by Téa Cooper
‘Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?’ Cynthia’s catlike eyes scanned her face.
Her mind raced as she tried to decide the best answer. ‘I enjoyed singing,’ she said in a small and disappointingly weak voice.
‘I expect you’re enjoying a lot of things. Everything’s working out just as you intended.’ Cynthia’s manicured fingers drummed on her leg and Dolly wanted nothing more than to smack them away.
‘It’s all been a bit of a surprise. I didn’t know what to expect when I got here.’
‘Claptrap.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Claptrap. You knew exactly what you were doing from the moment you knocked on the door of Number Fifty-Four.’ Cynthia sprang to her feet towering over her.
Despite the malicious glint in Cynthia’s eyes, she snapped back, ‘Yes, I knew what I was doing. I’d written to Mrs Mack and she’d told me to come down to Sydney to see about a job.’
‘Poof!’ Cynthia’s red lips vibrated and Dolly dragged her eyes away from the little blob of spittle sitting like a jewel in the corner of Cynthia’s mouth. ‘I’m not talking about the job, I’m talking about Jack.’
‘Jack?’ Dolly pushed back the bedclothes and swung her legs to the ground no longer caring what Cynthia thought of her lack of clothes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’d set your sights on Jack. Right from the beginning.’
‘No, that’s not true. I didn’t even know Jack was in Sydney and I certainly didn’t know he would be here. It was a coincidence.’
‘Some coincidence. Next you’ll be telling me you didn’t know Jack owns Number Fifty-Four.’
Dolly clapped her hand over her open mouth, trying to stifle her squeal. Jack owned Number Fifty-Four. Her shoulders slumped as the implication of Cynthia’s words sank in. All her big brave ideas about striking out on her own were nothing more than a sham. Alf and Father George must have known. Why else would they have put her in touch with Mrs Mack?
‘I didn’t know. I was pleased to see Jack. I hadn’t seen him since he and Ted joined up. I had no — ’
‘You keep your conniving little hands off Jack.’ Cynthia’s long fingernail jabbed into Dolly’s chest, punctuating her words. ‘I’m his girlfriend and I’ve staked a claim. Take your little-girl-lost nonsense back where you came from or you’ll be sorry.’
Cynthia’s words acted like a slap and a flood of anger gushed through her. First Jack and now Cynthia. Telling her what she should do, where she should and shouldn’t go, what she could and couldn’t do. ‘Get out!’ She pointed to the door, her arm shaking with rage. ‘You might be his girlfriend and you might have staked a claim but no one is going to tell me what to do. I make my own decisions.’
‘Don’t make any long-term plans, sweetheart,’ Cynthia said with a smile that could cut glass. ‘He’s mine.’
Still trembling from her outburst, Dolly stared at Cynthia’s retreating back. She intended to make as many plans as she liked; whether or not they would include Jack was another matter. She’d be lying if she pretended she hadn’t liked kissing him but she wanted to sing too. And if Mrs Mack wanted it as well Jack would just have to put up with it. In fact, she might even go back downstairs and listen to the music. She wasn’t going to be bundled unceremoniously to bed like a recalcitrant child just because Cynthia was worried about her boyfriend.
The wardrobe door protested as Dolly flung it open and pulled her new frock out again. She slipped it over her head and fastened the loose belt around her hips. Shunning her stockings, she slipped Rosa’s shoes back on and after a quick glance in the mirror she made her way back to the Blue Room.
She had no idea what she would say to Jack, or Cynthia for that matter, if she saw them and she didn’t care. Cynthia’s outburst made her even more determined to do what she wanted. She would be a part of the music and the dancing, revel in the thrill and the excitement of singing to an audience and being in Sydney.
The sound of the piano grew louder as Dolly approached the Blue Room. The door stood ajar and high-pitched squeals and cacophonous laughter vied with the deep bass of Lawrence’s voice as he made a rather strained attempt to sing Nobody Knows When You’re Down and Out. She could do so much better.
Dolly edged her way into the smoke-filled, jam-packed room. The air of frenetic energy seeped into her blood like sugar.
‘The Jazz Baby is back.’
