Abandoned Child

by Neale, Kitty

  Penny struggled to get a grip on her emotions and smiled weakly. ‘No, I thought I’d be able to get better ones up here.’

  ‘Damn right you will,’ beamed Maureen. ‘That’ll be the first part of your job. Shopping for shoes. See, isn’t life looking better already?’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By the time they reached the dance studio Penny was worn out. She’d never encountered such a welter of sights and sounds as when Maureen led her through the door onto the street where she lived. It had been too dark and she’d been too much in shock to notice much the night before, but now she could see that the little flat was bang in the heart of the action, with shops crowded in everywhere, neon and painted signs competing for space, and people everywhere – on the narrow pavements, in the roads, coming in and out of shops and offices, going about their business at high speed, or hanging around the café doors gossiping at leisure.

  Turning the nearest corner, Penny had been surprised to find a bustling street market, with colourful stalls of fruit and veg piled high, flowers, bread, oddments of hardware and items she simply didn’t recognise. ‘What’s this?’ she asked.

  ‘Berwick Street,’ said Maureen, waving to one of the traders. ‘Now if you was to be interested in cooking, here’s where you should get your ingredients. There’s a supermarket over there’ – she pointed to a brightly lit doorway – ‘but generally you’re better off getting stuff here, ’specially if you get to know the stall holders. Morning, Jimmy!’

  ‘Morning? Might be for some of us,’ huffed the man behind one of the fruit and veg stalls, ‘but the rest of us been up since three. Don’t you want your dose of sunshine today, then?’ He held up a plastic bowl full of oranges.

  ‘Maybe later,’ Maureen shouted and made to head off.

  Penny was brought to a standstill by something she’d never seen before, a rounded green shape covered in spiral patterns made up of little points. ‘What’s one of those?’

  Maureen misunderstood and thought she was looking at the woman standing in the doorway behind, who promptly turned and made an ugly face at them. ‘That’s the competition,’ Maureen said, tossing her hair, ‘and you don’t want to take no notice of the likes of her. She’d love to work for a high-class act like we do but she got no chance.’

  Penny glanced up and saw the doorway was surrounded by painted boards showing silhouettes of very curvy female figures. Abruptly she realised what was on sale there. ‘Oh, right,’ she said, embarrassed, ‘but I meant that vegetable.’

  Jimmy, watching all this, laughed and picked up the strange object. ‘It’s what we call a romane,’ he said. ‘Half broccoli, half cauliflower. You cook it like either. Do it with a bit of cheese sauce for your lunch.’

  ‘Not today, Jimmy, we ain’t got time,’ said Maureen, trying to move on. ‘Shoes to buy, people to see.’

  ‘Don’t let me hold you up then,’ he said, putting the vegetable back and shoving his hands into his overall pockets, ‘but if you want to try it, young lady, you come and see me another day.’

  ‘Thanks, I will,’ beamed Penny.

  From there Maureen had dragged her off to Oxford Street, assuring her that it wasn’t very busy as it was only a Thursday morning. Penny struggled to believe that as the crowds were almost impossible to get through, but she allowed herself to be guided into various enormous department stores and shoe shops until she had what Maureen regarded as acceptable footwear: three pairs of towering high heels. Now all she had to do was stay upright in them when she learned her new moves.

  Finally they arrived at the dance studio, as Maureen called it, a large room surrounded with mirrors that they got to by squeezing down a narrow alley and climbing up three flights of stairs which smelled of the rubbish she had seen being collected outside. Penny didn’t have any great hopes of the place and privately wondered if she was doing the right thing. But when they stepped through the door the place was flooded with light, and there was a breathtaking view across the rooftops from the huge windows.

  The music stopped, and everyone turned to look at them.

  Penny took in a group of people mostly a little older than her, some tall, some not, some very curvaceous, but all seeming as if they exercised a lot. She could tell they were assessing her and hoped she looked the part and wouldn’t let Maureen down.

