Follow Your Dream

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Likewise,’ Terry said. ‘Care to dance?’

  Here was money and looks and he was not too old.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Wendy said, acting cool.

  She stepped into his arms, trying not to show the thrill of excitement pulsing through her, laced with a delicious thread of fear. She no longer envied the Carnival Queen. She had snaffled the best man in the room. What was more, he had sought her out.

  Terry Dempsey was not a wonderful dancer, but he led with decision. Wendy foxtrotted round the crowded floor with him, intensely conscious of his hand on her back, his legs guiding hers.

  ‘D’you enjoy all this la-di-da stuff?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Wendy said truthfully. ‘All these dances and dinners and riding around in a big car.’

  ‘What, with all these stiffs in penguin suits?’

  ‘You’re wearing a penguin suit,’ Wendy pointed out.

  ‘You gotta look the part, ain’t you? You look the part. Mind you, you’d look better still in one of them off-the-shoulder numbers. Very nice.’

  His thigh brushed her inner leg.

  ‘Thanks,’ Wendy said, just managing to keep a squeal of pleasure out of her voice.

  ‘Don’t mention it. I was about to leave. No lookers here at all. I’m glad I didn’t now.’

  It was all Wendy could do not to say, So am I.

  ‘You can’t leave before the Carnival court. We’re the stars,’ she told him.

  The dance was over all too soon.

  ‘Another?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Us ladies-in-waiting are supposed to dance with someone different each time,’ Wendy told him.

  ‘And do you always do what you’re told, like a good little girl?’

  ‘Only when I want to.’

  ‘So how about another dance?’

  It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. But years of coping with admirers had taught her never to appear too keen. You had to let them do the chasing.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, treating him to her most brilliant smile. ‘No can do.’

  A couple of men were already heading her way with hopeful expressions on their faces. Wendy turned away to see which would get to her first. As she did so, she felt Terry rest his hand briefly on her buttock.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said in her ear, and was gone.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Whoever she was dancing with or talking to, Wendy was aware only of where Terry was and who he was with. Every time she lost sight of him she panicked, fearing he had left. Every time she glimpsed him again she flushed with relief. But all the time she took care not to let their eyes meet, which they nearly did many times. He was watching her just as closely as she was watching him.

  At midnight, the MC announced that the Carnival Queen and her court were about to depart. Terry materialised at Wendy’s side.

  ‘How about letting me have your number, sweetheart?’

  Wendy raised her pencilled eyebrows. ‘That’s for you to find out,’ she told him.

  The dancers had formed two lines across the dance floor to the door. Wendy joined the rest of the court and walked behind the Queen between the applauding revellers. She did not look back.

  In the car, the girls laughed and chatted and compared opinions about the way the evening had gone. Wendy tried to join in, but her only thought was whether she had played it right. Had she been too cool? Would he bother to try and contact her? Had she blown it?

  She need not have worried. The next morning a huge bunch of yellow roses done up in cellophane and bows was delivered to Sunny View. Nestling amongst it was a card that read, To the most beautiful baby doll in the shop.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘I’M GOING to try for the panto in Wimbledon again. We had a really good run there last Christmas, and the producer was really hot on dance. We had lots of numbers.’

  ‘Ah, but was he hot on dancers?’

  ‘No, he had his eyes on the principal boy, but she was in love with the bloke what played the giant. It was all going on there, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’m fed up with only doing pantos and summer seasons. I want to get a proper long-running job in a London show.’

  There was a general sigh of longing.

  ‘Don’t we all? That’d be wonderful.’

  Lillian listened as they all got changed for the first show of the day. There was just one more week left of the season, and all anyone seemed to be talking about was auditions and job opportunities. As always, she felt completely left out. Most of the other girls had been nice enough in the short time she had been with the company, but they still treated her as if she was not a real professional.

  ‘What about you, Lindy?’ Jenny asked her. ‘Are you going back to your old job?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll have me. They got another girl in to fill my place, so they won’t want me,’ Lillian said.