The words sent a thrill down her spine. This was where she belonged and what she wanted to be doing. Not only that, her audience agreed with her.
Grinning with delight she worked her way to the piano and rested a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. He flashed her a smile and changed songs. Hoots of enthusiasm greeted the first chords of Jazz Baby and Dolly broke into the song she’d claimed as her own.
‘Good to see you back,’ Lawrence said as he rifled through his music searching for a second song. ‘What kept you?’ He winked.
‘Just had to sort out a few misapprehensions. Everything’s fine now. What are we going to sing next?’
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur and when the crowd began to thin and Dolly spotted the first feeble rays of morning light through the open curtains she turned to the sunburst clock on the wall. Five thirty! In an hour Annie would expect her to appear in the kitchen, pail and mop in hand, ready for the day’s work.
‘Lawrence, I’ve got to call it quits. I need to get some sleep. Thank you so much. I had a wonderful time.’
‘Don’t thank me, Dolly. It was my pleasure. Jazz Baby made a name for herself tonight. Here, take this.’ He pressed a small white card into her hand. ‘That’s where you can find me. I think we make a great team. If you decide you want to do something more than this…’ He gestured around the room.
The blood rushed to Dolly’s cheeks. ‘I don’t work here — well, I do.’ She stopped and took a deep breath. What did it matter what Lawrence thought about her, and anyway, she wasn’t ashamed about working at Number Fifty-Four. ‘Will you be playing tomorrow night?’
‘Maybe. Depends if Mrs Mack wants me or not.’
‘If you are, I shall see you tomorrow night. I’ll check with Mrs Mack and see if she’s happy for me to sing. You see, this was my first time.’
‘You’re a natural, Dolly. Hope I see you tomorrow evening. Hang onto my card. You never know when you might need a friendly face.’
Chapter 14
Jack pulled back the heavy brocade curtains and peered down at The Cross from his sixth-floor vantage point. Business as usual.
Trams bustled up and down the tracks vying for space with carts and drays delivering goods to the cafés, restaurants and saloons. Crowds thronged the street. Transient visitors and locals mingled with the migrant workers. Many of the old houses had been converted into boarding houses, most of them owned and run by women, and they were the perfect place for newcomers to get a foothold in the city. Two young women cleaned the entry foyer of the theatre at the apex of Darlinghurst Street and Victoria Road, courting the attention of John and Nick as they set up their fish and oyster bar in preparation for the day’s trading.
All in all, the fact he’d managed to find Ted or that he’d stumbled across him in the first place still amazed him. He rubbed his nose; it was still tender from the walloping he’d received from his best mate whom he could see sprawled across the bed in the second bedroom, snoring lightly. With the injured side of his face buried in the pillow, Ted looked no different to the way he had six years ago. It was as though he had a split personality, the two sides of his face as different as his character. Before and after — war did that to a bloke.
War or no war, he had to make a decision. Dolly needed to know her brother was alive and her brother needed to believe Dolly was safe. Quite how he was going to approach his involvement in Number Fifty-Four he wasn’t sure. And then there was his blunder last night. What ever possessed him to behave like such a fool? Millie, as usual, was right. No matter how many excuses he made he had to acc
ept the fact he no longer saw Dolly as a little sister and the feelings he had for her went way beyond brotherly love. He would have to stay well clear of her until he spoke to Ted.
‘Morning.’ Ted’s blue eye stared at him through the open door and something resembling a grin twisted the corner of his mouth. He sat upright and ran his hands through his coal black hair. Jack’s stomach churned as Ted’s hand fell and the bright sunlight illuminated his mangled face.
‘Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?’
Jack shrugged, trying for an air of nonchalance but knowing his expression had given him away.
‘Now do you understand why I don’t want to see Dolly?’
‘Dolly’s not a kid anymore. She’s a grown woman.’ Just how grown and how attractive Jack vowed to leave until later. ‘She has a right to know you’re alive. Scars or no scars she’d want to see you.’
Ted let out a long, puffing sigh. ‘Subject’s not something we’re going to see eye-to-eye on.’ His self-deprecating laugh sent the sun scuttling behind a cloud.
‘Do you want some breakfast? Tea, coffee?’
