by Anne Douglas
Slowly, they hugged and stood together for a few moments, before walking on, each feeling rather better, Lorna because she’d told Ewen her news, he because he had gradually begun to accept it.
‘How about the folk you know here?’ Ewen asked. ‘Are you going to tell them? I’m thinking of people like Pattie and Miss Dickinson.’
‘I’ll be telling Pattie, and I suppose Miss Dickinson, too. They’ll keep it to themselves.’
‘But you don’t want to tell these girls who might be in your band?’
‘No. If I can, I’m going to keep the two sides of my life separate.’
‘Won’t be easy.’
‘It’s the way it has to be, Ewen. I can’t set out as a new bandleader with everyone knowing I’ve a baby but no husband. I wish things could be different, but even today folk are still ready to sit in judgement.’
‘Seems ridiculous to me. What’s it matter, anyway, when it’s your music that counts.’
‘Ah, that’s a lovely thing to say, Ewen. It is the music that counts, but some will no’ see it that way.’
‘So, the poor bairn has to be a secret? It isn’t a good start, Lorna.’
‘It’s the best I can do,’ she answered, her voice thick with tears, and he said no more.
At the door to Tilly’s flat, he told her he wouldn’t come in, but he’d keep in touch, see her again very soon.
‘I’m glad you haven’t cast me off, Ewen.’
‘As if I could.’
‘I was thinking, would you be godfather? It’d mean a lot to me if the baby had someone like you in its life.’
‘Godfather?’ He gave a rather pleased smile. ‘Wouldn’t mind, Lorna. Wouldn’t mind at all.’
‘That’s settled, then, and thank you very much.’ Her face grew bleak. ‘Of course, it’ll be some time before there’s a christening.’
‘It’ll pass.’ At last, Ewen was sounding more his old self. ‘That’s the thing about time – it passes.’
Thirty
On the last Sunday of January, 1947, in the middle of one of the coldest winters of the century, Samuel Cameron Fernie was baptized at his family’s local kirk, Ewen MacKee standing as godfather and Flo Drover and Pattie MacDowell as godmothers. He was already by then almost a month old, for, as Dr Atkins had said he might, he’d arrived early at his grandmother’s flat – on New Year’s Day, in fact – a fine, lusty child, who looked like his father, though only Lorna and Flo knew that and they did not dwell on it. When ginger hair replaced the dark fuzz of his early days, everyone in the family was pleased, with Tilly saying and Cissie nodding agreement, that he was Cam Fernie to the life. But, of course, anyone who really remembered Cam knew that wee Sam looked like someone else.
Never mind, the christening went off well, with the handful of guests who’d braved the severe weather returning to Tilly’s flat for tea and the christening cake she’d somehow managed to find ingredients for, while Sam behaved beautifully, seeming not to mind being passed from hand to hand for cuddles.
‘Looks like he’s going to be a good baby,’ Cissie remarked to Lorna, now her old slim self again. ‘How do you feel about leaving him, then?’
‘Why, I’m no’ leaving him yet, Auntie Cissie. We don’t start rehearsals for the band until next week.’
‘Aye, but then you’re hoping to get taken on for the dances, eh? You’ll no’ have much time after that.’
‘Ma will be taking good care of Sam for me,’ Lorna replied a little coldly. ‘And she’s just as keen as I am, to see me get started.’
‘And I’m keen, too.’ Cissie’s pale blue eyes were earnest. ‘I’d like to see you do well. But don’t be paying too high a price, eh?’
‘Just leave the price to me, Aunt Cissie,’ Lorna told her, turning away, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Why am I such a target?’ she asked Flo and Pattie when they came to sit by her. ‘I’m sure everybody thinks I’m a criminal because I’m trying to do my job.’
‘No, no, it’s just unusual, that’s all.’ Flo’s gaze was very direct. ‘As long as you’re happy about it yourself, don’t worry about it.’
‘I wouldn’t say I was happy. When I look at Sam, I know I want to be with him as well as doing my job.’
‘Whereas men aren’t usually geared up to feel like that, are they? Still, as I say, try no’ to worry, eh? Sam’ll be safe with your ma and you’ll see him as often as you can. And remember, it won’t be long before we’ll be trying for engagements, and when the money starts rolling in, think what you can do for Sam and your mother!’
