Dancing on Deansgate

by Freda Lightfoot

  Now that he was a married man, he didn’t deem it necessary to trouble himself quite so much with the preliminaries, or trying to please her. She was his wife, for heaven’s sake, so why bother? It was as if he’d acquired a new toy which he could pick up and use for his own satisfaction whenever the mood took him. The rest of the time it could stay quietly tucked away, in a corner of the kitchen preferably, working on his next meal. There were no more bunches of flowers, no sweet words and soft canoodling, no teasing caresses to get her in a receptive mood. If he wanted ‘a bit of the other’ as he crudely described the act of love, then he took it, or rather helped himself.

  Leah attempted on one or two occasions to explain. ‘Couldn’t you try a little more finesse, Harry, then maybe I’d have time to enjoy it if it lasted a bit longer?’

  ‘Finesse? What the bleedin’ hell are you talking about? Are you suggesting that I’m not capable? Women don’t usually say they don’t enjoy it. I’ve never had no complaints before.’

  ‘I didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. Of course I do, only . . .’

  ‘It’s all right girl. I’ll not stop where I’m not wanted. There are others more appreciative,’ and he’d stormed off in a sulk, banging the door after him.

  Leah ran after him, sobbing that she really didn’t mean it, and would he please come back to bed because she loved him. But he didn’t pause for a second, anxious to get back down to the club where there would be plenty of adoring females, not least an ever-changing parade of barmaids. For the first time, Leah experienced a sense of disquiet. What had she done?

  He was well kettled by the time he staggered back upstairs, but not so far gone that he didn’t notice how attractive Leah was. He could see the long, slender curve of her thigh beneath the bed covers, the soft mound that was her breast as she lay half on her side, half on her back, deeply asleep and tantalisingly vulnerable. Despite having spent a most pleasant hour with one of the new girls, fresh as a peach and ripe for the picking, just looking at her lying there so inviting made him feel all randy again. And she was his wife, dammit. He yanked back the sheets and quickly straddled her. ‘Come on love, wake up, let’s have a bit, eh?’

  ‘Harry, for heavens’ sake, what are you doing? Get off me. I’m half asleep. Give me a minute, for God’s sake.’

  But Harry didn’t have a minute. He pulled up her nightie and got on with the job. It didn’t take long before he reached a satisfying conclusion. A nice little extra by way of dessert, as you might say. Seconds later, he rolled off her and fell into a deep, snoring sleep, spread-eagled across the bed.

  Leah snatched up her dressing gown and fled into the tiny kitchen to make herself a calming cup of tea, and hope that she could cry quietly so that he wouldn’t hear.

  The following evening the band was playing at the Empress ballroom in Pendelton. When they’d first started attending dances, there’d been ‘No Jiving’ notices up everywhere. Now, its popularity was such that jivers simply couldn’t be ignored. They needed space and Jess always made a point of playing music especially for them, often a Glenn Miller number such as Chattanooga Choo-choo, when they could have the floor entirely to themselves. During the more regular dances, they were expected to keep to one corner. But Jess not only provided jivers with the space and the music they wanted, she also offered prizes for the best couple.

  What’s more, she did the same for the foxtrot, and all the other dances which were favourites with the clientele. It was one of the reasons Delaney’s All Girls Band was so popular, because they were careful to please everybody and managed to create a party atmosphere.

  They were booked for a guest spot at the Palais in Bury, invited by their regular musicians, and at the Broadway in Eccles. They also had bookings in Ashton, Levenshulme, the Alhambra Palais and the Savoy Ballroom in Oldham. Dyson’s on Devonshire Street was a regular spot for them, usually held on a Tuesday and where the tango was a particular favourite. They were doing well, going up in the world.

  Yet despite the band’s huge success, Jess wasn’t sure if she had the strength to go on. It had taken every ounce of her will power to get herself out of bed this morning, knowing that she’d sent Steve away for good. Her face had felt stiff and unnatural as she attempted to smile at the customers throughout the long day, chatting to them about the weather and the current state of the war, desperate to appear as if everything was perfectly normal. While inside she felt bleak, empty. Jess couldn’t think of a single reason to go on living.