‘That would be good.’ Ted swung out of bed and tugged his filthy trousers on.
‘Help yourself to anything you want in the wardrobe and we’ll get your clothes cleaned. I have a woman who comes. She’ll sort it out.’ Expecting an avalanche of truculence Jack raised his eyebrows when Ted wandered across to the closet. Throwing open the doors he let out a low whistle.
‘You’ve come up in the world a bit,’ he said as he rifled through the suits, shirts and jackets hanging in neat rows. ‘Out of my league.’ He paused and ran his hand over the worn leather of Jack’s flying jacket. ‘Souvenir?’
‘Yes and no. I’ve been doing a bit of flying up north.’
Ted ignored his remark. ‘Where’s the gear you had on at Susie’s? That’s more my mark.’
Jack ambled into his bedroom and picked up the checked shirt, braces and trousers lying on the chair. ‘Here.’ He chucked them onto the bed wanting some distance and a moment to collect his thoughts.
He’d been so fixated on finding Ted he hadn’t thought much about what he would do next. Obviously Ted didn’t have any money, a job or anywhere to live, and here he was, wallowing in the lap of luxury. How could he help Ted without him thinking it was a handout? There were plenty of flying jobs up for grabs in Queensland and Western Australia; maybe that was the go. There was talk of a regular passenger service between Charleville and Cloncurry, and surely more would follow.
Rattling around in the kitchen Jack brewed a pot of tea while he waited for Ted to appear. He’d rather go down to his usual haunt around the corner. The Paris Café provided one of the best breakfasts in Sydney. However, Ted gave the impression of being a figure of the night and somehow Jack couldn’t see him taking breakfast down there in the sunshine.
‘Tea. Excellent.’ Ted reached for the teapot and poured two cups. ‘Milk?’
‘Yes. I can do milk and sugar. There’s probably some bread and jam or we can go down to one of the cafes for something to eat.’
‘Don’t want to let the side down. I’ll have this and get out of your hair.’
Jack stalled, determined to clear the air and sort out a few things before Ted left.
‘Ted, we need to talk.’
‘I’ve told you I don’t want to see Dolly.’
‘Not just about Dolly — about a whole lot of things.’ Jack scratched his head, unsure where to start. ‘You were right. Things have worked out well in the last few years. Let me give you a hand. Get you on your feet.’
‘I don’t want your bloody charity. I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sure you can but why kick a gift horse in the mouth? We go back a long way.’
‘Shame you didn’t think about it when you flew off and left me for dead.’
Gritting his back teeth Jack sucked in a stream of air through his nostrils, willing his muscles to relax. ‘I’m not talking about what’s past. Let’s concentrate on today, on the future.’
‘You might be able to put the sodding past behind you — in case you hadn’t noticed I’ve got a constant reminder.’
Jack refused to be drawn. He could do nothing about the past; nevertheless, there was a hell of a lot he could do about Ted’s future, and if nothing else he could pull him out of his dead-end attitude. Ted wasn’t alone. Thousands of others had come back from the war with horrendous injuries — and they were the lucky ones. Far more lay scattered across the fields of France and Flanders, never mind the rest of the world. He decided to push it — and this time he’d be ready if Ted started throwing punches.
‘I’ve got a couple of things going on which I could use some help with. First, this new airline up in Queensland. They’re looking for pilots and — ’
‘Not one-eyed pilots. My flying days are over, mate. I might have survived but I won’t be doing any more flying.’
Heat flooded Jack’s face. How could he have been so bloody stupid? So insensitive. Once he got talking to Ted he forgot about his eye. To the extent he’d forgotten the implications. He groaned. ‘Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ He swallowed quickly, determined to regain his composure and follow through. ‘There’s Millie’s too. I bankrolled her and — ’
‘You did what?’
Oh, God. Whatever had made him say that?
Ted took two steps towards him, bristling with aggression. ‘You own Number Fifty-Four? You’re telling me my sister is working in the brothel you own?’
‘She’s not working in the fucking brothel. She’s cleaning it, and last night she sang. She’s good. You’d be proud of her. She’s an amazing woman. Not a girl anymore. A woman.’ Jack ducked as Ted’s fist came flying at him. He slammed Ted up against the wall and pinned him. ‘Not again.’
