Undeterred, Jess asked Mr Simmons for a day off work and spent the entire day calling on friends and neighbours to tell them that the dance was going ahead regardless, and would they spread the word that tickets were available on the door.
When the day finally arrived, Jess and her fellow band members, including Adele, all turned up on time at Atherton Street School Hall, and started to tune up. Seven o’clock approached and, apart from Cissie with one or two of her mates and Ma Pickles and her son Josh, there were a few regulars from the mobile canteen and two little boys all goggle-eyed, asking if they could get in for half price. No one else turned up. It was a complete disaster. Delaney’s All Girls Band waited in vain for three quarters of an hour, then packed up their instruments and went home.
Further investigation revealed that every one of their expensively printed posters had been ripped down, so was it any wonder if few people had even heard about the dance. And none knew better than Jess how Bernie could bully even those who did know of it, to stay away. Wasn’t he an expert in that department?
‘We’re done for,’ Leah said, her eyes oddly bright, almost feverish.
Jess considered her friend more closely, surprised and a little hurt by this negative attitude. ‘Nonsense, it’s not the end of the world. I, for one, am not ready to hang up my trumpet yet, not after all that trouble I had getting hold of one in the first place, and learning how to play the dratted thing. Didn’t we always say that women were the stronger sex, that we weren’t going to rush into marriage but live life to the full, war or no war? Hey, are you sickening for something?’
‘Whatever makes you think so?’
‘You look proper green about the gills. Are you missing Tommy, is that it? Don’t fret. He’s like a cat is our Tommy, blessed with nine lives. Nothing will happen to him.’
The colour in Leah’s pretty face paled even further. ‘Why would I be worried about Tommy?’ Leah still hadn’t owned up to the fact that it was his brother, Harry, she was dating. Jess had put two and two together and made five, and all because of their once meeting Tommy that time at a dance.
‘I expect we’re all just a bit strained and tired. It was a distressing evening and I didn’t sleep well afterwards, did you?’
Leah could scarcely think straight but Jess’s artless comments made her feel worse than ever. She’d got away with it last month, and the one before, but her period this time was two days late and the disappointment over the band was the least of her worries. It seemed as if her greatest fear was about to come true. She was terrified. What would her mother say? Muriel would crucify her for sure; throw her out of the house and tell her not to darken her doorstep ever again. Leah couldn’t begin to imagine how she would manage to bring up a child on her own, homeless and without a father, and with the shame of illegitimacy attached. Not for one moment did she expect Harry to do the decent thing. He was far too self-centred and had never uttered any protestations of undying love. They’d just been having fun, nothing more.
She’d done her best to avoid him during these last couple of weeks, and on the one occasion they did meet up she’d been more than a little frosty towards him, much to his irritation. When she’d slapped his fumbling caresses away as he’d walked her home after the pictures, he’d stormed off and left her all alone in the middle of Albert Square. Afterwards, Leah had regretted being so abrupt and, to her shame, had cried herself to sleep that night. It had been their first quarrel.
What a mess! It would never do for Jess to suspect the truth. Didn’t she have enough on her plate? Her uncle was being particularly difficult, and her mother sliding back into her old bad habits. The poor girl was desperately striving to find a solution to all of this by risking her meagre savings in order to fulfil her own musical ambitions, and provide a more secure future for her family.
Right now it was better for Jess to continue to think she was simply worried about Tommy.
The moment Jess heard Lizzie’s warbling snores tune up, she dug out the old toffee tin from under her mattress and counted every carefully hoarded shilling. She knew she was asking too much of herself. She couldn’t repay Sergeant Ted for the trumpet Uncle Bernie had nicked, and save enough to set up a place of their own, let alone organise a dance.
But nor could she allow her uncle to control her life and get the better of her. Jess felt she had to somehow break free to fulfil her own ambitions and not simply become obsessed with family problems, dire though they may be.
