Born to Dance

by June Tate

  He came from a theatrical family. His father was a musician. He had played the trumpet with various bands and was currently with Jack Hylton. His mother had been a dancer and it was from her that Rob had inherited his love of tap. She had retired after she became pregnant, but had encouraged him from the start of his career. He began his teenage years in a school for dance and drama, then became a chorus boy, and later their lead. Eventually, he became a musical director.

  Rob was fanatical about his work. He practised for hours until he was satisfied with a routine, and his innovation put him near the top of his profession. His goal was a company and show of his own in London’s West End. But, for this, he would need a financial backer, or angel, as they were known in theatrical circles.

  His total dedication meant that he had little time for relationships of a personal nature. He’d had girlfriends earlier in his life, mostly from amongst his fellow dancers, but there had never been anyone special. During his theatrical life, he’d moved from town to town, which didn’t leave time to build a lasting relationship. He didn’t feel deprived; he was too busy to need such ties. Now he’d reached the position of musical director, the production was his only love.

  The following week was hard work for the dancers, with having to learn three routines to Rob’s exacting standards, and then there were the costume fittings, which thrilled Bonny. Now she felt a real professional.

  ‘At least our Mr Andrews doesn’t skimp on quality,’ Shirley remarked during a fitting.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bonny asked.

  ‘I’ve been in some shows where money was short, so old costumes just hanging by a thread were handed out to us. Many a time my modesty has only been saved by the strength of a few safety pins I’d used, but these costumes are first rate.’

  Bonny twisted round in her silver skimpy sequinned pants and boned bodice. Her red top hat glittered in the lights. She stopped in front of a mirror. Was this really her? She looked so glamorous, so sophisticated. She couldn’t wait for her parents to see her perform. They had booked tickets for the Saturday evening show. Her father, Frank, a quiet and industrious man, hadn’t said a great deal, but Bonny knew he was pleased for her, and she hoped, after seeing her perform, he would be proud too.

  Dress rehearsal had been a nightmare! Rob Andrews had all but torn his hair from its roots in frustration.

  ‘What the hell’s wrong with some of you?’ he’d said. ‘It’s as if you had just walked in off the streets this morning! If you want to be professionals, you can’t afford to let nerves spoil your performance. We will go through this until it’s perfect or I’ll fire those who can’t cut the mustard and make do with those who can.’

  He had been relentless. Some had been reduced to tears, but he hadn’t stopped. Eventually, he’d been satisfied – and had sent them home.

  Bonny and Shirley collapsed in comfortable chairs in the nearest cafe. ‘I think I feel sick!’ Bonny said, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘I have never worked so hard in all my life.’

  ‘It was because of Amy and Hazel. They suddenly realized that this was it. The final rehearsal. It happens. They’ll be all right tomorrow and then they’ll be so bloody pleased with themselves, they will hardly be able to wait to do it again.’

  ‘Don’t you suffer with nerves, Shirley?’

  ‘Not any more. I do get an adrenalin rush as I wait in the wings to go on. The excitement of it helps me, I find. You will too.’

  Bonny’s eyes brightened. ‘Oh, Shirley, I can hardly contain myself until tomorrow night.’

  ‘Just be prepared for the bustle and air of mayhem backstage when the other acts arrive,’ her friend advised. ‘We have three changes to do, so try not to get flustered. Just keep focussed on what you have to do. In time it will be automatic.’

  ‘How can life in the theatre be automatic? It’s far too exciting!’

  Laughing, Shirley said, ‘A couple of years down the line, I’ll ask you if you feel the same.’

  ‘You’re just an old cynic,’ Bonny teased.

  ‘No, love, just an old hand.’

  It was opening night! Backstage was a scene of great activity, unlike the days when the girls had the place to themselves to learn their routines. Now, the building was alive. Other artists arrived and made their way to their dressing rooms. The footlights lit up, stage lights and spotlights were set, the musicians in the orchestra pit tuned their instruments, the call boy checked the list of performers pinned up on the notice board against his own, noting what time each artist was to make an entrance.