Grabbing Ted’s shoulders he threw him into the armchair and stood over him. ‘Don’t move or I’ll belt the living daylights out of you.’
The fight drained out of Ted and he slumped down. ‘Now do you get the picture? I’m bloody useless. No good to Dolly. No good to anyone.’
‘Crap! We’ll sort something out and Dolly will be fine.’ Jack wished he were as confident as his words sounded. Dolly would be fine once she got over the shock of seeing Ted for the first time. Maybe he could soften the blow, warn her of what to expect. What else could he sort out? He didn’t know. It was becoming more and more obvious that Ted wouldn’t take a handout.
Jack sank down into the other armchair and studied Ted, refusing to dwell on what might have been had he not left him for dead and flown off to take his fury out on the German plane.
When the doorbell broke the charged silence Jack heaved himself to his feet.
‘If that’s Dolly and you’ve pulled some smart-arse trick, so help me I’ll kill you,’ Ted muttered from the depths of the chair.
‘I don’t know who it is. I’m certain it’s not Dolly. She doesn’t know where I live and there’s no way Millie would have told her.’
‘You better find out then,’ Ted said as he dragged himself out of the chair. ‘I’ll get out of your clothes and leave you to entertain your guest.’
‘Ted, take the clothes.’ Exasperated, Jack turned the handle. The cloud of perfume hit him before the door fully opened.
‘Cynthia.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I heard something about clothes.’ Cynthia swanned in and when the door to Ted’s room clicked shut she cast a curious glance around the room.
‘What can I do for you, Cynthia? It’s earlier than the normal hours you keep.’
‘Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?’ Her hawk-like gaze swooped in on the teapot and two cups. ‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’ She draped her body over the arm of one chair and crossed her long legs. ‘It’s certainly not Dolly you’re entertaining because she’s busy with her buckets and brooms at Millie’s which, after the night she had, is an amazing feat of fortitude.’
Before Jack
opened his mouth to reply the door to the bedroom flew open.
‘Watch what you’re saying about my sister.’
Jack groaned aloud as Cynthia preened and her eyes grew round as cartwheels. Her mouth hung slack then she let out a dramatic, shuddering sigh.
He restrained a laugh. ‘Cynthia Burgess, may I introduce Edward Bowman, Dolly’s brother.’ He waited for Ted’s response, expecting a mouthful.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ A grin quirked Ted’s mouth reminding Jack of the night they’d been caught with the beer bottles they’d purloined from the pub. Jack clamped his mouth closed, the weight lifting from his shoulders.
Ted hooked his fingers into his braces and strolled closer to Cynthia. He stopped just short of her to take a long deliberate look, from the top of her shiny blonde helmet of hair to the toes of her high-heeled shoes.
Nothing played out as Jack expected. The glimmer in Cynthia’s eyes brightened and her tongue moistened her lips.
‘You know my sister, Dolly.’ It wasn’t a question — a statement of fact.
Cynthia nodded her head, her eyes never leaving Ted’s face.
‘In that case you will understand why your remark upset me.’ A slight menacing growl entered Ted’s voice. Rather than intimidate Cynthia it encouraged her. She rose from the arm of the chair and stood almost nose-to-nose with Ted.
She studied him for a long moment, engrossed by the livid scar carving his face. ‘Don’t be upset,’ she purred, and ran a delicate nail down Ted’s cheek. He didn’t move or flinch; he stood as though cast in concrete.
The silence blanketing the room made Jack’s skin prickle. He cleared his throat. Neither Cynthia nor Ted moved, oblivious to his presence.
Fascinated, Jack folded his arms and turned his attention to the view from the window, waiting. An apparent eternity passed and then the rustle of silk. He turned back to the room. Cynthia held Ted’s hand clasped in hers as she led him to the sofa.
‘Cynthia, Ted is, that is we…’ Jack shook his head trying to marshal his thoughts. If Cynthia went back to Millie’s and said she had met Dolly’s brother all hell would break loose. Dolly would demand to be brought here. Ted would take off again and they’d be back to square one.