by Téa Cooper
‘In here.’ Jack threw open the door to the Red Room and ushered Dolly inside, closing it firmly behind him.
Tonight there was no fire in the grate and the curtains hung open to the street. The crypt-like stillness after the vivacity of the Blue Room chilled her blood and made her shiver.
‘Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?’
She shook her head. She wouldn’t take his jacket if she were stark naked. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest and scream at him for spoiling her evening, her first evening in Sydney experiencing all she had come in search of. The man was impossible. She was doing what Mrs Mack had asked her to do. Anyone would think Jack ran the place. Collapsing on the sofa she frowned up at him. ‘What’s the problem, Jack?’
He glared at her and the silence lengthened. ‘You’ve cut your hair.’
‘So? Are you telling me I can’t do that either? I can’t sing. I can’t cut my hair. What else?’
‘That dress! It’s outrageous. Where did you get it?’
‘And I can’t have a new frock. I have to spend my life drudging around looking like someone’s chuck-out.’ Blood rushed to Dolly’s face, her anger chasing away the coldness of the room, the unfairness of it strangling her. ‘I earnt the money. I worked bloody hard for it and besides, Mrs Mack asked me to sing. It wasn’t my idea.’ She clamped her lips, swallowing down the note of hysteria creeping into her voice, determined not to cry. ‘No one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. And Lawrence is a perfect gentleman. Unlike you.’
‘It’s not good enough, Dolly. I gave Mrs Mack the extra money in case you needed something. Not to buy a frock that makes you look like…’ Jack shuddered as two spots of colour bloomed on his cheeks.
If he was going to tell her she looked like a prostitute she’d tell him in no uncertain terms what he could do, and she’d go back to the Blue Room and sing until the early hours of the morning, all night in fact.
‘A woman,’ he spluttered.
‘A woman?’ Dolly burst out laughing, the tension leaching from her. ‘It’s meant to. I am a woman in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘I’d noticed. I don’t want everyone else to notice.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Dolly after weeks here you know as well as I do what goes on behind these doors and I don’t want you dragged into it. Ted will kill me.’ His raised voice filled the whole room.
‘Ted’s dead,’ Dolly said flatly. ‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and besides I’m old enough to look after myself. If I want to work here then it is between me and Mrs Mack. It’s none of your business.’
Chapter 12
Dolly’s eyes blazed the colour of the night sky, matching her dress. The silky material hung soft and loose, hiding the curves he now knew lay beneath. Vitality poured out of her, the same quality that held the audience captive when she sang. Her voice called to him, riveted him. Even with her glorious hair cropped short she was the most desirable woman he had ever seen.
Each of her songs seemed to be for him alone until she had leant into Lawrence and stared up at him with that wide-eyed look of elation. Millie had promised him she would look after Dolly, not put her on display like the night’s trophy. He knew he’d made an exhibition of them both. He didn’t care. He hadn’t given Millie the money to send Dolly out to buy a frock that made her look so…so alluring.
Jack shuffled his feet on the silk rug, tracing the pattern with the toe of his evening shoes, and clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white with the effort of reining in his fury. Confused by the force of his reaction Jack had no idea what made him so angry. Dolly was quite right. She wouldn’t have come to any harm and it was unlikely anyone would force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. He should be pleased Lawrence had been keeping an eye out for her. And now he had dropped himself, and more importantly Ted, right in it.
‘If Ted were alive he would kill me for getting you into this situation.’ The lie sat heavily on his lips, but he didn’t know what else to say. The last thing he wanted to do was destroy the tenuous truce he and Ted had established. If he told Dolly that her brother was alive and at this very moment sitting in his flat drinking his whisky and wearing his bathrobe, she would quite rightly want to go rushing around there to see him. What a Godforsaken mess!
‘It’s still none of your business. You made me look like a stupid child who can’t be trusted out of your sight for one minute. I didn’t come here searching for you or asking you to look after me. I came here because I wanted to go somewhere and do something with my life, instead of mouldering away in Wollombi. All you’re doing is causing a problem.’ A desirable pout highlighted her lips as she punched the pillow on the sofa with an amazing amount of force.
