by June Tate
She was mesmerized by his ability. And soon she was dancing with him, trying to master the use of the cane with some aplomb. But as Rob held her and led her into the steps, she felt as if she was flying and wondered when ever she had been happier.
The girls in the chorus were put through their paces also, until they gasped for breath and a drink of water. But there was a great air of excitement as they all realized that this was going to be something special.
Shirley and Bonny had a duet also. The scene was set in a toy shop and the girls, dressed as toy soldiers, came to life when the clock struck midnight. They worked well together and Rob was pleased with the result.
‘Excellent!’ he cried at the end of their final rehearsal. ‘You’ve both worked well, the audience will love it!’
They sank to the floor, tired beyond measure.
‘Dress rehearsal is on Sunday morning!’
There were several moans from the girls.
‘Sorry, but it will be in the morning so you’ll have the afternoon and evening to recuperate.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Once you are in costume, you won’t mind quite so much, and as a treat, I’ll buy the coffee and add a few cakes in the break.’
There were cheers all round. Rob had threatened them all about gaining weight and so cakes had been forbidden.
As they strolled home after, Shirley said, ‘I’m really looking forward to next week. I have a feeling that it means something special to our lord and master, and I have to say, Bonny love, when you two dance together, it really is something else to watch.’
‘In what way?’
‘You two together have a great chemistry. It’s like watching a love affair in dance.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Bonny protested, flushing as she chastised her friend. Secretly thinking that being in the arms of Rob Andrews was every young girl’s dream.
Five
The dress rehearsal went well. The girls, once in costume, seemed more animated. There was a sense that this show was something special and the adrenalin was running high. Some of the dance numbers were a background for a singer, who featured songs made popular by Jessie Mathews and Gertrude Lawrence, taken from West End shows such as Anything Goes and Ever Green. Others were specialized dances for the chorus alone, but the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers number to be featured as the finale was a knock out! The dancers were dressed in top hats and tails, as was Rob Andrews, and Bonny was in a long white evening gown covered with sequins and bugle beads, which glistened under the spotlights.
Sammy Kendrick, sitting in the stalls, became more and more excited as he watched every number, but when Rob and Bonny covered the stage in intricate steps with such precision and flare, he was bewitched by the spectacle. At the end of the dance, he rose to his feet, applauding wildly – knowing he had a hit on his hands.
‘Bravo! Bravo!’ he cried as he ran up the steps to the stage and threw his arms around Rob. ‘That was spectacular!’ He held his arms wide as if to embrace the chorus line. ‘Well done, girls, you were terrific and the use of the canes … Well, what can I say?’ He put his arm around Bonny. ‘Ginger Rogers couldn’t have done it any better. I am holding the show over for a second week.’
Rob looked concerned. ‘But what about the acts that have been booked?’
‘I’ll find them bookings elsewhere, and if I can’t they will be compensated. Don’t worry, my boy, this show will be a hit, you see. I have to go and make some phone calls.’ He rushed off into the wings.
Rob turned to the dancers. ‘Well done, all of you. Today you made me very proud, and as I’m sure you heard, the show is being held over, so we mustn’t let Mr Kendrick down. Off you go and get a good night’s sleep, we open tomorrow.’ As they walked off the stage, he caught hold of Bonny. ‘You were terrific,’ he said.
She looked at him, eyes shining with excitement. ‘So were you. I can’t wait to do it all over again.’
Back in the dressing room, the buzz of conversation was loud. Everyone was thrilled with the rehearsal and the promise of an extended week. Nan, the wardrobe mistress, helped Bonny out of her gown and hurried away with it to give it a quick press for tomorrow’s performance. Shirley sat down beside her friend and started to remove her make-up. ‘Well, I have to say, Bonny Burton, you and our Rob were the stars of the show.’
But Bonny was sitting staring into space, reliving every step of the routine and feeling Rob’s arms around her, dreaming of doing it again every night for two weeks.
