‘Never seen such a big crowd on a Thursday,’ a raw-faced bouncer in an evening suit poked his head round the door. ‘Looks like they all want to hear your new girl.’
‘And now, the moment you’ve all be waiting for,’ the record was halted and the club manager’s voice boomed out over the microphone. ‘Your favourite band, Samson!’
The boys pushed past Georgia, Rod blowing a kiss. Ian took her hand and squeezed it.
‘We go next,’ his eyes were full of understanding. ‘Don’t panic, let me lead you till you get into it. If you find you can’t sing, just move with the backing.’
A burst of applause and Rod played a roll on the drums.
Georgia felt a cold sweat breaking out all over her and she wanted to go to the toilet again.
‘You all know Ian McShane, but tonight you’re in for an extra treat. Meet the lovely Georgia James, the band’s new singer!’
Her legs refused to move, yet Ian was dragging her up the three steps on to the stage.
‘Smile,’ he said. ‘Head up!’
Norman played the opening bars. Georgia saw the expectant, upturned faces lining the stage only feet from her.
Somehow she made it to the microphone. Her mouth was smiling, but her stomach churned.
She reached for the microphone, and found her mouth and throat as dry as a desert.
‘Turn towards the band,’ Ian whispered as he adjusted his mike. ‘I’ll start.’
She forced herself to turn. Rod was smiling encouragement, John and Alan moved closer to cover any mistakes with their horns.
‘I’m on a soul train, don’t know where I’m going,’ she was mouthing the words but she could only hear Ian.
‘You can do it baby,’ Rod said, his eyes sympathetic. ‘Just keep singing till the voice comes back.’
She managed the second line a bit better, but by the time she got to the third, her voice came out despite her terror, and the fourth followed without even thinking about it.
She twirled down, a flash of gold net around slim brown legs. Mouth wide and red, teeth gleaming white. Her voice soared over the crowd.
‘I’m on the soul train and I’m coming baby to you.’
Towards the end of the first set something else had taken over. She was dancing, smiling, bending down to young men in the front row and blowing kisses. She forgot the scratchy underskirt, kicking off her shoes as she immersed herself even more into the music. Whenever she turned towards the rest of the band they were grinning like Cheshire Cats, egging her on.
Her voice found new heights, one moment deep and husky, raunchy and sexy, then sounds so pure she could hardly believe it was her.
Ian was better than he’d ever been at rehearsals. His singing was more punchy. As his head bent close to share the mike with her on some numbers, she knew he was putting his all into it.
The applause was deafening as the first set ended.
The D.J. ran on. ‘Well what can I say?’ he yelled, waving a hand at the departing band. ‘Can that little girl sing, or what?’
As Georgia reached the dressing-room door she saw Max.
‘You were great,’ his dark eyes shone like jet. ‘I’m knocked out!’
‘I didn’t know you were out there,’ she was breathless, panting like a dog after a ten mile run.
‘Would I miss seeing you get started?’ he said. ‘I even brought a photographer.’ He moved closer, taking her two arms in his big hands and squeezed them.
‘You were magic,’ he said, his eyes burning into her. ‘I’ve never seen the band so good.’ He looked round at the boys grouped behind her and smiled broadly. ‘Well done all of you. There’s a reporter from Melody Maker out there. If I’m not much mistaken you’ll get the best review of your careers this week.’
‘Do we get a drink boss?’ Norman as always was asking for something.
‘They’re set up in the back bar,’ Max grinned. ‘And you’ve earned them.
‘We’re privileged tonight,’ Speedy drawled sardonically. ‘This room’s usually closed off. They only use it for card games.’
A billiard table stood in one corner, covered with a cloth, in the middle of the room a large table had nine pints of beer standing on it.
‘Get a proper drink for Georgia,’ Max barked out at John tossing him a note. ‘And pay for that round while you’re at it.’
‘What’ll it be?’ John smirked. ‘Double champagne? Gin, brandy?’
‘Coke,’ she grinned. ‘And lots of ice.’
Georgia sat next to Ian.
