by Anne Douglas
‘Snap, then!’ Rod’s eyes were dancing. ‘I don’t know much about art, either. It was Flo who told me about Rennie Mackintosh, after we all went out to the Willow Tea Room one time. And did you know that “Sauchiehall”, as in the street, is really “Sauchiehaugh” which means willow meadow? She told me that as well.’
‘Flo’s very clever,’ Lorna murmured. ‘Very intelligent. And deserves better from Luke than she gets.’
‘How do you mean?’ Rod asked with interest, but when a waitress came to take their order for soup and herb omelettes, Lorna made no reply.
‘Are you talking about money?’ he pressed. ‘I’ve often heard her and the girls complaining.’
‘Well, you might hear me complaining, too.’
‘I won’t ask you what you get, but I know Luke pays girls less than the men. Can’t blame him, I suppose. It’s usual practice.’
‘Can’t blame him? What are you talking about, Rod? How can it be fair to pay women less than men if they do the same work?’
‘Lorna, the men are the breadwinners. They have families to support.’
‘Oh? So where’s your family, Rod?’
He looked a little abashed and seemed at a loss for a reply, until the waitress brought their soup and he gave a sigh of relief.
‘Hey, this is good, eh? Want a roll with it?’
‘You must admit, it would be fairer if single men and single women at least were paid the same.’ With unusual force, Lorna tore her roll apart. ‘Come on, Rod, agree with me!’
‘Yes, maybe that would be more fair,’ he said hastily. ‘Can we talk about something else now?’
For a moment or two, she studied him, thinking, yes, his was a fine face, with wide, benevolent brow and generous mouth, those eyes that crinkled when he smiled. So, why were his views so different from hers? And, oh God, why did she mind?
For the rest of the meal, they trod very carefully, saying no more about money or women’s rights in the workplace, and by the time they came out into driving rain and decided to go to the pictures, they felt remarkably in tune with each other.
‘Good idea to come here,’ Rod remarked, as they stepped into the vestibule of the cinema where a small queue was forming at the box office. ‘Best place to get out of this downpour, eh? And who cares what’s on?’
‘Why, I do!’ Lorna cried, brushing her damp hair from her brow. ‘And it just so happens, it’s something I want to see. Look – it’s a Hitchcock picture – Spellbound.’
‘With Ingrid Bergman – my favourite!’
‘Gregory Peck – mine! Oh, Rod, I do hope we’re no’ too late for the beginning.’
‘Exactly in time for the matinee, from what it says on that board. Our lucky day, eh? I’ll just find some money.’
Standing to one side, Lorna averted her eyes as Rod sorted through a handful of coins from his pocket. Sometimes, in the past, going out with boys who weren’t earning much, she’d offered to pay her share but they’d always refused, just as Rod would refuse if she offered now, she felt sure.
It would not be his style, to let a woman pay for anything, and the truth was, he did earn more than she did. All the same, she wondered if she should make a stand – let him see that they were equals, even if Luke didn’t think so? But he’d already reached the front of the queue and was buying their tickets while she was still debating what to do, and in the end she let it go. Why make a fuss and cause more arguments?
‘Thanks, Rod,’ she said quietly, as the usherette showed them to seats in the back stalls, and at his smile, decided she’d done the right thing.
She was even more relieved they hadn’t had another argument when, as the lights went down, he took her hand and she sensed his pleasure in just being with her. He really wanted that, didn’t he? Was really happy in her company, even though he scarcely knew her? And already, as his warm hand rested round hers, she was wondering if she might be feeling the same about him.
There was certainly something about his presence that stirred feelings that were new to her. And exciting. Trouble was, she’d meant it when she’d told Flo she wasn’t interested in young men ‘at the minute’ – only in her career. Anyway, it was all too soon and she had other things to think about. The broadcasting contract, for instance. Whenever the thought of that came into her mind, she hugged it to her as something warm and comforting. But then – she couldn’t deny it – holding hands with Rod was having something of the same effect.