At the same time, Sammy Kendrick was in his office, conducting a campaign of advertising that would catch the public’s eye and would have queues for tickets stretching around the block in the coming days.
The first performance played to an almost full house, which was unusual for a Monday, and backstage the excitement was palpable. Nan, the wardrobe mistress, was berating one of the dancers for dropping cigarette ash on her costume and burning a small hole, some of the girls were out in the hallway, practising twirling their canes for the finale, and a messenger, carrying a large bouquet, knocked on the dressing room door asking for Miss Burton.
‘That’s me!’ Bonny stood up and took the flowers from him ‘Thank you.’
‘Well, open the card,’ urged Shirley as the girls gathered round.
With trembling ringers, she did so. ‘To my very own Ginger Rogers. Rob.’
There was loud ribbing from some of the girls and murmured comments from others. ‘What did she have to do to deserve that, I wonder?’ queried Lily spitefully.
‘I practised until my feet bled!’ Bonny retorted.
‘If you put as much effort in your rehearsals as you do flirting and buttering up your sugar daddy, you’d be a better dancer!’ Shirley added, to the girl’s discomfort.
But nothing could spoil Bonny’s enthusiasm. She chose to ignore the others. She’d worked hard for her place and Rob had rewarded her.
Shirley was there when Bonny had opened the card. Peering over her friends shoulder she said, ‘He could have put a kiss at the end!’
‘For goodness’ sake, Shirley, apart from being my partner for one number, you forget he’s the boss and I’m just a member of the chorus.’
‘Look, girlie, with your talent I don’t think you’ll stay in the chorus for very long. Rob Andrews has already realized what he has in you, otherwise why would he risk his own reputation? He hasn’t danced on stage in a show for some time. He’s just been the musical director, putting a performance together – but not this time. This time he’s a performer. Think about it.’
But Bonny was content to be Ginger Rogers for two weeks; she didn’t want to think further than that. As long as she could dance and be paid, she was happy. This one number was a bonus, but she didn’t visualize it being a regular occurrence, so she’d make the most of the two weeks being in the spotlight.
The following day, the local paper gave them a good spread, filled with compliments about the choreography, the costumes and Southampton’s own Astaire and Rogers. Sammy beamed as he read it. He had invited a personal friend to the Saturday evening show, knowing that he wrote a showbiz column for one of the nationals. The journalist owed Sammy a favour and had said he would come down and review the performance for him.
Rob had heard from the talent scout, asking him to save a seat for him on the Saturday night and to keep it quiet. He wondered what would happen if Bonny was offered a part in a London show. It would be a great opportunity, but he would miss her, she was so good. He also wondered how she would cope with life in the metropolis. Here she was sheltered, living at home, whereas being in London was very different. The theatre was a cut-throat business, with so many people after too few jobs. At the moment, Bonny was unspoilt. She lived to dance and had absolutely no idea how good she was. He wouldn’t like to see her become hardened, as had so many of the people he knew.
It was the final performance of the first week. The house was packed and the show was running well and it was time for the finale. Bonny stood in the wings wit
h Rob, waiting for their music to start. First of all, the entire chorus danced on to the stage from either side, canes whirling, to great applause.
Bonny felt Rob’s arm around her waist. He gave her a squeeze and whispered in her ear, ‘Come on, Ginger. Let’s knock ’em dead.’ And they moved into the spotlights.
Each night they danced together as one, but tonight there seemed to be a special magic between them as they used the stage seemingly without effort. And when the number finished, the audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation.
Bonny was beside herself with glee. As they stepped forward to take their bow, Rob bowed and then, lifting her hand, he gazed into her eyes as he bent to kiss it. She felt herself flush with delight and surprise.
When eventually the final curtain dropped, he lifted her off her feet, swung her round and said, ‘I am so very proud of you, Miss Bonny Burton. You seemed to fly tonight.’
