by Anne Douglas
‘OK to come in?’ he asked huskily.
She had risen from her chair, putting down her brush, and for a moment did not speak. Was she just surprised to see him? Or, not surprised at all? Had she always known that some time, in spite of all her efforts to stand aloof, he would come to her? Anyway, she finally nodded and he took a step towards her.
‘A fellow coming out let me in your main door. I told him I was from the band, come to collect you.’
‘I see.’
‘He saw my trumpet case.’ Rod showed it, with a smile, then set it down. ‘Must have believed me.’
‘Are you collecting us?’
‘Well, it’s snowing – I thought for once we’d share a taxi.’ He was very close to her now, close enough to touch her, but staying still, keeping his eyes upon her. ‘I see you’ve already changed. So have I. Into my awful blue jacket.’
‘You look nice in that blue jacket.’
‘Not half as nice you look in your blue dress.’
‘Got my old cardigan over it for now.’ She laughed uneasily. ‘No’ so warm in here.’
‘Believe me, you look beautiful. But here am I, covering everything in snow.’
Unbuttoning his overcoat, he let it fall and after a long moment of silence, put out his arms to her and, still in silence, she went to him. It seemed right, it seemed natural; something they could not deny themselves, and for some time they stayed together, letting the feeling wash over them that some great step had been taken, that nothing would be the same for them again. Then they kissed, and kissed again, ecstatically, until Rod drew away, holding Lorna from him so that he could look into her eyes.
‘Oh, God, Lorna,’ he said in a low voice, ‘why have you been running from me? What makes you so afraid?’
‘I wasn’t afraid, Rod. Well, not of you. I just – I felt it was too soon.’
‘What was?’
‘Oh, you know – to be having a relationship. I’m just starting out on what I want to do. I didn’t want . . . to be serious.’
‘You thought you could choose?’ Rod smiled and held her close again. ‘Lorna, darling, you can’t choose to be serious or not serious. You can’t choose to love or not love. It happens, that’s all. And it’s happened to us.’
‘We can’t be sure, Rod. Folk often think they love someone, and then they find it wasn’t real.’
‘Mine is real. Yours is real. Lorna, promise – you won’t run from me again?’
Her lips parted, she was ready to speak, when another knock came at her door.
‘Lorna, are you ready?’ came Flo’s voice. ‘It’s snowing, so I’ve booked a taxi.’
‘I’m ready!’ Lorna called back, hurriedly giving Rod his coat and running to open the door. ‘Flo, look who’s here! Rod had the same idea as you – he wanted us to take a taxi.’
‘Well, well, Rod, eh?’ Flo, in heavy coat and gloves, with a scarf wound round her head, looked at Rod and smiled a little smile. ‘Nice, we’re all going in together then. The taxi’s due in five minutes, so we may as well go down to wait for it.’
‘May as well,’ they agreed.
There it was, the taxi, waiting; headlights blurring in the whirling snow, the driver reluctantly climbing out to open his doors.
‘I’ll be pig in the middle!’ Flo cried, making Lorna go before her, so that she could sit between her and Rod, and looking from one to the other in the gloom of the interior, her eyes sparkling.
Oh, Flo, you tease, Lorna thought. She knows, doesn’t she?
But trying to separate herself and Rod, the way they felt at that moment, was pointless. Each was so conscious of the other, so dwelling on every look, every movement, Flo might just as well not have been there.
It was only when, as usual, she was absorbed into the music at the Atholl Rooms, that Lorna’s thoughts moved away from Rod, but they returned in full force at the intermission, only to be kept hidden when Ina came up to join them for coffee.
‘Just making sure you don’t forget the time,’ she cheerfully announced, but at the look on Rod’s face, hastily added, ‘only joking, of course!’ and asked if they were going for a drink later. ‘I thought I might, if the boys don’t get too noisy.’
Rod’s eyes met Lorna’s. A drink with the boys? They’d rather be on their own. Separately, they came to the same conclusion, though. Better not push it, eh? Better not cause talk at this early stage. What had happened between them that evening was their secret, something to be held close and marvelled at, not revealed too early.