  Leah, having watched her with obvious concern all morning, had fetched a coffee for them both. ‘Can we have a little chat?’

  ‘Later,’ Jess said. ‘We’ll talk later,’ and ignoring the coffee, she’d walked away to avoid further questions.

  Now here they were on their rest break during the interval while a small jazz quartet kept the customers amused. Leah hadn’t asked her a single question, not yet, but had sat patiently waiting to hear the reason for her very evident gloom and depression.

  There was no doubt that Jess felt an urgent need to tell someone, at least the assault part of it. Cora had done her best with her homespun wisdom and advice but Jess wasn’t yet ready to reveal the catastrophic result of the incident, not until she’d had time to decide what she intended to do about it. Lizzie of course, wasn’t interested in anything beyond herself, not unless it came out of a bottle. And Leah was as close as a sister to her, now that she was one of the family.

  To her credit, Leah didn’t interrupt once as Jess spilled out the whole, sordid tale. When she finally fell silent, still with much left unsaid but lacking the will to say any more, Leah put her arms around her friend and held her close, blue eyes gleaming though whether with anger or tears over the treatment meted out by her uncle, Jess wasn’t too sure. ‘No wonder you’ve been under the weather lately, love. Cry if you like, I am.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve any tears left.’

  ‘There was me fretting about not getting my parents’ approval, but at least I am safely married, if not, in their eyes, particularly respectably. But you’ve had all this to deal with.’ Leah was thinking that although she couldn’t pretend things were perfect between herself and Harry, or quite as she’d hoped and expected, it was surely nothing that couldn’t be put right, given time and love. Jess’s problem on the other hand, was the worst imaginable. Rape! And by her own uncle. Dear God, what could be worse than that? ‘You should have told me to stop complaining and listen to someone else’s problems for a change.’

  ‘You weren’t to know, and I couldn’t - couldn’t talk about it, not even to you.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve told me now.’ Leah’s blue eyes were gentle, then she gathered Jess’s two hands firmly between her own. ‘So that’s why the dreadful Uncle Bernie was notable by his absence from my wedding? What did Steve say? I should think he’d be disappointed to miss the opportunity to knock his block off.’

  Jess cleared her throat. ‘Steve doesn’t know. I haven’t told him. Don’t, in fact, ever intend to tell him. Only yesterday he came to the canteen and I explained that it was all over between us. We’re finished.’

  Leah gaped at her friend in disbelief. ‘For heavens’ sake, why? You must tell him, Jess. You can’t just walk away without an explanation. That’s too cruel. He adores you.’

  The pain in her breast was like a giant fist clenching her heart. ‘Don’t - please. I can’t bear it.’

  Adele stuck her head around the door. ‘Two minutes.’

  ‘Right. We’re on our way.’ Jess at once got to her feet and Leah had to hurry to keep up with her as she left the dressing room and made her way back to the ballroom. ‘You can’t do this. You can’t just wipe him out of your life as if he was of no account. This is a decision with awesome repercussions. You love him, I know you do. So if you end it all, that’s it. It’s over for life! You’ll have lost him for good. Is that what you want?’

  Jess had climbed back on stage, was polishing her trumpet, riffling through sheet musi
c preparatory to starting the second half of the dance. She really had no wish to be reminded of what she’d lost. Besides, Leah only knew half the story. Jess had made no mention of her ‘delicate condition’, nor had she any intention of doing so. Not just yet. ‘I don’t think it matters what I want. I only know that I’m not fit to be with him right now. I couldn’t – can’t even bear to think of being touched by any man.’

  ‘But Steve isn’t just any man.’

  Jess wordlessly shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. She slapped them ruthlessly away. ‘Right girls, we’ll start with Run, Rabbit, Run, through the usual numbers to Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree.’

