‘They’re coming back from the rides now, and I reckon even Dolly’s had enough,’ she told him with a grin. ‘She looks green.’
When the others reached them, she said cheerfully: ‘You’re not going to throw up all over us, are you, Dolly?’
Dolly’s answer was to retch violently, but as people nearby glanced her way in disgust, Jim laughed loudly and thumped her on the back a few times, and said she should take more water with it if she couldn’t stand the pace.
‘Oh Gawd, I think it’s time I went home, or I’ll never be any good for dancing later,’ Dolly finally gasped. ‘We’ll see you two charmers at the club tonight. Come on, Gracie, let’s go for the train before I really disgrace myself.’
Gracie needed no second prompting. Going dancing was still furthest from her mind, and she’d have thought Dolly would have gone off the idea as well. But within a couple of hours Dolly was egging Gracie to try on one of her frocks for the evening.
‘You were always bigger than me in the bust department,’ Gracie protested. ‘Anything of yours will just hang on me.’
‘It’ll just look fashionable, so stop your objections. You didn’t think we’d just be sitting around like two old maids all the time, did you?’
‘I don’t know what I thought,’ Gracie said, looking at the small selection of frocks Dolly had spread out on her bed now. ‘Certainly not to be going anywhere with boring Billy. And I’m still in mourning, remember.’
‘You’re not still hankering over that trumpet player, are you?’ Dolly said, ignoring any thoughts of dying and mourning. As far as Dolly was concerned, you were a long time dead, so you might as well make the most of living.
‘He’s a saxophone player, and no, I’m not.’
‘Thank Gawd for that, but if you were, you don’t have a cat’s chance in hell of seeing him again if you carry on living in the sticks. So when are you moving back here properly?’
‘I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.’
‘Bleedin’ hell Gracie, what’s there to think about? You ain’t needed at home any more, and I miss you. I ain’t never had a friend like you.’
Since she rarely stated her feelings out loud, her voice was belligerent.
‘You’ll be the first to know when I’ve decided. Can I borrow this cream frock then?’ Gracie said, changing the conversation quickly before they started bickering, and knowing the signs of old.
Dolly shrugged. ‘You can have it if you want to alter it a bit. It’s much too tight on me now anyway.’
‘It never used to be.’
‘Well it is now. You can borrow my tortoiseshell beads to go with it too if you like. Try it all on, then we’ll persuade old Warby to make us a cup of tea.’
She could be as changeable as the weather sometimes. Gracie had always thought the cream frock was one of Dolly’s favourites. It was a sleeveless style with a low waist but if it was too tight now, Dolly apparently couldn’t be bothered to alter it herself. She would have done, once. She was as skilled as Gracie in that respect. But that was before she took up with coalman Jim, and before he occupied most of her time.
‘How do I look?’ she said, once she had donned the frock and twisted the long rope of tortoiseshell beads twice around her neck.
‘Very nice, if you like beanpoles,’ Dolly said listlessly. ‘Now take it off, and let’s go downstairs and holler for that tea. I’m parched.’
After the fun of the fair, Gracie was parched too, but the very act of trying on something different and seeing how well it suited her, had sent a sliver of excitement running through her. It was so long since she had dressed up and gone anywhere, and she couldn’t mourn for ever. Not out loud, anyway. The feelings she cherished for her mother—and for her father, come to that—would always be there, but they didn’t have to blight the rest of her life.
* * *
It was like old times, getting dressed up for the nightclub that evening, apart from the moments when she had to blot out the memory of the night of the Palais fire. Even Dolly wasn’t totally insensitive about it.
‘Bit different from the last time, ain’t it, Gracie? It was a few days after the fire that you got the phone call from your old man and had to pack up and leave, wasn’t it? What a night that was, too.’
‘It’s all in the past now and I doubt that they’ll ever get to the truth about how it started,’ she said, not wanting to think about that night any more than she had to. Not all of it, anyway.