Better concentrate on the film, she thought, for the Lord knew, it was exciting enough, with its Salvador Dali dream sequences, and dear handsome Gregory Peck being suspected of murder, and lovely Ingrid Bergman trying to protect him. But why did the pattern of lines upset him? And who was the mysterious proprietor, haunting the mountain slopes? By the end of the thrilling denouement, Lorna found herself quite forgetting to analyse her feelings about Rod and she was just clinging on to his hand like a lifeline.
‘Oh, Lorna,’ he whispered, laughing, as the credits rolled up and the cinema lights came on, ‘you weren’t scared, were you?’
‘No, of course I wasn’t!’ she declared, finally loosening her hand from his. ‘But I thought it was a terrific picture, didn’t you?’
‘I did. Just wish we didn’t have to come back to reality.’ Rod tapped his watch. ‘Must go home, though. Get ready for this evening. Because, this evening, we’re not going to be late, right?’
‘Right. I’m never going to be late for Luke again, that’s for sure.’
As they stood at the tram stop in the still falling rain, she glanced at Rod who was looking a stranger with his fair hair so wet it seemed dark. Yet his friendly smile was his all right, and so was the blue-grey gaze he turned on her in the fading December light.
‘Thanks for a lovely day, Rod. I really enjoyed it.’
‘Not over yet. We’ll meet tonight. Maybe go for a drink afterwards?’
‘Maybe.’
But already she’d decided that she wouldn’t. Better go carefully, eh?
‘Very sensible decision,’ Flo told her later. ‘It isn’t just that you might have problems with Rod if you encourage him, but you could be in trouble with Luke as well.’
‘Luke? What’s he got to do with it?’
‘Well, he’s like a lot of bandleaders – they don’t want their musicians getting involved in relationships. Within the band, I mean. Usually falling for the vocalist, of course, and thinking more about her than their playing.’
‘I don’t see that it’s any business of Luke’s to interfere in people’s private lives.’
‘He reckons it is his business when their private lives affect the performance of the band. Look, don’t worry, you’re being sensible about Rod, and we’ll hope he’ll get the message, eh? There won’t be anything for Luke to complain about.’
‘I’ll have to admit, I’m sort of attracted to Rod,’ Lorna said slowly.
Flo gave her a long steady look. ‘You’ll have to make up your mind, then, what you want.’
‘Well, it’s early days, isn’t it? I’m just starting out. I have to think of that.’
‘Quite right. Stick to concentrating on your career. Find time for Rod later. If he cares for you, he’ll wait.’
‘I suppose he will.’
‘And in the meantime, have you thought about what solos you might play? I’m sure Luke will be asking you soon.’
‘Solos? Help, I did say I wanted solos! But what will Josh say?’
‘Who on earth cares? It’s Luke you have to worry about not Josh.’
But Lorna was still really worrying about Rod.
Sixteen
In the weeks that followed, all went well. Better than Lorna could have hoped.
First, there was Christmas and though she’d been thinking she might not be able to spend it with her mother, Luke having booked the band for a Christmas Eve dance, she did manage to get a train early on Christmas morning which meant she could be home in good time.
‘And you�
�ve got Christmas Day and Boxing Day?’ Tilly asked, looking pleased when they opened their presents together. ‘I never thought you’d get the time off at all. You remember your dad was always playing somewhere and I’d to fit the dinner in when I could.’
‘I never thought I’d get it myself,’ Lorna told her. ‘But now we can have a lovely day to ourselves, eh?’
Tilly looked a little apologetic. ‘As a matter of fact, Cissie’s coming over with your cousins and I’ve invited Ewen and his mother as well.’
‘You haven’t!’
‘Aye, I have. Thought we could have tea and then a sing-song, with you playing the piano like you used to do. Mrs MacKee’s really looking forward to it.’
Bet she is, Ewen, too, Lorna thought, but her expression softened. Actually, she was quite looking forward to it herself, and in the event found it really did her good to be home again.
It was a relief to be free of worries about her solos – though her first had gone well on Christmas Eve, with praise from Luke and no adverse comments from Josh. Free, too, of having to watch out for Rod, to see if he was upset that they weren’t going out together, though in fact, he seemed to be taking it rather well. Accepting her excuses, smiling his pleasant smile, ‘getting the message’, as Flo had put it. What a relief!