‘Thank you for telling me to turn round,’ she said softly. ‘I thought my voice had gone for good.’
‘That’s all right,’ Ian smiled and leaned back in his seat. ‘It’s an old trick, works everytime. If you can’t see the punters you can forget they are there.’
It didn’t seem possible she’d only known these boys for four days. Just an hour ago she had wanted to run away and forget any dreams she’d had of being a singer. Now as she looked around her she knew their futures were interlinked. She would remember their faces forever, love them for all that support and understanding.
‘Her dress isn’t right.’ Speedy’s voice rose over the others as he made sure Max listened. ‘It’s like something off “Come dancing”, she needs something tight and sleazy.’
‘I think it looks good,’ Max argued, he studied Georgia with hooded eyes. ‘What do you think Ian?’
‘Well, Georgia would look good in a sack.’ Ian leant back in his chair, his fair hair flopping over his eyes. ‘But that dress is dated. It went out with Glenn Miller. I don’t agree with Speedy though, she’s not the sleazy type.’ He paused, seeming to wake up a little, his soft lips twitching as if in silent amusement. ‘I’d like to see her in something that shows her legs, so she can dance too.’ He smiled and turned to Georgia. ‘You held out on us there too. We had no idea you were such a good dancer.’
‘I’ll look into it,’ Max said his eyes running over Georgia, then moving back to Ian. He was wondering if something had occurred between them. Ian wasn’t usually so forceful and there was a light in the boy’s eyes he hadn’t seen before. ‘Anyway lads, is there anyone who doesn’t think Georgia did well?’
‘She was brilliant,’ Rod said unexpectedly. ‘You’ve done us proud, Max.’
Georgia looked around with bright eyes. She felt fabulous, right now she could hardly wait to get back on the stage and do the rest of the performance.
The second half was even better. The audience were clapping, stamping their feet and smiling up at her.
She felt all-powerful, every nerve-ending twitching. She was no longer a frightened little sixteen-year-old. Up here she was a queen, and the audience her loyal subjects.
Thunderous applause rained down on them as they finished and the boys’ faces told her it was all for her.
Back in the dressing-room the smell of sweat and socks was even worse as they changed back into their ordinary clothes.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Ian said softly as he unzipped her dress for her.
‘On top of the world,’ she laughed, clutching the top of her dress to hide her breasts.
‘It’s like a drug,’ Ian smiled. ‘Once tasted, you need it for evermore. But don’t let it go to your head. Everything went well today, and the audience were great. Wait till you’ve done a really bad gig. When the crowd stand with their backs to you drinking, the lights fuse and the guitar strings break, and you know you’ve got a hundred-mile ride home in the van.’
Max looked in the dressing-room, his big, square face looking unexpectedly healthy surrounded by the boys’ pallor.
‘Okay boys, see you at the office at twelve tomorrow. Georgia, would you like a lift back with me?’
‘But the equipment?’ she said, trying to get a shirt over her top half while still holding her dress round her.
‘Go on home,’ Ian grinned at her. ‘We can manage without you, besides, there’s a bit more room in the van for us.’<
br />
She didn’t want to go with Max. They would all be chatting about the gig and she wanted to be part of it. But without making herself look silly she could hardly refuse.
*
‘How’s it going with the boys?’ Max asked as his Jaguar glided away down towards the West End. ‘Any problems?’
‘Everything’s just great,’ Georgia looked out the window, it had begun to rain and the road looked like black tar studded with diamonds of reflected light.
‘Has Ian come on to you?’
Georgia’s head turned sharply towards Max. Ian had said the same thing about Max. She wasn’t sure what he meant at the time, but now it became clear.
‘Of course not,’ she retorted.
‘Just asking, he seemed different tonight, that’s all. I don’t want you getting involved with any of them.’
‘Look Max,’ something snapped inside her. ‘I don’t mind you telling me what to do where work is concerned. But I don’t see what my private life has to do with you.’
Max pulled the car over to the kerb and stopped abruptly.