  ‘Oh, you’ll find something. I’ll have to get a fill-in job in a shop or something until the panto season starts,’ Sue said.

  Lillian wasn’t so sure. The other girls didn’t come from seaside towns, so they didn’t realise how many jobs were about to close down. The illuminations kept the visitors coming into town in the evenings for a few weeks longer than the holiday period, but after that there would be a scramble for work as the cafés and pubs, amusement arcades and souvenir shops either closed for the winter or ran on a much reduced staff.

  ‘She’s not getting another dance job, that’s for sure,’ May said.

  Lillian flared up. May was always getting at her for something. ‘Why not? I’m as good as anyone here.’

  May snorted. ‘Was that a pink elephant I saw flying past?’

  ‘I’m better than you,’ Lillian asserted.

  May simply laughed and went on applying her eyeliner.

  ‘I’ll get a dance job, you wait and see,’ Lillian said.

  They were interrupted by the five minute call for beginners. Later on in the afternoon, Jenny drew Lillian to one side. ‘Look, kid, you’re a good dancer, but p’raps it’s best you don’t go for another job just yet.’

  Still annoyed by May’s taunting, Lillian demanded why not.

  ‘How old are you?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Seventeen.’

  Jenny just looked at her.

  ‘Well—sixteen, actually,’ Lillian admitted.

  ‘I thought so. Listen, it’s a tough old world out there. Not every company’s like this one. This is a nice little set-up here. Artie’s no trouble and if you think May’s a bit sharp, she’s nothing to what some girls are like. And you’re still living at home. Being in digs in some godforsaken place with people who enjoy being nasty to you is no joke, believe me. Give it a year or two, all right? Or at least only go for jobs where you can stay living with your family. Promise me?’

  Lillian pouted. ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cos you’re a nice kid and I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt.’

  It seemed as if everyone was out to thwart her ambitions. Lillian complained about it to James the next time she saw him. To her horror, he agreed with Jenny.

  ‘I know you want to dance, but you are a bit young to leave home.’

  ‘But dancing is all I want to do! I’ve loved this job, I’ve just loved it. It’s been everything I ever wanted.’

  She searched his face for a reaction. Surely he knew what she meant?

  ‘Every morning since I started I’ve got up happy, just bursting to start the day. I’ve never felt like that before. It’s been wonderful! I thought you’d understand. Nobody else does.’

  ‘I do understand. I do know what it’s like to have to do a job you don’t like all day long, but sometimes it’s best to wait until it’s the right time to do something.’

  Lillian was deeply disappointed. ‘You’ve always been on my side before,’ she croaked through her tight throat.

  ‘I am on your side, Lindy!’ James sounded exasperated. ‘If you want to be treated
like a grown-up, then don’t act like a spoilt kid. Look, I could leave Dobson’s now if I wanted. I could easily get enough work repairing cars at the roadside. I’d be working for myself, which is what I want, but I’d find it hard to get any further. I want a proper workshop and, since nobody’s going to lend me any money, I’ve got to stay on at Dobson’s and earn enough to set myself up. See what I mean? Sometimes it’s better to wait.’

  ‘I can see that it’s better for you, but I don’t need to save up. I’m a professional. I’ve got my Equity card. I can apply for a dancing job anywhere.’

  It gave her such a sense of power to be able to say that.

  ‘You can still dance with the Mamie Hills,’ James pointed out.

  ‘But it’s not the same! I love Miss Hill, I really do, but it’s just playing at performing with her dancers. It’s not the real thing. Oh, why can’t I make you see?’

  A shout came from inside the house. ‘Lillian! Door!’

  Lillian sighed and got up. At the theatre she was a professional dancer with an Equity card. Here at home she was still just Lillian, the family dogsbody.

  ‘See?’ she said to James as she went to answer the door. ‘This is what I want to get away from. None of them would miss me at all, except they wouldn’t have a servant any more.’

