Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  But suddenly, with an opening date, he was euphoric. His Dingle Belles were the loveliest girls in the West End, Riccardo’s voice would make strong men cry, Lorenzo was a spellbinder and Buster was the funniest man in England.

  As he looked at the weary stage-hands and the imbecilic Fred he felt a surge of affection. Ellie and Edward would have the audience rolling in the aisles. It was going to work.

  He clapped his hands for quiet. ‘I’ve just been given an opening date,’ he announced. ‘Wednesday 9th May!’

  For a moment there was stunned silence.

  ‘Whoopee,’ Sally yelled out, jumping a couple of feet into the air. Fred threw his woolly cap right up into his flies and gave an ear-piercing whistle.

  Pandemonium broke out. Cheering, shouting, stamping on the floor and hugs all round.

  ‘Does that mean peace will be declared before that?’ Edward bellowed.

  ‘Almost certainly.’ Ambrose smiled beatifically. ‘As a gesture of good will I’m going to let you all have the rest of the day off. Tomorrow we’ll have a full dress rehearsal.’

  No one needed telling twice. A half day off was an unheard-of treat from their dictatorial producer. The girls picked up their jumpers and spare shoes and vanished first, quickly followed by the stage-hands who fully expected to be called back.

  Ellie saw Edward jump down from the stage to join Ambrose. She paused for a moment, as the thought crossed her mind that the rumours about these two could be true. She and Edward had become good friends and shared a great many confidences, but she had never asked him about his relationship with Ambrose.

  But Ellie’s attention was suddenly diverted by Bonny. She was hanging back on the stage, and she looked forlorn.

  Ellie liked most of the dancers. In the main they were a rowdy, gregarious bunch. Ellie had felt a little intimidated at joining these seasoned professionals for her number from The Quaker Girl at first, but they had accepted her, often coaching her privately in odd moments.

  Bonny was different from the others, however – cool and occasionally downright hostile. The girls who had been working with her for almost a year claimed she was a trouble-maker, a man-eater, a spoilt brat and entirely self-centred. Maybe all this was true, but Ellie reminded herself that Bonny was the youngest in the troupe. Besides, she didn’t like to see anyone looking sad.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ellie asked. ‘You don’t look too happy.’ She expected a sharp, mind-your-own-business reply, but to her surprise the girl’s lip quivered and a tear trickled down her cheek.

  There was no denying that Bonny was the prettiest girl in the troupe, and the best dancer. Ellie often sat and watched the girls rehearsing, and it was always Bonny who her eyes were drawn to. Her long blonde hair swung with her graceful body, she had flirtatious, big blue eyes and a show-stopping smile. She was like a hot, dangerous flame on stage, her feet like quicksilver, every muscle tuned to perfection. None of the other girls could match her. Ambrose had given her two tap-dancing solos and Ellie had no doubt that if Bonny’s singing had only matched her dancing, it wouldn’t be Ellie’s name on the programme for the Quaker Girl number but Bonny’s.

  ‘Tell me.’ Ellie instinctively moved to put her arms round the girl. She couldn’t bear to see anyone upset and even though she expected a rebuff, she couldn’t help herself. To her surprise Bonny didn’t move away, but instead leaned on Ellie’s shoulder and sobbed.

  ‘I don’t know what to do now,’ she said, her voice wobbling through her tears. ‘They’ll all go out together and leave me on my own.’

  Ellie knew enough about the politics within the troupe to know this was true. They were split into small tight groups of friends and Bonny was excluded from all of them. But she was surprised this troubled Bonny, who’d always given Ellie the impression this was what she wanted.

  ‘I’ll be on my own too today,’ she said impulsively. ‘We could do something together if you like.’

  Bonny drew back from her, the expression on her face somewhere between disbelief and gratitude. ‘What about Edward?’ she sniffed. ‘You’re always with him.’

  ‘Only in the theatre,’ Ellie said. ‘I never see him outside.’

  ‘I thought he was your boyfriend!’ Bonny wiped her eyes and they were wary now.

