Born to Dance

by June Tate

  Peter Collins, the West End producer, also read the report, which only added to his curiosity after dining with Bernie Cohen, who had praised these two dancers highly. Collins held the columnist in high esteem, knowing that his reputation as a theatre critic was well respected. If he didn’t like a performance he could be vitriolic, so praise from him was well earned. And so it was with great interest that he waited to accompany Cohen to Southampton for the Thursday evening performance.

  Bonny sat alone in the dressing room whilst the other dancers were on stage. Her ankle throbbed but the painkillers were beginning to kick in, and by the time the finale came round she hoped the throbbing would lessen. Nan had strapped her foot up well and now she was sitting with it up on a chair. Even so, she could see the foot was swollen.

  By now she was convinced that Lily had tripped her. After all, there was nothing for her to trip over. The staff backstage were always so careful about keeping the area free and clear to avoid such accidents. Conniving little bitch! She gave a slow smile. But her plan had failed, and Bonny was determined that even if she was in agony, she would dance.

  The girls filed back into the dressing room after their number and changed hurriedly for the finale. All the girls – except Lily – asked how she was.

  ‘I’m fine, a bit sore, but really I’m fine.’

  Shirley sat next to her and quietly remarked, ‘Like hell you are.’

  Bonny knew better than to try and fool her friend. ‘I am going on if it damn well kills me, if only to spite Miss Lily Stevens!’

  ‘I had a quiet word with Rob Andrews just now,’ Shirley told her. ‘I’m sure she tripped you up, and by the look of thunder on his face I would say she’s for the chop at the end of the week.’

  Bonny limped to the wings as the music started for the finale, praying that her ankle would hold up during the routine. Rob came up behind her as the chorus danced on before them.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me,’ she said, and as their entrance came she smiled broadly as she danced on to the stage.

  The dance seemed endless. Rob, true to his word, took most of her weight during the lifts and when they were together, but when Bonny and he danced apart the pain in her ankle brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and smiled throughout. At the end of the number, Rob caught hold of her, taking the weight off her feet.

  ‘Well done you,’ he whispered as they took their bow.

  Back in the dressing room, Nan had a large basin of ice cubes ready. ‘Here, put your foot in that,’ she said as she piled the ice around the swollen ankle.

  Rob entered the room and looked down. ‘I’m taking you home in a taxi,’ he said, ‘and tomorrow morning I’ll collect you and take you to the hospital. I want a doctor to take a look at you.’

  ‘I don’t honestly think that’s necessary,’ Bonny argued.

  ‘You may not think so, but I do. When you’re ready to go home, send Nan along and I’ll get a car.’

  ‘The master has spoken,’ said Shirley dryly. ‘Besides, he’s right, you should get it seen to.’

  ‘But what if the doctor tells me I can’t go on?’

  ‘Then Rob will have to do it alone, as he said he would.’

  ‘After all that publicity! No, I can’t let that happen. I’ll ask the doctor if I can’t have an injection for the pain before I dance. There are two nights and Saturday’s matinee to go. After that I can rest my foot at home. After all, I have only the final number to dance. Surely I can manage that?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see what happens,’ Shirley said, but she doubted that any doctor would advise such a thing.

  Once in the taxi, Bonny put her idea to Rob. ‘If the doctor at the hospital agrees with the injection, we could have a local doctor standing by before each performance, couldn’t we?’

  Although Rob admired Bonny’s determination, he didn’t want her to add to the damage. As a dancer, he knew just how important it was to treat any injuries with care, but he also knew that Bernie Cohen was bringing the producer down one evening and Bonny’s future would depend on her being seen. It was a dilemma. It would all depend on what transpired at the hospital tomorrow morning.

  Bonny put her case the following morning in the emergency ward. ‘I have three evening performances to do only,’ she pleaded. ‘I can rest my foot all day until Saturday when we have a matinee in the afternoon, and then until the evening performance. Please, Doctor, this is vital.’

