by Anne Douglas
Claire shrugged. ‘You’re going to leave it to me to tell him, then?’
‘No, I am going to tell him myself. That was always my intention.’
‘Best of luck, then.’ Claire stood at the door, her dead, brown gaze going over Lorna’s face. ‘You’re going to need it.’
‘Wait.’ Lorna reached out and touched Claire’s arm. ‘Just tell me, will you, why you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?’
‘Oh, you’re just one of those people who win all the prizes, eh? Like my sister.’
‘I didn’t win the prize your sister won, did I?’
‘No, but you got a place in a man’s band.’ Claire’s lip curled. ‘And praised my sister to the skies. But when you could help me to do something I wanted, you turned me down.’
‘Claire, I said at the time—’
‘Oh, never mind what you said at the time! I knew you’d never let me be vocalist, whatever I was like. But if you’ve got any sense now, you’ll agree to pay me to keep your secret and keep your little boy under wraps. Or you’ll lose your precious Josh, I’m telling you!’
With a last look of contempt, Claire let herself out of Lorna’s office and banged the door.
Feeling ill, feeling hollow, Lorna moved to her desk and sat down. This was nightmare land, wasn’t it? Claire Maxwell, knowing her secret. Claire Maxwell, threatening to tell Josh. What should she do? What could she do?
With a sudden decision burning through her mind, Lorna leaped to her feet and ran from her office.
‘George!’ she cried, her eyes frantically checking to find him, and also to see that Claire had left, as she had. ‘George! Flo! Oh, thank heavens you’re still here.’
‘Why, what’s up?’ George asked, as he and Flo were stacking up copies of the music they needed.
‘I want one of you to do me a favour. If I’m not back in time, could you conduct for me tonight?’
‘George’ll do it,’ Flo said promptly. ‘Won’t you, George?’
‘Sure, I will. Be glad to.’
Two pairs of eyes studied Lorna’s distraught face, and Flo sympathetically touched her arm. ‘Are you OK, Lorna?’
‘I’m fine. Just have to go out for a bit.’
‘Saw you had a visit from madame,’ George murmured. ‘What did she want, then?’
‘You mean Claire? Oh, a rise. I told her what she could do.’
‘A rise? The cheek of it!’
‘Yes, well, look, I’d better go. You’re sure you don’t mind standing in for me?’
‘I told you, I’d be happy to. I like a bit of conducting. But, listen, Lorna, I’ve got some petrol in the car. Would you like me to drive you – to wherever you’re going?’
She wanted to say, ‘No, I can manage’, but at the understanding look in his eyes, and Flo’s, too, her lip trembled and she heard herself answering, ‘All right, then, if you don’t mind, I’d be glad of a lift.’
As they waited to find out where she wanted to go, she raised her head and straightened her shoulders in the old way she used to do when courage was needed.
‘I have to see Josh,’ she said quietly. ‘Before he leaves for the next engagement. You know where he lives, George?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he answered heavily. ‘I know where he lives. And don’t worry, he won’t have left yet. Plenty of time before Jackie’s band will get round to tuning up. Let’s get going, eh?’
No one spoke on the drive to Josh’s flat, and when George drew up at the thirties block Lorna had never actually visited, no one moved.
‘There it is, then, that’s his place,’ George murmured at last. ‘Know which floor?’
‘Yes, the third.’ Lorna was opening the car door. ‘Many thanks, George. I’m really grateful for this.’
‘Want us to wait?’ Flo asked.
‘No, better not, thanks all the same.’ Lorna swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’
‘Oh, Lorna . . .’
‘Don’t worry about me. Should have done this long ago.’
‘But why now? Has something happened?’
Lorna’s eyes slid away from Flo’s intelligent gaze. ‘Claire’s found out about Sam. She’s threatening to tell Josh, unless I give her money every week.’
For a moment there was a stunned silence, before Flo cried, ‘How could she? How could she do that to you, Lorna?’