  Leah’s face was warm with sympathy and yet with an edge of desperation to it as she put out a hand to prevent Jess from counting them in, speaking in a breathless whisper, anxious to get her point across. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through but I know that Steve loves you. He’ll help you to get over this terrible thing. It’s natural enough to want to shut him out, but it will pass given time, and you’re badly in need of his loving support.’

  ‘I couldn’t ask that of him. I couldn’t let him take the risk. Not if I was frigid and couldn’t be a – a proper wife to him? OK, girls, one, two, three . . .’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Harry considered it to be essential that he try out each of the new girls for himself. Test the merchandise as it were, before selling it to the punters. Besides, he was bored with Queenie, who was getting a bit worn out and predictable, and not for a moment did it cross his mind that being married required him to be faithful. That wasn’t his style, any more than it had been Bernie’s. His father had spread his favours wherever it had taken his fancy, and no harm had been done by it, not that Harry was aware of. What the little wife didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her. In any case, a husband was entitled to do as he pleased.

  Harry was by no means dissatisfied with his marriage. Leah was a good looking lass, bonny, and sufficiently voluptuous to stir any man’s loins. He also hoped that she might bring other benefits, such as a bit of brass to the table. Getting a new business going had proved to be far harder than he’d expected. The yanks were always good spenders and dug deep into their pockets without a care in the world. Our own boys weren’t quite so free with their money, as they were less well paid, and more circumspect. A pint or two of good beer came before paying for a tart any time. They preferred to get a bit of ‘how’s your father’ for nothing, if they could.

  He’d been forced to let out some of the rooms above the club, accommodation being at a premium, in order to get some reliable income coming in. He’d kept a couple of rooms vacant for the club’s exclusive use.

  This latest girl, Honey, as she insisted on being called, (although Harry seemed to remember her as Gladys at school), was a bit daft and giggly, but eager enough and willing to learn. He liked them young, around fifteen or sixteen if possible. Honey was twenty-three, only a year or two younger than himself, and therefore a bit long in the tooth for his taste.

  However, she was certainly experienced, so that was a bonus.

  Once she’d realised that Harry had no time to waste on conversation and the preliminaries, she stroked him in all the right places, bringing him to a pitch of ecstasy that he hadn’t experienced since his days as a raw adolescent behind the bike sheds. Blood pounding, and his member throbbing like a mad thing with a life of its own, Harry pushed her roughly back on to the pillows so that he could get on with the job. He rather thought he’d surprised her with his vigour. There’d been a bored smirk on her face at first, which had swiftly vanished once he got going. She’d soon discovered that he wasn’t a man to trifle with, had even cried out at one point when he’d turned her over and done it again.

  Later, when he let himself into the flat, their little love-nest as Leah described it, she was waiting for him with a plate of roast pork.

  ‘By heck, that smells good.’ He had to hand it to the lass, she could cook as well as the rest of her breed, and she’d done the place up champion. Put up a few pictures, bought a nice new red and beige patterned rug, he noticed. Oh, yes, she knew how to make a man comfortable.

  ‘I’ve been keeping it warm for you,’ she told him, and her smile brought a memory of the fun they’d once had together, making him think of other diversions they could perhaps enjoy before he got down to his dinner.

  ‘I hope that’s not all you’ve been keeping warm love.’ But the delicious aroma of the pork reminded him of a more mundane hunger and, a man of large appetites in every way, he wasted no time in tucking in. There’d be plenty of time later, if he was still in the mood. ‘What a good idea of mine to marry a Simmons. You’re as good a cook as your dad.’

  Leah went pink with pleasure at his praise. ‘I’ve made rhubarb and custard to follow.’

  Harry had two helpings. When he’d wiped the last dribble of custard from his chin, he said, ‘Speaking of your dad, I were wondering if he’d come round yet, now we’ve been wed for a while, and were warm for a bob or two.’

  ‘If he’s what?’ Leah said, giving a little laugh of disbelief. She‘d not sat and shared the meal with Harry because there’d been too little meat, and had settled for cheese on toast earlier. Now she began to clear away, happily dreaming of a cosy evening together by the fire. She’d got a smoochy Bing Crosby record on the new gramophone, all ready to play. Harry put out a hand to stop her.