Jack loosened his bow tie and unbuttoned his collar, collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of the room and flung one leg over the arm. Despite his assumed pose every muscle in his body screamed with tension. ‘There’s something you need to know, it might explain a few things.’
Dolly’s head came up and a calm stillness settled over her as though she was waiting for bad news. He had her full attention. Now was the time to tell her about Ted. Explain how he’d found her brother, about his injuries, and hopefully he would be able to make her understand why Ted didn’t want to see her. Having failed Ted once he wouldn’t do it again.
A high-pitched shriek rent the air, and a door banged. The sound of music seeped into the room.
Jack dragged himself upright. ‘Would you like a drink, Dolly?’ He indicated to the crystal decanter and glasses on the side table at his elbow.
She frowned and shook her head, the tip of her tongue tracing her rosy lips.
‘If you don’t mind, I will,’ Jack said, pouring a generous slug of whisky into a glass. He eyed the water jug then tossed it back neat.
‘How long are you going to draw this out, Jack? If there’s something important I need to know, fine. Fire away. If not, I’d like to go back into the Blue Room and finish off what I started. Apart from anything else, according to Alice I get to keep the tips.’
‘If you need money you only have to ask.’ Jack’s spirits lifted. Money would be the easiest way to stall this. He could tell Ted in all honesty he was looking after Dolly and buy some time until Ted was ready to face her.
‘I don’t need your money. I want to earn my own. Stand on my own two feet. Why is it so difficult for you to understand?’
He didn’t find it difficult to understand, nevertheless there were better ways of doing it than singing in a brothel. When her brother found out he owned the brothel Dolly worked in, all hell would break loose. He poured another drink.
‘Well?’ Dolly stood up and stepped across the room, her hands on her hips — the last thing he needed.
With the soft light of the Tiffany lamp behind her he could see every curve beneath her dress. Her fragrance, a delightful mixture of roses and sun reminded him of innocence and a life long forgotten. The silence hummed between them and he clenched his teeth in a vain attempt to control the sharp thrill shooting through him. His fingers itched to touch her but it would be the biggest mistake he could make. The woman standing in front of him was not the little girl he’d carried on his shoulders and there was nothing the slightest bit brotherly about the sensations scoring his body. He rubbed at his forehead, wishing away the incessant pulse throbbing in his temples and closed his eyes. Dolly remained before him, filling his vision, tantalising him. He smothered a groan and dragged his hand down his face.
The next moment he was standing. It took only one step to bridge the tiny space between them. He reached out and tugged her into his arms. He cradled her soft cheek in his hand as he explored her face with his fingertips, then his restraint crumbled and he pushed aside the last remnants of his hesitation and crushed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue flickered against his as she pressed her body to him. She tasted of honey, golden and sweet. Her soft groan a
nd the push of her hips quickened his breath. He wanted to devour her. Bury himself in her. Forget everything except the delight her body promised.
Dolly’s arms came up, cool against his neck, the peaks of her pert breasts grazing his chest. Fire shot through his gut spreading outwards as his brain and body vied for control.
‘Jack.’ Her mouth moved beneath his and his sanity returned. He pulled back, convulsed with desire and livid at his lack of control.
Her blue eyes met his with a defiant twinkle and he tried for a reassuring smile. He had just made the whole situation ten times more difficult. A tear glistened on her long eyelashes and his gut clenched. ‘Dolly, don’t cry. Everything will be fine.’
‘I’m not crying because I’m frightened or hurt, Jack. I’m crying because I am happy.’ Her words caressed his mind as softly as the silk of her dress beneath his fingers.
Jack pulled her back into the circle of his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head, willing his body not to respond to her closeness. Not now, not yet, not until he proved himself worthy to Ted. His gut gave a nervous twinge at the thought of facing her brother. Kissing Dolly was a foolish mistake. Now he’d tasted her lips one kiss would never be enough.