‘Never mind what she can do,’ George said grimly. ‘She’s going to be out on her ear, eh? We’ll give her the sack tonight, soon as we see her.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ Lorna said quickly. ‘She might cause more trouble then. Just leave it for now and I’ll see her myself.’
‘Good luck, then.’ Flo was trying to smile. ‘See you soon.’
‘Need to discuss the tour,’ George called, starting the car. ‘Haven’t forgotten it’s next week?’
‘George, Lorna isn’t interested in that now!’ Flo told him sharply, but Lorna only shrugged.
‘I might be very much interested,’ she said quietly. ‘It might be just the thing I need.’
And she turned, to make her way to Josh’s flat.
Forty-Five
When he opened the door, wearing a white shirt and dress trousers, she thought he was looking particularly handsome. He had not yet put on his bow tie or the blue jacket Jackie had chosen for his boys to wear that year, but she could see the jacket beyond Josh, draped on a chair in the entrance to a bedroom she had never been shown.
Strange, wasn’t it, that she was now, of all times, in the flat where he lived, which he’d always been reluctant for her to visit, saying that it was no place to entertain. As though she needed entertaining! Her own theory now was that he hadn’t wanted to be alone with her in his own home, for fear of losing control, but whether that was true or not, she’d no way of knowing. Certainly didn’t matter now, anyway.
‘Lorna, what a lovely surprise!’
He was ushering her into his neat little sitting room. ‘I’d no idea I’d see you this evening.’
‘I know you’ve to go out soon, Josh. I won’t keep you, but I have to talk to you. It’s important.’
‘Well, let me get you something first. Coffee? Or, tea? Think I’ve got some tea somewhere . . .’
‘No, thanks, Josh, I don’t want anything.’ She sank down on a small settee. ‘Just want you to come and sit next to me. I have something to show you.’
‘I’m intrigued.’ As he sat close to her, he put his arm around her, but she moved away to open her bag and after a moment, he let his arm drop, remarking that she seemed very serious.
She made no reply to that, but took out the photograph of Sam she always carried and after a tiny hesitation, showed it to him.
‘I’d like you to look at this picture, Josh.’
He took it from her and studied the small smiling figure of Sam, sitting on a trike.
‘A charming little boy,’ Josh observed. ‘Who is he?’
At long last, she brought out the words she’d thought about for so long, and they were no easier to say than she’d feared they would be.
‘He’s my son. His name is Sam.’
Then she sat back and with huge brave effort looked at Josh.
He’d gone so pale, his dark eyes seemed black. They burned on her own face with an intensity that was like a flame, and in their depths was the look she’d always hoped not to see. It was one of horror.
‘What . . . what are you saying?’ he whispered. ‘You have a child? A son? You are married already?’
‘No, I’m no’ married.’
‘Not married?’
He leaped up and began to pace the room, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him, as though to prevent himself from wringing them. Wringing hands . . . Was he really doing that? Lorna wondered, feeling strangely detached. Did anyone wring their hands these days? Had she made Josh want to do it now?
Maybe she should just go. There was no point in staying when she was already looking at the ruins of a
relationship, caused by her and her alone.
But Josh was back at her side, desperately searching her face for some hope that all this wasn’t true, couldn’t be true, couldn’t be happening. Yet, when he gazed into her eyes and read their sadness, he could do nothing but turn his head away.
‘Who is the father?’ he asked at last. ‘Do I know him?’
He has seen the likeness in Sam to Rod, she thought, and it has put Rod into his mind, that’s why he’s asked that question.
‘There’s only been one man in my life apart from you,’ she told him. ‘And you know who it is.’
‘Rod Warren? Oh, God, Lorna, you slept with Rod Warren?’
He could no longer look at her, but she seized his arm and made him turn to face her. ‘Once, Josh, only once. You remember I told you we had decided to marry, and then discovered we were poles apart, wanted different things from marriage. The night we agreed to part, somehow we lost our heads – the way you and I did the other night, only you were in control and we weren’t. We made love and we said goodbye.’
‘Goodbye,’ Josh repeated. ‘You never saw him again?’
‘I never saw him again. He went to America and I never told him about the baby. He still doesn’t know about Sam.’
