The Bluebird Girls: The Forces' Sweethearts 1

by Rosie Archer

  ‘So you ought to be, Della, though why you didn’t go up to Fareham with all the others . . .’

  ‘How could I? Without me around, she can be herself.’ Della shook off the fox fur and laid it on the seat beside her.

  Bert surveyed his empire. Although it was early in the evening he was surprised Ivy wasn’t back yet from singing in the Fareham Festival. He was longing to hear from her all that had happened.

  As usual there were only a few customers in so he felt no qualms at closing early on Wednesday to watch the pantomime. He’d have liked to see Ivy, Bea and Rainey sing this afternoon. He’d had no idea that Della intended to go but was sincerely glad she had shown her daughter how much she cared.

  ‘That girl loves the bones of you!’ He set down the cup of strong tea in front of her on the Formica counter. He thought of how Ivy had railed against the young thug who had accosted her because of her mother’s profession. Della really had no idea how protective Ivy was of her. ‘A second place, eh?’ He felt as pleased as if he’d had a part in Ivy’s success.

  He served an elderly woman, who took ages to sort out her money. As he shut the till, he said, ‘A letter came for Ivy today.’ He reached behind him and took a long brown envelope from the cluttered shelf.

  Della grabbed it. ‘It’ll be the results of her typing and shorthand tests.’ She turned it over almost as though she expected to read the letter through the envelope. Then she transferred it to her handbag. ‘I’ll give it to her tonight and let’s hope it’s not bad news. Don’t want to spoil her happiness today.’

  ‘How can it be anything but good news, all the work she’s done?’ Sometimes, Bert thought, Della could be so negative. He smiled to himself. He’d rather have a negative Della than no Della at all. He realized she was talking to him.

  ‘Shut your eyes and only open them when I say.’

  He obeyed her instantly. He heard her climb down from the stool and walk to the stairs. He heard the rustle of paper.

  ‘What you playing at? Can I open them now?’ He waited for her to answer.

  ‘There you are. Don’t say I don’t ever get you nothing.’

  Bert opened his eyes. On the counter a long object was wrapped in newspaper. Della was still talking.

  ‘I got to Fareham early but when I saw the programme I went for a walk. I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb in the audience, did I?’ He didn’t answer because he was busy unwrapping the paper. ‘There was a market with farmers. Animals in pens and cages, that sort of thing. In a big black shed there was stuff piled on the ground, house clearance, I reckon.’ Now Bert had removed the last of the paper. ‘I saw that and knew I had to buy it. It’s a little thank-you for everything you do for us.’

  Bert couldn’t speak. He pressed his lips together in an effort to stop his emotions spilling over.

  The highly lacquered black cane was in the shape of a furled umbrella. He touched the glossy surface, which was covered with diamanté. Even though he could feel and see encrusted grime he knew it was a very special thing.

  ‘There’s some glass stones missing but I didn’t think you’d worry about that, and I know it’s a bit scratched . . .’

  ‘Della, it’s beautiful.’ He picked it up. It was as light as thistledown. His heart was overflowing that she should think of him on such an important day as this.

  ‘It’s not a bloke’s cane, is it?’

  He put the treasure on the counter again. ‘It’s a stage prop,’ he answered, ‘most likely used by some lady in show business . . .’ He walked round to where she was again sitting on the stool and took her in his arms. The warm smell of flesh and her perfume made him feel like a young man again.

  ‘Don’t be daft. I knew you hadn’t got one like it.’ She struggled free. He saw he’d knocked her silly little hat with the veil and feather so it didn’t sit straight on her dark hair. She stared at him. ‘After watching her today with the other two, I got a feeling she won’t need the back-up of a secretarial career.’

  ‘Who got first place, then?’ He thought he ought to ask as he began rewrapping his present. He’d put it beneath the counter until he closed up.

  ‘Some strange song-and-dance creature. She was good, I’ll give her her due, but she didn’t have the freshness of our girls.’

  ‘Maybe the judging was fixed. Stranger things have happened, Della.’