‘Wasn’t it wonderful?’ She beamed at him. ‘A standing ovation – imagine! And we have another week to go.’
‘We do, so for goodness’ sake, rest up. Don’t go tearing around. I’ll see you on Monday.’ He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Well done.’
As Rob walked away, Bonny put her hand to her mouth. How unexpected, but how nice.
Rob went straight to his office before changing as Bernie Cohen, the talent scout, sent a message backstage that he wanted to see him. Whilst he waited he poured himself a scotch and water, sat in the chair behind his desk, sipped the drink and lit a cigarette. After a performance, even when he wasn’t dancing himself, it took him a while to unwind, and he was pleased to have this short time to himself.
Ten minutes later there was a knock on his door and Cohen walked in, the aroma from his cigar wafting before him. ‘Congratulations, Rob. Great show. It was good to see you dancing once again. I always thought you should have continued to perform.’
‘Well, you know how much I wanted to produce my own show, but I must confess it felt great to be up there in front of an audience again.’
Sitting down, Bernie Cohen waited whilst Rob poured him a drink. ‘How would you feel about doing it permanently?’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘You and young Bonny sizzle when you dance together. It would be a great partnership. Have you considered that?’
Rob was thoughtful as he looked at the man. ‘To be honest I hadn’t. Yes, I did consider featuring more specialist numbers in future shows, but that was as far as it went.’
‘Look, Rob, I know a West End producer who is looking for something new for a musical he’s putting together and I’m sure he would be interested in you and that delightful girl.’ At Rob’s hesitation he said, ‘Think about it. I’ll bring him down one evening next week and see what his reaction is.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He shook hands and said, ‘You are a great musical director but you are a great dancer too. Perhaps you could combine the two.’
Rob poured himself another drink. Bernie Cohen had given him something to think about. Until he put together this show, he’d never intended to perform again, but Bonny had inspired him, and the idea of an Astaire–Rogers number wouldn’t go away. He’d realized that here was someone who could dance well enough to take the woman’s part, and he desperately wanted to dance with her. He hadn’t felt like that since he given up performing. He also had to admit it had felt really good. They did make a good duo. It was certain that Bonny would be offered a job with a London show in the near future, now that Cohen had seen her. Her dancing was certainly good enough, but how would she cope? It would be like throwing a tender lamb to the wolves of the theatre world. But – if he were to partner her, at least he could take care of her, see that she was handled properly by an agent … and he confessed to himself that the standing ovation they had received tonight had whetted his appetite to be on stage once more.
Then again, how would her parents feel if she was to leave home? From what he could deduce, her parents, although encouraging her, still hadn’t quite realized her potential and probably thought she would stay close to home, content to be in the chorus in the local theatre. That could be a problem if Bonny wanted to move on.
Now he felt tired. Removing his bow tie, he decided to get changed, go home, have something to eat and see if anything came of Bernie’s ideas. After all, there was another week to go.
Bernie Cohen wasted no time when he returned to London. He arranged a meeting with Peter Collins, the West End producer.
‘I think I have found just what you’re looking for to feature in the show you want to produce,’ he told the man. ‘Let’s meet tomorrow for lunch. How about the Savoy Grill at one?’ He listened for a moment and then put the receiver back in its cradle. So far so good. If everything worked out as he hoped, his reputation as a scout would be even more enhanced, and that was good for business.
All the girls in the chorus were delighted with their success, with one exception. Lily Stevens was eaten up with jealousy. She had watched Bonny rehearse with Rob daily and had learned the routine thoroughly, practising it whenever she had the chance, desperately wanting to play the Ginger Rogers role to show Rob Andrews that she was good enough, but she would never get the chance … unless for some reason Bonny was unable to do so. There was no understudy for her part, as Rob hadn’t envisaged dancing with anyone else. What could she do? There was another week, and then her opportunity would be lost forever.