  ‘Right, everybody, this is Penny,’ said Maureen, ‘and she’s learning the moves so she can join some of us at the club. So, I want you to come and stand between two of the current dancers who can show you what you’ll have to do when I’m not around. Okay, Michelle, Juliet, you make a space and Penny will go there. Good. We’ll start with another warm-up routine and go from there.’

  Penny cast a swift glance to either side to check who these dancers were. To her left stood a young woman with abundant long blonde hair, almost as tall as her even though her heels were shorter, and with a figure that Penny imagined Maureen couldn’t complain about. The woman looked back at her quickly, with a kind but rather distant gaze. Penny, who had developed a nose for such things at school, suspected the woman’s clothes were of a very high quality, certainly better than the ripped T-shirts some of the others were wearing.

  To the other side was a shorter girl, with a tumble of brown curls and again a very curvy shape. She grinned broadly, which made her nose crinkle, drawing attention to its smattering of freckles. Penny grinned back, but she began to see why Maureen had said she was too thin. If firm flesh was what was needed on stage, there was a lot of it here. Well, if she wasn’t going to be the star of the show yet, she’d better make sure she was a brilliant dancer to make up for it and earn her space. She looked up, ready to learn the routine.

  Ten minutes later, and Penny thought she was going to die. She’d happily assumed that because she could dance non-stop to her records at home she was fit and wouldn’t have to try hard to keep up. Now she knew better. Her feet hurt, her knees hurt, her lungs felt as if they would burst. She could tell her face had gone bright red and that she was pouring with sweat, although she wasn’t the only one. So that’s why so many dancers wore bands or scarves around their foreheads. She’d always thought it was for show but now she realised she’d have to get one or she wouldn’t actually be able to see what was going on as her hair was plastered to her face. Not a good look, she thought.

  ‘Water’s over there,’ said the blonde woman, nodding to a basin in the corner. ‘Looks like you could do with some.’

  ‘It’s the heels,’ said Penny, which was partly true, ‘I always had lower ones before.’

  ‘If you can dance in those ones, you can dance in anything,’ said the woman. ‘So it’s good to practise. Grab your drink as we only get two minutes’ break, but I’ll explain after if you like. I’m Juliet.’

  Penny nodded gratefully and grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down before pouring another and holding it to her hot face.

  A strenuous routine followed, but at least everyone else was learning it from scratch as well and she didn’t feel too out of place. In fact, as they went through it for the third time, she realised she’d picked it up faster than many of the dancers around her. So that was something. Maybe this was going to be all right after all.

  ‘Okay, that’s it for this session,’ called Maureen from the front of the studio. ‘Afternoon class starts at three for those who signed up for it.’

  People began to break apart, grabbing their bags and running, or forming small groups in corners, slowly changing into street clothes. Penny looked around, wondering what had happened to Juliet. She saw her blonde hair emerging from a side door and headed towards her. ‘Can’t bear not to have a shower and brush my hair after a class,’ she said. ‘Through that door if you want to do the same. I’ll wait for you – I know you’ve come with Maureen but she’ll most likely be busy so I’ll have a word then take you for a coffee.’

  Perched on tall chrome stools with leather seats at a narrow Formica bar, the three young women sipped their espress
os in the café. Michelle had joined them – the girl with the brown curls. ‘So, what did you make of it?’ she demanded. ‘Bet you’re so knackered you can hardly speak.’

  ‘It got better as it went on,’ said Penny, unwilling to admit how hard she’d found it. ‘This stuff is gorgeous. I’ve never tasted anything like it. How do they do it?’

  ‘You can ask them but they won’t tell you,’ Juliet replied, shaking her shiny blonde hair out to dazzle the waiter. ‘They just claim it’s a secret recipe. Don’t you, Tony?’

  ‘Ah, don’t tease me,’ protested the waiter, mockingly clasping his hands to his chest. ‘You gonna break my heart one day and how you gonna get your coffee then?’

  ‘He’s got a point,’ grinned Michelle. ‘Don’t hurt him, Jools, he’s too cute.’ She deliberately licked coffee off her top lip at which the waiter groaned extravagantly before disappearing to the kitchen.

  ‘He is quite cute,’ Penny said, as if she sat around flirting with waiters every day of the week. ‘Good hair.’