  ‘Not likely,’ Ellie grinned, liking the girl more because she didn’t seem to share everyone else’s suspicions about Edward. ‘He’s more like a brother. Come on, get changed and we’ll find something to do.’

  By late afternoon both girls had altered their views on one another, or had at least gained a different perspective.

  Ellie had braced herself for an uncomfortable afternoon, fully expecting Bonny to be as chilly as she was in the theatre. Instead Bonny was chatty, clearly pleased to have company, and she had a wicked sense of humour.

  Ellie didn’t for one minute believe that Bonny’s father was a Japanese prisoner of war, or that her Aunt Lydia was a countess with scores of servants. She suspected Bonny was making these things up because her home life was very ordinary. But it was good entertainment, like turning on the wireless and losing yourself in a fantasy.

  Bonny, until now, had seen Ellie as a threat. She had a strong voice, she could act, she made people laugh and they liked her. Ever since Bonny had arrived in London for rehearsals, she had been studying Ellie endlessly, hoping to find some way of discrediting her. But warmed by Ellie’s kindness in spending the afternoon with her, she found herself not only admiring her, but wanting her as a friend.

  They had started out in the same cafeteria Charley had taken Ellie to, where they ate something called ‘Victory Pie’. Bonny poked at the grey mass of swede, turnip and the odd fragment of meat and said a better name for it would have been ‘Retreat Pie’.

  ‘I’m going to be a Hollywood star,’ Bonny announced without any modesty, wolfing the pie down regardless of its content. ‘I’m a brilliant dancer and I’m beautiful. I’ll be bigger than Ginger Rogers, I bet she looks like a hag without make-up.’

  Ellie merely smiled. Bonny’s confidence was disarming, especially as she then went on to highlight her shortcomings with equal candour.

  ‘My singing’s feeble and I can’t act, but when I’m dancing no one can take their eyes off me. That’s why the other girls don’t like me. I’ve tried hard to fit in but they can’t accept the way I am.’

  Ellie was as fascinated by Bonny face-to-face as she had been by her on stage. She had the confidence of a stage veteran and the imagination of a film director. Just an hour or two in her company made Ellie feel as if her own dreams weren’t so far-fetched or unreachable.

  Later they wandered through Leicester Square and observed the enormous queue for the film of the Nazi atrocities in Belsen and Buchenwald. They moved on up to Piccadilly, which was as crowded as always, with foreigners taking photographs of one another against the boarded-up Eros. All the news stands carried the message that Hitler was dead and the excitement seemed to have affected everyone. A couple of American sailors stopped the girls and asked if they wanted a walk in Green Park.

  ‘Is that the best you can offer?’ Bonny said with a disparaging sneer. ‘We’re stars in a West End show. We don’t walk in parks with sailors.’

  ‘That was a bit rude,’ Ellie giggled as they hurried away.

  ‘I’m always rude to men,’ Bonny said with her cute little nose in the air. ‘They seem to thrive on it.’

  They ended up in St James’s Park and sat in the sun in a couple of deckchairs while Ellie told Bonny of her predicament with Charley.

  It was good to have another girl for company. Edward had become a real friend, but she couldn’t share the same kind of confidences with a man as she could with Bonny.

  Bonny was as good a listener as she was a talker. ‘You can’t possibly marry him,’ she said with surprising horror. ‘You’re far too talented to go and live on a farm in Australia. Besides, what do you know about men, if he’s the only one you’ve ever been out with? He sounds just
like my boyfriend Jack, wanting to put you in a cage so no one else can get near you.’

  Of all the things Bonny had told her in the course of the day, Jack was the only person she’d mentioned who rang entirely true. Bonny had explained how he was down in Aldershot in the army, and that in the last year they’d only been able to see one another on odd nights when he could get a twenty-four hour pass.

  ‘I know just how you feel because no other man makes me feel the way Jack does.’ Bonny’s eyes clouded over and all at once Ellie saw that she wasn’t quite the cold-hearted opportunist she made herself out to be. ‘Just thinking about Jack makes me tremble. He’s my friend, he’s everything. But he’s just like Charley, Ellie. He wants me to marry him when he comes out of the army, to settle down in a little cottage and have babies.’