She pulled her wayward auburn curls into shape, and pinched her cheeks to put a bit of colour in them while Dolly was pressing far too much rouge into hers. She was much paler than she used to be. Gracie’s dad always said that burning the candle at both ends was no good to man nor beast—and much notice he had ever taken of his own advice, Gracie thought bitterly.
‘What happened to that sailor you was seeing?’ Dolly said suddenly. ‘You ain’t mentioned him since you came back. If you don’t think about saxophone Charlie no more, have you set your sights on the other one?’
‘Me and Davey Watkins are just friends, though his mother would like to think otherwise,’ Gracie said.
‘There you are then! And if he’s away at sea a lot, you’ll have to make the most of it when he comes home on leave, won’t you? You know what they say about sailors, Gracie,’ she added with a wink.
‘I told you—’
‘I know, and the moon’s full of cheese,’ Dolly said, laughing as if she had said something hilarious. ‘Are you ready? You look a treat, by the way.’
‘So do you,’ Gracie said generously, though Dolly had definitely put on a bit of weight. It suited her, even though it wasn’t strictly fashionable, and she had spent a lot of time squeezing herself into a cotton brassière to flatten her chest.
* * *
Tonight was going to be an ordeal. Just walking into the brightly lit nightclub with the music playing was enough to make Gracie’s heart thump. Jim and Billy were waiting for them, and they pushed their way through the crowds to find a table on the circular balcony overlooking the dance-floor.
‘Lovely, ain’t it?’ Dolly breathed in her ear, as the men went off for some refreshments. ‘You are going to enjoy yourself, ain’t you, Gracie?’
‘Of course I am,’ she said, forcing a smile, and willing her eyes away from the band. Just as if he would be here. Just as if pigs could fly.
She danced with Billy a few times, but since he didn’t seem to mind sitting out, it suited her well enough to watch everyone else on the dance-floor. Dolly and Jim were always in the thick of it, and once the music changed tempo from the slower tunes to the frantic Charleston, they hardly saw them for the next hour.
‘I thought Dolly was exhausted this afternoon, after all those rides at the funfair,’ she said. ‘But she’ll do herself an injury if she’s not careful.’
‘Jim likes his girls to be lively.’
‘His girls? He doesn’t have more than one, does he, Billy?’
‘Nah, ‘course not. Not at the same time,’ he said hastily.
‘That’s all right then.’ For a minute Gracie thought he was implying that Jim was playing fast and loose. For all Dolly’s airy-fairy ways, she knew she really fancied Jim, and she wouldn’t want to see her get hurt.
Much later, she admitted that the whole evening hadn’t been quite the ordeal she had expected. It was like falling off a bicycle, or so they said. You had to get on and ride again to get over your fear. By the time they returned to the boarding-house and crept upstairs, they undressed and crawled into bed, exhausted.
It had been a long day, especially for Gracie, after travelling from Southampton. She was nearly dropping with sleep, and not even the novelty of being back in her old room again would keep her awake much longer, but she was still looking forward to their after-lights-out chats, when secrets were shared.
It was familiar territory, after all, she thought, with a rush of gladness. The constant noise of the London traffic throughout the night
was as soothing as the sound of birds singing to a country-dweller.
She moved her head sideways on the pillow. In the slivers of moonlight shining in through the small square of window, she could just see the mound of Dolly’s curled-up shape beneath the bedclothes.
‘You’re not going to sleep yet, are you?’ she whispered.
There was no reply for a few seconds, and the next thing she heard was a regular, rhythmic snoring coming from Dolly’s bed. So much for sharing secrets then. With a small sigh of regret Gracie turned her head away from the light, and was asleep in seconds.
10
Dolly was glad she was staying an extra night. At least, that’s what Gracie thought she said from the jumble of her bedclothes on Sunday morning.
‘But if you think I’m getting up at the crack of dawn, forget it,’ the voice continued blearily. ‘I can’t face breakfast, but don’t let me stop you.’
