Songbird

by Josephine Cox

  Clothed in a clinging dress that drew in at the waist and fell naturally over her young figure, and with her long dark hair caught in a black bandana about her head, she looked amazing. “I remember that dress as it was yesterday,” she chuckled joyfully. “Purest ivory it was, with a sweetheart neckline, and a teasing split at the hem…” She laughed out loud. “Cost me a week’s wages it did!”

  Her mood sobered. “That was the night it all started to go wrong,” she whispered, laying the photograph on her lap.

  Having taken a few minutes to reminisce, she glanced again at the photograph and a whimsical expression crept over her features. “Was that really me,” she asked wonderingly, “with a figure like that… up there on the stage with everyone looking at me, listening to me sing…” She tried to recall the feelings, but like so much of her past, they were pushed to the depths of her mind.

  She looked again at herself as a young woman with the world at her feet, and a sense of desolation took hold of her. “Come on now!” she reprimanded herself. “It won’t hurt to remember the way it was… the laughter, the songs. You did nothing wrong, you have to remember that.”

  Shyly glancing down to study the photograph once more, she gave a hearty laugh. “What a dress! And look at the black patent-leather high heels, oh, and the silk stockings. It’s all coming back… and how it riled him, when the men couldn’t take their eyes off me.” She groaned. “Hmh! If they could see me now, they wouldn’t even help me across the road, and who could blame them, eh?”

  Standing the photograph on the mantelpiece, she began gently swirling and dancing around, losing herself in the joy of yesteryear. In her head she could hear the soft music of her favorite song, “I Believe.” Twirling and swaying, she began to sing…

  One of her all-time favorite songs was “I Believe.” As she sang it how her heart was filled with joy as the poignant words took her back over the years…

  All alone now, with no audience and no wickedness waiting for her, she danced in the twilight, lost herself in the song, and for a while she felt incredibly free. It was easy to imagine herself back there, in the night club, with the people looking up, their hearts and minds tuned into the song and the music.

  But always in the wings or leaning on the bar… he was there watching… waiting.

  She could see him now, dark and menacing in her mind’s eye. It was a bad feeling.

  PART TWO

  London, 1978

  In the Beginning

  Three

  He had always been confident that Madeleine would return to him. But on this particular night, he had no inkling that she was about to make a surprise entrance.

  Alice Mulligan knew though, and she had done everything in her power to dissuade the girl from coming back to a man who had proved time and time again that he could make her life a misery. But her young friend was utterly besotted with their boss.

  Steve Drayton had never accepted any of the blame for the couple’s rows. And this time, as usual, he believed himself to be the injured party.

  Turning to Alice, the manageress of his club, the Pink Lady Cabaret Bar off Soho Square, he murmured, “If I find out she’s left me for another bloke, I swear to God… she’ll live to regret it.” He stared at the little Irishwoman suspiciously. “You know something about this, don’t you? Thick as thieves, you two are. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’d known where she was all along. All right – out with it! Where is she? Is she with another man? Is that why you’re afraid to tell me?”

  When Alice chose not to answer, but merely carried on removing notes from the cash register to transfer to the office safe, he grabbed her by the shoulders and almost lifted her off her feet. “Answer me, woman!” he hissed. “Where is she?”

  “Well now, you’d best ask her that yourself, hadn’t you? You being the big boss-man an’ all.” Small in stature but big in courage, Alice had been around the block a few times and was not one to be intimidated by the likes of Steve Drayton.

  “Don’t you get clever with me,” he growled. “No one’s indispensable, lady!”

  With a flick of her head, Alice gestured to the door. “Like I said, she’s here now, so you can ask her yourself, can’t you?”

  The open street door sent a rush of cool air through the smoke-filled haze of the nightclub. Curious, he glanced up, and there she was: the Songbird, star of the show – his woman.

  Though secretly relieved to see her, Steve was inwardly seething with anger, vowing that he would make the bitch pay for humiliating him. But he was cunning enough not to show his feelings here, in front of all these adoring people. Madeleine was a valuable asset, the reason why his club had flourished. In the early days, when he had let his gambling habits get the better of him, her charismatic appeal and popularity as a singer had brought him back from the brink of financial ruin. He still owed money to some undesirable types, but was reluctant to settle his debts. Steve Drayton never liked to pay what he owed. Arrogant and selfish, he played on his sexual appeal to get what he wanted – from women – and sometimes from men, too.

