The Melody Girls

by Anne Douglas

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Dickie cried. ‘That’s an exaggeration.’

  ‘I still don’t even know what rock and roll is,’ Ina said. ‘Except it looks like jitterbugging to me.’

  ‘Define it, George,’ Lorna ordered. ‘What are we up against?’

  ‘Well, it’s a mixture, really. It’s blues, it’s boogie woogie, it’s big on guitars but has drums and bass, too. And of course a large part of its appeal is the vocals. The singers are tremendously important.’

  ‘Looks like we’re up against something,’ Dickie muttered. ‘At least, bass players seem to be still wanted.’

  ‘But not pianists, I bet.’ Ina looked across at Luke who was holding forth across the room to a group that included an admiring Cissie and both Lorna’s cousins. ‘Maybe I should just stick with Luke as long as he’s around.’

  Excusing herself, saying she had to mingle, Lorna was surprised to find Claire at her elbow, asking if she could have a word.

  ‘Why, of course!’ she told her. ‘Like some more coffee first?’

  ‘No, I’m all right, thanks.’

  ‘Well, let’s sit in the hall for a minute. You can hardly hear yourself speak in here!’

  ‘Sam gone to bed?’ Claire asked, taking a seat on a small bench in the hall and looking, Lorna thought, very pretty that evening. Though a little cagey, perhaps, as if she might have something difficult to say.

  ‘Oh, some time ago,’ Lorna answered. ‘Ma said he could read if he liked, but he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.’

  ‘An easy conscience, of course.’ Claire smiled faintly. ‘Listen, Lorna, hope you won’t mind but I couldn’t help hearing you talking about Josh earlier on.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Lorna looked away.

  ‘I think Jackie was saying he might have gone to Italy?’

  ‘Are you interested?’

  Claire flushed. ‘You’ll think me very foolish, I expect, but I am. I still am, though I don’t have any hope, I know, of seeing him again.’

  ‘Are you telling me you care for him, Claire? I had no idea.’

  ‘No, I never let on. Never told anybody. But I’ve always felt so bad, Lorna, that I spoiled things for you with him, by what I did. And I suppose I did do that because I was so jealous.’

  ‘Claire, I never knew!’ Lorna was staring at her. ‘I never knew, never guessed. I always thought there were other reasons.’

  ‘There were, but me loving Josh, that was the main one.’ Claire bent her head. ‘And then you were so decent, so kind to me, I began to feel terrible. About what I’d done. But I couldn’t say anything. I just had to live with it.’

  ‘But you have seemed happier, Claire. Everyone’s noticed it.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the funny thing. Since you were so nice to me, I tried to be nice, too, and then, I don’t know how, I started to feel better. I’m still not over Josh, but I’m definitely better than I was.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ Lorna said warmly. ‘And I’m glad you’ve told me how things have been for you. But now we can put it behind us, can’t we? Just keep going, as before?’

  ‘Well, not quite.’ Claire was again looking as though she had something hard to say. ‘The fact is, I’ve made my peace with my sister, and she’s asked me to go down to London to be with her. Share a flat, find a job, while she gets herself on the concert circuit. At one time, I could never have said yes, but now . . . well, I have.’

  ‘Oh, Claire, that’s good! Except, you’ll be leaving us?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Now that she had given her news, Claire’s brow had cleared. ‘And I’m really sad. But I do want to be with Hannah, and this is my chance. Who knows, I might get taken on by one of the greats down there! Ambrose, or Ivy Benson, or somebody!’

  ‘You might at that. I’ll speak to George – he can put out feelers.’ Lorna stood up. ‘Claire, I’m so glad things have turned out as they have. Don’t worry about Josh. Once you’re in London, you’ll never give him another thought. Just as I don’t now.’

  Claire, not looking entirely convinced, smiled. ‘Still, I’m sorry to leave you without a pianist, Lorna. Do hope you’ll find one soon.’

  ‘I think I might just have someone in mind. Come on, let’s go back, and find George.’

  Suddenly, everything was quiet. The guests had gone. The caterers had gone. The party was over.