A blast of music and a high-pitched shriek of laughter made him pull Dolly closer into the security of his arms. His thumb traced the neckline of her dress, down to the rounded curves of her full, firm breasts. Beneath his palm he could feel the hard peaks of her nipples and the pattering of her heart.
‘Well, excuse us.’ Cynthia’s voice grated. Jack released Dolly and stepped in front of her.
‘Ssroom being used?’ Some drunken buffoon with his jacket hooked over his shoulder, looking like last year’s matinée idol, lurched against the doorjamb. ‘Sorry ’bout that. Come on, Cyn.’
The colour drained from Dolly’s face and her wide eyes stared at the two fools at the door. Jack groaned and nudged her into the chair. ‘Sit down for a moment while I sort this out.’
He stepped between the door and the chair not wanting Dolly to be subjected to the tirade of sarcasm Cynthia would throw at her.
‘It’s a party and I think we should join in.’ Cynthia slipped her arm around her staggering escort and dragged him back into the room where he sank down on the sofa under the window.
‘Jack, you naughty boy, you.’ Cynthia’s finger waggled close to his chin.
Resisting the temptation to grab hold of it and propel her out of the room he simply glared at her.
‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing me a present tonight.’ She gave an inane giggle.
‘Out, Cynthia. And take your friend with you.’
‘Don’t be a party pooper, darling.’ She wriggled closer. The brash scent of her perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath turned his stomach.
‘We can have a bit of fun. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dougie?’
The crumpled remains of the man on the sofa gave a drunken snort and Cynthia rolled her eyes. ‘Oh no — perhaps not a foursome — we have enough for a threesome. Won’t that be fun?’
Dolly’s sharp intake of breath made Jack turn. She sat bolt upright, her pallor was replaced by a rosy red flush and her hand covered her mouth.
‘Cynthia, you’ve had too much to drink. Why don’t you call it a night and — ’
‘And leave you alone with your little bit of crumpet. No chance, sweetheart.’ She slipped her arm around his neck and flattened her body against him, wrapping one leg around his thigh and pulling him closer. ‘She looks a bit shell-shocked, shall I give her a lesson or two?’
Jack gripped Cynthia’s arm and attempted to peel her from around his neck. Her clutch tightened until she hung clasped against him like a monkey. ‘Cynthia, let go of me and sit down.’
‘I don’t want to sit down. I want to lie down.’ She squirmed against him. ‘I don’t mind sharing.’ Hanging over his shoulder she peered at Dolly. ‘You don’t mind sharing, do you? I can teach you a few tricks and then you won’t have to sing for your supper.’
‘Cynthia. Now!’ Jack reefed free and tried to push her back onto the sofa. She clung on as tenacious as ivy until the two of them collapsed back onto it, her giggles screeching in his ear.
‘Jack, darling.’ Her voice changed in an instant to a breathless moan. ‘You know how much I love it when you play rough.’
Horrified, Jack pulled his hands from her shoulders and extricated himself.
‘More.’ She sighed, easing one shoulder out of her dress and arching up.
‘Cynthia! Stop,’ he shouted and turned back to Dolly, intent on getting her out of the room and away from Cynthia’s drunken display.
He straightened his shirt. ‘Dolly, I…Fuck!’ The empty chair glared accusingly at him.
‘Exactly, darling. Exactly. Have you finally got the message?’
Jack bounded out of the room slamming the door behind him. Alexander’s Ragtime echoed in the hallway, its lively beat mocking him. Why hadn’t he just left Dolly alone singing in the Blue Room? She was far safer there than subjected to Cynthia’s ridiculous antics. He pushed past a couple plastered against the red and cream striped wall and ran down to the dining room. The long table stretched into the darkness. With a curse he banged the door and ran on.
Without pausing to knock he ricocheted into Millie’s office. Crashing the door closed behind him he lent back, forcing his breathing to settle.
‘Interesting,’ Millie said, putting her pencil down on the desk and swinging around to look at him.