  In the long dressing room, inhabited by the chorus line, the noise was like a flock of caged birds, all twittering together. Nervous tension filled the air as they applied their stage make-up and changed into their first costumes, with the aid of the wardrobe mistress.

  ‘Fifteen minutes to curtain up. Keep the noise down now please, ladies!’ ordered the call boy. ‘And when you hear the overture, take your places, quietly, in the wings.’

  Bonny could feel her heart racing and glanced at her friend Shirley, seated next to her. Shirley looked back at her and winked. Then the first notes of the overture began and, ‘Beginners please!’ was called. The girls, suddenly silent, made their way to either side of the wings to wait for their music, as they were to open the show with their first number.

  The curtains parted as the music for the chorus began, and the girls tapped their way on to the stage from either side, meeting in the centre of the stage amidst applause from the audience in appreciation for their costumes and precision dancing.

  Bonny was in her element! She looked to the front with a smile that lit up her face and tapped out the routine. As the last note died, the chorus, as one, bowed to the audience and danced off. As they left the stage, the sound of applause rang in their ears.

  Scurrying back to the dressing room, all the girls were filled with elation. No one had made a mistake. Now, with a feeling of success, they changed into the next costume and waited, listening to the show over the loudspeaker in the dressing room. They heard the laughter as the comedian told his jokes, the change of music as the juggler went on, followed by a company of tumblers.

  ‘Five minutes, ladies,’ the call boy said from the doorway. ‘Start heading for the stage, please. And make sure you stand aside to give the previous act room to get by.’

  Standing at the back of the stalls, Rob Andrews watched his girls perform with a critical eye. Although no one took a wrong step, he saw the weakness in one or two of the girls and mentally made a note to work on them, but Bonny stood out from the rest. She had a certain air about her. She was loving every step and it showed in her performance. Next week he’d give her a solo spot. He had some speciality numbers in mind which she could do standing on her head.

  The final dance number closed the show. Then, as the cast of solo performers took to the stage one by one in front of the dancers, the applause was heartening.

  Sammy Kendrick stood beside Rob and puffed contentedly on his cigar. ‘Good show, Rob, wasn’t it? You dancers did well after all your yelling and screaming!’

  Rob grinned at him. ‘My direction, I think you’re alluding to.’

  ‘Come into the office and we’ll have a drink. The bookings for the week are healthy, so I feel the need of a little celebration.’

  ‘I’ll be there after I’ve had a word with my girls,’ he replied.

  Rob knocked on the dressing-room door and walked in. There were a few squeals from some of the girls who were half undressed.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ he snapped, ‘I’ve seen it all before. Now, I just want to say well done. There is a little work still to do, so I’ll see you at rehearsal at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Get a good night’s sleep; there are still five evening shows and a matinee to go.’

  As he left the room, Shirley nudged Bonny. ‘Praise from the master. We must have done all right!’

  ‘Oh, Shirley, I loved every minute and can’t wait for tomor
row to come.’

  ‘Make sure you rub some cream into your feet, they’re not used to such hard work. By the end of the week, they’ll hurt like hell if you don’t look after them.’

  But nothing could mar the euphoria that Bonny was feeling.

  Later, as she sat on the edge of her bed after a bath and rubbed the cream into her feet, as instructed, she wondered just how far her career could take her. Would she ever be good enough for a West End show? Would she perhaps one day see her name in lights? These were heady dreams. She turned back the covers and climbed into bed, going over the music and the steps of her numbers – and was soon asleep.

  Three

  The week seemed to fly by, and the work was harder. Apart from their nightly show, the girls were rehearsing every day for the new numbers to be used in the following week. Bonny had been given a solo spot, which delighted her. ‘I’m terrified I’ll get muddled and start dancing the new routine by mistake,’ she admitted to her friend.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Shirley assured her. ‘When you hear the music, the dance steps fall into place automatically. Think about it, the new routine just wouldn’t fit, would it?’