Even when, on Christmas afternoon, Ewen looked so happy to see her, which should have made her feel bad, and his mother complained about her rheumatics, which was always her way, seasonal spirit got Lorna through and she saw to it that they had a wonderful time. Auntie Cissie and her cousins, Pippie and Alex, were kissed and embraced, too, and after Tilly’s Christmas cake and mince pies, there came the sing-song with Lorna playing the piano and people shedding a tear or two, for this was the first peacetime Christmas and they had to remember those who would not be celebrating as they were.
‘The poor folk no’ coming back from the war,’ Cissie murmured, when the singing was over and Ewen was opening the bottle of port he’d brought. ‘Let’s drink to them, eh? And absent friends.’
‘And Dad,’ Lorna whispered, her eyes misting again.
‘Aye, to Cam,’ Tilly said. ‘And your Jamie, Cissie.’
‘To our dad,’ said tall, blond Pippie and Alex in unison. They were both working as teachers, one in Jedburgh, the other in Hawick, but fascinated by Lorna’s new job, and after the toasts, keen to get her to talk about it. When might they hear her play then? Would the band be touring, for instance? When she told them they’d be touring the Borders and the south in March, there was great excitement, and though Tilly put on her dubious look, even she couldn’t find anything to worry about when Lorna casually threw in that the band would be broadcasting in January.
‘Oh, my, you’re going to be famous!’ Pippie cried. ‘Wait till I tell them at school!’
‘Playing on the wireless,’ Cissie sighed. ‘Hear that, Ewen?’
‘I hear,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Congratulations, Lorna. I’ll be sure to tell ’em all at the post office.’
It was only when he and Lorna went for a walk on Boxing Day, that he seemed unable to keep up his pretence of being happy for her and admitted that he was feeling very low.
‘Aye, low’s the word for me,’ he muttered. ‘Seeing you flying, eh?’
‘Flying, Ewen?’ Lorna repeated. ‘I’m just a very ordinary part of the band. I’m no’ flying anywhere.’
‘Yes, yes, you are. I feel it. And I bet there’s some guy for you over there already, isn’t there? I don’t know why, but I feel that, too.’
‘No, no,’ she said quickly. ‘No one special.’
‘It’s all right, Lorna, I never expected to be the one for you.’ He smiled grimly. ‘The boy next door, eh? I’m the one that’s no’ special.’
‘Oh, Ewen, you’re very special to me. My special friend.’ Lorna’s eyes were searching his face which was pinched and reddened with the chill of the air. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything?’
‘In a word, no.’ He took her arm, as they turned from the banks of the Water of Leith and retraced their steps. ‘It’s cold, eh? Let’s get back to your ma’s. She promised me more of her Christmas cake.’
Just before they went inside the house, however, Ewen took out a notebook and pencil. ‘When do you say you’ll be on the wireless?’ he asked quietly, and when Lorna told him, wrote the dates in his book. Then he kissed her cheek and very swiftly her lips.
‘I’ll be listening,’ he whispered, and followed her into the house.
Seventeen
After Christmas and Hogmanay came what Lorna and the band had really been waiting for: the January broadcasts. Yet it appeared to some that the idea of being back on the air had gone to Luke’s head, for not only had he called in two extra arrangers to score new numbers, he’d taken to drilling the band so hard in rehearsal, some felt like going on strike. Always a perfectionist, he’d now become obsessed with finding fault, and shouted so loud at unfortunates who played a wrong note, or displeased him in any way, by the time the first broadcast was due, many were succumbing to nerves.
‘It’s just because he’s setting such store on making his name with the publicity,’ George explained. ‘It’s important to him to do well, so you just have to go along with it.’
‘It’s important to all of us,’ Flo snapped. ‘But we aren’t driving everybody mad because of it.’
‘Ah, but he’s the bandleader,’ George reminded her. ‘He gets the kudos if we’re a success, he carries the can if we’re not.’