‘And who has been looking after the child? Your mother?’
‘Yes, my mother. She’s been wonderful.’
‘That was why you didn’t want me to go to her home, because your son would be there?’
‘That was why. But I’m no’ ashamed of Sam, Josh. He means everything to me.’ She hesitated. ‘And I think now I shouldn’t have tried to keep him a secret. I was selfish, thinking about my career.’
‘But when you met me, saw how I felt, why didn’t you tell me? You knew you’d have to tell me sooner or later!’ Josh’s face was moving with emotion, his lip trembling. ‘For God’s sake, why did you let me go on loving you, even wanting to marry you, when you had this secret in your life? A son you adored and I never knew! How could you do that to me, Lorna? How could you?’
She burst into long strangled sobs. ‘Because I knew you would give me up. I knew you wouldn’t be able to accept Rod Warren’s son, and I didn’t want to lose you. So, I just pretended I could leave it – tell you later, make you understand. But I knew all along you wouldn’t. Couldn’t, I suppose I mean.’ She took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘But I didn’t let you give me a ring. I knew I shouldn’t do that, when you didn’t know the truth about me. And it’s made it easier, hasn’t it? Not being formally engaged?’
‘Easier?’ He sat with his head bent, holding his brow. ‘You think anything could make this easier?’
She shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t.’
After a little while, he looked up. ‘I blame Rod Warren. He’s the one who should have thought of you, respected you. But he only thought of himself, and now you have a son to bring up on your own.’
‘We neither of us thought at all, Josh. And he doesn’t know about Sam.’
‘You could have told him.’
‘No, he’d have wanted to marry me and it wouldn’t have been right, to marry because of a baby.’
‘Wouldn’t have been right? To give your son a name? Lorna, I don’t feel I know you at all. You’re a stranger to me.’
‘A stranger?’ she cried. ‘Josh, don’t say that, don’t say that! I love you!’
‘And put a dagger in my heart.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She was sobbing again. ‘Can’t you see how much I feel for you? I never wanted to hurt you, never!’
Josh moved away, flinging himself into a chair, where he sat looking broodingly across at her. ‘Shouldn’t you be leading your band tonight?’ he asked coldly.
‘I asked George to take over for me.’
‘Such forethought. Well, I’m not going to be able to play tonight. I’ll have to ring Jackie and tell him I’m sick.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Which is quite true. I am sick. I’ve never felt so sick in my life.’
‘Josh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, weeping again, and trying to take his hand. ‘I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. Can you forgive me?’
He moved his hand from hers. ‘I told you, I blame Rod.’
‘Can we . . . can we meet again?’
‘I don’t know. I have to have some time to myself.’
‘I understand.’ Lorna picked up the photograph of Sam from the table where Josh had dropped it, and put it in her bag. ‘Next week, we’re going on the English tour. I don’t know if you remembered that?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it had gone from my mind.’
‘We’ll be away a month.’
‘I’ll see you on your return.’
‘You will?’ A tiny hope flickered in her heart. ‘I’ll ring you, then.’
He inclined his head, not looking at her, and after a long moment, she moved to the door.
‘Goodnight, Josh.’
‘Goodnight, Lorna.’
As she turned from him, he touched her arm. ‘I wonder if you know,’ he said, breathing hard, ‘how much you have damaged me?’
‘I know, Josh.’
Their eyes met; hers were the first to look away.
‘I still can’t believe what you’ve told me,’ he burst out. ‘It’s . . . a nightmare.’
‘It needn’t be,’ she said eagerly. ‘If we love each other, we can come through this. We can, Josh, we can!’
‘Maybe. But I need time.’
‘I know, I know. Remember, I’m going away. But then I’ll ring you when I come back, like I said.’
‘Yes, ring me.’
After a little hesitation, she began to go down his stairs, turning as they curved, to look back to see if he was still there. He was, and watching, his eyes dark as night fixed on her, but as she gave the faintest of smiles, he went into his flat and closed the door.
