by Anne Douglas
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ Flo turned Lorna round and studied her face. ‘You’re no’ crying? Has the awful Jackie upset you?’
‘It was just, talking to him, made me think of my dad again. When he took me to see the band, like Jackie said, he was so pleased I liked it all.’ Lorna blew her nose. ‘But, you see, when it came to it, he was just like Jackie, said I’d never play in a band.’
‘No, he wasn’t like Jackie.’ George put his arm round Lorna’s shoulders. ‘Jackie didn’t want you, but your dad just thought it wouldn’t be possible. There’s the difference.’
‘You believe that?’
‘Sure. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t have been proud of you now, because I knew your dad and I tell you he would have been thrilled. Another copper-haired saxophone player just like him, but running her own band? He’d have been over the moon.’
‘I’d like to think so.’ Lorna smiled faintly. ‘Anyway, we managed to see Jackie off, didn’t we? Even though I had to romance a bit about the tour to Germany.’
‘That wasn’t romancing, that was fact. We’ll be going to Germany, all right. I’m planning to start setting the wheels in motion right away.’
‘Can’t wait,’ Flo said, hugging Lorna. ‘But, here come the girls – wait till they hear!’
As the players began to stream in for rehearsal, Lorna straightened her shoulders, put up her head, and dabbed again at her eyes. ‘Tell ’em, George,’ she whispered.
And when he’d told them and the excited buzz over the news had finally died down, she and Flo managed to get them into place for their new number, ‘It’s Magic’, which went down well. Catchy, agreed the girls, and good lyrics.
‘Think we’ll be magic, over in Germany?’ Bridie asked cheekily, and Lorna, laughing with Flo, said she wouldn’t be surprised.
Thirty-Five
It was January before the Melody Girls went to Germany. Christmas had been suggested for their tour, but Lorna would not give up being with Sam at that time, and George finally made arrangements for travel after Hogmanay. Not a time to see the country at its best, he admitted, but they were not, after all, going for the scenery, and to play for the troops in dreary January might be just what they wanted.
All the same, the girls, on first arriving, confessed to some disappointment. Not with the winter weather, but because they’d thought they’d be in the famous Rhineland and instead found themselves in the industrial north.
‘Well, the whole country is zoned for occupational purposes, you see,’ a woman officer explained. ‘The French are in Baden, the Russians in Saxony, the Americans in the Rhineland and the British in places like Dortmund and Düsseldorf.’ She smiled. ‘But you’ll be given a good time wherever you are, I can promise you!’
Which proved to be the case. Bands for dancing were popular anyway with the troops, both women and men, but bands with girls – well, the male soldiers couldn’t believe their luck. So many good looking girls, all in matching evening dresses, all playing away with such talent and energy, their leader a stunning redhead – what more could anybody want?
‘We’re really going to have to keep a watchful eye,’ Flo remarked to Lorna and George, after the Melody Girls had responded to their welcome with even more enthusiasm than they showed at home. ‘It’s just like I said, the girls are bound to meet guys who’ll be chatting them up and before you know it, we’ll be losing players.’
‘I said the same thing,’ George replied. ‘On the other hand, chatting up falls short of making proposals, eh? And even if things get serious, maybe we can put it to the lassies that we don’t want to be leaving ’em behind when the tour’s over.’
‘I’ll have to have a word,’ Lorna sighed. ‘But they’re having such a good time and playing so well, I don’t want to spoil things.’
‘Let’s see how things go,’ Flo advised. ‘After all, we don’t stay in any place too long. They maybe won’t have time to make relationships.’
‘Don’t bank on it,’ George said with a grin. ‘Some of these guys are fast workers, eh?’
In the event, only two of the girls – Nancy, one of the trumpet players, and Trish, an alto sax player – confessed to Lorna that they’d both met the men of their dreams. Och, she’d no idea! It was love at first sight, so it was, and the young soldiers were just as serious as they were.
‘Now, look, you’ve only just met,’ Lorna told them. ‘You don’t know these chaps and they don’t know you. Things seem different in different surroundings, you know, so go home and see how you feel then.’
The two girls looked at each other, sighed, but said nothing.