  ‘No, you’re right. It’s just so much to remember.’

  ‘Get used to it, love, this will be your life from now on. Your solo spot looks good,’ she added.

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t think Lily agrees with you.’

  ‘Ha! That silly bitch isn’t good enough for a solo spot, anyway. She’s strictly chorus and will always be so.’

  ‘She doesn’t think so. I heard her asking Rob when she would be picked to do one.’

  ‘Really?’ Shirley was bemused. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath! She hurried off muttering obscenities that would make a sailor blush.’

  Shirley thought this highly amusing. ‘Just watch your step with her, Bonny,’ she warned. ‘That girl has a wide jealous streak in her.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve seen it too many times with her type. They have false hopes, and when someone other than them is picked out for a special number, they will do their damnedest to spoil it somehow or another. Just watch your back, that’s all.’

  It was the Saturday evening performance and Bonny’s parents were in the theatre. When the girls made their second entrance, they watched their daughter’s every step, filled with pride. Millie squeezed her husband’s hand and whispered, ‘She’s really good, isn’t she?’

  Nodding, Frank said, ‘Splendid.’ A man of few words, who kept his feelings hidden, Frank Burton saw the talent in his daughter. She was better than any of the other girls, except for the blonde, and he wondered if her talent would be recognized. Could she go on to greater things or would she remain in the chorus? And if she rose to greater heights, where would this lead? Although he wanted Bonny to be successful after all her hard work, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat trepidatious about the future.

  The following week, Belle Carlisle arrived early to rehearse with the orchestra. There was a buzz of excitement among the entertainers and chorus girls, as Belle was a well-known singer, appearing mainly in the West End, but was now touring and Southampton was her first stop.

  She brought with her her own dresser and a trunk packed with exquisite gowns. The aroma of expensive perfume wafted behind her as she swept along the corridor to Sammy Kendrick’s office. Her tall elegant figure was clothed in the latest stylish suit in dark grey, and on her head was a black hat with a short veil. She wore matching bag and gloves – and, over her shoulders, a fox fur.

  ‘Sammy, darling,’ she cried as she threw open the door and stood poised, waiting for his greeting and admiration.

  The producer beamed from ear to ear as he rose to welcome her. He took her into his arms. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve longed to see you again. You look wonderful.’ And he kissed her.

  ‘Down boy,’ she teased. ‘I’m here for a whole week.’

  ‘That’s not nearly long enough,’ he said as he led her to a chair and opened a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket standing on the desk. Handing her a glass, he said, ‘To a great reunion.’

  She gave a seductive chuckle, sipped her drink and said softly, ‘No one moves me quite like you do, darling.’

  ‘I’ve booked you in your usual room at the Dolphin Hotel,’ he said. ‘I suggest after your rehearsal you have a rest, and I’ll come and take you out to dinner.’

  ‘That will be wonderful,’ she said. ‘Now tell me, who’s on the bill with me this week?’

  Whilst this discussion was taking place, Rob was working with Bonny, running through her solo routine. They worked well together and she was able to follow his every move.

  ‘Well done, Bonny. In a couple of week’s time, we are having a musical week with songs from the shows and I have some great numbers worked out for the chorus. I’ll use you again, and I have a duet ready for you and Shirley to do together. But I warn you, it means extra work.’

  ‘I don’t mind, Mr Andrews,’ she told him breathlessly.

  There was something about her expression, her eagerness, the brightness of her eyes as she talked about her work, that touched him. Here was someone who felt as strongly as he did about the performance, which was heartening. ‘You keep this up, young lady, and I can see you reaching the top of your profession.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  He laughed. ‘Honestly! You are really talented, Bonny, and I intend to see that you get there.’

  The rest of the chorus joined them to go through their routine until Belle Carlisle walked on to the stage.