  In the three weeks or so since Maddy had gone on the trot, his takings had dipped to an uncomfortable level. Deeply concerned, Steve had searched high and low, had even put the word out on the streets, but to no avail. The girl had simply disappeared.

  Meanwhile, Steve had recruited other entertainers but they were no substitute for Madeleine. She had a certain special something – the punters came back to hear her time and again. “Songbird” was what all the regulars called her. Or, “our own Pink Lady” when she wore one of her glamorous pink stage dresses. Her accompanying musicians, pianist and bass player Dave and Dino, were very grumpy without her. In desperation, with clients and money rapidly dwindling, Steve had been forced to sack the odd cleaner and even one of his two chefs but that was merely throwing out ballast to keep the ship afloat.

  The truth was, only the loyal and the believers had continued to frequent his bar, in the hope that she would be back.

  Well, here she was, and now the atmosphere was charged with excitement. But for all that, he was determined to teach her a lesson.

  Shoving Alice aside, he gave a cynical smile. “Here she comes, strolling in as though she hasn’t a care in the world.”

  For what seemed an age, Madeleine paused to glance across the club, her dark eyes seeking him out. And then she was moving toward him, and despite himself, he felt his pulse quicken.

  In that darkened room with the soft music playing in the background, all eyes were turned on the woman.

  Of petite build and with a certain quiet beauty, she wended her way between the clients, acknowledging their greetings with a ready smile and a friendly word and, much to the annoyance of the man who laid claim to her affections, occasionally accepting a kiss on the cheek.

  Steve Drayton’s hungry eyes followed her every step of the way. In spite of his violent temper and his liking for anything in a skirt, the sight of Madeleine could still thrill him like no other. With her mass of rich chestnut hair tumbling to her shoulders, and that lazy, swaying walk which had first attracted him to her, she could turn any man’s head.

  She was uniquely talented, yet even now, when she could see how much they thought of her, Madeleine did not seem to realize just how good she was. In truth, she possessed a kind of childish innocence that shone from within. Up there on the stage, when the music filled the room and her voice cut to their hearts, she was magnificent. When the music had died down and her voice was still, she became shy and hesitant, almost naïve in her trust of others. She had fallen under Steve’s spell after auditioning for the club two years ago. Between boyfriends, and feeling lonely, she had found herself in her new employer’s bed by that first nightfall.

  Now, as she stopped to chat with a regular, Steve stared at her and felt the familiar arousal, though it still rankled, the fact that she had walked out on him – without even a phone call to let him know what was going on. No woman had
ever done that to him before.

  He turned to Alice. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. Didn’t I tell you she’d be back?”

  “Mebbe so, but she’s a damned fool, so she is!” As Irish as the Blarney Stone and wick as a leprechaun, Alice Mulligan was herself a force to be reckoned with. “It’s a mystery to me how she ever puts up with you.”

  “Women are no mystery to me,” Steve boasted. “I’ve always been able to twist ’em round my little finger.”

  “You’re too clever for your own good, that’s your problem, mister.” Being a woman of some fifty years, Alice had lovely skin and a slim figure that looked good in her smart business suit. Her blue eyes were alive with vitality. “When you said she’d be back, I hoped you might be wrong,” she sighed. “But here she is, an’ may God and all His Saints help her.”

  In truth, Alice was not at all surprised to see the younger woman here tonight, because it was not the first time today that Maddy had walked through these doors, though Steve Drayton didn’t know that.

  “She must have lost her mind, to make her way back here,” Alice said, closing the till and putting a rubber band round the notes. Earlier on, she had said the very same thing to Maddy. “It just goes to show what bloody fools we women can be!” she added cynically. If only Maddy could see through this bully.

  “My girl is nobody’s fool,” Steve argued. “She knows which side her bread is buttered, and come to think of it, so do you. But I can see it’s put your nose right out of joint, now she’s done the sensible thing and come home to me.” His mood darkened. “The truth is, you never thought I was good enough for her.