‘I think I might go along,’ Lorna said carefully.
‘I might, too.’ Rod cheerfully finished his coffee. ‘Hey, isn’t it time we were on our way?’
All three were the first back on the stand, except for Luke, who graciously inclined his head at them and said, ‘Well done!’
Nineteen
In the time following that first broadcast, Lorna thought she’d never been so happy. Everything in her life seemed to be combining to give her what she wanted – well, perhaps not quite all, for she and Rod were having to be very careful. Not only to keep their new-found love a secret from the band and sharp-eyed Luke, but also to keep within the limits they’d set themselves. No sex, then, but love-making as near as they could get to it without taking risks. Risks Lorna never put into words but which Rod perfectly understood.
‘Need the ring on the finger?’ he asked once, lying with her in the battered armchair of her bed sitter, having taken her hand and kissed it. ‘How about I get one?’
She had hesitated. Engagement, marriage: they represented huge changes for which she wasn’t quite sure she was ready. Though she knew she and Rod were truly in love, the path ahead wasn’t as straightforward as it might be. Commitment was involved, and she’d already made a commitment to her career. How would it work out to have two commitments? That was the question she had to answer.
‘You’re thinking you’re too young?’ Rod had asked quietly, but she’d shaken her head.
‘I’m twenty–one now – loads of women marry at that age.’
‘But you’re not ready?’
She shrugged. ‘We could maybe wait a while?’
‘Fine. Just as long as you don’t desert me.’
‘As though I would!’ she’d cried and the discussion ended in passionate embraces until it was time to get ready for their evening booking.
With the ending of Luke’s dance hall contracts and the blustery arrival of March, came the time to begin preparing for the tour. There were low-voiced grumbles from certain members of the band.
‘If we have to go on tour, why not somewhere abroad?’ asked Bob Kenny. ‘Somewhere warm?’
‘Good idea,’ voices agreed, until Josh reminded them that foreign travel was still much restricted, unless you were entertaining the troops somewhere.
‘Could do that,’ Dickie Tarrant said with enthusiasm. ‘Could go to Germany, maybe. Let’s suggest it to Luke.’
But no one volunteered to do that, Luke being well known for not accepting suggestions from anybody.
‘While we’re talking about suggestions,’ Flo murmured to Lorna, ‘mind if I make one to you? Don’t let Rod sit next to you on the tour coach too often. I think Luke is watching you more than you realize.’
‘You really mean he’d tell us we shouldn’t be together?’
‘You know he would. Haven’t I said he doesn’t approve of love affairs between people in the band? And he’s no’ the only one.’
‘Can he honestly say we don’t play as well because of our feelings for each other?’ Lorna cried angrily. ‘As soon as I pick up my sax, that’s all I’m thinking about, and Rod’s the same with his trumpet. I’ll tell Luke that, if he says anything to me!’
‘Be careful, then. Remember, he’s the boss.’
Lorna hesitated, looking at Flo’s strong thin face ‘If Luke knows about us, I suppose other people do?’
‘Only Ina and me. I don’t think the men have noticed anything yet, but mi
ght when we’re all together on that coach. Better watch your step, eh?’
‘I do get tired of doing that,’ Lorna admitted. ‘But I’m still looking forward to going on tour. I mean, it has to be interesting, seeing different places and new audiences, hasn’t it?’
‘Are you joking? First, the coach will be freezing. Likewise, the digs. Likewise, the halls. Probably the food, too.’
‘Have you actually been touring?’ Lorna asked, laughing, and Flo shrugged and laughed herself.
‘No, I’m just going on what folk tell me.’
‘Well, this one might be different.’
‘Ah, you’re thinking of spending more time with your Rod, eh? Just remember what I said, though. Watch your step.’
Twenty
Kilmarnock, Ayr, Peebles, Moffat, Dumfries, Carlisle, Alnwick, Berwick-upon-Tweed . . . Just names on the map to Lorna, until on a bleak March day, the band set off on its travels.
