by Anne Douglas
‘Exactly. And the something in the wind seems to be starting up in America. Music that’s a mixture of rockabilly and a whole lot of other things. Seems it could really take off, according to the grapevine.’
‘Has this music got a name?’
George shrugged. ‘Some say rock and roll.’
‘But why should we worry about it?’
‘Oh, I’m not saying we need. It’s not even over here yet. But as we always seem to copy America, it’s pretty certain to come. And once it does, who knows how long people will want what we play?’
‘George, you’re talking nonsense!’ Flo cried, in exasperation. ‘There’ve always been different kinds of music going side by side. Jitterbugging music, jive, skiffle, all that sort of thing. This rock and roll stuff, it won’t stop people wanting our sort of music for dancing. Nothing will change that!’
George was silent, then smiled and nodded. ‘You’re right, of course. I suppose I’m only thinking of what might happen, not what will. So, take no notice!’
‘We won’t,’ Flo said, glancing quickly at Lorna’s set expression. ‘With the sort of money we’re making now, I say we have no need to worry. You look for what you want for the house, Lorna, and don’t listen to this old doom merchant here. He ought to be going round with a billboard. “The end of the world is nigh”, eh?’
As long as it isn’t the end of our world, Lorna was thinking, but didn’t really believe it could be. George was worrying about nothing, as Flo had told him. Even if this rock and roll stuff did take off, as he’d said it might, that wouldn’t mean that she and other bandleaders would be queuing for the dole. There would always be people who wanted what they played, which meant that there would still be money coming in and no need for economizing. ‘You buy what you want for the house’, Flo had said, and why shouldn’t she?
All the same, the more she thought about it, the less Lorna was inclined to spend as though there was no tomorrow, as her mother would have put it. Maybe she had all along been too extravagant? Buying herself a big house she didn’t really need? Trying to fill it with furniture that had to be the best? She hadn’t been brought up to spend like that, and when she remembered how little some folk had – how little her own parents had had at one time – a great feeling of guilt began to weigh down her heart.
And then, just supposing George turned out to be right, and the attraction for the big bands began to decline, and also their incomes?
Oh, Lord, what could she do? Lorna asked herself, beginning to feel like pressing cold towels to her brow. She could scarcely sell the house in the West End before she’d properly moved in, could she? And if she did plan to live in the house, she’d need furniture. Which brought her back to the auctions and what she would have to pay to get something that suited Number 29. At one time, she would have asked advice from Ewen, of course, but whatever Pattie had suggested, Lorna knew she could no longer do that. Better turn back to Flo and George, then. See what they could suggest.
‘Oh, come on, Lorna,’ Flo cried at once. ‘I tell you, there’s no need to take any notice of what George was saying. He even thinks so himself, don’t you, George?’
‘Suppose I do,’ he agreed. ‘Which doesn’t mean Lorna hasn’t got a point. It would be foolish to spend too much, and maybe there’s an easier way than auction buying to get what she needs.’
‘What easier way?’ Lorna asked eagerly.
‘Buy from individual sellers. There are no fees, no other bidders to bump up the price, no hassle. And a lot of folk are getting rid of the big old mahogany stuff because it’s gone out of fashion. You could get all you wanted, if you didn’t mind taking your time.’
‘But where do I find these individual sellers, George? I don’t know any people with mahogany they just happen to want to get rid of!’
‘The Scotsman,’ he answered simply. ‘The evening papers. Comb ’em every day, be first on the phone when you see something you want, and I guarantee, you’ll be OK.’
‘But you were all for auctions at one time,’ Lorna pointed out. ‘What’s changed?’
‘Thought you were rich then, maybe. Thought we were all rich.’ George shook his head. ‘But now I think we have to be careful.’
‘Why, you haven’t changed at all, have you!’ Flo cried. ‘You’re still worrying about that wretched rock and roll!’
‘Let’s say, I just don’t think it’s likely to go away,’ he told her. ‘So, best be on the safe side.’
And, staying on the safe side, Lorna took her time about shopping through the For Sale ads. Lived in an almost empty house until she could find what she wanted at reasonable prices, until, by the end of the year, she suddenly realized that Number 29 was ready. Ready for her house-warming, for which she could now send out the invitations. What would she put on those printed cards she’d seen?