  In the drawing room, having tea and cigarettes, only Flo and George were left with Lorna, Tilly having retired to bed and Cissie, with Pippie and Alex, having splashed out on a taxi and returned to Musselburgh. This after everyone else had departed, still calling shouts of thanks at the door, then hurrying out into the frosty night, to drive their cars or catch late trams home.

  ‘Grand party,’ George said lazily, blowing smoke. ‘You did everybody proud, Lorna.’

  ‘Impressed ’em all,’ Flo added. ‘Specially Luke and Jackie, and that was worth a lot, eh? I think it’s right, what Suzie says, they’re envious.’

  ‘I don’t know why they should be,’ Lorna murmured. ‘They’re doing well.’ She poured the three of them more tea. ‘For the moment.’

  ‘Ah, don’t say you’re still depressing yourself over the future, Lorna!’ Flo helped herself to sugar. ‘Look, we’ll just carry on as usual. Won’t even give the new stuff a thought. It could all be a flash in the pan, anyway. We’re the tried and tested ones, eh?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Lorna said, again straightening her shoulders. ‘We’ll just carry on as usual.’

  ‘Not much choice, have we?’ George asked cheerfully, then bit his lip as Flo looked daggers at him, while Lorna drank her tea and said nothing.

  ‘At least, we’ve got good news about Ina coming back,’ Flo said desperately. ‘So glad you asked her, Lorna. Claire’s improved a lot, but it’ll be like old times to have Ina again, eh?’

  Wish it could be, Lorna thought. Wish it could be old times again, when there were no clouds in the sky.

  Fifty-Eight

  But there were clouds, of course. Not great thunder clouds, but those of the ‘man’s hand’ variety; straws that showed the way the wind was blowing. And, oh, that wind was cold.

  At first, as Lorna and Flo had promised themselves, they continued as usual, and nothing seemed different. They still got bookings for their favourite venues. They still made records and had a few programmes on the radio.

  But when George sought to arrange another London tour, he was asked by a club manager, as Luke too had been asked, if the band was going to include the new style of music in their programme. Something with guitars was suggested, preferably electric guitars, they being so popular. Turned out that one guitar in the rhythm section wasn’t quite what the manager had in mind, and though he’d given them a booking, it seemed pretty likely, George thought, that they might not get another.

  ‘Not at that particular club,’ he added hastily. ‘We’ll be all right elsewhere. Just need the older audiences.’

  ‘Older audiences?’ Flo cried. ‘We’ve never had to play just to older people!’

  ‘How about the other bands?’ Lorna asked. ‘They finding this attitude too?’

  ‘Only here and there. But maybe London isn’t the place for us at the moment, anyway. The capital always goes for new ideas, eh? I think we should stick with the provinces.’

  ‘And the Scottish capital,’ Lorna declared. ‘We’re still as popular as ever in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Sure, we’ll be OK here,’ George agreed.

  But then the Carillon Ballroom, one of their oldest venues where fans could be the most loyal, asked if they couldn’t include a bit of rock and roll now and again. It was this new record, ‘Rock Around the Clock’, by Bill Haley and his Comets, that had caused all the fuss, eh? Had all the youngsters fizzing and wanting more, and when the film came out next year, the effect would probably be sensational.

  ‘Jump on the band wagon,’ the Carillon manager had advised with a laugh. ‘If you’ll pardon the pun. Try to replace the saxophones,
eh? Buy a few guitars.’

  Replace the saxophones?

  With those words, it seemed to Lorna, Flo and George, that that was when the small clouds became big ones, and the wind blew coldest of all. For to change the instruments in their sort of band was quite impossible. It would mean changing not only the music they played, but their whole character as a swing band, and they had as much chance of switching to guitars for rock and roll, as of playing minuets with harpsichords.

  ‘Now, we’re not to let this sort of thing get us down,’ George said firmly. ‘As you said, Flo, we’ll just keep going.’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you,’ she retorted. ‘You were the one who first thought we were all going to go under!’

  ‘I never said we were going to go under. There’s still a hell of a lot of folk out there who want to listen to us. Maybe not in London, but elsewhere. We’ll just have to be careful about venues and see we’re getting the right crowd.’

  ‘And the right managers,’ Lorna pointed out. ‘They’re interested in money, remember. We have to make sure we make it for them.’