‘Oh, what did I tell you?’ Flo cried, as they entered their coach for the first time. ‘It’s freezing!’
Well, it was true, it wasn’t warm, but Lorna, ready to get the most out of this new experience, scarcely noticed, and anyway, in spite of all Flo’s warnings, she had Rod next to her, his comforting hand in hers covered by his folded overcoat – why should she mind the chill?
It soon became apparent, however, that everything Flo had said about touring was turning out to be true. The coach was cold; their lodgings spartan; the local dance halls where they played, always icy until halfway through the evening when the audiences added some warmth. As for the food, with rationing still in force, there was no point in expecting too much. The local people did their best, and if it felt as though the war was not yet over when the spam came out again and there were no eggs for breakfast, well, what could anyone do?
Go to the pub after they’d finished playing, maybe, or huddle round the fire in their digs – and wait for better times.
For Lorna, still determined to enjoy herself, the thing she couldn’t help noticing about being on tour was that it seemed to have an odd effect on some of the men in the band. Their playing was fine, just the same as always, but in the coach they seemed to revert to being schoolboys again, playing practical jokes, singing bawdy songs, drinking, shouting and pointedly excluding the women in a way that hadn’t been obvious for some time.
‘Och, guys are often like this on tour,’ George told the girls, when they’d arrived in Peebles after a particularly rowdy session on the coach. ‘Just high spirits, nothing to worry about.’ He laughed. ‘You’ve just got to dodge the paper pellets they fire around, eh?’
‘They wouldn’t be behaving like this if Luke travelled with us,’ Ina commented. ‘Why does he have to use his own car?’
‘He’s the bandleader!’ George answered, scandalized. ‘Got to allow him some perks. And he has Suzie with him, too, remember. She likes her comfort.’
‘I think it’s a pretty bad way to go on,’ Rod remarked, joining the girls. ‘I know we all like to relax but some of the fellows go too far.’
‘They’re just having a bit of fun,’ George told him. ‘And if you’re thinking about the lassies here, they’re tough, eh? Not going to be upset by a few blue songs!’
‘Sez you,’ Flo retorted. ‘I agree with Rod – some of the guys go too far. Not all, of course.’
‘Well, don’t say anything to Luke, will you? There’s no need to get him involved.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it, George. We don’t want any trouble.’
Rod’s eyes, though, were on Lorna.
‘Sure, we don’t want any trouble,’ he murmured later, when they were managing to walk home alone to their lodgings. Which were not, as Rod had already secretly complained, in the same guest house, for Luke had made the bookings and carefully arranged for the three girls to be together and the men apart.
‘But I don’t want you upset by those fellows, and I’ve a damn good mind to say something.’
‘Rod, don’t worry about it. It’s the way a few guys like to go on when they’re with other guys.’
‘Yes, but it’s quite unnecessary. They’re grown men, for God’s sake. They needn’t behave like kids.’
‘I think it’s because Luke’s not around. A chance to let off steam.’
‘Just as I say – they’re like school children when teacher’s away.’
Rod suddenly took Lorna into his arms and kissed her hard.
‘Listen,’ he whispered against her face. ‘Why not give all this up? Why put up with it?’
‘Put up with what?’ she asked, pulling away.
‘Well, this band thing. I mean, I know you enjoy playing and you’re good – really good – but it’s no life for someone like you. Mixing with the guys and having to pretend you don’t mind how they go on.’
‘Look, I don’t care about being one of the boys, I just like being in the band. Playing my sax, trying to improve. If the men want to play the fool on the coach – so what? It’s our playing that’s important.’
‘Well, there is an alternative to the band, you know. One you might like just as much. One you will like, in fact.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know,’ he said softly. ‘I’m talking about that ring on your finger. I’m talking about being married to me.’
For a long time she was silent, her eyes searching his face in the poor light of the street lamps.
‘That’s an alternative?’ she asked at last. ‘We’re talking “either or” here? I never knew when we discussed rings on fingers that it meant giving up everything else.’