Miss Lorna Fernie. At Home?
At home at last, with a house she could be proud of, furniture that looked right and hadn’t cost the earth, and enough money to spare to donate to her Christmas charities. At least now she didn’t feel so bad about spoiling herself, and if the band’s bubble ever did burst, as George feared, she would be prepared. But then it wasn’t going to do that, was it?
Fifty-Six
Everyone invited came to the house-warming, and Lorna had invited a crowd: relatives, friends, musicians – pretty well everyone she knew. For once, she decided, she would stop worrying about expense, and booked outside caterers to provide a buffet supper on the first Sunday after Hogmanay, 1955, Sunday being the only day the band people could be sure of coming.
‘And has to be after Hogmanay because of Sam’s birthday,’ she explained to Flo. ‘We’re going to the pantomime on New Year’s Eve, and on New Year’s Day I’m having his friends round to Ma’s. Thought we’d better no’ have a gang of eight-year-olds at the house, seeing as it’s all got to look its best for the party.’
‘Eight-year-olds?’ Flo sighed. ‘Is your wee Sam really eight years old? Where have all the years gone? Think I’ve missed the boat, Lorna?’
‘No’ if you want to catch it.’
‘That’s the point.’ Flo shrugged. ‘George and I aren’t sure if we do want a family. So, you know what they say, when in doubt, don’t!’
‘You’re the opposite of Pattie,’ Lorna told her. ‘She’s desperate to start a baby. When she does, I can guarantee that Ewen will be the perfect father.’
Flo’s eyes rested on her thoughtfully. ‘OK, now?’ she asked quietly. ‘I mean, with Ewen being a married man?’
‘OK,’ Lorna agreed. ‘We’re all three of us very good friends.’
‘That’s grand. Now, is there anything I can do to help with the house-warming?’
‘Not a thing, thanks, it’s all in hand.’ Lorna suddenly flung her arms round Flo. ‘Oh, I do think I’ve been lucky, don’t you, Flo? In spite of everything?’
‘If you’ve been lucky, you deserve to be. All we want now for you is you know who.’
‘Ssh, don’t even say it!’ Lorna cried. ‘Mr Right has no’ been invited!’
By seven o’clock on the evening of the house-warming, the time when guests were due to arrive, everything was ready. The caterers were in the kitchen, except for one uniformed waitress who was in place to answer the door and another to take guests’ coats and show where the ladies could comb hair and powder noses. The excellent buffet was laid out in the dining room, with welcoming punch bowl and glasses in the drawing room, where Lorna, radiant in dark green taffeta, was standing with her family and Flo and George, ready to receive her guests.
‘That Josh,’ George whispered to Flo. ‘He was a nutcase, right? To leave anybody like Lorna?’
‘He wasn’t the first nutcase she’s had to deal with,’ Flo answered, at which George grinned and asked her if she hadn’t been lucky herself, then? Landing an intelligent fellow like him?
She was knocking his arm and laughing, when the doorbell rang, and Cissie cried, ‘Action Stations! The fi
rst guests have arrived!’
‘I’ll go see!’ shouted Sam, who was feeling very proud of himself in his kilt, with white shirt and bow tie, and before Tilly could stop him, was away to the hall.
‘It’s Ma’s band!’ he cried, dancing back, ‘It’s the Melody Girls! But they’ve no’ brought their instruments!’
‘Hey, we’re off duty tonight,’ Bridie told him. ‘It’s your ma’s party!’
‘Could still have played, eh? I wanted to hear the saxophones.’
‘Sam, our rooms here are pretty big, but they’re still too small for a band,’ Lorna said, smiling. ‘The girls would’ve blown us out into the street!’
‘Though I wish they could’ve played,’ she whispered to Flo. ‘Our band showing the guys how it should be done!’
With the entrance of the girls, all for once in different dresses, all beautifully made up, their hair elaborately done, Lorna’s drawing room sprang immediately to life. There were hugs and little screams of admiration over their leader’s house, with even Claire looking relaxed and joining in, and if the band was not quite the same as the original gathering of players, some having married and moved on, it was still, Lorna and Flo felt, their extended family, come to celebrate.