‘You probably wouldn’t be allowed to stay here, anyway,’ Lorna went on. ‘You must just be sensible and no’ rush into anything.’
‘It’s all right for you, Lorna,’ Trish, a round-faced blonde murmured. ‘I bet you’ve always been sensible, eh?’
‘Me?’ Lorna, her heart lurching, pretended to laugh. ‘I don’t know about that. But I do understand how people can feel.’
‘Is that right?’ Nancy, vibrant and black-haired, with vivid green eyes, shook her head. ‘Don’t think anybody knows how I feel!’
‘Nor me,’ Trish said mournfully.
But all ended well. When the time came to go home, there were sad partings but no players lost, and if there were promises to write and meet later, Flo said she wouldn’t mind taking bets that those particular romances would soon be forgotten.
‘Which is not to say, you won’t lose some lassies back home to wedding bells and prams,’ George said cheerfully. ‘Another thing that’s different about girl bands, you see. It’s no easy job for a woman to combine being in a band with running a home.’
‘No need to tell me,’ Lorna said quietly. ‘I’m only managing courtesy of my mother.’
‘George, try a bit of tact,’ Flo whispered, at which he looked contrite and Lorna told him not to worry.
She looked away for a moment or two. ‘What got me about Nancy and Trish, though, was that they thought I couldn’t understand how they felt because I was too sensible . . .’ She laughed a little harshly. ‘Me? Sensible?’
‘So you are,’ Flo said quickly.
‘Wasn’t always, was I?’
‘One lapse – no need to worry about it. You’ve a grand little son, anyway.’
‘Who’s kept a secret.’
‘Maybe that’s for the best,’ George said after a pause. ‘Have to be careful when you have a public to consider.’
‘What do you think?’ Lorna asked Flo, who had said nothing, but Flo was diplomatic.
‘I think it depends on what each individual wants. There’s no rule about these things.’
Lorna, nodding, suddenly gave a little cry. ‘Help, I’ve just realized! You two might be getting married this year. You sure that doesn’t mean you’ll be giving up the band, Flo? If George thinks it’s hard to combine being married with playing your guitar in a band?’
‘Hell, I never said that!’ George cried, putting his arm round Flo’s shoulders. ‘I was speaking generally, not particularly.’
‘Because he knows I’d rather die than stay at home all day,’ Flo said, laughing and pushing him away. ‘Don’t worry, Lorna, you won’t get rid of me so easily. The truth is, though, you could perfectly well manage on your own now, and you know it.’
‘I could not! I want you both around. They say two heads are better than one, well maybe three are better than two!’
‘Really mean that?’ George asked. ‘Because there’s a suggestion I’d like to make, if it’s OK with you?’
‘Sure, fire away.’
‘Well, it’s something I know you two will have considered, but haven’t taken on board so far. I’m talking about taking on a vocalist.’
‘A vocalist?’ Lorna glanced at Flo. ‘You’re right, George, we have thought about it, but there are problems. Finding the right person, I mean.’
‘Can’t all be as lucky as Luke, finding Suzie,’ Flo put in.
> ‘No, well, I hadn’t given it much thought myself,’ George said, ‘but Claire Maxwell asked me recently if you were interested in taking on a singer.’
‘Claire did?’ Lorna frowned deeply. ‘Why? Why ask you, George?’
‘I’ve no idea. I suppose she’s a bit shy, eh? Thought I might be easier to approach.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Flo cried. ‘For a start, Claire isn’t shy, and as for finding you easy, since when has she found us hard, then?’
‘And who’s she got in mind for vocalist, anyway?’ Lorna asked. ‘Wouldn’t be her sister – she’s destined for a career as a concert pianist.’
‘And wouldn’t be Claire herself,’ Flo laughed. ‘She’s a pianist, too.’
‘As matter of fact, she did tell me that she’d done quite a bit of singing,’ George said awkwardly. ‘Says she’d like to be considered, if you ever did want a vocalist.’
‘Claire, a vocalist?’ Flo shook her head. ‘I don’t see it. She’s got a good sense of rhythm, yes, but what about her personality? You need to be very outgoing to sing with a band, and she’s the opposite.’