  ‘I’d miss you,’ he said.

  Lillian stopped still and turned back to look at him. ‘Would you? Would you really?’

  ‘’Course.’

  For a long moment she gazed at his narrow face, his dark eyes. He looked back at her steadily. He wasn’t teasing. James didn’t tease. He meant it. He really didn’t want her to go. Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest, and suddenly the world was a wonderful place again. Lillian sang as she hurried to open the door to a couple of prospective PGs.

  In bed that night she thought it over. She still wanted to dance. She wanted it more than ever now that she had had a taste of it. But she knew that if she left home now the family would regard her as being almost as bad as Aunty Eileen. She weighed family disapproval against doing what she wanted. However much she hated them all at times, they were still her family. But would they ever let her go? Would they always want her here to run errands and do housework? She ran the little scene from that day over and over in her head, reliving that delicious moment when James had said he’d miss her. It made her feel quite odd inside, happiness mixed with a huge aching yearning. If James wanted her to stay, then maybe she would leave it a while before leaving home for another dance job.

  ‘Where are you going tonight, Wendy?’

  Three of Wendy’s fellow workers stood round her in the staff cloakroom as she applied her lipstick. Wendy smoothed the colour on, pressed her lips together, then blotted them with a tiny bit of powder.

  ‘Dinner dance at the airport restaurant,’ she said casually, while inside she felt a thrill of excitement. The airport restaurant! It sounded so sophisticated, as if she was one of the jet set.

  She looked at herself critically. Did she look like Diana Dors? She was just as pretty, she was sure of that. Her mouth was just as full, her nose and eyes just as attractive. Maybe her hair didn’t wave over her shoulders quite so luxuriantly but, unlike Diana, or Marilyn Monroe, for that matter, Wendy’s was natural blonde. More than ever now she wanted to live the film star life and ride around in a Rolls Royce. Terry didn’t have a Rolls, but he did have a Jaguar, a great grey and black monster that smelt of leather and cigars inside. Just thinking about it made her feel like a queen.

  Around her, the other girls were twittering with envy.

  ‘You’re so lucky—the airport restaurant! What are you going to wear?’

  An older woman came out of one of the cubicals and walked over to wash her hands. ‘You want to watch it, my girl, going out with someone like that Terry Dempsey.’

  Wendy immediately flared up. ‘What d’you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean he’s a crook, that’s what.’

  It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to her, but Wendy refused to believe it.

  ‘He’s not. He’s a very successful businessman. People just say that because they’re jealous of him, ’cos he’s made more money than they’ll ever have.’

  The woman faced her with her fists on her hips.

  ‘You listen to me, young lady. Me and my husband had a nice little shop down on the Golden Mile until Terry Dempsey’s thugs came and demanded protection money. At first we refused to pay it and our windows got smashed in, so we paid up. Then the amount went up and up, and we refused again, and this time the door got broken down and the stock was ransacked. In the end my husband had a nervous breakdown and we had to leave, and guess who bought it at a knockdown price? Your Mr Terry Dempsey, that’s who.’

  Wendy turned away from her and concentrated on powdering her nose. ‘That wasn’t Terry. It was someone using his name. My Terry don’t need to do things like that,’ she said.

  Terry had told her that there were hard men out to blacken his name. This tale was proof of it.

  ‘You’ll see,’ the woman said. ‘You carry on going out with him, and you’ll be no better than a gangster’s moll.’

  Wendy laughed. ‘You been watching too many Al Capone films, you have.’

  ‘I don’t need to. I’ve seen it first-hand. You just remember what I say—you’ll live to regret knowing Terry Dempsey.’

  She marched out of the cloakroom. There was a second or two of stunned silence, then Wendy’s three friends burst out talking.

  ‘Ooh, Wendy, you want to watch it!’

  ‘I have heard about that before—’

  ‘You’d never believe something like that happening here in Southend, would you?’