‘Well, it would have to, wouldn’t it? Luke would never want us as a married couple, but that’s not important. We wouldn’t want it ourselves, would we? Most guys in the band are married. Their wives aren’t in the band too.’ Rod laughed a little. ‘Hell, if they were, there’d be no more bawdy songs or practical jokes on the coach, eh?’
‘Let me get this straight,’ Lorna said evenly. ‘You’re saying that if we get married, I’ll be staying at home while you’ll be playing in the band as usual?’
‘Well, it is usual, isn’t it?’ Rod’s eyes were puzzled. ‘For the wife to be at home and the husband to be at work? That’s how it’s always been.’
‘There has just been a war, Rod, when women did all kinds of jobs. They were even called up to make munitions, as I was. They even went to war, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, but that was hardly normal, was it? Now that the war’s over, things will get back to how they used to be. There’ll be no need for women to do those things.’
‘So, what do they do? Give up work, stay at home and do the dusting?’ Lorna’s eyes were flashing. ‘I’m sorry, Rod, that isn’t for me. I’ve found the job I’ve always wanted and I shall never give it up. If I marry, I keep on in the band, that’s all there is to it.’
‘For God’s sake, Lorna, you must see that that’s not possible!’ Rod’s arms were raised, his hands waving, as he stared into Lorna’s set and determined face. ‘There’s no way we could be married and play in the same band! It would never work out, we’d have no home life at all. And, as I say, Luke would never permit it.’
‘I don’t see what it would have to do with Luke. He wants good players. We’re good players. Why would he want to let us go because we were married?’
‘Because it’s just the way things are, Lorna. You tell me how many married couples you know playing in the same band!’
‘Well, there aren’t many women in bands anyway, are there? But, there’s Luke and Suzie.’
‘Suzie’s a vocalist. It’s not the same thing at all.’ Rod ran his hand over his brow and groaned a little. ‘Look, please think about this rationally—’
‘Just because I don’t agree with you, I’m no’ being rational?’ Lorna shook her head. ‘Rod, let’s leave this for now, OK? I’ll say goodnight and see you in the morning.’
As she moved quickly away from him, Rod ran after her and tried to tak
e her arm but she shook it away.
‘In the morning, Rod. I said we’d leave it for now.’
‘Please, Lorna, let’s not part like this. You know we won’t sleep a wink.’
‘Goodnight, Rod.’
‘Lorna, I’m not saying goodnight—’
But it was too late for him to say anything else. The door of Lorna’s lodgings had opened and closed, and she was gone.
In the morning, when they met at rehearsal, their faces were alike: white, strained and desperately unhappy. Even though they knew others were watching, they clasped hands and gazed into each other’s eyes, not speaking until Luke came in, when, very hurriedly, Lorna leaned forward and whispered in Rod’s ear, ‘Oh, Rod, no more arguing, eh? Let’s just keep on as we were.’
‘For God’s sake, let’s!’ he whispered back.
‘When you’re ready, you two!’ Luke cried, frowning, and tapping his stick on a music stand. ‘Perhaps we might start?’
‘Sorry,’ Lorna murmured, hurrying to her place next to Josh.
‘Sorry, Luke,’ Rod added cheerfully, joining the trumpet players.
And as the first number got under way, it was amazing to everyone how well the two of them played when they should have been in disgrace. And might still be, if Luke took exception to all that holding of hands and looking into eyes, thought the rest of the band, awaiting events with interest.
Twenty-One
What happened was nothing to do with Lorna or Rod.
Dickie Tarrant, returning to his digs in Moffat, the small town that was their next venue, took a tumble down a flight of stone steps after a pub session, not only dislocating his shoulder but also breaking a bone in his hand. No bass playing for him for some time was the doctor’s verdict when Luke drove him to the local cottage hospital, which so enraged Luke, he almost threw a tantrum in Casualty. For where was he going to find a replacement bass player?
‘Talk about blue songs,’ Ina said at breakfast the morning after the accident. ‘George said we should have heard Luke in the car after they’d left Dickie at the hospital. Oh, my, the air was blue then, all right!’