But then the doorbell began to ring non stop, as more and more people came streaming in, bearing flowers and chocolate and bottles of wine, and the hugs and cries continued over the punch and nibbles, to the accompaniment of big band music from the radiogram in the corner.
Whose record was it? The Melody Girls’, of course, but then there was one from Luke, and another from Jackie, and even one from Ambrose, the great London bandleader, to which Jackie smartly asked why they were playing the opposition.
‘No opposition tonight,’ George told him. ‘Tonight, we’re all just celebrating.’
‘Celebrating what, exactly?’
‘Hell, do you have to have a reason?’
‘Supper is served,’ a waiter announced.
And Lorna, flushed and proud, shepherded everyone into the dining room, where there were more cries of admiration, until the room fell silent and the guests began to eat.
‘Now, when you’ve finished that,’ Tilly whispered to Sam, who had been happily piling up his plate, ‘you’d better be thinking about bed, eh?’
‘Ah no, Gramma, I’m no’ going to bed yet!’
‘Well, you’re no’ staying up all night, Sam. And you’ve a lovely wee room upstairs all ready for you.’
‘Aye, but I needn’t go upstairs yet, Gramma. Ma said!’
‘What did your ma say, then?’ Ewen asked affectionately, as Lorna, coming up, shook her head, smiling.
‘It’s all right, Ma, he did twist my arm to let him stay up longer. Just for a while.’
‘I wish I could’ve heard the band,’ Sam sighed. ‘Specially the saxophones. When I grow up, I’m going to play the sax, like Ma.’
‘No’ in my band,’ Lorna told him. ‘Mine’s a girl band.’
‘I’ll have my own band!’ Sam cried, and Ewen and Lorna, moving on, said they were sure he would.
‘Lorna, you’re looking terrific tonight,’ Ewen murmured, studying the green taffeta. ‘Feeling happy?’
‘Happy, and lucky.’
‘We think we might be lucky, too.’
Ewen’s eyes were searching for Pattie, who waved to him across the room from where she was in conversation with Miss Dickinson. ‘Pattie still has to see the doc, but I reckon it’s pretty certain we’re going to be parents.’ He grinned widely. ‘What d’you think of me as a dad?’
‘Ewen, what wonderful news! Oh, I’m so happy for you!’ Lorna couldn’t resist giving him a hug, even if her guests were giving interested stares. ‘But I must speak to Pattie!’
‘Hey, I’m no’ sure if it’s meant to be a secret—’ Ewen was beginning, but Lorna was already on her way, thinking, A secret? Oh, no, there was no need for secrets, surely? There’d been enough secrets over babies, hadn’t there? And thank the Lord, Pattie and Ewen had no need of them anyway.
After the congratulations and embraces with lucky Pattie, and a chat with Miss Dickinson, who seemed quite overcome by ‘little’ Lorna’s success, it was Jackie’s turn to catch at Lorna’s arm.
‘Grand party,’ he told her, his eyes so bright and his manner so cheerful, she guessed he’d been doing more than justice, not only to the buffet but also the wine. Practised enough to be able to stay in control, however, he was very pleasantly complimentary on all that she’d done with her band, until he came out with a name she would rather have had him forget.
‘Sorry about Josh,’ he murmured, swaying very slightly. ‘I mean, you and Josh. Always thought . . . you’d make a handsome couple, eh?’
‘Water under the bridge,’ she said swiftly, deciding that was a phrase she’d had to use too often.
‘Ever hear from him?’
‘No, we’ve quite lost touch.’
‘I did hear he’d moved from Ted Heath to Ambrose, you know.’ Jackie gave a grin. ‘Never could settle, eh? Fell out with somebody there, too – remember his temper? So, where is he now? Nobody knows.’
Lorna, smiling at Claire, who was passing, said, ‘It’s of no interest to me, Jackie.’
‘No? Well, they do say he’s gone abroad. Maybe Italy. Half Italian, wasn’t he?’
‘Hey, no monopolizing of the hostess,’ Luke Riddell called, inserting himself between Jackie and Lorna. He too was looking rather bright in the eye and smiling more than usual, but was as straight backed and elegant as ever, as he drank a little from the glass he was carrying.
