‘Good job you did, now you’re going to be me.’ Goldie smiled for the first time since Margot found her in the alley. ‘Could be your big break,’ she teased. ‘Seriously, Margot, if you go on for me tonight I’ll be able to give Dave the slip, try to get away from him for good.’
It wasn’t the way Margot had planned to make her stage debut, but if it was the only way Goldie was going to escape her fascist boyfriend... ‘All right,’ she said, the butterflies in her stomach already preparing for take-off, ‘I’ll do it, if you’re sure?’
‘I am. This way no one will know it isn’t me on stage, and if Dave is waiting for me at the end of the show, he’ll be waiting a bloody long time.’
The girls arrived early to run through a new number, but instead gathered in the dressing room. They all agreed that Goldie couldn’t go on, and Margot should, so they needed to rehearse some of the numbers that Goldie featured in. They decided not tell the director, Richard Smiley. He’d have brought in one of his many lady-friends, probably a show girl who looked pretty but couldn’t dance to save her ‘feather boa-ed’ life.
Goldie’s costume fitted Margot, as she knew it would. Her shoes pinched a bit, but she said she’d manage. Hats and gloves were ignored. The gloves would fit, they were average in size, and the hats could be secured with Kirby grips, if need be. Time was running out, so they went on stage to rehearse.
‘What’s going on?’ a voice called from the wings.
‘Mr Goldman.’ George ran across to Anton Goldman and said they were trying out an understudy. ‘What with bombs going off everywhere, it would be a safety net in case anyone was delayed getting here.’
Anton Goldman agreed and joked, ‘As long as it’s in your own time.’
‘It is,’ George assured him.
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
Ten minutes later Natalie Goldman arrived. George took her aside and told her what they were really doing. Natalie was amazed that Margot was capable of taking over Goldie’s roles. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Yes,’ Nancy said. ‘Would you play the piano while we rehearse Margot in?’
After a quick run-through of the numbers where they were all on stage, they concentrated on the numbers that Goldie featured in. When they had done as much rehearsing as time allowed, Nancy and George thanked Natalie for her help. ‘If there’s anything else I can do, you’ll let me know, won’t you?’ Natalie said to George.
‘There is!’ George put her hand on Natalie’s arm. ‘Can you get Goldie out of London? Or at least to somewhere safe, away from that fascist B, before he kills her.’
Natalie nodded. ‘Leave it with me. I’ve already spoken to her. Bert told me Margot had brought her in. He stayed with her in dressing room eight while I came down. They’ll be here in a minute.’
‘Margot?’ Hobbling across the stage, Goldie lifted her arms and hugged her friend. ‘Nancy, George-- Ah! Sorry,’ she said, distressed and breathing heavily. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, and burst into tears.
‘Goldie, you must not cry.’ Natalie spoke kindly, but firmly. ‘Soon you will walk out of the theatre looking happy, not sad. Margot is going to be you tonight and you are going to be me.’
‘Let me help you,’ Margot said, holding the collar on Goldie’s jacket, pulling it gently until Goldie’s arms were free, before helping her into Natalie’s outdoor coat. ‘Now your shoes,’ she said, passing Goldie’s jacket to George. Sitting Goldie on the piano stool, Margot took off her shoes and helped her to put on Natalie's. Goldie closed her eyes. She looked exhausted. ‘You’re doing really well,’ Margot said, encouragingly. ‘I just need to get rid of your curls.’ Margot brushed Goldie’s honey blonde hair from her face. ‘Kirby grips, anyone?’ Betsy took several from her own hair and Margot pinned Goldie’s curls into a bun in the nape of her neck. ‘Good. With the collar up your hair won’t be seen. Let me know when you’re ready to stand up.’ Goldie nodded and with George’s help, Margot pulled her to her feet.
‘Now my trilby,’ Natalie said. She placed her hat on Goldie’s head, tucking her blonde fringe under it. Taking a step backwards, Natalie nodded. ‘Will she do, ladies?’
‘She will soon,’ George said, pulling on the felt hat until it tipped fashionably over one eye. ‘That’s better,’ she said, turning the collar up on her coat, before handing her Natalie’s handbag.