‘Now look here,’ he said, turning in his seat and grabbing her face in one big hand. ‘If I turn you into a star you won’t have a private life. One whiff of scandal, one bit of gossip can ruin a career. You’ve got to live at close quarters with that lot and if you hop into bed with one of them they’ll be trouble. I’ve seen it all. I know.’
She could see something in his eyes. Something deep and disturbing. He was too old for her, she didn’t quite trust him, yet she wanted him to kiss her.
There was a feeling in her stomach, something primitive. Warning bells were jangling in her head, but she could only see those full red lips and feel that hand on her face.
‘I feel something for you,’ his voice was husky, those lips coming closer. ‘I want to protect you, love you.’
Her eyes were closing. She could feel herself drowning and his lips when they touched hers were soft and teasing.
‘No,’ she moved back quickly, suddenly aware of his maleness.
Max straightened up. She couldn’t look at him, her eyes were firmly fixed on her hands in her lap. She knew he was studying her, his elbow resting on the steering wheel.
The silence was unbearable. She wanted to make a joke, anything to get him to start the car and take her home.
‘I can wait,’ he said softly. ‘There’s something there, I know it. You’re a little mystery girl Georgia. But I’ll work it out in time.’
‘There’s no mystery,’ she said, perhaps too quickly. ‘You’re a married man. You’re too old for me. You said yourself there mustn’t be even a whiff of scandal.’
He turned on the ignition and the engine purred softly.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he said flatly. ‘Forget everything, Georgia. I’ve never forced anyone in my life. I’m not going to start now.’
It was after nine when Georgia woke. Sunshine poured through a crack in the curtain, the sounds of the market as new and fresh as her first morning in the room.
She stretched like a cat, smiling to herself as she remembered the gig the night before.
It had been so wonderful and it was going to be repeated again and again.
She wanted to go out, stand in the sunshine and sing for joy. Get armfuls of flowers to fill the room. Buy something pretty to wear and to hell with the expense.
The boys were all in the office when she arrived.
Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders, the pink gingham dress that Pop had given her, freshly ironed with a wide white belt and sandals.
‘Well,’ Max turned his attention to her, looked her up and down, noting the pink cheeks and bolder, confident stance. ‘Something agrees with you!’
They were all looking at her, eight pairs of eyes, scrutinizing her.
‘It’s such a lovely day,’ she said lamely. She had put aside Max’s behaviour the night before. If she was to be a star many more men would want to kiss her. Why blame him for being the first?
Max cleared his throat. ‘Sit down all of you,’ he said, lighting up a fat cigar and leaning back in his chair. ‘I’ve had Melody Maker on the phone this morning. They are writing a review about you for the next edition, and they want to do a special in the next week or two.’
He looked intently at each of them.
‘It will be “A day in the Life of”, type thing. The reporter will meet you in the morning, go with you to the gig, unload with you, set up, the whole bit. So I don’t want any cock-ups, this could be the big break.’
‘How will he get in the van?’ Norman said. ‘I’m not sitting on a reporter’s lap all night.’
‘He’ll have his own car,’ Max said impatiently. ‘And a photographer with him. Ian can travel with them, he can be trusted not to tell them anything too damaging.’
The boys fell silent for a moment.
Both Ian and Rod were staring at Georgia as if they’d hardly heard Max. She wondered if Max had spoken about her before she came in.
‘I’ve got a list of gigs for next week,’ Max said, handing round some copies. ‘As you will see it’s mostly in the North, leaving here on Monday for Birmingham, on to Preston Tuesday, Leeds Wednesday, Hull Thursday. Travel back to London after Hull. Friday at the Marquee, Saturday at the Bag of Nails.’
‘What about digs?’ Ian asked, dragging his eyes away from Georgia.
‘I’ve got those here,’ Max said, handing Ian another sheet. ‘The rooms are booked, go to them before the gig please, so they know you are definitely coming. Georgia, there’s a possibility you’ll have to share with someone,’ he paused, looking at her directly, through hooded eyelids, his tongue just flickering over his lips. ‘I apologize, but it was late in the day to make the bookings.’