‘As long as it does. As long as we’re a success.’
‘I’m sure you will be,’ Pattie said quickly. ‘I think you’re both terrific!’
Even disregarding her loyalty, it did seem true that their plans, after the long wait, were working out wonderfully well, and the goal that had once seemed so far away was now actually in sight. Imagine, rehearsals starting next week!
‘I still can’t believe that we had so many replies to our advertisement,’ Lorna said, thinking back to the auditions they’d held, with all the girls playing with their coats on and their hands blue with cold, as there was no way the studio could be kept warm in January during a national fuel shortage.
‘Oh, the poor things, Flo, remember them trying to play for us, and all the instruments kept going flat!’
‘Poor us, too, we were as cold as they were.’
In the end, though, they’d found almost all the players they wanted. Apart from Flo on guitar, they’d selected four trumpeters, three trombonists, five saxophone players, one string bass player and a drummer. That had left a pianist to find, and things were getting a little desperate when, as Lorna recalled, one came unexpectedly strolling into the studio, closing the door behind her on flurries of snow, and asking if she was too late to apply for the band, she’d only just seen the advert.
‘And you are?’ Flo had asked.
‘Claire Maxwell.’
‘And what’s your instrument?’
‘Piano.’
The girl was tall and slender, rather pale, with a straight nose and brown eyes. Her hair, when she pulled off her woollen hat, was brown and unevenly cut, and something about that hair and her looks in general made her seem familiar to Lorna, though she couldn’t place her.
‘That’s lucky,’ Flo was saying, ‘we’re short of a pianist. Any experience of dance band music, or are you mainly classical?’
‘I’ve played for dancing in a three-piece trio at one of the hotels. The classical stuff I leave to my sister.’
And then it dawned on Lorna who the girl must be and she gave a beaming smile. ‘Why, I think I know your sister!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is she Hannah Maxwell, who won a talent contest some time back? I was playing my sax, but she pipped me to the post and I wasn’t surprised. She’s brilliant!’
‘Yes, that was Hannah. She’s in London now, at the Royal Academy of Music, doing really well.’ Claire was coolly studying Lorna’s face. ‘So, you were the sax player she beat – I vaguely remember seeing you at that contest. Are you really forming your own band?’
‘Sure, I am, with Flo Drover here. A swing band, playing dance music, so your experience might be useful. But what happened to the trio?’
‘Collapsed when the fiddle and cello decided to go to London. I’ve been working in a stationery shop ever since.’ Claire made a face. ‘Can’t wait to get back to the piano.’
‘Well, here it is,’ Lorna told her, gesturing to the piano in the corner. ‘My old Joanna. Like to play us something?’
‘You bet,’ said Claire.
As soon as she began to play, Lorna knew why she’d left the ‘classical stuff’ to her sister, for she had none of the delicacy of touch or feeling that Hannah, or even Ina, could display. But, oh heavens, she had something else, all right, something that Lorna and Flo were looking for, and that was rhythm!
As she hit the keys with a medley of well-known tunes, both Flo and Lorna’s
feet were tapping, their shoulders moving, their hands wielding imaginary batons, and Flo was even singing.
‘“I got rhythm, I got music, I got my man, who could ask for anything more?”’
Who indeed?
As Claire finished and swung round for their verdict, Flo and Lorna exchanged glances.
‘Well,’ Claire asked abruptly, ‘how did I do?’
‘Very well,’ Flo told her. ‘Of course, we’ll have to discuss the matter—’
‘No need,’ Lorna declared. ‘I think we should offer Miss Maxwell a job.’
‘Claire, please.’ The pianist’s brown eyes were alight. ‘Thank you very much, I’d like to take it.’
‘We can’t pay much at the moment,’ Flo said hastily. ‘Three pounds a week, until we get going when we hope it will be more.’
‘That’s OK. It’s more than I’m getting at the stationer’s. When do I start, then?’
‘We’re holding first rehearsals next Wednesday, and as soon as we think we’re ready for auditions, with any luck we’ll be finding engagements. But we have to show that we can play together and know what we’re doing. There will be training involved.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Claire agreed. ‘I’m expecting it.’