Although Natalie Goldman was taller than Goldie, everyone agreed that from a distance no one would know the woman going home with Anton Goldman wasn’t his wife.
Backstage, with tears in her eyes, Goldie said, ‘You’re the best-- I’ll miss you all.’
Margot kissed her goodbye, followed by each of her friends. ‘You mustn’t cry, sweetheart,’ Nancy said, wiping the tears from Goldie’s cheeks. Everyone except Margot and Nancy returned to their dressing rooms after saying goodbye. More for Goldie’s sake than their own, Margot thought. They knew that if they stayed, there was a chance Goldie would break down, lose her nerve. ‘We’ll all miss you too, but you must pull yourself together. Stop crying,’ Nancy said. ‘Come on, it’s time to go.’
Goldie nodded and let Nancy lead her to the stage door.
‘Good luck tonight, Margot, and thank you,’ Goldie said before leaving.
Nodding, unable to speak, Margot blew a kiss and forced herself to smile.
‘Look after yourself, and let us know where you are once you’re settled,’ Bert said, putting out the light before opening the stage door. Margot and Nancy watched from the small window at the side of the door as Anton and Goldie followed Bert across Maiden Lane to the Goldmans’ car. Anton unlocked the passenger door and Bert held it open for Goldie, as he always did for Natalie. Margot held her breath, praying Goldie wouldn’t look back. She didn’t. She sat down sideways on the passenger seat and lifted her feet into the car, as Natalie did. Then she smiled up at Bert and he closed the door. Nancy put her arm round Margot’s shoulders and exhaled with relief. Once she was safely in the car, Anton went round to the driver’s door, unlocked it and slipped in behind the steering wheel.
After two sharp raps on the car’s roof, Margot heard Bert shout, ‘Goodnight, Mrs Goldman – Mr Goldman.’ And as the stage doorman walked back to the theatre, Anton Goldman drove down Maiden Lane.
The mood in the dressing rooms was subdued. ‘I’ve taken Mrs Horton into our confidence,’ Nancy told the girls. ‘She’d have known something was up as soon as she saw Margot in Goldie’s first costume, but I’ve asked her not to tell the dressers. I told her to tell them that George was so late for rehearsal that,’ Nancy shook her head, pretending to be exasperated, ‘by the time we’d finished it wasn’t worth getting changed, so we’ve stayed in our opening costumes.’
‘What about my costume changes?’ Margot asked.
‘Mrs Horton will look after you this week, instead of me. She’ll be with you every time you come off stage and make sure you go on stage on cue. It’s important that she helps you until you’re used to your costume changes and your entrances and exits. We might have to tell one of the other dressers something. We’ll say Mrs Horton and I have had words and I’d rather she didn’t dress me.’ Nancy smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. You just concentrate on your first night. I know you have a lot to remember and I’m sure you’ll feel terrified at times, but we’ll all be there for you, won’t we, girls?’
Everyone agreed. And while they dressed for the opening number, they reminded Margot of Goldie’s cues. At the five minute call everyone hugged and kissed her, and as they waited in the wings, they gave her the thumbs-up, wishing her good luck and assuring her again that they would be there to help her in any way they could.
Margot waited nervously for her call – Goldie’s call. She took several deep breaths, which made her feel dizzy. She cleared her throat a dozen times, rotated her shoulders and sipped water from a small glass that Mrs Horton had put at the side of the flats. Suddenly she was aware that the orchestra were pl
aying the opening chords of the first sketch. It was time. She looked across the stage to the wings opposite and in the dim light she saw Betsy waving.
Margot waved back before running onto the stage. The lights came up on a 1920s speak-easy and Margot and Betsy, dressed as flappers, shimmering from head to foot in golden tassels, danced the Charleston with a couple of gangsters. When Betsy circled her hands to the right, Margot mirror-imaged her, circling her hands to the left. At the end of the dance, before Goldie made her exit, she always struck a pose, held it for two beats, and then blew a kiss at the middle of the first row of the balcony before taking an exaggerated bow. Margot copied the routine exactly; she struck the pose, looked up at the balcony and blew a kiss. But instead of taking a bow she stumbled. The recipient of the kiss was Nazi Dave.