With that, she rolled over again and buried her head beneath the blankets to escape the sunlight now streaming in through the window. It was a waste of a lovely day to be lying in bed, but Gracie had no objection to spending time on her own. Yesterday had been fun, but today was different, and being alone was probably the best way to decide whether she really wanted to live here again.
It no longer felt as if she would be deserting her mum or betraying her memory. Queenie had always urged her not to stay in Southampton, especially if it meant looking after her dad and becoming a drudge for him. That situation had changed more tragically and quickly than any of them had expected, but the result was the same. Gracie had nothing to keep her in Southampton, and everything to make a new life for herself. And it wouldn’t be sewing shirts for Ed Lawson, she thought determinedly.
Mrs Warburton welcomed her down to the breakfast table and fussed around her as if she was a long-lost relative.
As she went out to fetch the eggs and bacon, Mr Taylor winked at Gracie.
‘Treats us like schoolboys, she does, but her heart’s in the right place. So what are you and Dolly doing today?’
‘She’s not up yet, but I’m going to the park,’ Gracie said, before she had time to think.
She hadn’t actually decided on anything, but it seemed as good a place as any to take advantage of this lovely September day.
‘You all look as if you could do with some fresh air too,’ she added cheekily, addressing the lodgers.
‘What, come with you and cramp your style?’ one of them said with a cough and a spit into a grubby handkerchief. ‘You won’t want old codgers like us hanging around a lovely girl like you with all them young bucks around.’
‘I’m not looking for a husband, Mr Daley,’ she said, trying to ignore his unsavoury implications. And she hadn’t actually invited their company.
‘If I was forty years younger I’d snap you up myself,’ he answered.
‘You’d have to play the saxophone first,’ said a voice behind them, and they turned to see Dolly, not exactly at her best, but clearly thinking she should make an effort since her friend was only here for a short time.
‘What’s all this about a saxophone?’ said Mrs Warburton, clearing a space on the table for the toast rack.
‘It’s nothing,’ Gracie said, suddenly annoyed. ‘I knew somebody who played in a band once—well, not exactly knew him—I only met him once, and I’m not likely to see him again.’
‘She just lives in hopes,’ Dolly added with a sly grin.
Mrs Warburton gave an impatient sigh. ‘That’s as may be, but do you want breakfast or not, missy, because I’ve got church to go to and I’m not going to be cooking all day for the likes of you.’
‘I don’t want nothing.’ Dolly was scowling now. ‘I just came to tell Gracie that I’ll go for a walk too.’
* * *
‘Are you all right, Dolly? You look a bit seedy,’ Gracie said a while later, when they had left the boarding-house behind and were striding out towards the park, their arms linked.
‘I had too much to drink last night, and I’m not sure what Jim was putting in my glass,’ Dolly said with a grimace. ‘Dancing the Charleston didn’t help the way my guts were turning upside down after all those rides on the caterpillar either. I’ll be all right, but the smell of old Warby’s greasy cooking was the last straw.’
She sounded really down, Gracie thought, and she needed to hear something to cheer her up.
‘I think I might come back to London quite soon, Dolly, but I shan’t come back to Mrs Warburton’s.’
Dolly stopped walking so suddenly that she nearly pulled Gracie over.
‘Why ever not? Where will you go, then?’
Gracie laughed at her indignant expression.
‘You’ve practically answered that for yourself, haven’t you? All that greasy cooking, and living in the company of those old blokes, nice as they are—well, it’s not my idea of living—nor yours, I’d have thought.’
‘Are you going to ask old Lawson for your job back? I know he’d have you like a shot.’
‘I daresay he would, but I’m not going back there, either.’
They were through the gates of the park now, and the grass was sweet and green, the late summer flowers in full bloom, filling the air with their heady scent. People were milling about, dressed in their Sunday best, and from the smiles on their faces it seemed as if the sun was bringing out the best in everybody.
‘So what are you going to do then?’