  ‘The show must go on, Miss Burton, is that what you’re saying?’ But his tone was sympathetic.

  ‘There! You do understand.’

  ‘I have tickets myself for tonight’s performance,’ he said with a smile, ‘but, of course, that won’t sway my judgement.’ He examined her foot carefully. ‘You should rest it completely, but I am prepared to go along with your idea … as long as you don’t put any weight on it in the meantime and you keep the foot elevated. I’ll get a nurse to bandage it to give you some support, but you must rest as much as possible, and after the weekend you really need to keep any weight off it altogether.’

  ‘Oh thank you, Doctor. I promise I’ll do everything you tell me.’

  ‘I’ll see you get a pair of crutches to use in the meantime.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said Rob. ‘Come backstage after the performance if you like.’

  The doctor grinned broadly. ‘Thanks, I’d like that and so will my wife.’

  Rob took Bonny home and was ushered into the living room by Millie, who was anxious to hear the verdict. She made a cup of tea whilst Rob told her what the doctor had said.

  ‘I’ll send a car for you tonight,’ he told Bonny.

  ‘Don’t you worry about her, Mr Andrews,’ Millie said. ‘I’ll make sure she sits on the settee with her feet up until then.’

  He drank his tea and then rose to his feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Burton, and thanks for the tea.’ Turning to Bonny, he said, ‘I’ll see you this evening.’

  ‘He seems a nice chap,’ said Millie after she’d seen Rob to the door.

  ‘You’ll see just what a wonderful dancer he is when you come to the theatre on Saturday.’

  ‘Yes, imagine you dancing with the likes of him! Whatever next, I wonder?’ Millie remarked as she walked into the scullery.

  That evening, Bernie Cohen and Peter Collins took their places in the stalls as the auditorium began to fill. Collins was intrigued about the evening before him. He thought about the report he had read about the show. It had been unusual for the man to write about any show other than one in the West End, and his enthusiasm for the Astaire–Rogers number was quite rare.

  The lights dimmed and the overture began.

  Backstage, Bonny, with the help of Nan, the wardrobe mistress, had dressed and put the final touches to her stage make-up, before sitting with her foot up on a chair – a doctor standing by to give her an injection during the interval.

  Having rested her foot all day, the swelling had gone down considerably, but she knew that after her performance it would be swollen once again. Never mind, she thought, as long as this gets me through every performance it doesn’t matter.

  The second half was all but over when Rob came to her dressing room to collect her. ‘Use your crutches,’ he said. ‘Nan will hold them in the wings during the dance. How’s the foot?’

  ‘Fine. The rest has brought down the swelling and the injection has deadened the pain.’

  He smiled slowly and squeezed her hand. ‘You are an amazing young woman. Right, here we go,’ he said, and they danced on to the stage.

  Peter Collins sat upright in his seat and watched carefully.

  At the end of the show, Bernie Cohen sent word to Rob that he wanted to see him and Bonny in Rob’s office, so Rob went along to the girl’s dressing room and asked Bonny to accompany him. Puzzled, she took hold of her crutches and followed him. Just as they reached the office door they were met by Bernie and his asso
ciate, who looked askance at Bonny. ‘Miss Burton, whatever is the matter?’

  Rob intervened. ‘Please let’s go inside.’ He didn’t want anyone to see his visitors.

  Once inside, Bernie introduced the man. ‘Rob, Bonny, this is Peter Collins, the West End producer.’ Looking at Bonny, he said, ‘I’m Bernie Cohen, a talent scout, and I asked Mr Collins down here to see the two of you dance.’

  ‘Why the crutches?’ asked Collins. ‘After seeing you dance just now, I can’t believe you need them.’

  ‘I had a fall last night and twisted my ankle,’ she explained.

  ‘But you still danced. Wasn’t it painful?’

  She grimaced. ‘Yes it was but a doctor gave me an injection during the interval. I couldn’t let Rob and the public down after all the publicity.’

  He looked at her with admiration. ‘That is the sign of a real trouper, Miss Burton, and are you able to complete the week this way?’