He collapsed into the chair. ‘What’s interesting?’
‘Your dishevelled demeanour. Not like you.’
‘Not feeling much like me at the moment. I’m looking for Dolly.’
‘Dolly can look after herself. She’s gone to bed. Sit down and leave her be. She’ll come to no harm.’ Millie’s mouth curved in a patronising smile. ‘Your little girl did a great job this evening from what I heard. Though quite why you pulled the plug on it I don’t know.’
Jack raked his hair back with his fingers. He didn’t have much idea why he’d done it either, except he’d been annoyed at the way Dolly cosied up to the piano player. ‘It was her first night. She was finding her feet and I could see she’d had enough.’
Millie’s pencilled eyebrows climbed up her forehead and her beady eyes pinned him like some exhibit in the museum. ‘The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God I suspect.’
‘What do you mean by that? Rubbish. Why would I be jealous? I’ve got absolutely no desire to stand up in front of a bunch of drunken wowsers and sing to them.’ Plenty of desire for Dolly though.
‘Jack!’
He dragged his attention back to Millie.
‘Grow up. You’ve fallen for the girl. You’re going to have your work cut out when Cynthia finds out. She’s got you tagged as her meal ticket.’ She picked up her pencil and twisted it around in her fingers.
Keeping his eyes firmly on the pencil and avoiding Millie’s penetrating stare, he said, ‘She already has.’
Chapter 13
Dolly ran along the hallway, her clattering shoes echoing in the confined space. Throwing open the door she collapsed onto the narrow bed, her face blazing hot with embarrassment. How could she have been such a fool? For the briefest of moments, when Jack kissed her, she believed he wanted her. Wanted her as a woman, not the little girl next door, not Ted’s sister.
She ran her tongue over her lips, savouring the taste of whisky and Jack. Given another moment or two alone she might have convinced him just how much she had grown up. If only that stupid woman hadn’t come in with her ridiculous notions about threesomes and lessons.
Shuddering, she sat upright. Maybe Jack liked his women to behave that way. In the last few weeks Dolly’s eyes had been opened and she now knew diaphanous purple-feathered gowns weren’t the only things kept in the cupboards in the bedrooms. Could she do something like that? She stood up and peered into the cracked mirror, smoothed her hair and pulled a po
ut. No. Maybe with Jack, not with just anyone. The singing — now that was a different matter.
Humming a few bars she experimented with a step or two. Give it another couple of days and she’d work out a few more dance moves and incorporate them into her songs. No more sitting on the piano stool with Lawrence. Tomorrow she would give them a show and Jack — well he could just lump it.
There was no point threatening her with Ted. As much as she wished her brother had come home she was resigned to the fact that missing in action meant they hadn’t ever found his body or his identity discs. She’d watched her father drink himself into oblivion as his hopes faltered and disintegrated. Ted wouldn’t want her to do that. He’d want her to go on and live her life — be brave. He always wanted her to be brave. Not sit around on the sidelines waiting for life to come knocking. That’s what she should have told Jack — all this rubbish about Ted not wanting her to be in Sydney. He was probably up there somewhere applauding her success tonight.
Pulling her beautiful frock up over her head she hung it with care in the small two-door wardrobe she shared with the other girls then, balanced on the rickety chair, slipped off Rosa’s shoes and peeled down her silk stockings. Shunning her sensible nightgown she crawled into the bed in her underclothes and lay staring at the flyblown ceiling, humming the tune with Lawrence’s music as it wafted up the stairs.
The slam of the door crashing against the wall and the flash of the bright hall light acted like a gunshot. Dolly jerked bolt upright, her heart pounding. Alice and Rosa always tiptoed in taking care not to wake her.
‘Ah. Here’s the little princess.’ Cynthia flopped down onto the edge of her bed uninvited. ‘We need to talk.’
Dolly squirmed upright in the bed, the sheet clutched under her chin until her shoulders rested against the metal bedhead. Cynthia’s hand pressed flat against her thigh pinned her to the bed, preventing her from standing.