  ‘Bit like yours, it’s so dark,’ said Juliet. ‘Are your parents Italian?’

  ‘No,’ Penny said, ‘but they’re both dead anyway. Dad died when I was born and he was very English and proper, from what they all say. And my mother … my mother had dark hair but would have had a fit if anyone called her foreign. She lived in Spain for years and never spoke a word of the language. So, no. What about you? Where are you from?’

  ‘Oh, I’m also very English and proper,’ Juliet replied, exaggerating her accent. ‘You couldn’t get more proper than me. Proper school, proper parents, proper house in the country – you’ve no idea.’

  ‘So why are you here?’ asked Penny. ‘I went to what you might call a proper school too but only because they couldn’t think of what else to do with me. I can’t imagine any of my classmates dancing on stage in Soho.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s why I’m doing it,’ Juliet said, drawing out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of her beautifully cut jacket. ‘Want one? Suit yourselves. My entire life was planned out for me before I was out of my nursery. And I didn’t want any of it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but I don’t want to turn into a clone of any of her friends, some of whom are frankly ghastly. I’m good at dancing, I love the theatre, and I’d be lying if I didn’t know the effect I have on men. So here I am.’

  Penny turned on her stool, catching the edge of the bar to stop herself falling off. ‘What about you, Michelle?’

  ‘Complete opposite,’ smiled Michelle. ‘I’ve got such a big family that they haven’t even noticed I’m not home of an evening. This is a good life, I like the work and if you’ve got it, flaunt it, is what I say. Get up late, maybe come to a class to keep in shape, see your friends then go on stage. Then I get the night bus back to Bow, or on a good night I grab a taxi.’

  Penny raised her eyebrows. ‘But isn’t that really expensive?’

  ‘That’s what I mean by a good night,’ Michelle said. ‘I get tips.’

  ‘I’ve got a tip for you, Michelle,’ said Juliet. ‘Don’t keep going off with the punters. You know the management don’t like it, and once you’re off the premises they can’t protect you.’

  ‘Oh leave it out,’ groaned Michelle, and Penny got the impression they’d had this conversation many times before. ‘You’re not my mum. I don’t need protecting from a bit of fun, and who knows, I might meet a proper sugar daddy one day. It’s all right for you, you don’t need one, but I’m sick to death of sharing a room with my sisters. I’m not going to stop it, so sorry if you don’t like it.’

  ‘No, I don’t like it,’ said Juliet, blowing out a smoke ring. ‘And you know why. We’re artistes, not sleazy tarts. And we have to act as if we know the difference. And you give us a bad name, I’m sad to say.’

  ‘Gets me a taxi home at night though,’ said Michelle, curls bouncing. ‘Better than the bus with all the drunks and gropers. You leave me to worry about my name. What about you, Penny, how you going to get back once you start performing?’

  ‘I’m sharing a flat with Maureen and it’s just around the corner from here,’ Penny explained. ‘So I won’t need a taxi. Not sure when I’ll be starting on stage, though.’

  ‘It won’t be long, judging from how fast you picked up that routine today,’ Juliet predicted. ‘Tall and graceful like you, they’ll love you. Mind you, if you want to do solos, you’ll have to …’

  ‘Fill out a bit,’ said Penny.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Juliet. ‘That’s the hard facts of the business. So how about I buy us some of those delicious Italian desserts to give us energy and fatten you up a little?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Isn’t she with you?’ asked Mark. He was sitting at a small table in a dark corner of the dressing room, stitching a bright feather boa to the neckline of a black satin waistcoat. ‘Bit early to be letting her out on her own, isn’t it?’

  ‘She’ll be fine, Juliet and Michelle are looking after her,’ said Maureen, collapsing onto the chair opposite him. ‘I don’t know how you can see what you’re doing in this light.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Mark. ‘Can’t you ask His Nibs to put in some proper spots? He wants the costumes to look sophisticated and not tacky and yet I have to make them half blind.’

  ‘Not sure he’ll listen to me any more,’ sighed Maureen, flexing her ankles and wincing. ‘My days of being able to wind him round my little finger are long gone. I’ll try, but don’t get your hopes up.’