At the interval the girls took it in turns to look through a small hole in the curtains.
‘I can’t see anyone in the middle of the balcony,’ George said, crouching down so her eyes were level with the small hole.
‘Here, let me look. I know where Margot blew her kiss,’ Betsy said, taking George’s place. ‘There’s no one there now, Margot. He’s probably satisfied himself that he didn’t hurt Goldie too badly and gone home.’
‘Or he’s waiting outside for her,’ Margot said.
‘Well, we won’t know until the show’s over, so it’s pointless worrying. Come on, it’s time to get changed for the second act.’
‘Hats, masks, feathers, fans, parasols, we’ve got all manner of paraphernalia so your face won’t be seen too clearly. If it was Nazi Dave out there earlier,’ Mrs Horton warned, ‘we mustn’t let him see you’re not Goldie.’
‘But Goldie doesn’t wear all this stuff. Won’t he suspect something?’
‘No. He’s been around the theatre long enough to know she couldn’t go on stage looking like she did. He’ll expect her to wear something to hide the bruises.’
‘He might not have realised how badly he hurt her,’ Margot added. ‘When I first found her it was only the cut on her lip that was really noticeable. She couldn’t stand, of course, but he wouldn’t have known that. The bruising and the swelling on her face came out later, in the dressing room, so he might not suspect anything.’
Margot copied Goldie’s songs and dances perfectly. She remembered every smile, tilt of the head and wink, unique to her friend’s performance. No one would know it was me in the show tonight, she thought, as she took Goldie’s curtain call, sandwiched between George and Betsy.
In the dressing room afterwards, while the girls hugged and kissed her, Nancy opened a bottle of champagne. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,’ she said, keeping her voice to a whisper. ‘And I can’t think of anything, or anyone, more special than you, Margot. What you did today, helping Goldie, was wonderful and we’re all very grateful. But what you did tonight, on the stage, was amazing. You gave a star performance and we’re all very proud of you.’
Everyone raised their glasses and mimed their congratulations. Mrs Horton popped in and joined the silent applause, but refused a glass of champagne. ‘Well done,’ she whispered to Margot. ‘I’ll be back for the costumes in ten minutes,’ she said in her normal voice. And then, quieter, ‘Don’t want any changes to the routine.’
‘Mrs Horton’s right. We still have to be very careful,’ George warned. ‘We must act as if tonight is an ordinary night.’
‘I agree,’ Nancy said. ‘Margot, you’ll still have to go to the club and do your spot, or it’ll look suspicious. Finish your champers darling, and when you’ve changed, meet me at the stage door as normal. I’ll give you a lift to the club.’
For the next few nights, Goldie Trick performed on stage at the Prince Albert Theatre as usual, George and Betsy did, or didn’t, go to the Prince Albert Club, and the only person that knew what was going on, outside the theatre, was Bill. Margot had hurt him by not telling him she was singing at the club, and wasn’t going to upset him again. Besides, she was so excited, she thought she’d explode if she didn’t tell someone.
‘Tell me you’re joking, Margot,’ Bill said, shaking his head. ‘You said Goldie’s bloke was a gangster. Think of the repercussions.’
‘There won’t be any repercussions.’
‘He’s dangerous!’ Bill shouted. ‘If he could do that to someone he’s supposed to care about, because he thought she might leave him, what the hell do you think he’ll do to you when he finds out he’s been watching you on stage every night, not Goldie, because you’ve helped her to leave him?’
‘He won’t hurt me like he did Goldie, Bill. He’s not a gangster, he’s a fascist; the police will be watching him. They watch all the--’
‘He’s what? The police-- What are you going to get mixed up in next, Margot?’
Unable to stem the flow of tears, Margot ran to her worried husband and threw her arms around his neck. Looking up into his eyes, she said, ‘Don’t shout at me, Bill, please. Finding Goldie beaten up, and knowing I could help her-- I’m sorry, but I had to. And,’ she hesitated, wondering whether Bill would understand what she was about to tell him, ‘when I was on stage it was wonderful, of course it was, but it felt right too.’ She lowered her arms, put them round his waist and laid her head on his chest. ‘I wish you’d been there,’ she cried, ‘I wish you’d seen me dancing and singing like a professional.’