‘But you’ll be a natural,’ Lorna told her, and shook her hand. ‘Very nice to have met you, Claire, and I’ll be in touch about formal details. Please remember me to your sister.’
‘Lorna, I think we’ve done well to find her,’ Flo remarked, when Claire had left them. ‘So, now we’re all complete. Next thing will be the first rehearsal.’
‘No,’ Lorna said with a smile. ‘Next thing is Sam’s christening. You hadn’t forgotten, had you? When you and my friend, Pattie, have starring roles, no less?’
‘Forgotten I’m one of the fairy godmothers? No fear! I’ve got the christening mug in my bag at this very moment. Oh, but Lorna, isn’t it grand that everything seems to be working out?’
In fact, after the christening party was over, when George Wardie suddenly arrived from Glasgow, it appeared that things might work out even better than they’d hoped. As their very good friend, the one person from Luke’s band who knew their secrets and had their interests at heart, George should have attended the christening, only Luke had decided to call a snap rehearsal which he could not avoid. As it was, he’d rushed over to Edinburgh as soon as he could, clearly bursting to announce something exciting.
‘George, how nice to see you, after all!’ Lorna cried, opening the door to him. ‘Come on in and meet my mother.’
‘Thanks, I’d love to.’ In spite of the cold, George was mopping his brow. ‘But, girls, I can’t wait to tell you – I’ve got great news.’
‘Lorna, is that one of your friends out there?’ Tilly called. ‘Bring him in beside the fire!’
Thirty-One
Though on tenterhooks to hear his news, Lorna and Flo waited as patiently as possible while George shook Tilly’s hand and gave a little bow.
‘Mrs Fernie, I’m George Wardie, from Luke Riddell’s band. It’s lovely to meet you. So sorry I couldn’t make the christening.’
‘Why, we understand, Mr Wardie,’ Tilly told him, presenting Cissie and Ewen, ‘and it’s nice to meet you, too. We’ve heard a lot about you. But come away in and get warm.’
‘Not that there’s much of a fire,’ Lorna said apologetically, as George sat down and smiled at Sam, sleeping in Cissie’s arms. ‘The coal’s just about to run out.’
‘But what’s this great news?’ Flo asked, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘Have you found anything for us, George, is that it?’
‘Well, you know I’ve been looking for bookings. But just let me give Lorna this wee present for the baby. Not very original, I’m afraid.’
‘Why, George, they’re lovely!’ Lorna exclaimed taking out silver cufflinks from the little box he gave her. ‘You’re so kind! And they are original, because he hasn’t got any.’
‘What a lucky boy,’ Tilly said, smiling, as Lorna kissed George, who blushed, and Flo, having praised the cufflinks, shook his arm.
‘So, have you found anything?’ she asked again. ‘Come on, George, out with it!’
‘I certainly have.’ He gave a broad grin. ‘How about an audition at the Carillon Ballroom?’
The Carillon? It was one of the city’s premier dance halls. Flo and Lorna were almost squeaking with excitement.
‘I don’t believe it!’ cried Flo.
‘I said I’d scout round for you, eh?’ George tapped his nose. ‘And I’ve got my contacts. Anyway, I’ve booked you for an audition in February. You’ll have about three weeks to get your girls into shape.’
‘February? We’ll never do it!’ Lorna wailed.
‘We will, we will.’ Flo was laughing with delight. ‘They’re all good lassies and by the time we’ve drilled ’em, they’ll be fine. George, give us the details now!’
‘But maybe Mr Wardie would like some tea first?’ Tilly asked. ‘We did have some wine, but I’m afraid it’s all gone.’
‘Tea would be nice, Mrs Fernie, thanks, but please call me George,’ he told her, his eyes lighting up as she sliced him a piece of christening cake before leaving to put on the kettle. ‘My, I never expected this. And what a grand baby you’ve got there, Lorna. Looks like it’ll not be long before he’s borrowing your saxophone!’
‘The details, George,’ Flo reminded him. ‘What’ll we get, if we’re taken on?’
‘Well, if you pass the audition, you’ll be given a spot to see how you go for a couple of weeks, alternating with Chris Darley’s band – think they do a lot of old time and Scottish, as well as ballroom. Pretty good, I’ve heard.’