  ‘I don’t believe Alice Wilkes would have anything to do with something that wasn’t quite right. I also think the girls will go on to greater things.’

  ‘Della, it’s a bit of fun that’s all, and getting the girls’ names in the Evening News is a bonus. D’you want another cup of tea?’

  She shook her head. ‘You wasn’t there, Bert. You didn’t feel the magic in that room, like I did . . .’ Della tailed off. She became thoughtful, then said. ‘If my Ivy wants to go further with this singing lark, I’ll be behind her all the way. But I can’t be a millstone around her neck.’

  Bert could see she was getting upset. He’d asked her many times to let him take care of her and her daughter, but the silly independent woman wouldn’t have it.

  ‘Bert,’ she said, ‘just think how awful it would be for Ivy if she became a big star and then some newspaper wrote all about her and told the world about the way I earns my living. I just couldn’t bear it if that happened. She’d lose all the respect, all the glory . . .’

  ‘Della, you’re running ahead of yourself. They won second place in a local music festival, nothing more, nothing less.’ Bert understood Della perfectly well. They both knew it could be a very cruel world for young girls who wanted to go on the stage.

  *

  ‘I felt like I owned the stage,’ said Bea. She bent her head forward and went on brushing her blonde hair, then looked up at Ivy. ‘How did you feel?’

  All three girls were in Bea’s bedroom going over the day’s activities.

  ‘Sick before we went on. I was convinced I was going to forget all the words and make you two look daft.’

  ‘But how did singing to all those people make you feel?’ Bea chucked the hairbrush onto the bed and shook her hair away from her face.

  ‘Like I wanted to throw out my arms and say, “Here I am. This is what I can do,”’ Ivy answered, then glanced at Rainey. ‘I could sense you beside me willing me to add to the magic, and I wanted to make it perfect for us.’

  ‘Today has been the most wonderful day of my life.’ Bea picked up a tumbler of home-made ginger beer and swallowed a mouthful. As she replaced it on the chair she said, ‘After everyone had clapped, I felt like I was walking on air.’

  ‘It was a great feeling,’ admitted Rainey. ‘Much better than singing with the rest of the choir, not that they aren’t good, but I felt the three of us were really part of one whole thing, like segments in an orange.’

  ‘I’m surprised you can remember what a blinking orange looks like,’ said Ivy. ‘Seriously, though, I’ve decided it’s what I want to do. Sing!’ She was animated.

  ‘Just as well because on Wednesday we do Snow White and get to sing as a trio again,’ said Bea.

  ‘But I want more than singing in hospitals and halls for charity. I want to sing and make money from it. I want singing to be my career, my life,’ said Ivy.

  ‘I want that, too,’ said Rainey. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted. Do you think Mrs Wilkes knows how we can take this further?’

  ‘She’s got a really good reputation as a music teacher but I think school work, and all that goes with it, is as far as she can take us. At one point in her life she probably dreamed of a career for herself, playing not teaching. How come she didn’t get it? She must know about the pitfalls.’ Ivy was looking at Bea.

  ‘We can ask if she thinks we’re good enough.’ Bea was thoughtful. She knew there was something that had to be addressed. The other two wanted to carry on singing as a trio. Were they wondering if she would let them down?

  ‘Something happened to me this afternoon. I realized I was
hardly out of my childhood but already I’ve been wasting my life. When we started to sing I knew what a selfish fool I’d been.’ Bea saw her two friends were watching her intently. ‘I’ve already lost what I had with my brother. It’ll be a long time before Eddie trusts me again.’

  She paused, then began again. ‘My little problem grew into a bigger one, and it had been going on for a good while. I thought I’d managed to keep it secret until . . . until . . .’ She faltered. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I want people to be proud of me, not look down their noses, but proud like they were this afternoon in Fareham. I know it might be only a dream but I want to be like you two and try to do something with my life.’

  Bea was crying.