  ‘So you’re not going to ask Penny to persuade him, then?’

  ‘No,’ said Maureen, suddenly serious, ‘no, I’m not. And don’t you put her up to it neither. She’s too young and naïve for all that. She’s going to dance in the background and that’s it, I promised my cousin. God knows I don’t want her to go through what I did, nobody back home speaking to me. Yes, I done all right out of it in the end but you got to be tough.’ And I don’t reckon the girl’s tough enough, Maureen thought. Not yet, anyway. Aloud she went on: ‘Lorna will kill me if anything happens to her, and I’d like to think that at least one of my relations doesn’t hate me.’

  ‘All right, calm down,’ said Mark, holding up the waistcoat and inspecting it. ‘Hmm, bit more on the left … no, I didn’t mean it. I know she’s almost like a niece to you. She must be okay if she can go through shit like last night and then straight into a class this morning. I got her rucksack back from Betty’s by the way. It doesn’t smell any more but it’s wrecked – looks like someone’s pulled half the buckles off. God knows what was going on down that tunnel.’

  ‘I don’t want to think about it,’ Maureen told him, ‘and she don’t neither. We got to keep her mind off it. I’ll bring her along this evening so she can meet everybody and see a bit of the show, that should cheer her up. Are you going to be here?’

  ‘Where else would I be?’ asked Mark. ‘No, really, where else? Because that bastard has chucked me again and this time I’ve had enough. If he comes crawling round here saying it was all a mistake and begging forgiveness I’ll tell him where he can shove it. He’s done nothing but waste my time and I won’t stand for it again.’

  ‘Calm down yourself,’ said Maureen. ‘I’ll happily tell him to piss off if he shows his face. A lovely looking face, I grant you, but a narrow little mind behind it, when all’s said and done. So that’s good, you can look after Penny while I check on the new girls. I hear last night went off without any disasters – but best to be careful.’

  ‘That suits me fine,’ Mark agreed, biting off the thread with his teeth. ‘There, isn’t that better? That’s turned out a treat.’

  ‘It has,’ said Maureen, waving as she made her way back to the stage door. She’d been unusually sharp with Mark but he hadn’t seemed to mind, which was just as well, as she relied on him more than she cared to admit. But she didn’t want him getting ideas about why Penny was there, or, more precisely, she didn’t want him joking about it, then the rest of the cast and c
rew assuming that was the truth. Maureen realised that she’d taken on quite a lot, looking after Penny. True, the girl seemed far more interested in dressing up and dancing than getting off with men, but she knew what some of the other dancers were like and she hoped the girl wouldn’t be swayed by them. Michelle was lovely, and not half the tough nut she made herself out to be, but she was heading for trouble if Maureen was any judge of the situation. And, having been perilously close to such situations herself, she could usually tell.

  Last night had brought home to her how dangerous life in the capital could be if you didn’t know your way around – or, in the case of some of the poor sods who had died, even if you did. Well, she was no mother hen like Lorna but she’d just have to do her best. She’d get back to the flat, grab a bite to eat, get Penny to phone home then take her to her first night at the club. And that was about the best she could manage.

  ‘I saw Jimmy as he was packing up for the night,’ said Penny as Maureen came through the door. ‘He gave me these on the cheap. Do you want to try some?’ She waved a bag of the strangely shaped green vegetables.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Maureen dubiously. ‘I told you, I don’t usually cook and them don’t look like the sort of thing you can eat raw. What would you do with them?’

  ‘Like he said, have them with cheese sauce,’ Penny said, amused. Since she was a little kid she’d always thought that Maureen could do anything. Now it seemed she’d found something she couldn’t.

  ‘I don’t have any of that in,’ said Maureen, apologetically.

  Penny laughed out loud. ‘You don’t get it in, you make it. Butter, flour, milk, cheese. No, don’t worry, I got them at Gateway. Have you got salt and pepper?’

  ‘What do you take me for?’ Maureen asked. ‘Course I have. I’m not a total savage, you know.’ She paused. ‘How come you know things like that?’