‘No’ my dad’s old band, anyway,’ Lorna said with relief. ‘I don’t particularly want to meet up with Jackie Craik.’
‘And what time’s the audition?’ Flo asked, as Tilly came in with the tea.
‘Ten o’clock, on a Wednesday.’ George scrabbled in his pocket. ‘I’ve got the date here, Flo. But don’t worry about it, you’ll sail through it, I’m telling you.’
‘When we have to start from scratch?’ Lorna asked. ‘Flo, we’re going to have to get down to intensive rehearsals as soon as possible.’
‘I told you, you wouldn’t have time to come home much,’ Cissie said, rocking Sam who had begun to whimper, but Lorna took him in her arms and soothed him.
‘Sure, I will,’ she said softly. She raised her bright eyes to George. ‘But I’m very grateful to you, George, for getting us this chance. We shan’t let you down.’
‘How about a toast?’ Ewen asked, passing round tea. ‘Have to be teetotal, I’m afraid. But how about we all raise our cups, anyway?’
‘Hang on, I’ll just put Sam down in his basket,’ Lorna said. ‘Wait for me, I want to make the toast, too.’
‘What is it, then?’ asked Tilly.
‘Why, the Melody Girls!’ Ewen replied, and when Lorna came back, to take up her cup, everyone rose, smiling over the non-alcoholic toast.
‘To the Melody Girls!’ they cried, and then there were hugs all round, and a few tears and kisses.
‘May you have all the success in the world!’ Cissie cried, embracing Lorna to make up for her earlier criticism.
Ewen, his eyes on Lorna, sighed. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, ‘they will!’
Thirty-Two
Rehearsal time, and the day, in August, 1948, was sunny. Too nice, to be inside. Ah, but if you didn’t rehearse, you didn’t play well, and if you didn’t play well, you might end up having nowhere to play at all. So Flo reminded her Melody Girls – those who sighed for fresh air and a bench in Princes Street Gardens. Or, even, if they could afford it, tennis.
‘Tennis, would you credit it?’ Flo whispered to Lorna, fixing her eyes on Bridie, a trumpet player, who’d been moaning that if it hadn’t been for the rehearsal she might have been at the club she’d joined, flashing her legs in her wee tennis skirt and making up to the pro.
Drawing
her brows together, Flo said she’d have to have a ‘word’, and beckoning Bridie over, told her in a loud enough voice for any other would-be tennis players to hear, that if she wanted to play tennis instead of her trumpet, she knew what she could do.
‘Why, Flo, I never said I’d no’ want to play ma trumpet!’ Bridie exclaimed. ‘I’m a Melody Girl, and that’s what counts.’
‘And that applies to everyone?’ Flo asked, and at the chorus of agreement, nodded. ‘OK, then, let’s get started. “Buttons and Bows”, Lorna?’
‘“Buttons and Bows”,’ Lorna replied, her eyes taking in the girls who’d ranged themselves in their usual places, remembering how she’d once thought she’d never get to know them all, but now counted herself an expert on everyone’s character, looks, talent and problems. And, oh heavens, didn’t they have problems, then? More than the men? Well, more worries over love affairs, that was for sure. Or, maybe the lassies just talked about them more.
Sweet girls, though, all of them: Bridie, Alison, Katie, Jeannie, Sylvia, Nancy, Rhona, Vinnie, Trish, Win, Lynne, Madge, Heather, Gloria, and Claire – so happy to be in a band that in quite a short time was already achieving some success, in spite of those men who said they’d never make it. Bookings at the Carillon, at good hotels and occasionally the theatre, with possible radio contracts to come and maybe tours – och, the world was their oyster! They all knew that, and if they complained about rehearsals in good weather, what of it? Both Lorna and Flo knew quite well that none of their girls was going to give up her chair in the band. Especially not when wages were up too!
As she picked up her baton, however, Lorna, still smiling, suddenly met Claire Maxwell’s dark eyes upon her and felt for a moment the oddest feeling of unease. Someone walking over her grave, perhaps? Wasn’t that the way folk described the feeling? How ridiculous! As though Claire’s gaze could make her feel like that! With a little shake of the head, her smile fading, Lorna looked away and called to her girls,
‘Now, remember, this is a new song and full of rhythm, so, give it your best, eh? It’s our opener at the hotel tonight.’