Going home on the tram, she kept her mind blank, as though she could save herself pain if she didn’t allow herself to think. Of course, it was impossible, and by the time she’d reached home, she was back to thinking and nursing the little flame of hope he’d given her when he’d said she might ring him, risking future anguish if the hope turned out to be false. She had wounded him so severely, she knew there was every chance that the time he’d said he needed would work against her. Still, she would cling to her hope.
Back at the flat, her phone rang when she was drearily making tea, and she dived at once to answer it, thinking it might be . . .
It was Flo, wanting to know how things had gone.
‘Intermission here at the moment,’ she told Lorna, ‘and we’re all missing you, but you’re no’ the only one who hasn’t come. Claire hasn’t turned up, either. Probably didn’t dare to show her face.’
‘I daresay.’
‘But, Lorna, I’ve been on pins all evening, thinking of you with Josh. How did he take it?’
After a lengthy pause, Lorna answered, ‘He asked me if I knew how much I’d damaged him.’
‘Oh. Well.’ Flo was clearly having trouble thinking of what to say. ‘We knew he’d feel like that, didn’t we? But he wasn’t . . . violent, or anything?’
‘No.’ Lorna’s voice trembled. ‘I suppose I was lucky. He was . . . just very shocked.’
‘What about Sam? Can he accept Sam?’
‘I don’t know. But I don’t think he can accept Rod as his father. He blames Rod for what happened.’
‘And doesn’t blame you? Lorna, that’s hopeful!’
‘No, because he blames me for not telling him earlier. I should have done, I see that now.’
‘You didn’t want to lose him. Surely he understands? Can’t he see it’s been hard for you, too?’
‘Might be too soon to expect that. All he can see is that I’ve let him down.’
‘Look, why no’ try to look on the bright side? He’s upset, but he didn’t throw you out or anything. And he hasn’t said he doesn’t want to see you again, has he?’
&nbs
p; ‘No. In fact, he said he’d see me when I got back.’
‘There you are, then! Lorna, I’m sure he doesn’t want to lose you. By the time you get back from the tour, he’ll probably have reconciled himself to the whole thing. And at least he knows the truth now. You’ll feel better about that.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do.’
But when she lay in bed, sleepless, Lorna felt a deep and impossible regret for the time that already seemed so long ago, when Josh had not known the truth. When she had not had to hurt him. And had not hurt herself.
Forty-Six
The English tour, so carefully planned by George with Lorna’s help, turned out to be strikingly successful. The way it had been planned, they travelled directly to the south coast, moving on from there to the major towns of Surrey and Hampshire, and then to London, which so excited the girls they could scarcely be persuaded to pack for the strung out journey back home. The Midlands beckoned, however, and then Yorkshire, Northumberland and the Scottish Borders. Finally, garlanded with praise, they arrived home.
Everywhere they went, they’d received rave reviews, with Lorna being described as their Titian-haired leader, and the Melody Girls themselves as ‘gorgeous Scottish lassies, who certainly know how to beat out a tune . . .’
‘Watch out, lads, the girls are here!’ ran one headline in a music paper, and another sent similar warnings to the big band leaders of the day.
‘Och, I’m sure Ted Heath and company are all crying over their bank accounts,’ George commented with a grin, but he was as delighted as everyone else with the girls’ success.
‘Particularly here in London,’ he told Lorna and Flo, when they were talking in their hotel. ‘Now didn’t I tell you it was the place to be? I could find you a dozen venues tomorrow that’d be desperate to have you.’
‘Maybe only because at the moment we’re a novelty,’ Flo suggested. ‘A Scottish all-girl band, but the emphasis is on Scottish. If we gave up that, we’d lose a lot of our appeal, is my view. Don’t you agree, Lorna?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve said all along that we’re a Scottish band and have to stay that way.’
Lorna’s words were definite enough, but her tone, as both listeners noticed, was listless. There was nothing unusual in that; when she was conducting the band, giving interviews, or posing for photographs, she seemed to find reserves of strength and vitality. Away from the professional scene, however, she drooped and withered like a flower out of water.