It was now Wednesday and Lily was desperate. Then fate gave her a helping hand. As the chorus trooped off the stage at the close of the first half, Bonny was behind her. Lily paused to let the girl go by, just as they had to go down three steps to the dressing room. As Bonny walked past, Lily put out a foot and tripped her, sending her hurtling down the steps, landing with a cry of pain at the bottom, clutching her ankle.
Rushing to her side, Lily asked, ‘Are you all right?’
The others gathered round, Shirley helping her friend to stand. ‘I’ve hurt my ankle,’ Bonny told her as she limped painfully to the dressing room.
‘Nan, fetch Mr Andrews,’ said Shirley, ‘and tell him it’s urgent.’
Lily stood back watching, with a sly smile.
Rob came rushing in. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘I fell down the steps and twisted my ankle,’ Bonny told him.
‘Fetch me some ice in a cloth,’ Rob told Nan, ‘and please be quick.’ He pressed the ankle and Bonny winced.
Shaking his head, Rob said, ‘I can’t see you dancing any more tonight.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Bonny snapped, ‘I must do the finale!’
Nan came in with the ice pack and held it round her ankle.
‘If we bind it up and I take a couple of painkillers, I’ll be fine,’ Bonny insisted.
Lily frowned. ‘But what about the rest of the week? If you dance tonight you’ll only make it worse.’
‘She has a point,’ Rob admitted.
Bonny was determined. ‘I’ll dance tonight, go to the hospital tomorrow, get them to bind it up, rest it all day, and if I don’t dance in the other numbers, I should be all right for the finale.’ She saw the worried look on Rob’s face. ‘I have to. After all the publicity, the audience will expect it. We can’t let them down, Rob … Please!’
Nan handed him a bandage and looked at him quizzically.
‘Right, if you insist, but if by the end of the finale I don’t think you can continue for the rest of the week, there will be no argument about it.’
Lily stepped forward. ‘I could take her place if that’s the case.’
Rob looked at her in surprise. ‘You?’
‘Yes, I’ve been practising, I know every step of the routine, I could stand in for Bonny. After all, as she said, you can’t let the public down.’
There was a stunned silence in the dressing room.
Rob’s eyes narrowed. ‘My, Lily, such concern from you is overwhelming.’
She sidled up to him. ‘You wouldn’t be di
sappointed, I can promise you.’
‘Thank you for your consideration, but that won’t be necessary. Should Bonny be unable to dance, I’ll do it alone.’
‘But how can you?’
‘I once saw Astaire do a number where he pretended to have a partner, I’ll do the same.’
‘But …’ Lily began.
‘There are no buts,’ snapped Rob and he knelt down and bound Bonny’s ankle. ‘The chorus will dance without you in the other numbers, and in the finale I’ll take as much weight off you where we dance together, but I can’t help you other than that.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Bonny, taking two painkillers from Nan and swallowing them down with a glass of water.
‘I’ll help you change,’ Nan said. ‘Now, all of you – and you, Mr Andrews – give the girl some room.’
‘I’ll see you in the wings,’ said Rob, and with one last worried glance walked out.
Lily slunk away to get changed, but Shirley, who had been watching her, sidled over. ‘It didn’t quite work out as you planned, did it?’
‘What do you mean?’ Lily looked startled.
‘I seem to remember that you came off the stage next to Bonny. What did you do, give her a shove down the steps?’
‘I did not! Ask Bonny. She tripped.’
‘Over what, I wonder?’ She glared at the girl. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past you, you little bitch, but if I find you had anything to do with this incident, I’ll sort you out and that’s a promise.’ And she walked away to get changed.
Six
Sammy Kendrick bought a copy of the Daily Telegraph and read the entertainment column. His friend had kept his promise and had written a glowing report about the show at the Palace, asking why these two talented dancers, Bonny Burton and the well-known musical director Rob Andrews, were not appearing in the West End. Sammy grinned broadly. Great! This was exactly what he’d hoped for.