  ‘We’ll make it,’ George said with conviction, but Lorna and Flo were exchanging glances. George could put on a very good act when he wanted to, as they both knew.

  Meanwhile, whatever the future held, it was lovely to have Ina in the rhythm section again, so thrilled to be in Edinburgh with an all-girl band, while Dickie had been lucky enough to be taken on by Jackie.

  ‘Oh, it’s so easy, working for you and Flo,’ Ina told Lorna in the office after rehearsal one summer morning. ‘I mean, compared with Luke. And don’t tell me all these horror stories about swing bands having to go bankrupt, because I know there’ll always be audiences for us.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re clinging on to that,’ Lorna told her. ‘None of the girls is rushing off to learn guitar playing. Dawn isn’t singing “We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight!” or imitating this Elvis Presley we keep hearing about.’

  Lorna began swaying round her office, in the way she imagined rock singers would move, and Ina was clapping and encouraging her, when Trish put her head round the door and called, ‘Someone to see you, Lorna!’

  ‘Who?’ Lorna asked, coming to a halt.

  ‘Never seen him before. Said his name was Rod something.’

  Lorna stood very still, her face turning pale. ‘Rod?’ she whispered.

  ‘Rod?’ echoed Ina.

  ‘Want to see him?’ Trish asked cheerfully.

  ‘I’ll go, Lorna.’ Ina, taking Trish with her, was disappearing through the door.

  ‘Yes, I’ll see him,’ Lorna answered, her voice sounding a long way off. ‘Just for a minute.’

  And Rod came in, closing the door after him. ‘For more than that, I hope,’ he said, quietly. ‘How are you, Lorna?’

  At first she thought he looked different. But then she realized she was comparing him to the image she’d had in her mind for so many years. Not that she’d called it up so often, but when she did, maybe it had become faded – blurred – so that it was no longer like him. Now that she saw him again and clearly, she knew he hadn’t changed.

  Put on a little weight, perhaps, but not on the face, which was still as youthful as ever, though Rod must be in his thirties now. And still as kind looking and cheerful as when he’d attracted her on her first day with Luke’s band so long ago. Kind? Was he kind? Yes, she believed he was. Just wanted what he wanted, like a lot of people, herself included.

  ‘Rod, why are you here?’ she asked, her voice still sounding far away.

  ‘I want to see you.’ His previously slight American accent had become more apparent; he seemed much more American now. ‘I need to see you.’

  ‘Need? In all these years, you’ve never needed to see me before.’

  ‘You don’t know that. I’ve been back several times to the UK, usually to see my mother, but I never dared to find you. I knew it would be no good. You wouldn’t want to see me.’

  ‘But you’ve found me now.’

  ‘I called Luke. He gave me the address of this studio.’

  Rod’s gaze had never strayed from Lorna’s face until, suddenly, it moved to the photograph of Sam on her desk.

  ‘Lorna,’ he asked hoarsely, coming closer to her desk, ‘why did you never tell me about my son?’

  Fifty-Nine

  The silence was long. Long and painful. Lorna had turned white. Rod was sweating, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his brow.

  ‘Is there anywhere we can go?’ he asked. ‘To talk? I have a hire car outside.’

  ‘We can talk here,’ she said stiffly. ‘The girls will all have gone by now. Flo and George didn’t come in this morning.’

  ‘May I sit down?’

  ‘Of course.’ She watched as he pulled up a chair and sank into it. ‘How did you know? Did you read my interview?’

  ‘What interview?’

  ‘In Edinburgh Cross Talk – a magazine.’

  ‘I never saw it. Can’t have reached America – at least, not Los Angeles. That’s where I’ve been for some time.’

  ‘So, how did you know about . . . Sam?’

  ‘Sam,’ Rod repeated softly. ‘You called him Sam?’

  ‘Samuel Cameron. Sam because I liked it, Cameron after my dad. But tell me how you knew, Rod. How did you?’

  ‘Josh told me.’

  ‘Josh?’ For a moment, Lorna closed her eyes, bowed her head. Josh? She couldn’t take it in. Josh, in America, seeking out Rod? It was too much, too much . . .