  ‘I mean, is he good for a loan, preferably without interest, naturally. When Dad did a bunk, he left me with a few unpaid bills, nothing serious you understand,’ he quickly added, seeing the dismay in her face. ‘But it isn’t easy to get a business going during war-time, so I wondered if he’d be prepared to cough up a few quid, since we’re family now.’

  Leah was horrified. She’d known that Harry operated close to the edge, but she’d never for a moment doubted that he was a shrewd businessman, an accomplished wheeler and dealer; or suspected that the club wasn’t sound. ‘I thought you’d let out the rooms and that would bring in the extra income you needed.’

  ‘I have, but it isn’t enough. You know how it is these days.’ He flapped a hand and gave a vague sort of shrug, not wishing to be explicit.

  ‘Dad’s had his worries too, you know. Not least getting enough raw materials for the cakes and such like.’ She sat down beside him, wanting to help. He was her husband after all. They were in this together. ‘Why don’t you ask Jess to hold a dance in the big room? That would make money. The band is very popular now.’

  Harry ground his teeth, annoyed that his stupid cousin should be making such a success of her life when his seemed to be falling apart, but he turned the possibility over in his head. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, except that he used that room for poker and blackjack. Very popular that was with the Yanks, among others.

  The trouble was, he tended to lose the profit as quickly as he made it because he enjoyed a game himself, and he’d had a run of bad luck lately. Nor was it his fault if he’d been forced to borrow money from some shady characters to make ends meet. Everything was so much more expensive than he’d expected. And Harry just knew that he didn’t want Jess anywhere near his club, showing off and being all la-di-dah.

  ‘A dance wouldn’t make nowhere near enough brass, not unless she agreed to play for nowt, which I can’t see her doing, can you?’

  Leah said, ‘She might, if we explain how important it is.’ She didn’t sound too confident, knowing how much Jess disliked her cousin.

  ‘Best we tap your dad, he’s good for a few quid,’ Harry decided, swaggering his broad shoulders to remind himself how powerful he was.

  ‘I really don’t think so. You know that he and Mother didn’t altogether approve of our marriage. They aren’t going to take too kindly to being asked to finance your business.’

  Harry looked affronted. ‘I would have thought they’d be pleased to see their precious little darling well looked after. Bloody parents, no use
to anybody.’ His own were just as bad. What use was his poor dad now that he was dead. If it hadn’t been for their Jess taunting him, Bernie would never have gone for her, never have been clobbered over the head by Mam, and they wouldn’t have had to dump him in that old bomb site. Harry suddenly came over all maudlin, forgetting how much he’d hated his father when he was alive, and constantly challenged his authority.

  And then it occurred to him, on a flash of inspiration, that he did have a lever to make Jess play for nothing. To force her to do owt he wanted. Why hadn’t he realised this before now? Hadn’t he said she should pay for the damage she caused? And he’d make sure that she did just that.

  ‘…Actually, I was thinking of giving up working at the tea room.’

  Harry came out of his thoughts to realise his wife was still talking, some nonsense about them drifting apart, which had been worrying her ever since the wedding.

  ‘It occurred to me that working together at the club might help bring us close again. I’ve never liked the tea room particularly, and I thought I might be more use here, at the club.’

  ‘You can do that anyway, in the evenings.’

  ‘Not every evening. I can’t work when we have a gig, you know that. But I’d much rather work with you at the club than for my parents.’

  He wasn’t interested in what Leah would rather do. Harry was concerned only with money. Besides, she was more use to him working at the tea room, and her obstinate refusal to squeeze a few quid out of her well-heeled parents irritated him enormously. ‘Where’s the harm in your dad lending us a few quid, fifty say, or even seventy-five? He’d never miss it, well set-up chap like him. He can afford that surely? Like I say, it’d still be in the family.’

  ‘I’m not sure my parents would see it in quite that light. Best we manage on our own, and I have every faith in you Harry.’ Leah put her arms about his neck to kiss him on the cheek. Harry shoved her off.