Kenny Wheeler stole away from the rest of his colleagues and made his way stealthily to the consulting room of the ship’s doctor. The sudden appearance of Dulcie Fielding on this voyage had prompted him to seek confirmation that his gonorrhoea had cleared up and advice as to whether he needed to worry anymore about the possibility of having contracted syphilis.

  ‘When did your treatment begin?’ the young doctor asked.

  ‘The end of September, doctor.’

  ‘And you’ve seen no discharge since finishing the treatment, nor felt any burning sensation when you’ve passed water?’

  ‘No, doctor.’

  ‘So where are we now?…’ He consulted a calendar and counted the weeks. ‘Hmmm…You’ll be cured by now, Mr Wheeler. Any other worries?’

  ‘It’s just that when I picked up the gonorrhoea, doctor, I had to have a blood test for syphilis, as a precaution. My own doctor said it can take three months to show.’

  ‘That’s so. So it’s a sensible precaution, isn’t it?’

  Kenny nodded. ‘The problem is, doctor, I’ve met a girl on board ship and…’

  ‘And you don’t want to disappoint her.’ He smiled knowingly. ‘Of course, I understand. When did you have your last blood test?’

  ‘The end of October.’

  ‘And it was negative?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you’re due another. I’ll take a sample of your blood now and check it out. I can let you have the result tomorrow. How does that sound?’

  ‘Sounds good, doctor.’

  ‘Roll your sleeve up…’ The doctor went to a cupboard and obtained a syringe, which he assembled. ‘Okay, flex your arm to make the vein stand out a bit…That’s good…Don’t look if you’re squeamish…There…’ The doctor sealed off the phial, labelled it and put it on his desk. ‘Call back tomorrow, Mr Wheeler. But listen – a word of advice…Just to be on the safe side – if you find you can’t keep your hands off each other, do yourselves an enormous favour and use a French letter. French letters provide a wonderful barrier against these nasty germs that cause venereal diseases. I’m forever preaching that advice to the crew.’

  ‘Thanks for the tip, Doctor,’ Kenny replied with a broad grin. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Chapter 24

  In the private dining saloon just off the Cabin Class main restaurant on Thanksgiving Day, ten places were set for luncheon. John and Grace Fielding welcomed Maxine Kite and the rest of The Owls and the Pussycats with an endearing warmth. The seating arrangement was strictly conventional, with John at the head of the table and Grace at the opposite end. Maxine sat at John’s right hand with Brent Shackleton next to her, opposite Dulcie. Maxine answered all John’s questions about herself; where she lived, where she came from, how she became involved with the band. And he was interested to learn that she was classically trained. Grace was holding court with the lads of the band, who were keeping the waiter busy refilling glasses from the bottles of fine wine that seemed to be in abundance.

  ‘I’ve always been impressed by the British,’ John said benignly, to make them feel comfortable. ‘Always coming up with remarkable inventions. This new thing they’ve recently come up with, though – I’m not so sure…’ Everybody watched him with anticipation. ‘Television, they call it. Moving pictures and sound. Like the movies but transmitted to a receiver in the home. Each set is likely to cost about a hundred guineas in English money. Seems mighty expensive to me.’

  ‘Gee! Really?’ Grace uttered. ‘Will it catch on? I don’t see the point of it. I mean – can you imagine having to stop whatever it is you’re doing to look at moving pictures? At least with the radio set you can get on while you listen. I doubt it will ever catch on.’

  ‘What are guineas?’ Dulcie asked ‘I saw coats and dresses and shoes marked up in guineas when we were last in London. Isn’t it the same as a pound?’

  ‘A guinea is twenty-one shillings,’ Maxine explained. ‘Marking goods up in guineas is supposed to make them seem more exclusive.’

  ‘And gives the shop an extra five percent profit,’ Brent added cynically. ‘Maybe we should quote our fees in guineas, Maxine.’