Gracie gave a small sigh. Her first instinct not to say anything until her plans were definite had obviously been for the best. It was only because she thought Dolly needed cheering up that she had abandoned this on the spur of the moment, and now she was stuck with it. She spoke quickly.
‘I might look for a room to rent somewhere and set up on my own, doing alterations or making new garments to order. It worked all right in Southampton, and there’s more money to be made here—’
She couldn’t get any further before Dolly was squealing at her.
‘That’s a cracking idea. Why don’t we do it together?’
Gracie was taken aback. It wasn’t what she’d been planning, even though the plans were still so vague, and she hadn’t really got any further than moving back to London and doing what she was good at.
‘What? A kind of partnership, you mean?’ she said with an uncertain laugh. ‘You and me, throw-outs from Lawson’s Shirt Factory?’
‘We ain’t throw-outs,’ Dolly said. ‘You left because you had to look after your mum, and I can leave any time I like. What do you say?’
‘I say I think you’re crazy,’ Gracie said flatly. ‘We know nothing about business, and what I’m thinking about is just to take on a little sideline work to keep body and soul together, not competing with fashion houses.’
‘Why not? Why ever bleedin’ not?’
‘Be realistic, for God’s sake. I’ve got to do this on my own, Dolly, and that’s the end of it. I’ll be starting from scratch, and later, if there was enough work coming in, maybe we could think about it, but for now, I need to be on my own and to do things my way. Too much has been going on in the last couple of months for me to rush into anything like you’re suggesting.’
‘You don’t want me any more, then?’
‘Oh, don’t be daft. Of course I want you. You’re like a sister to me, as well as my best friend,’ Gracie said, hugging Dolly’s arm, ‘but I need to do this by myself, to prove something, I suppose, and don’t ask me what it is, because I don’t know.’
Dolly laughed.
‘I always said you was a crackpot, Gracie Brown.’
But the prickly moments had passed, and Gracie breathed a sigh of relief. It was funny, though. Spelling it out in words had clarified her mind in a way she hadn’t expected. She did need time alone. Her parents’ deaths couldn’t be forgotten in a week or a month, and she needed to rebuild her life in her own way. Perhaps it was only when both parents were gone that you really felt as though you were an adult. There were no other relat
ives above you, and no one to help you stand on your own two feet but yourself.
She shivered, brushing aside such deep thoughts as the sound of music came towards them over the soft air. Today wasn’t a day for philosophising. Ahead of them they could see rows of deckchairs and beyond them a bandstand. Musicians were playing bright tunes suitable for a Sunday morning in the park, and despite herself, Gracie’s heartbeats quickened.
‘It won’t be him, Gracie,’ Dolly said.
‘I know, but we can still go and listen, can’t we?’
‘You ain’t never forgotten him, have you?’
Gracie was tempted to say that of course she had, but Dolly knew her too well.
‘No, but I’m not wasting my life thinking of something that’s never going to happen. In the end I’ll probably settle for Davey Watkins and be a sailor’s wife.’
She didn’t know why she said it. She certainly didn’t mean it. She just wanted to stop Dolly looking at her with that pitying look in her eyes that said she was being a damn fool to hanker over a saxophone player, because there were plenty of other blokes in the world.
‘Yo ho ho then!’ Dolly said. ‘I thought you were holding out on me. Has he asked you yet?’
‘To marry him, you mean?’
‘Well, what else would I mean?’ Dolly said mockingly. ‘You ain’t—you know—done the business with him. Have you, Gracie?’
‘Of course not! I wouldn’t be that stupid. Now shut up about it and let’s go and listen to the band.’
And of course it wasn’t Charlie’s band. She’d never imagined that it would be. The saxophone player was sixty years old if he was a day, and he wasn’t nearly as good as Charlie, but that was probably just her opinion. All the same, if she closed her eyes, it wasn’t difficult to imagine it was his music she could hear in her head.
‘I still reckon you’ve got it bad, but I hope your sailor-boy’s worth it,’ Dolly whispered as a parting shot, watching her, and was immediately shushed by other people trying to listen to the music.
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