  ‘Take a break, girls,’ Rob called. ‘Sit in the stalls until the stage is free.’

  They all scurried to their seats, knowing they were able to watch a star at work.

  Belle Carlisle was known for her voice, her body and the love songs that she chose – many which came from the States, sent over to her when first they came out in Tin Pan Alley, and some before they even hit the British market, which made her repertoire modern and sophisticated. As she sang the words in her deep husky voice, and with great feeling, her sex appeal was always apparent to every man who watched. Each one wishing that they could be the one for whom the song was meant.

  The girls could overhear her conversation with the conductor, and from it, it was obvious the singer knew what she was talking about and was intent on getting things done her way.

  ‘I bet she’s a first-class bitch!’ whispered Shirley to her friend.

  The opening bars of Cole Porter’s ‘Night and Day’ began, and Belle stood centre stage, clutching the mike like a lover. As the star started to sing, Bonny was mesmerized. The woman had such stage presence. Not a sound was heard from those who watched, but towards the end, Belle glared at the trumpet player who came in a half a beat late. At the end of the number she berated the man and the conductor, and they started again until she was satisfied.

  Shirley nudged Bonny. ‘Told you she was a bitch.’

  At the end of the rehearsal, Belle marched off the stage with barely a nod to the conductor. There were angry mutterings among the musicians.

  As the girls assembled, Lily cannoned into Bonny. ‘Look where you’re going, can’t you!’

  ‘I was thinking the same about you,’ Bonny retorted.

  The other girl looked disdainfully at her. ‘Teacher’s pet!’ She spat out the words with great venom and took her place.

  At the end of the session, the girls made their way back to their dressing rooms, passing Belle Carlisle on the way, who was complaining loudly to Sammy about the inadequacies of the band. He was doing his best to placate her as they left through the stage door.

  With the afternoon free before the evening performance, Shirley and Bonny took their sandwiches and a flask of tea along to the park and sat near the bird aviary, watching the variety of birds flitting about, feeding and twittering.

  ‘Reminds me of our dressing room!’ Shirley remarked drily.

  Wi
th a chuckle, Bonny agreed. Then, glancing at the flower beds bedecked with summer flowers, added, ‘A few of these would brighten it up a bit.’

  ‘All you need to do is get friendly with one of the men who wait at the stage door at night and maybe they would send you flowers!’

  At the end of each show, the stage door was besieged with flirtatious young men who each had a favourite in the chorus and begged them to let them take their chosen girl to dinner. Neither Shirley nor Bonny had accepted, but several of the girls had.

  ‘I saw Lily going off with a much older man last night,’ Bonny said. ‘I was surprised.’

  ‘I wasn’t. She’s a schemer, that one. She probably thought he had more money to spend than the younger men.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Bonny remonstrated.

  ‘No, love, I know her type. She’ll get what she wants, any way she can.’

  ‘Not with Rob Andrews.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Shirley knowingly, ‘she’ll keep trying; I’ll put money on it.’

  Little did Shirley know just how close to the truth her comment was.

  After rehearsals ended, Rob Andrews chatted with the conductor of the band, then made his way to his small office. He was tired after working and planned to do some paperwork before leaving the theatre to have a light lunch and a rest before tonight’s performance. He was therefore very surprised to see Lily sitting in his office waiting for him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, lowering himself into his chair behind the desk.

  ‘I thought you might need a little relaxation after your morning workout,’ she said with a slow smile.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘That’s precisely what I intend to do when I’ve finished here, so get to the point, Lily.’

  She rose slowly from her seat and perched on the edge of the desk, facing him. ‘I just thought I might help in that direction.’ The invitation was blatant.

  Letting out a deep sigh he said, ‘Please don’t try and play games with me. I’ve been around far too long. Believe me, you are not the first member of the chorus to make me an offer in the hope that it will advance their career. Now go before I get really annoyed!’ He started to leaf through his papers, ignoring her.