  ‘You idiot,’ said Ivy, going towards her. ‘We’re a trio, and that means three of us, all for one and one for all.’ Bea felt Ivy’s arms go around her and then Rainey enveloped them both.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Rainey said, pulling away. ‘I found out today when a letter came in the early-morning post that I’ve passed my exams. Mum wants me to get a job in an office.’ She looked at Ivy. ‘You should find a letter waiting for you when you get home.’ She suddenly looked distressed. ‘I don’t want to hurt my mum but all my life I’ve sung. I want to go on singing. Somehow we have to find a way. Let’s talk to Mrs Wilkes before we do the panto next Wednesday.’

  ‘Not before the panto. She’ll be worried and het-up. Afterwards would be better,’ said Ivy.

  ‘Just a moment,’ said Bea. ‘Suppose all three of us have exaggerated our own importance and think we’re better than we really are?’

  For a moment there was silence. Then Ivy said, ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Graham turned the key in the door but allowed Bess to nose her way into the small house first. She wouldn’t rush: she’d wait until she was sure he had caught up with her, then stand patiently while he took off his coat and hung it on the newel post.

  In the small scullery he made tea and took the prepared tray back into the living room where he set it down near the door leading out to the conservatory. It was his favourite seat. Even in winter he believed he could feel the promise of sun to come. Bess, now he’d unfastened her harness, gulped at the fresh water in her dish in the scullery, then settled beside his chair.

  In the small house Graham felt secure. Every inch was familiar to him.

  It had been a shock, Alice reappearing from his past, and her presence in his life would take some getting used to. He smiled, thinking of the dogs together.

  ‘You liked that bossy little thing,’ he said, and his hand felt for the softness of Bess’s coat.

  He mulled over everything in his mind while drinking his tea. Then he cleared away his tray and took from the pantry Bess’s dinner – he had prepared it before leaving the house. That seemed an age ago now.

  For a minute he listened to Bess eat, then went back into the living room and removed his violin from its case on the sideboard. It felt familiar and beloved. He had long ago stopped despising himself for his imperfect playing. His fingers felt for the bow.

  The tune formed itself into the piece he had composed many years ago, which he had entitled ‘Alice’.

  *

  ‘There’s a letter for you upstairs in our room.’ Della gave Ivy a hug as soon as she stepped into the café. ‘You were wonderful today, all of you.’

  ‘Yes, well done.’ Bert was busy with a frying pan.

  Della took a deep breath of the familiar smells of cooking.

  ‘Mum, I was so glad to see you there.’

  Della saw Bert glance at her and smile. She felt embarrassed. ‘Well, don’t keep me waiting. Go and look at your letter.’

  ‘I think I know what it is. Rainey’s passed! Her letter came this morning.’

  Della could see Ivy was excited for her friend. She turned to Bert. ‘I should have left it down here.’

  ‘No,’ Bert said. ‘It’s best she reads it in private.’ He was turning fried bread.

  Della could hear Ivy’s footsteps on the bare boards of the stairs. She pulled herself onto a stool in front of the counter. ‘I hope to God she’s passed. If so, she can leave school now and find a good job away from Gosport.’

  Bert looked at her. ‘You can’t mean that. There’s plenty of decent places here for her to work.’

  ‘The further she goes from the south coast, the less my reputation will follow her. In this place she’ll be reminded of her roots, of me, and she’ll be put down at every turn.’

  ‘You’re being stupid.’ He transferred the golden fried bread to the plate and set it on the hob to keep warm. ‘There is something you can do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give up the life. You’ve done what you set out to do, make sure she got a good education . . .’

  ‘How would I live?’

  ‘With me.’

  ‘What? Even now you’d ask me to stay?’

  ‘I already have, haven’t I? Tell that bastard Jim you won’t be working for him any more.’

  Della couldn’t answer for the noise Ivy was making.

  ‘Mum! Mum!’ She clattered down the stairs, the letter in her hand. ‘I’ve passed!’

  ‘Good girl! I knew you would.’

  Bert looked pleased.