  ‘Are you all right?’ Rod was asking quickly ‘You’re so pale – can I get you anything?’

  ‘I’m all right, thanks.’ She sat up in her chair, straightening her shoulders, putting back her head. ‘It was just . . . a bit of a shock, that’s all, to hear about Josh. I’d no idea he was in America.’

  ‘He came over from Italy. Been given an offer for a screen test in Hollywood. So he said, but I think he really just wanted to find me.’ Rod’s mouth twisted. ‘When he did, he was in such a rage, I thought he was going to kill me.’

  ‘He attacked you?’ Lorna cried, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Rod!’

  ‘It’s all right, he didn’t get very far. It was all hot air, as it usually is with Josh.’ Rod was silent for a moment. Finally, in a low voice, he went on, ‘Lorna, I knew you’d been seeing him. Bob Milnes, a trumpeter in Jackie Craik’s band was over in the States for a bit. He told me about you and Josh. That was another reason why I didn’t get in touch. Seemed I’d been right – you wouldn’t have wanted to see me.’

  ‘Everything between Josh and me was over long ago,’ Lorna said coldly. ‘I haven’t even thought about him for years.’

  ‘He hasn’t stopped thinking about you, then. Or, at least, avenging your honour. In the end, he calmed down and told me about our son. Said he was a fine boy and I shouldn’t be skulking over in America, I should be in Scotland with him.’ Rod leaped to his feet and began pacing the room. ‘As though I knew anything about Sam! As though I wouldn’t have come over on the next boat if you’d told me about him!’

  Turning back to Lorna, he stood over her where she sat, still as a statue at her desk. ‘In God’s name, why didn’t you tell me, Lorna? You know I’d have come straight back from the States. We could have been married—’

  ‘I didn’t want us to be married. It would never have worked out.’

  ‘Didn’t want us to be married? So you let our son be brought up without a father? How could you do that, Lorna? How could you, when he had me?’

  A flush rose to her pale cheeks and she looked away from his accusing gaze. ‘I suppose I thought we didn’t really love each other.’

  ‘We did! We did love each other!’

  ‘Not enough, though. Neither of us would give in.’

  ‘The truth is, we were too young to see straight. We never gave ourselves a chance.’

  Another silence fell, broken again by Rod. ‘What did you tell him, then, about me? You have
told him, haven’t you? He knows I exist?’

  Lorna hesitated, thinking back to the time when Sam had started school. Before that, he’d been quite happy to have just her and his ‘Gramma’, but at school he’d discovered that most other children had dads. It hadn’t been long before the question came that she’d been dreading.

  ‘Ma, where’s my dad?’ Sam had asked one afternoon when she’d collected him at the school gate. ‘Have I got one?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Sam, you’ve got one.’ Her voice was wonderfully bright. ‘But he’s in America.’

  ‘America?’ Sam had been thrilled. ‘Is he a film star?’

  ‘No, a musician, like me.’

  Sam, walking beside her, had looked up at her trustfully. ‘So why have I no’ got his name, then?’

  ‘There are reasons why I can’t go into that now, Sam. One day you’ll understand.’

  ‘And one day will my dad come back?’

  What to reply to that? Seeing the hope in her son’s face, Lorna knew she couldn’t crush it.

  ‘He might, Sam, he might. If he can.’

  And to her great relief, Sam had said no more.

  ‘Have you told him?’ Sam’s father was pressing now. ‘I need to know.’

  Lorna raised her eyes. ‘It wasn’t easy, Rod.’

  ‘Not when you’d made it so difficult.’

  ‘I did what I thought was best.’

  ‘Never mind, never mind. Just tell me what Sam knows.’

  ‘He does know about you. I told him you were in America.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He asked if you’d ever come back. I said you might.’

  Rod’s eyes lit up. ‘Lorna, you told him that? I might come back?’

  ‘I never thought you would, but I couldn’t disappoint him.’

  ‘Well, I am back and I want to see him, and he should see me. Where is he, then? With you? How do you take care of him when you’re working?’

  ‘He stays with my mother. Without her, I couldn’t have managed. She’s taken care of him, and I’ve been with him whenever possible.’

  ‘I see.’