  Maxine wore a royal blue day dress with a full skirt that she had bought from Bloomingdale’s. Its colour contrasted subtly with her thick brown hair that was elegantly piled up and finished in a French pleat. Around her neck she wore a delicate gold cross and chain that Stephen Hemming had once made for her and combined it with small, matching earrings.

  The main course was turkey and pumpkin pie, in true American tradition and John had chosen a Côte de Beaune to accompany it. While they ate, conversation was intense, about current events in Europe. Most saw Hitler as a potential threat. However, Ginger Tolley said he did not, but then Ginger liked to wind everybody up.

  ‘But, you see, Hitler has proposed a peace treaty, guaranteeing peace for twenty-five years,’ Ginger argued. ‘Surely that signals his peaceful intent.’

  ‘And if he showed any respect for previous treaties I’d be inclined to agree with you,’ John commented, putting down his knife and fork to gesticulate more effectively. ‘But he has no regard for treaties. Look how he defied the treaties of Versailles and Locarno in March by goose-stepping his jackbooted militia into the Rhineland. How can you have any confidence at all in the word of such a goddamn liar?’

  ‘But because of this…this suspicion, we must pay an extra threepence in the pound on our income tax,’ Ginger said cynically. ‘To pay for new tanks, new aeroplanes, new battleships that won’t be needed.’

  ‘We can’t afford to drop our guard, Ginger,’ Charlie replied calmly. ‘What do you think we should do? Wait till the Nazis invade before we do anything, then throw stones and pull faces at them? Will that scare ’em off?’

  ‘I think we should talk with Hitler,’ Ginger said. ‘We should strike a deal that’d make it unprofitable for Germany to be hostile. In any case, I reckon Hitler has no quarrel with us.’

  ‘Maybe you should have a quarrel with him, nonetheless,’ John Fielding remarked. ‘I understand he has banned the playing of jazz on their radio programmes, because it’s reckoned to be performed by blacks.’

  ‘Do you think he’d ban us?’ Maxine asked.

  ‘I guess it’s all jazz, Maxine. Whoever performs it. I guess he’s trying to imply that the whole musical style is degenerate…So, guys, whatever happens following your premiere in New York, you can forget Germany as a market for your music.’

  Maxine caught Brent’s glance as he turned to note her reaction. She smiled with her eyes
as she took another sip of wine.

  ‘Who needs Germany?’ Brent said. ‘What are our chances of success in America, John?’

  ‘Pretty good, I’d say. I would not be investing time and money in you guys if I didn’t think it would pay a return. But, like I say, Maxine is centre-stage. It all revolves around her, the way I envisage it. As a singer, she is the focal point. As a pianist, she is an integral part of the band. Hence, there is a place for the band in this enterprise.’

  ‘And what sort of things might we be doing, work-wise?’

  ‘Radio broadcasts, I hope. That’s the quickest way to get known. From that should come records. But nightly appearances in clubs and hotels are an important part of the equation. Fans want access to hearing you play in person and seeing you.’

  ‘And shall we have good potential for earning?’ Brent persisted.

  ‘The sky’s the limit, Brent. There’s big money in America. It all depends on you guys…and Maxine, of course.’

  Brent’s eyes lit up at the prospect and he looked covetously at Maxine while John had everybody’s glass recharged. The conversation ran on. Waiters opened and served more bottles of wine. Pudding came; cranberry and apple pie with cream, pancakes, compôte of mixed fruits with creamed rice, roll jam pudding, and ice cream. Cheese and biscuits followed. Everybody stayed at the table for ages, talking, enjoying the occasion and each other’s company, enthusiastic and grateful for the opportunity to play at the Onyx Club that John Fielding was happy to engineer on their behalf.

  When the party broke up Brent took Maxine’s hand proprietorially and walked her to the door of her cabin.

  ‘You’re going to be a star, Maxine,’ he said. ‘I’m going to see to it that you are. I’ve always said you’ve got star quality.’