  Della hadn’t expected Ivy to look glum, but suddenly she did. ‘Mum, there’s something I have to tell you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I did this course for you and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, keeping me on at school when I could have been working but . . . When we got back from Fareham, the three of us got talking and we –’ her voice wobbled ‘– we want to sing.’

  *

  ‘Just how am I supposed to keep you while you wait for this magical career to happen?’ Jo stared across the kitchen table at her daughter. She wasn’t angry but she was upset. ‘Being in the choir is a bit of fun. You can’t let what happened today go to your head!’

  She rose, pushing the kitchen chair back across the lino. ‘I know you was singing before you could walk, Rainey, but if you think the money from your Saturday job is all you’re going to contribute, you’ve got another think coming!’

  She marched into the scullery and filled the kettle, then lit the gas beneath it. She needed tea after her daughter’s bombshell. Rainey wasn’t going to sit on her bottom and wait for a fairy godmother to come along. Certainly not when she had passed her exams, allowing her a decent office job! Jo was about to poke her head around the scullery door and yell that if Rainey thought they could use the money she’d got from the sale of the car she was seriously wrong! Immediately that thought entered her head she was ashamed. Rainey didn’t have a nasty bone in her body. She knew that money was put away in case something serious happened.

  Jo leaned her head against the scullery’s cold wall. She could hear no sounds coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t often she yelled at Rainey, and she knew she’d upset her. She sighed and watched the blue and orange flames lick at the base of the kettle.

  Of course Rainey wanted to sing. It was what she’d always wanted. That girl had been a tower of strength, and it was because of her that Jo had a job she loved, a comfortable home and had met Syd. Syd, who was gaining Jo’s trust so much that she’d bought him a ticket to see the pantomime. It was Rainey who had given her the courage to escape from Alfie. She deserved something in return for saving her mother’s sanity. Jo took a deep breath of the stale food and gassy smell of the scullery.

  She peeped around the open door. Rainey sat with her knees up in the armchair, her head in her arms. Jo thought her heart might break to see her child like that. She walked over and put her hand on Rainey’s shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoiled what should be one of the happiest days of your life.’ Rainey lifted her head, her vibrant hair a perfect frame for her tear-stained face.

  Jo said softly, ‘I’m an absolute cow!’ She took another deep breath. ‘But
I promise that if you take a job, any job – it doesn’t have to be in an office – I will do everything in my power to help you get what you want. We’ve got some money we can use to show you three girls off to the best advantage with matching clothes and such—’ She got no further for Rainey had thrown her arms around her neck and was practically smothering her with kisses.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘I’m sorry, all the seats are taken.’

  Blackie looked at the elderly woman sitting at the little table inside the doorway of the David Bogue Hall. She wore a shawl over her coat and a pair of fingerless gloves that enabled her to count the coins from a biscuit tin into piles.

  ‘How about I pay double the price to see Snow White and we don’t have a seat but stand at the back?’ Herbert had pulled from his wallet a ten-shilling note and placed it in front of her.

  Her beady eyes stared back. ‘Got someone in the choir, have you?’

  Blackie thought quickly. ‘We didn’t know you could get tickets in advance, and my sister will be so disappointed. We’ve come a long way.’ He hoped she wouldn’t ask the name of the fictitious sister.

  The woman sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her knitted glove. Then she inclined her head towards the end of the passage where a cacophony of noise was coming from behind a blackout curtain.

  ‘Mind you pull them blackout curtains across. We don’t want them Jerries seeing what we’re up to.’

  In the smoke-filled auditorium the air reeked with the smell of warm bodies. Red velvet curtains were pulled across the stage.

  ‘There’s no orchestra,’ said Herbert, ‘only a piano.’

  ‘What do you expect? It’s a local production. This isn’t the Albert Hall.’ Blackie propped his arms on the rail at the back of the rows of chairs. In his hand was the photograph.

  ‘And I fear you’ve brought me on a wild-goose chase,’ said Herbert.

  ‘Our trip won’t be entirely wasted,’ said Blackie. ‘Don’t forget, there’s a woman and her daughter in the cast, who might be happy to know their husband and father carried this photo until the day he died.’