She supposed that a part of her had snatched at the idea of starting a band in the hope that it would prove to be a good investment, to help her not only to replace the money she’d withdrawn from her savings, but also add to it. What she hadn’t bargained for was having to do everything twice, or for it to cost quite so much. Still, in for a penny. . .
With this in mind, she resolutely determined to start from scratch all over again. Only this time she sought Cora’s advice, in the hope that her aunt might give her some tips. Jess was beginning to understand that Uncle Bernie’s family avoided direct confrontation with his bad temper by careful manipulation, not pure chance. That’s why no one ever disagreed with him. Leah had been right. They kept what they were up to as secret as possible, in order to avoid trouble. Cora’s reaction proved her to be correct.
‘Don’t tell our Bernie you’re going to hold another dance, nor owt about what you’re up to, love, then he can’t spoil it.’
‘How can I keep quiet when I need to advertise the dance in order to get people to come to it?’
Cora slid a fried egg next to the chips on Jess’s dinner plate as a special treat to compensate for her disappointment, and conceded that this might indeed create a difficulty.
‘Well then, you’ll just have to put your posters a long way from Deansgate where folk aren’t scared of our Bernie.’
‘But why would perfect strangers, people from another part of Manchester come to our little dance when they can go to the Ritz or somewhere nearer to home?’
Stumped for an answer to this one, Cora picked up a chip and absent-mindedly dipped it into the yolk of Jess’s egg. ‘Well, that’s true, love. That’s very true. Here, look what I’m doing. Eat your dinner lass, before I pinch the food off your plate. Eeh, that’s it. That’s the answer.’
‘What is?’ Taking her at her word, Jess began wolfing down her dinner at record rate. A fried egg was too rare a treat to share, though she didn’t begrudge her aunt the odd taste.
‘Food. What is it folk crave more than anything in these austere times? Good food, that’s what, of which we are never short, praise be.’ Cora pulled up a chair and sat down beside Jess at the table, her plump jowls quivering with excitement. ‘We could make a pie and pea supper. They’d come in droves for that.’
Jess said, ‘but you’d need fat, for all that pastry? And meat for the pies.’
‘I’ve enough dripping saved to get us going, and Bernie can provide the coupons for more fat in future, and for the pork meat we’ll need. That can be his contribution. Not that we’ll tell him what it’s for, eh? How about it? I don’t mind making a few pies. No bother at all. I dare say Cissie would give me a hand.’ They both knew Lizzie would be no use at all.
New posters were done, hand written this time since money was scarce, advertising a pie and pea supper included in the admission charge of one shilling, as well as the thrill of introducing the new Delaney’s All Girls Band. Tickets available on the door or from the Co-op. The dance was to be held on Valentine’s Day to make it extra special. Neighbours and friends became very excited at the prospect, word spread quickly and Cissie was soon asking for more tickets, having sold her initial bundle. Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly.
They even found a drummer.
Ena Price certainly had rhythm, even if she was a Catholic who nursed a secret ambition to be a nun. ‘Except that I can’t quite bring myself to give up sex, to which I’m quite partial, being still in my prime. You might as well know now that I’ve go
t two boy friends, not that either of them is aware that they aren’t my one and only, you understand. Jeff is in the fusiliers, and Pete on a boat somewhere in the Med. And I’ve no intention of giving up either one of them.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Leah said, with open admiration at the difficulties which must be involved in juggling two relationships when she couldn’t even manage one properly.
She was feeling quite perky this morning, having started her period at last, overflowing with relief and happiness that her fears had been groundless all along. She’d also wisely decided not to trust Harry to take the precautions in future, and had visited the Birth Control clinic and got herself set up with proper protection. Not that the doctor had approved of the fact that she was unmarried, and had delivered a long lecture on why she should marry her boyfriend forthwith, before she sank too low. Let him make an honest woman of you, had been his unyielding advice.