  She paused, looking intently at Ellie. ‘Sometimes I almost believe I want that too. But there’s this stronger side of me that needs luxury and expensive clothes, that wants to see the world and get fame. I couldn’t make him happy, Ellie, not for long.’

  ‘Does your mother like him?’ Ellie asked. She wanted to cut through Bonny’s fabricated background and get a glimpse of the real one.

  ‘Mum thinks he’s awful because he’s got red hair,’ Bonny smirked. ‘But then she doesn’t believe it’s serious because she thinks I’m still a child. I can’t talk to her.’

  ‘Where does she live, Bonny?’ Ellie probed, wishing she dared say she knew Mr Phillips wasn’t really a prisoner of war.

  ‘Dagenham,’ Bonny said reluctantly. ‘But don’t bandy that around, will you? I spent two days with her before I started rehearsals, it was awful.’

  Ellie sensed Bonny wasn’t ready to talk about her home just yet. ‘So what are we going to do about Jack and Charley then?’ she said instead.

  ‘Wait and see what happens when the show opens,’ Bonny grinned. ‘We’re a lot alike, Ellie. We can’t give up our dreams and settle down just to make them happy. It wouldn’t work. Let’s let them do all the running!’

  Later that night, as Ellie lay in bed, she thought over what Bonny had said about them being alike. It didn’t please her to think she might be ruthless or conceited, but then she’d often watched films and thought she could be so much better than Vivien Leigh or Judy Garland, given a chance. Ellie didn’t want to be influenced by Bonny; she wasn’t even sure she wanted her as a friend. Yet already she had a feeling their destiny was linked in some way.

  ‘What should I do about Charley?’ she asked herself.

  She wanted his love more than anything. She imagined the adventure of setting off with him on that long boat ride, seeing wide open spaces instead of bomb-sites and slums. Charley could fill that lonely space inside her; there would be his mother and his brothers, then children of their own. Surely all that would more than take the place of being an actress?

  What was acting anyway? Pretending to be someone else! What sort of person needed applause rather than love? Surely singing to your own children was just as rewarding as performing for strangers?

  The clock hands moved slowly towards nine. It was the evening of May 7th and today’s rehearsal had been extended so the entire cast and backstage team could hear the expected news on the wireless together.

  They were crowded into the small lobby by the stage door, tension showing in every face, many still wearing their garish make-up from the dress rehearsal, the smell of sweat overpowering in the confined space.

  When the dry, precise voice of a man from the Ministry of Information began to speak, they moved closer still, every ear cocked to hear the news they’d been anticipating for so long.

  ‘It is understood that, in accordance with arrangements between the three great powers, an official announcement will be broadcast by the Prime Minister at three o’clock tomorrow, Tuesday May 8th. In view of this fact, tomorrow, Tuesday, will be treated as Victory-in-Europe Day and will be regarded as a holiday. His Majesty the King will broadcast to the people of the British Empire and Commonwealth tomorrow, Tuesday, at 9 p.m.’

  For a moment no one spoke, faces turning from one to another, each waiting for something more.

  Old Fred broke the silence. ‘Bloody hell,’ he swore. ‘If he meant it’s all bleedin’ over, he could’ve put a bit more oomph into it.’

  A ripple of laughter broke out, building up into a roar.

  Ambrose recovered first. He moved quickly on to the steps leading to the changing-rooms, adjusted his purple cravat and cleared his throat.

  ‘I don’t know who was responsible for that uninspired speech,’ he said, grinning broadly at all the upturned faces before him. ‘But I’m sure Churchill’s working on something a little more memorable for tomorrow. Meanwhile I have a few words to say, before you rush off to start celebrating.’ He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his sweating face. ‘The show will open on Wednesday 9th at seven-thirty as arranged.’

  Loud cheering broke out all around him. Although they had been working on this date for several days, there had been a real fear it would be put back. For their first night to be at such an auspicious time seemed like a talisman for success.