  ‘Yes, then I’ll be able to rest up.’

  Collins turned his attention to Rob. ‘I really must commend you on your choreography; it was first class throughout the evening. Your chorus work was very innovative but the finale was spectacular.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Rob looked pleased.

  ‘I am putting together a show to be held at the Adelphi Theatre in the West End in four months’ time and I would like the two of you to join the cast.’

  Bonny gasped and turned to Rob, who was looking thoughtful. ‘I would have to know a lot more about it before I could possibly give you an answer,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Peter. ‘I would also like to offer you the job as choreographer, but we need to meet up and discuss it in detail. Are you free next week to come to my office in London?’

  ‘Yes, that would be fine.’

  The two men arranged a day and time and Collins rose to his feet. He shook Rob’s hand and then Bonny’s. ‘You are a very talented young lady and I would love to have you in my show.’ Then the two men left the office.

  Bonny, who had been shocked into silence, spoke. ‘Am I dreaming?’

  With a chuckle, Rob said, ‘No, Bonny, we have been offered a place in a West End show. How do you feel about it?’

  ‘Absolutely stunned!’

  ‘Well, I would need to find out what it entails before I was able to even think about accepting, but if everything works out would you be willing to take the job?’

  ‘Are you joking? Of course I’d accept, it’s my dream. How could you even doubt it?’

  ‘What about your parents? How would they react to you moving away from Southampton and home?’

  ‘I am a professional dancer, they couldn’t possibly imagine I’d be staying put, not if I’m any good.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘Do you really think I’m good enough?’

  He took her hand in his. ‘Do you think I’d have danced with you if I had any doubts? Of course you’re good enough! Peter Collins himself told you that you were talented and he should know.’

  ‘Were you aware that he was coming?’

  Rob told her about Bernie and how he arranged this meeting. ‘Bernie is a brilliant talent scout. He was so impressed that he invited Collins down to see the show.’

  Seeing how tired Bonny looked, he insisted they booked a taxi to take her home. ‘I’ll come in and have a word with your parents, if you like, and pave the way should we decide to accept Peter Collins’ offer.’

  Bonny thought the idea was sound. In her heart she thought her mother would approve, but she wasn’t at all sure about her father. But no one would stop her if Rob decided the move was a good one. And she was right.

  Sitting around the table in the living room of the Burton’s house, Rob told them what had transpired that evening. Bonny’s mother, Millie, was thrilled, but Frank, her husband, was shaken to the core.

  ‘But Bonny is only eighteen!’

  ‘So are many others in the profession,’ Rob said quietly. ‘I cannot impress upon you enough the great opportunity this is for your daughter. She has an immense talent that should be nurtured. Peter Collins is a renowned producer, one of the finest in the country. He doesn’t make these offers unless he thinks he has a star on his hands. When you come to the theatre on Saturday, you will see for yourself why he’s done so.’

  ‘You can’t stand in her way,’ urged Millie. ‘After all, this is what Bonny’s worked for. What we paid for when you agreed to let her have dancing lessons.’

  ‘Yes, but she was a child, I never thought it would get this far.’

  Bonny gazed at her father. ‘But it has, Dad. I’ve never wanted to do anything else but dance. This is my great chance. If you tried to stop me I don’t think I could ever forgive you.’

  Such was the determination in her voice, Frank knew she meant it.

  ‘There’s lots of negotiations to go before I would commit either Bonny or myself to this project, so let’s wait and see what transpires,’ suggested Rob, wanting to defuse the moment.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Millie. ‘Now I want to bathe Bonny’s ankle in cold water before she goes to bed.’

  ‘I’ll send a car for you tomorrow, Bonny,’ Rob said as he took his leave.

  Later, when mother and daughter were alone, Millie looked at Bonny and said, ‘Don’t you worry about your father, I’ll have a good talk to him. You will go to the West End, even if it’s over my dead body!’

  Bonny hugged her. ‘Oh, I do love you.’