Leah had smilingly agreed. But of one thing she was quite certain. She didn’t know if marriage was a possibility or not, but she couldn’t possibly give Harry up. He was far too gorgeous, making her tummy wobble just to think of him. But nor was she prepared to go through this agony month after month.
Jess put her friend’s change of mood down to the success of their new venture. She didn’t volunteer herself to help with making the pies. She left all of that to Cora and her team which comprised Cissie Armitage and Ma Pickles, who gladly brought their rolling pins round to help so they wouldn’t miss out on all the fun, and maybe a bit of free meat and potato pie along the way.
Lizzie was given a potato peeler and set to work, although she spent more time nipping out to the back yard for a quick smoke, as she was forbidden to do so in the kitchen near the pies. Jess just hoped she didn’t have a bottle hidden out there, but accepted that she was doing her best to help, in her own way.
Between them they made half a dozen meat and potato pies in huge basins, borrowing half their neighbours’ ovens in order to cook them all. Even Sandra agreed to help by making sure the mushy peas didn’t boil over. She even sliced and pickled lots of onions and red cabbage, weeping copious tears as she did so.
‘Why do I always get the rotten jobs?’
Jess devoted every moment of her time to rehearsing her new band, which was worry enough. Adele excelled herself and wasn’t late once, although Lulu was nearly always half asleep since she worked in a munitions factory and her days were long and tiring.
‘I need my sleep, darlings, as this is the first time I’ve done any real work in my life. Eight hours a night and not a moment less. Allow me that small indulgence, and I’ll be fine and dandy, crackling with renewed vigour, ready and willing to work hard and do whatever is asked of me.’
‘Well make sure you get plenty of sleep the night before the Valentine’s Dance.’
Miss Mona was calm and upbeat. Her vast experience included having once played in the Manchester Youth Orchestra many years ago, a spell in Vienna, and several more years playing at the opera house in Prague. She now confessed to Leah that she’d actually had an affair with the conductor and got thrown out. At this stage in her life, she admitted to boredom with the classical scene and the need for something more lively. ‘Before it’s too late.’
‘Well, you’ll certainly get that with us,’ Jess told her. ‘So long as my nerves can hold up.’
‘We have every faith in you Jess,’ Leah told her, beaming with pride.
When the night of the dance finally arrived, Jess turned up early to find a queue stretching right around the block. She could hardly believe her eyes. Could they possibly have beaten him and won? Or did Bernie have some other card up his sleeve, to play later when she was least expecting it? She’d just have to hope for the best and not lose her nerve. Oh, but that wasn’t easy! Jess felt sick, the butterflies in her stomach doing a frantic clog dance.
‘Lord, will you look at that. How will I face all these people without you beside me to whisper sweet words of confidence in my ear?’ she said to Steve, hanging on to his arm for support.
‘You’ll be fine once you get up there,’ he told her with a grin. ‘I know you can do it.’
It did indeed prove to be a riotous success, packed to the doors with everyone having a marvellous time. The girls in the band did their part to add a touch of glamour by wearing evening dresses they’d made themselves from fabric donated by Cora, though Jess didn’t dare ask how she’d come by it. Off the ‘back of a lorry’ no doubt. They were all looking very elegant and glamorous for all it was only a school hall, and played as they never had before.
Steve did his part by agreeing to act as Master of Ceremonies, announcing the name of each dance and watching for any irregularities, and that the code of etiquette on the dance floor was properly followed. Jess had been concerned to have a man around in case of trouble. In the event, there was none at all. Everyone was having far too good a time.
They absolutely loved the music, applauded every number, whistled and shouted and showed their appreciation to the full. And since it was Valentine’s night, Jess made sure that there were plenty of novelty dances to give people the chance to get acquainted, and that kissing was an integral part. There were kisses in the progressive barn dance, the Paul Jones, and even in a Scottish reel where couples were expected to make an arch and kiss their partner before they went through it. People loved it and were shouting out for more. All great fun! And then the lights were lowered for the romantic number of Dancing in the Dark.