‘Maybe we should give her an audition, though,’ Lorna said slowly. ‘Let’s just see if she can sing, or not. I think maybe the time has come to have a vocalist, anyway. You never know – she could be the one.’
Thirty-Six
For a reason that wasn’t hard to understand, Lorna constantly found herself putting off arranging Claire’s audition. Ever since that time she had found the young pianist’s eyes fixed on her in a strangely speculative way, she’d felt uneasy in her presence. It was foolish, she knew, but there was something about the girl that made her believe there was antipathy there, and try as she would to behave the same towards her as she did to everyone else, she couldn’t always manage it.
Still, she couldn’t put off the audition for ever. No point in causing further hostility, and she couldn’t ask Flo to do the job on her own when she’d asked to step down from being joint leader. Nowadays, they’d hit on a compromise, with Lorna acting as official bandleader but Flo being available for joint discussions, of which this matter of Claire as vocalist would be one. Maybe George should come into it, too. But after a moment’s thought, Lorna decided against including him. He’d already appeared to be rather indulgent towards Claire, and she really needed objective views.
‘You’re actually going to give me a try-out?’ Claire asked when Lorna approached her concerning the audition.
‘Yes, why not?’
Claire shrugged, her flat brown eyes searching Lorna’s face. ‘Thought you’d decided against it.’
‘We hadn’t actually decided on having a vocalist at all until recently, but now that we’re going for it, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t audition you.’ Lorna, trying to look friendly and at ease, took out her diary. ‘I believe you did tell George you’d had a lot of experience?’
‘Not professional experience, but yes, I’ve sung in amateur musicals. Hannah never wanted to get involved in that sort of thing.’ Claire’s lip twisted. ‘Far too intellectual, of course, but I wasn’t.’
‘How’s Hannah getting on, then?’
‘Oh, need you ask? Very well. Certain to hit the big time.’
Lorna hesitated for a moment. ‘You’re doing well, too, you know. Just because you play swing doesn’t mean you’re no’ as good as a classical pianist.’
‘Are you joking? There’s all the difference in the world in the way people see you.’
‘That’s absolutely untrue, Claire, but we won’t argue about it. Can you come to the studio next Tuesday afternoon at about three? We’ll just see how you get on with Flo at the piano to begin with, maybe try with the band later. All right with you?’
‘Hedging your bets?’ Claire asked coolly. ‘Needn’t involve the band unless you like me?’
‘Thought that’s what you’d prefer.’
‘Yes, well, it is. Thanks, then, I’ll come at three.’
So, now I know what’s really wrong with her, Lorna thought, making a note in her diary. She’s just eaten up with envy of Hannah, who’s the sort of pianist she could never be, but no one’s explained to her that she’s just as good in her own way. What a shame! She’d clearly been quite damaged.
This explanation of Claire’s attitude made Lorna feel much better, for it seemed obvious now that Claire had nothing against her personally, she was just at odds with the world, which was much easier to understand. And perhaps might make it easier to feel more sympathetic towards her singing, though there was no way they could take her on if she wasn’t good enough.
They must just hope that that wasn’t the case, Lorna told herself, hurrying along with Flo to the studio some days later for the audition. The February afternoon was cold and wet, with no hint yet of spring, enough to depress anybody, as Flo remarked.
‘And we’ll be even more depressed if we have to turn Claire down, eh? It might make things awkward afterwards.’
‘At least, we won’t have to find another pianist for the rhythm section.’
‘I was thinking she might be able to keep that job on, anyway. Just get up from time to time to sing.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see if we want her first.’ Lorna was narrowing her eyes as they reached the studio. ‘Who’s that waiting at the door, Flo? Don’t tell me it’s Josh Niven!’
‘It is, then. Whatever does he want? Maybe he’s got the sack from Jackie’s band.’
Flo laughed, but Lorna was shaking her head, as she put down her umbrella.
‘No point coming to us, is it? We don’t want any fellows in the band, however good looking.’