‘Well, thank God, the whole thing will soon be over,’ Josh put in. ‘Then we can relax.’
‘When we go on tour?’ Flo asked with raised eyebrows. ‘Are you serious?’
Lorna was saying nothing, thinking only of the broadcast ahead. Like everyone else, she was on edge, yet so consumed by excitement, she seemed able to put her nerves aside. This was an experience she had looked forward to for so long, she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it.
Arriving early for the brief warm-up before they went on air, she looked around, as she so often did, for Rod – not to talk to, just to see how he was looking. She found his eyes, as they so often were, fixed upon her. She smiled a little. He smiled back. But they did not speak.
In fact, after the producer had finished telling everybody what to expect, it was Luke who was doing most of the talking, walking round, reminding everybody of things they already knew, even tweaking people’s jackets, as though they were going to be seen, which was absurd.
‘I feel like telling him, this is the wireless we’re on, Luke, not the films!’ Ina whispered, nudging Lorna’s arm. ‘Will you just look at him with Suzie? He’s more like a fashion plate than she is!’
‘Talk about a peacock,’ Dickie Tarrant commented. ‘Just hope he doesn’t forget where he is and shout at us if we get something wrong’
But all fell silent as the producer showed them into the studio to take their places. The clock showed it was time. They were on air.
Somebody was introducing them: ‘Tonight we have one of Scotland’s best known dance bands – Luke Riddell’s Orchestra – playing to you from the BBC. And here is Luke himself, to tell you something of the programme. Ladies and gentlemen – Luke Riddell!’
‘Good evening, everyone,’ came Luke’s especially smooth tones. ‘Can’t tell you how much pleasure it gives my band and me to be playing to you this evening, and we hope you’ll enjoy the music we’ve chosen for you. A medley of old and new, beginning with that catchy number, “On the Sunny Side of the Street”, followed by “Anything Goes”, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, and that old favourite, “Harbour Lights”.
And then Luke was turning to the band, raising his stick, beating them in, and at last, long last, they were off. Nerves forgotten, they played their best, Suzie sang her best, Luke introduced more numbers, and the time flew by so fast, before they knew it, he was at the microphone again, wrapping things up, telling everyone to tune in tomorrow for more music from Luke Riddell and his Orchestra! The
y were off air.
‘Well done!’ cried the producer.
‘Well done,’ Luke agreed, walking amongst his band as they were leaving the studio. ‘Just one or two wobbles – nothing to speak of – very good on the whole.’
‘What wobbles?’ asked Josh. ‘If you ask me, we’ve never played so well.’
‘I agree,’ the lead trumpeter, Bob Kenny said truculently. ‘If you’ve found anything wrong, just spit it out, Luke.’
‘He hasn’t found anything wrong,’ Suzie declared. ‘We were all perfect. Now, let’s get going. We’ve another show to do tonight, remember.’
‘Oh, no!’ people began wailing, as they prepared to face the January night. ‘We’ve still to play at the Atholl!’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,’ Luke said grimly.
Having observed everything and soaked up her new experiences like a sponge, Lorna hurried home with Flo, her thoughts now with the mainly unknown audience who might have heard her play that evening. Only as a part of the band, of course, not in a solo spot – that honour had gone to Josh, as was only to be expected, he being lead tenor sax. But still part of the Luke Riddell sound, which must have gone out to so many homes, so many folk she would never know and yet could feel affinity with, simply through her instrument and the music it played.
‘Enjoy it?’ asked Flo. ‘Did it come up to expectations?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes it did!’
‘Well, don’t take too long getting ready now. We haven’t got a lot of time.’
‘Don’t I know it!’ Lorna answered, rushing to wash and change and put on the kettle. But when she was almost ready, just brushing her hair, she couldn’t believe how quick Flo had been, knocking at her door.
‘Come in, Flo!’ she called. ‘Door’s not locked!’
But it wasn’t Flo at the door, it was Rod.
Eighteen
Snow was covering his overcoat and melting from his hair as he stood in her doorway, gazing at Lorna.