Even though Jess had loved every moment of being on stage, of thrilling people with her music, at that moment she almost regretted not being able to take part in the dance itself. She ached to be held in Steve’s arms, and to have him kiss her as all these other lovers were doing. She couldn’t even see him with the lights down so low, although she was keenly aware of him standing close by, and could sense his pride in her, his joy in her success.
What’s more, there was nothing but praise for the pie and peas. Cora glowed from the praise and became a different woman for days afterwards, far removed from her usual born-to-please, down-at-heel old self. At one point she even told Bernie to make his own sandwich if he was hungry, since she was too busy planning the supper for the next dance Jess had booked for the following Friday. Life had taken a huge leap forward for Cora, and she wasn’t for stepping back into the dark ages, not if she could help it.
Bernie, having realised that he’d failed to put a stop to Jess’s ‘daft music business’, sat and glowered for a while then stormed off in a huff. She’d thwarted him this time, but he’d have the last laugh, see if he didn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn’t as easy to get the band underway as Jess had hoped. Band leaders and ballroom managers sucked in their breath, puffed out their cheeks and accused them of not being able to withstand the physical hardships of long hours of playing.
‘Women don’t have the stamina that men have,’ said one.
‘Limited scope,’ said another.
‘Women are long on looks but short on talent.’
‘We aren’t in the business of employing young ladies who think it might be fun to show off on stage, however charming and genteel they might be.’
This attitude incensed Jess and she would tell them in no uncertain terms that her girls could play In the Mood every bit as well as they could play Greensleeves.
One manager had the gall to say that women had no real sense of rhythm in a jam session, as they were hopeless at improvising.
Another, trying to be conciliatory, remarked, ‘I see why you ladies are offering to step in, with all the men having been conscripted for service and bands desperate for decent musicians. But we’re not looking for professionals, not amateurs. We need the best.’
Outraged, Jess’s response was sharp. ‘We are the best, and how can we ever get to be professional if we’re never given the chance.’
A shake of the head. ‘Women aren’t made to sit on a stage and blow their brains out.’
‘We could blow the men right off it.’
But no bookings were forthcoming at the top ballrooms such as the Ritz or the Plaza, or any number of others in and around the Manchester area. They spread their net wider, checking out more modest venues, and finally their first professional booking came. It was at a Lad’s Club in Bury. Jess thought the manager took them on out of pity.
He didn’t, however, bill them as professional musicians, but as ‘Patriotic Angels with a Big Talent.’
Adele said, ‘I suppose we’ll have to settle for that, grit our teeth and bear it girls. What choice do we have, except to hope that maybe it’ll lead to better things, and attitudes might change, in time, when they hear us play.’
‘Borrow my nail varnish,’ Lulu offered. ‘We’ll knock their eyeballs out.’
‘Then we’ll hit them with our music,’ Miss Mona quietly added.
‘We certainly will,’ Jess said.
‘Bet your sweet life.’
The lads and their sweethearts, not to mention the rest of the folk who attended the dance, thankfully did not share the manager’s view. To them, it didn’t seem in the least incongruous that the band was comprised entirely of women. After all, if women could build ships, work in factories and buses, why not in a band? They saw them as the patriotic ‘Rosie the riveter’ types, who were freeing men to fight. They cheered and applauded and declared the girls played every bit as well as men.
‘I wish they’d just say we played like musicians,’ Ena grumbled, after one of her ear shattering drum solos.
‘I want to make a career out of this,’ Adele said. ‘I haven’t spent years learning to play the tenor sax just to be thought of as a temporary replacement. A pretty wench with no talent and a good body.’
‘Yes, but folk like glamour,’ Lulu reminded her. ‘Go on, try the varnish. Fuchsia is just your colour, sweetie.’
Dancing on Deansgate Page 21