He got up and went over to a safe. ‘Your money,’ he said, handing out small brown envelopes. ‘And the kitty for digs and petrol.’ This last envelope he handed to Ian. ‘Right, Blue Boar tomorrow, have a good rest today and Sunday, you won’t be getting much next week.’
He looked across at Georgia.
‘I’d like a word with you please, in private. Will the rest of you wait in the office outside.’
The boys trooped out, each of them looking at Georgia, questioning looks in their eyes.
‘What is it?’ she asked, suddenly afraid.
‘Well, dear,’ he sat down and fiddled with a paper clip, his cigar burning away in a cut-glass ashtray. ‘I’m sorry about the rooms. If you have to share make sure it’s with Ian. He’s the nearest thing to a gentleman.’
‘That’s all right,’ she smiled.
‘About last night, I was out of order and I’m sorry.’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for,’ she hung her head. ‘Perhaps it’s my fault.’
‘The fault was all mine. But please let’s put it aside. I don’t want any bad feeling between us. You are a fine singer,’ he went on, getting up from his desk and moving nearer her. He put one big hand on her hair, caressing it lightly. ‘Perhaps the best I’ve handled, but you are very young, innocent and wet behind the ears. Now if there’s anything in your past, you should tell me now, because believe me, one day it will come out.’ He paused, looking closely at her, the hooded eyelids looked almost snakelike. ‘I can handle anything as long as I know the truth in advance. But if you hide something from me I can’t help. Do you understand?’
Georgia nodded.
‘Right, now the only other thing is about your dress. Miriam is taking that gold one back to the shop to change it. But she dug this one out this morning. It’s old but we kind of thought it might suit you.’
Max opened a cupboard in the wall and pulled out something white.
Georgia stood up and took it from him.
It was an exquisite dress. White silk with handkerchief points from the hip, each one decorated with tiny seed pearls.
‘Go and try it on,’ he smiled at her awed face. ‘The last time I saw that dress was on the evening of our weddi
ng. Miriam was as slim as you then,’ he pointed to the bathroom adjoining the office. ‘In there.’
It fitted as if it were made for her.
The neckline was low both back and front, skimming over her hips, then flaring out gently to the knee. As Georgia tried a twirl in front of the mirror, the skirt moved, showing glimpses of brown thigh. Although it was a style from the Twenties, somehow it was timeless.
She bounced back into the office, twirling round in front of Max. Her eyes were shining with unsuppressed glee.
‘Perfect,’ he smiled, putting a large hand on her shoulder to twirl her again. ‘Takes me back a few years!’
For just one second she thought he was going to kiss her again. His eyes looked soft, the tip of his tongue just showing through his teeth.
‘Can I show the boys?’ she grinned, tossing back her hair, backing away from him.
‘Of course,’ he said, almost fondly. ‘And wear your hair like that with it tomorrow.’
An hour later they were all in the pub around the corner. The boys were all sinking pints, but Georgia stayed with orange juice.
‘So what was the secret chat for?’ Norman asked, his small eyes suspicious.
‘About behaving myself, not a breath of scandal,’ she laughed. ‘Is he serious? Will they really try to dredge up stuff about me?’
Ian took her to one side later. ‘I got the same sort of chat from Max too, about you,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve got to be big brother it seems.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘Did something happen last night?’
‘Not really,’ she blushed.
‘That means something did,’ Ian took her hand in his, stroking it, yet hiding his action so the other boys wouldn’t see. ‘Look, I know he’s got that fantastic charisma. He’s rich, handsome and he can pull any bird he wants. But he’s dangerous Georgia. You can’t play games with him.’
‘I didn’t,’ she leaned closer to Ian, needing to unburden herself. ‘For a moment I was tempted. But I’m scared of men.’
She expected him to laugh. To her surprise he didn’t, only squeezed her hand tighter.
‘I know. I saw it the first day you were with us. I want us to be friends. Perhaps one day you’ll tell me about it. When you want to, I’ll be there.’
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