‘Shush… don’t cry. I know how much you wanted this. Not Goldie getting hurt, of course, and I’m pleased for you, really I am, but--’ Bending down until his eyes were level with hers, he said, ‘You don’t seem to understand danger, Margot, you don’t see it. There’s a war on and when everybody’s running to safety, to a shelter or the underground, you’re running around the streets to a theatre, or a night club.’
‘I’m sorry, Bill.’
‘If anything happened to you, Margot,’ he said, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, ‘I don’t know what I’d do.’
For the first time Margot realised how reckless she had been during the last few months. She had so desperately wanted to be a singer and dancer that she’d allowed her needs and her wants to override everything else, even her safety. She looked into Bill’s tired, sad eyes. ‘Do you want me to stop working in the theatre and the club? If you do…’
Bill shook his head. ‘Then you’d hate me.’
‘No I wouldn’t!’
Smiling, he pushed a curl of hair from Margot’s face and kissed her on the nose. ‘Yes, you would, which is why I would never ask you to.’
Margot opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Bill put his finger to her lips. ‘If you promise not to walk to the club on your own – either go with one of the girls or get a cab – and if you wait for me to pick you up at the end of the show, I’ll feel happier.’
Margot nodded and whispered, ‘I promise.’
‘Now, tell me all about it. What was it like to sing and dance in front of all those people?’
Bert beckoned Margot over to the small window at the side of the stage door, put out the light and pulled back the blackout curtain. ‘I don’t want you to go out there yet. Someone’s watching the stage door,’ he said, stepping to the side to let Margot take his place. ‘Been standing in the shadows at the entrance of that alley for the past half hour.’
Margot’s eyes soon adjusted to the charcoal darkness that London had become at night without street lights, and she saw a movement. There it was again: the shadow of a man in a trilby hat. She strained her eyes. He was tall, with square shoulders. He struck a match, but must have shielded the flame, cupped it in the palms of his hands to stop the wind from blowing it out, because it disappeared for a second before reappearing and then falling to the ground. In the darkness she saw the end of a cigarette brighten and dim several times. She watched, transfixed, the nerve ends on top of her stomach tightening like the skin of a drum. Suddenly the cigarette flew across the alley and almost immediately the man walked out of the shadows to where it had landed. He crush
ed the burning stub, twisting and turning his foot until there couldn’t have been anything left. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. He took a cigarette from the box, returned it to his pocket and struck a match. And as the match flared, Margot saw his face. ‘It’s him. It’s Goldie’s ex-boyfriend, the Nazi.’
Margot and Bert watched as Dave, dressed in his usual black leather overcoat and a black trilby, left the alley. He stopped walking after a few yards and turned up the collar of his coat. Then, with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, he swaggered along Maiden Lane as if he owned it. Margot kept watching. She wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to hide in a doorway, pounce on one of the girls as they passed and force her to tell him where Goldie was. Suddenly he stopped. Margot flinched as she watched him turn and walk back towards the theatre. He slowly looked up at the dressing room windows and down again, his gaze settling on the small window where Margot was standing. Her heart leapt in her chest. She knew Dave couldn’t see her, but she felt vulnerable. Then she saw his expression. It had changed from his usual cocky smirk to an angry glare. And she went cold. Slowly, so she didn’t cast a shadow or jerk the curtain, she stepped away from the window. ‘He gives me the creeps,’ she said, and she shuddered.
‘Lord knows how long he’s going to keep this up,’ Bert said.
‘What? You mean this isn’t the first time?’
‘No. I’ve seen him several times, standing in the shadows, watching the stage door. He’s hoping to see Goldie, I expect.’
‘I feel as if he’s watching me.’ Margot shrugged the idea from her mind. ‘He can’t know it’s me on stage in place of Goldie, can he?’
‘No. Even so, I don’t want you leaving on your own tonight, Miss. Wait in the office with me until your husband gets here. By then the Nazi bugger will have gone home, or wherever it is he goes. The sewer, I shouldn’t wonder, with all the other Nazi rats.’
Applause (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 2) Page 9