  ‘Of course you do, I’m your mother!’

  Seven

  Bonny Burton sat in the train heading for Waterloo Station – and her future. She peered out of the window but the passing scenery didn’t register – her mind was in a whirl. So much had happened so quickly during the previous month. There had been meetings between Rob Andrews and Peter Collins, discussing the new musical extravaganza opening at the Adelphi Theatre in which he wanted Bonny and Rob to feature their Fred Astaire–Ginger Rogers routines. Bonny had been a part of these meetings once Rob had clarified the points he thought important to both of them: the terms of their contract, their fees and how much input he would have as musical director.

  Once he had settled all this, he and Bonny had spoken to her parents. Millie had talked to her husband Frank earlier and persuaded him that he couldn’t stand in the way of his daughter’s future. ‘Dancing is all she’s ever wanted to do, and after seeing her performance with Rob Andrews, you have to admit our Bonny has great talent. You stand in her way, love, you’ll lose your daughter. Is that what you want?’

  ‘Of course not!’ He frowned. ‘She’s always been my little girl, that’s all, and I’m having a hard time accepting that she’s now a young woman.’

  Millie put an arm around him. ‘I know, I’ll miss her too, but after all, she’s only in London, not the other side of the world. Just think how proud we’ll be on opening night to see our girl on a West End stage.’

  Rob Andrews had been able to persuade them that he would look after Bonny and her interests and had told them that he had chosen good theatrical digs for her with a nice family who were used to dealing with folk in the theatre. ‘Mr and Mrs Gregg are a middle-aged couple who provide home cooked meals and a clean home. Bonny will be well cared for, I can assure you. They have both been in the theatre in their younger days so understand the needs of a performer. And I’ll make sure she’s safe and sound.’

  Thus reassured, Millie and Frank had given Bonny their blessing, and now she was on her way to London to start rehearsals.

  Bonny looked across the train carriage at Rob who was immersed in his work, sorting out dance routines in his head and writing the moves and music down on a pad balanced on his knee. He looked up and smiled at Bonny. ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’m sitting here unable to believe what’s happening,’ she admitted.

  He gazed at her with affection. He would enjoy this new challenge, especially as Bonny was part of it. They were like-minded souls, whose world was the theatre. How fortunate he
was to have found her, he mused.

  ‘We work well together, Bonny, and you have no idea how happy that makes me. We are going to have so much fun, but once we start rehearsals in the morning, you’ll believe it’s all happening, you’ll be so tired!’ And he returned to his work. He was directing all the numbers that they were dancing and had been given carte blanche by Peter Collins.

  ‘I love your style, Rob,’ Collins had said. ‘I want you to bring that to your part of the show. I’ve hired excellent dancers for the chorus, who will be thrilled to work with you. I have only one favour to ask.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘One of our backers has a girlfriend and he insists that she is in the chorus. She’s not a bad dancer, but nothing special. However, I desperately need his money, so I had to agree, I’m sorry.’

  Rob was not pleased. ‘What if she can’t cut the mustard?’

  ‘Then, old man, you’ll have to work with her and make sure she does.’

  There was a steeliness in Collins’ voice and Rob knew he had no option but to agree.

  ‘Right, let’s hope she isn’t useless or I’ll work her until her feet bleed, then perhaps she won’t be quite so keen on the idea!’ And the subject was closed.

  On their arrival in London, Rob took Bonny by taxi to her digs. She liked the Greggs at once and was delighted with her bedroom, which was small but filled with light from the window. It was reasonably close to the theatre, and once she was settled, Rob walked her to the Adelphi to look at the theatre and talk to Peter Collins.

  He put his arm around her shoulder as they walked, telling her about the city and the shows that were currently being performed in the West End, adding to her excitement.

  The show was already in rehearsal when they arrived, and the three of them sat in the stalls and watched the early attempts of the opening numbers. The chorus were being put through their steps by Collins’ musical director, who halted the rehearsal to come over and meet Rob.