  ‘I don’t believe it, ’cos it ain’t true,’ Wendy said. ‘She’s just a poor old jealous cow. She and her old man went bust and she blames my Terry. It’s all a load of hogwash.’

  She wasn’t going to let rumours like that spoil her fun. She was on her way to where she wanted to be, and nothing was going to get in her way. Now that the Carnival and the illuminations were over, there weren’t so many official functions for the Queen and her court to attend, but there were enough to feed her need for celebrity. In between these, she went out with Terry Dempsey, who took her to restaurants and dances and even drove her up to London to go to nightclubs or a private casino.

  The family weren’t happy about her going out with him.

  ‘He’s a shady character. There’s all sorts of whispers about what he’s got his fingers into. He’s not the right man for my little princess,’ her father said.

  ‘He’s most unsavoury. I’m not at all comfortable with my sister’s name being linked with his,’ Bob added.

  ‘This is a respectable family, we don’t go about with gippos from the seafront and riff-raff like that, however much money they flash about,’ Gran stated.

  But, short of locking her up, they couldn’t stop her, not when she told them that Terry would not be at all pleased if they tried. They let her go, but with misgivings. They were afraid of Terry Dempsey.

  So Wendy closed her eyes and ears to the warnings and had the time of her life. Terry bought her gowns and jewellery so that she looked the part at the places he took her to, and all she had to do was hang on his arm, laugh at his jokes and be nice but not familiar with his friends. She’d had to fend him off a few times, of course, but a girl expected that from a man who was so obviously a real man, as Terry was. He didn’t like having to keep his hands above her waist, but she knew that he respected her for insisting. No man liked a girl who was easy.

  It was while they were outside the airport restaurant that evening that she got her first shock. Terry was talking to a business friend and Wendy was waiting to one side for him when a glamorous dark girl in an air hostess’s uniform came hurrying up to him and threaded an arm through his.

  ‘Terry, darling! You should have told me you were going to be here this evening. I would have brought a dress to change in
to. That’s the trouble with this job; I’m never in when you phone me. But if you don’t mind me coming in in my uniform—? I know you like a girl in a uniform—’

  Jealousy surged through Wendy like an acid tide. Who was this girl? Why was she talking to him like that, as if she was close to him? But then, to her delight, she realised that Terry was not pleased to see her. Not at all. There was no smile, no mention of a name. Quite the opposite. His face went dark, his body shifted subtly to become aggressive. He caught hold of her wrist and pushed her away from him.

  ‘I told you before—don’t interrupt me when I’m talking business.’

  The girl’s eyes widened with shock. ‘But, Terry darling—’

  ‘Just shut it, right?’

  He let go of her abruptly and she staggered a little, still staring at him in disbelief.

  ‘Terry, what is this? What have I—?’

  ‘I told you, it’s business. Now, sling your hook.’

  The girl turned to go, but as she did so she caught sight of Wendy, waiting by the doorway in her gold cocktail dress with her fluffy stole about her shoulders. For a long moment their eyes met and each recognised her enemy. Then Wendy smiled, for she knew that she was the winner. She was here ready to be taken in to dinner by Terry, while the air hostess had been dismissed. The other girl shot her a look of pure hatred and clattered off on her high heels.

  Terry, meanwhile, had returned to his discussion. It appeared to end amicably with laughs and claps on the shoulder, then he finally turned his attention to Wendy.

  ‘Right then, doll, let’s go in. I fancy a nice bit of rump.’

  His hand closed round her satin-covered bottom, giving it a hard squeeze. Wendy squealed and slapped him playfully on the arm.

  ‘Ooh, Terry, you are naughty!’

  But she couldn’t quite put the air hostess out of her head.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked.

  ‘Business friend, darling. You don’t need to know.’

  They were going in to the restaurant now. They were known here. The head waiter greeted them and took them to the best table. Menus and drinks appeared—whisky for Terry, Babycham for Wendy. She sipped her drink and stared at the menu while the head waiter told them about today’s special—Dover sole.