Certainly, Josh was good looking, even standing in the rain with the drops falling from his sodden trilby and running down his fine nose. There was something slightly foreign looking about him, Lorna always thought, and remembered someone saying that he had an Italian mother. Perhaps it was from her that he got his formal way of speaking? Perhaps his temperament, too, but that might just as easily have come from his Scottish father. Who knew how the genes worked?
‘Hello, there!’ he cried as they came up to him. ‘I was wondering whether to give up and depart, but here you are, thank the Lord.’
Lorna unlocked the door and ushered him in, glancing uneasily at her watch, for Claire was already due.
‘Better take your hat off,’ she advised. ‘It’s soaking – so are you. Did you want us for something? We’re just going to hold an audition.’
His face fell, as he took off his hat and put a hand through his damp black hair. ‘Ah, that’s a shame. I was just passing – thought I’d drop in and see how it went for you in Germany. We never heard.’
‘Can’t think why you’d be interested.’ Flo was shaking her coat. ‘But I can tell you that it went really well. We all had a great time, didn’t we, Lorna?’
‘Certainly did,’ Lorna answered. ‘But here comes Claire. She’s trying out for vocalist, Josh, and I don’t suppose she’d want some guy she doesn’t know listening in.’
‘Vocalist, eh?’ As Claire came in, putting down her umbrella and staring at Josh, he looked not at her, but at Lorna. ‘Jackie’s found a terrific girl for us. She can certainly put over a number.’
‘OK, Josh, it’s been nice talking to you, but I think we want to get on,’ Flo said briskly, steering him towards the door. ‘Come and see us some other time.’
‘May I not be introduced?’ Claire asked, putting out her hand. ‘I’m Claire Maxwell. Pianist for the rhythm section, actually.’
‘Josh Niven. I play sax in Jackie Craik’s band.’
The two shook hands, with Claire’s eyes still running over Josh’s face and Josh looking polite.
‘Best of luck, with the audition,’ he murmured.
‘Thank you. Perhaps we’ll meet again?’
‘Perhaps.’ He nodded, smiling, then glanced again at Lorna. ‘I’m sorry to have held you up, Lorna. I’ll be in touch, shall I?’
‘If y
ou like,’ she answered impatiently. ‘Goodbye, Josh. As Flo says, we have to get on. Claire, hang up your coat, then, and say when you want to start.’
‘Oh, right.’ Claire watched as the door closed on Josh, then turned, smiling brightly.
‘What was that Romeo doing here, then?’
‘Romeo? That was just a fellow we knew in Luke Riddell’s band,’ Flo said smoothly. ‘Now, I’m going to be accompanist for you and I’ve got a note of what you want to sing. Which one first, then?’
Claire, realizing that her testing time was finally upon her, turned a little pale. ‘I thought – maybe – “Begin the Beguine”?’
‘Oh, help, that’s the most difficult.’ Flo gave a grin designed to put Claire at her ease. ‘You sure you want that one? How about “Harbour Lights” – nice and easy, to get you started?’
‘I don’t mind. Whichever you think.’
‘OK, “Harbour Lights” it is, then.’ Flo hummed a little of the tune herself as she settled herself at the piano. ‘I’m no great pianist, remember – I reckon Lorna should be doing this. How’s it go – “I saw those harbour lights, they only told me we were parting . . .” Right you are, then, Claire. Let battle commence.’
Thirty-Seven
Oh, dear, she is so nervous, Lorna thought, much more nervous than when she played the piano for us. Just hope all this strain is going to be worth it.
But it wasn’t long before she realized that it was not. As soon as Claire, standing very straight in a pale green dress, began to sing, Lorna’s spirits fell so fast, she almost thought she could physically feel her heart leaving her. It wasn’t that Claire sang badly. No, her voice was pleasant, a light crooning mezzo-soprano which she had no trouble keeping in tune, but that was all it was. A pleasant voice that would have been an asset to a chorus or a choir, but could never in the world put over a melody with a band. Where was the rhythm Claire had shown in her piano playing? Where was the personality, the charisma, of someone like Luke’s Suzie?
Was she being unfair? Lorna asked herself. Was she judging too soon? It was the first song, after all, and the girl was nervous. Give her a bit of time to warm up. Decide nothing until she’d finished all that she wanted to do.