‘Swell party, Lorna! Must have cost you a fortune, eh? But shows you’re doing well, that’s the thing. Doesn’t it show she’s doing well, Jackie?’
‘Very well,’ Jackie agreed, draining his own glass. ‘Long may it continue, I say.’
‘As of course we all know it may not,’ Luke said softly.
‘What do you mean?’ Lorna asked quickly.
He fixed her with his dark glittering eyes. ‘Been asked lately when folks book you if you’re playing the new stuff?’
‘No, I haven’t. What new stuff?’
‘What the kids like,’ Jackie explained. ‘You know.’ He waved his glass. ‘Rock and roll.’
Lorna took a step backwards. ‘You as well?’ she muttered. ‘George is full of all that nonsense.’
‘Nonsense?’ Luke frowned. ‘It’s not nonsense if it makes money, Lorna. And it’s hitting the world big time, believe me.’
‘We can make money, too, Luke.’
‘Yes, as long as folk still want us. But fashions come and go, you know. Maybe, it’s the turn of the big bands to bow out.’
‘Bow out?’ Lorna shook her head. ‘There’ll always be people who want dance music.’
‘I tell you, the whole scene could shift, dear girl.’ Luke glanced at Jackie, who had gone rather quiet. ‘You understand that, Jackie?’
‘I’m thinking about a young guy in America,’ Jackie said slowly. ‘Cut a couple of records for his mother’s birthday some time last year in Memphis, Tennessee. “My Happiness” one was called, and what was the other one, Luke?’
‘What does it matter?’ Lorna cried. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘Well, this young guy, everybody’s saying, is going to blow the world of popular music apart, because, as they all have it, he’s dynamite.’ Jackie shook his head. ‘So, by next year, we’re going to see great changes, over here as well as in the States. And they’ll all be led by this fellow, and the young folk, who want something new. Mark my words.’
‘So, what’s this fellow’s name?’
‘Elvis Presley.’ It was Luke who answered, speaking solemnly. ‘Better make a note, Lorna. And keep a look out, eh?’
‘Any more of your gloom and you’ll be turning my party into a wake,’ Lorna remarked, trying to laugh. ‘Why don’t we all go into the other room for coffee? Or, whatever you prefer.’
Fifty-Seven
Movi
ng around her drawing room, her head held high, her shoulders straight, always her style when facing a challenge, Lorna’s mind was still with Luke and Jackie. Talk about looking on the dark side – the gloom they’d cast over her had descended like one great lowering cloud. What had George said about rockabilly’s being like a ‘cloud no bigger than a man’s hand’? A forerunner to a storm, he had suggested. And here were Luke and Jackie talking as though the storm were already upon them.
It wasn’t true, though. Try as she would, Lorna couldn’t see that her kind of music would be on its way out. Of course, young people might want this new rock and roll, for young people always wanted different things from their elders. But surely that didn’t mean that all the folk who came to the dance halls or clubs and hotels now, would want a change too? What, after all, was so special about the new music that was supposed to be sweeping the world? It came to Lorna suddenly that she didn’t even know precisely what rock and roll was. So, where was George? He would tell her.
She found him in conversation with Ina and Dickie, both still with Luke’s band, both still in love but not yet married, Luke not being keen on employing married couples.
‘Of course, it’s all right for him to be married to Suzie,’ Ina whispered, glancing over at the lovely Suzie herself, who was exchanging experiences as a vocalist with Lorna’s vocalist, Dawn. ‘But he’s just prejudiced against married band players, if you ask me. Says their minds are always on other things, would you credit it?’
‘We’re seriously thinking of moving on,’ Dickie remarked. ‘No good looking at you, I suppose, Lorna?’
‘Well, not for you,’ George laughed.
‘And I’m afraid we have a pianist,’ Lorna said. ‘Otherwise, we’d have loved to have you, Ina. It would have been like old times.’
‘Should have come over when you first started up,’ Ina sighed. ‘And see how well you’ve done, eh? Luke’s green with envy, Suzie’s always saying.’
‘According to him, we’re all due to be bowing out soon,’ Lorna said, pretending to laugh. ‘Knocked out by rock and roll.’