  Ambrose raised his arms for silence. ‘You have all worked very hard, under difficult circumstances. I’d like to thank you all for your persistence, your occasional bursts of brilliance and your patience. We have a first-class show, and the timing for its opening couldn’t be a better omen. I want you all here on Wednesday for a final dress rehearsal at twelve o’clock sharp. Anyone the worse for their celebrations can expect to be dismissed immediately. Is that clear?’

  A nodding of heads signalled agreement. Bonny turned to Ellie and winked wickedly.

  ‘God bless you all.’ Ambrose faltered, a little overcome with emotion now that the anxiety and uncertainty was finally lifted. ‘Six years of war is over. Now we can all look forward to new happiness and prosperity. Break a leg!’

  ‘What’s up?’ Bonny darted forward from a doorway as Ellie came out of the phone box. It was tipping down with rain and she held her coat over her head to shelter Ellie.

  ‘Come up to my room,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ll tell you when we get out of this.’

  They ran together, dodging through the crowds of people towards Stacey Passage, splashing through the deep puddles.

  ‘Charley’s got to work tomorrow,’ Ellie said once they’d got in and closed the street door behind them. ‘He said all the men have been ordered to stand by because there’ll be hundreds of fires.’

  Bonny followed Ellie up the steep staircase. ‘Never mind,’ she said, panting a little. ‘We’ll have a good time together.’

  As Ellie reached her room she looked back at Bonny. Her blonde hair was wet, plastered to her head and her greasepaint-streaked face gave her the look of a street urchin. ‘Shouldn’t you go home and see your mum?’ she asked, opening the door.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Bonny faltered for a moment, frowning as she remembered what that would mean. ‘There’s bound to be a street party.’ She followed Ellie into her room, leaving her wet coat outside, suddenly dejected.

  Bonny knew exactly what the victory celebrations in Flamstead Road would be like: there would be tables set up, enough food and drink for an army, a piano wheeled out, and everyone would have the time of their lives. Except for her.

  Doris was teetotal, and she would sit primly on the sidelines, getting more and more tetchy as the neighbours got drunk. The party would most likely go on half the night, but her parents wouldn’t join in and nor would they allow Bonny to. She’d be back indoors before six o’clock and her mother would spend the whole evening peeping out through the curtains, sniffing with disapproval at the merriment.

  ‘You don’t sound too happy about it,’ Ellie said impishly. ‘I suppose with your dad still a prisoner it wouldn’t be appropriate for you and your mum to celebrate?’

  Bonny blushed. Ellie was very sharp-witted; she ought to have known better than tell her such a stupid lie. ‘He isn’t a pris
oner,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I made that up. He works at Ford’s. But I can’t face going home anyway. I’d rather stay with you.’

  Ellie smiled – it was the first time she’d seen Bonny look embarrassed. ‘It would be nice to have your company,’ she said, making no further comment on the lie. All at once her anticipation of the day ahead drove out the disappointment of not spending it with Charley. ‘Let’s plan what we’ll do.’

  The heavy rain prevented them going out again. They decided Bonny should share Ellie’s bed instead of going back to her digs with the other dancers in King’s Cross. They made toast on the fire and chatted incessantly.

  ‘In another couple of weeks we might really be stars,’ Bonny giggled, sitting cross-legged on the bed. ‘Men will send us flowers and notes, we might get our pictures in the papers.’

  Ellie wanted to tell Bonny she’d decided to marry Charley. She hoped he would put off his plans for Australia and stay in the fire brigade, so she could continue in the show, but her mind was made up: she loved him too much to lose him. It was a shame he’d be working tomorrow – she’d intended to tell him then and make Victory Day a double celebration. But perhaps he’d finish work in time to make the day complete. She couldn’t tell Bonny yet. Not until she’d told Charley and Annie.

  At twelve o’clock the noise of the storm was drowned by the deep-throated boom of ships’ sirens from the docks. They knelt up at the window and saw the sky lit up with searchlights. Car horns, hooters and whistles joined in the cacophony of joyful sounds and the girls opened their windows and added their voices to the din.

  ‘I’ll never forget this moment.’ Bonny turned to Ellie with shining eyes. ‘It’s the start of something tremendous, I know it is. We have to remember everything about it so in fifty years’ time we can tell our children.’