  Undeterred, Alice ignored his last remark and looked him in the eye. “That’s because you’re not good enough for her! And ye never will be.”

  Steve helped himself to a large Scotch from the bar, and added a handful of ice. “I don’t give a sod what you think.” He glanced over at Maddy. “She thinks differently, and that’s enough for me.” He preened himself. “Besides, she won’t get better than me, however hard she tries.”… Steve didn’t believe in God, but he did believe in “An eye for an eye.” Two could play at that game of “now you see me, now you don’t.”

  “Well, all I can say is, she must be a divil for punishment. Gawd! When I think of the way you treat her…” Alice tossed her head.

  “She can’t do without me,” he declared smugly. “In fact, I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll have her back or not.”

  “Oh, but you will, me boyo.” Alice had no doubts about that.

  “Really, and why is that then, eh?”

  “Because without her, the punters would soon stop coming and you’d be broken like a twig underfoot. Besides, one time when you were drunk out of your skull, you actually spoke a few home truths, so ye did.”

  “Is that so? And what might they have been, then?”

  “You said she was a feather in your cap, for all the other men to envy.” Alice had no liking for this self-centered man. “Deep down you don’t love her at all,” she scoffed. “That poor girl is just another acquisition for you to show off.”

  “Hmh!” Swigging down his Scotch, Steve pressed his glass against the optic for another shot. He searched Madeleine out, to smile lovingly on her. “Since she walked out on me…” his voice grew softer “I… might tell you, I’ve really missed her.” It was the truth. The man sometimes wondered if he had foolishly fallen in love with Maddy; it scared him, brought out the violence in him.

  “Missed the money she brings in, more like!” Alice snapped, completely unsympathetic. “Deep down, yer a bad bugger, only she can’t see it. You don’t deserve a woman like that, kind and giving; the loveliest thing who ever walked onto a stage. There’s not a man in the crowd who wouldn’t give his right arm for a woman of her caliber.”

  Alice threw Steve a contemptuous glance. “And then there’s you – a bully and a womanizer – treating her like the dirt under your feet.” She was angry with Madeleine for coming back, and proving him right. She had no liking for this man who provided her wages; though she earned every penny twice over.

  Since the nightclub had opened eight years ago, Alice had worked tirelessly, shown her true worth and earned her boss’s trust. As a result, her wages had increased in line with her responsibilities.

  To her credit, Alice had fought her way up from the bottom; in turn she had cleaned the toilets, scrubbed the floors, worked as a cloakroom attendant and then behind the bar, had also served at tables and run errands. Eventually she had risen from taking money as the clients arrived, to being entrusted to bank the takings. And now she was a fully-fledged manageress.

  From the start, she was honest, reliable and knew how to keep her mouth shut when necessary, as long as there was nothing criminal or harmful involved. Though when she heard how a certain client had been beaten so badly he ended up in hospital, that was a turning point in her loyalty. From that moment she kept herself to herself and never showed interest in any of Steve’s shadier activities.

  While Steve Drayton valued and respected her, she could never respect him; he reminded her too much of her own cheating husband, Eamon. It was five years now since she’d walked out on him, and good riddance to the man! Childless, she had taken young Maddy to her heart and loved the girl as her own blood. After seeing how badly Steve treated every woman who took a shine to him – and there were many – Alice had grown to dislike and distrust him; especially these past two years, since Madeleine caught his eye.

  Steve might love her and he might not. Alice could not be sure. But it was a strange, destructive love, for he seemed determined to make the young woman’s life a misery.

  Steve interrupted her reverie. “I do love her,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “The trouble is, when I get drunk and senseless, I find myself agreeing with you, that she’s too good for me – and then I get insanely jealous. Like you said, any man would want her, and maybe even give her a better life than I do.”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor. “The thought of losing her sends me wild,” he said hoarsely. “Then I hit out and hurt her.” He swished the ice cubes in his glass, and she could barely catch his last few words as he whispered, “I swear I don’t mean to.”

  He watched as Madeleine lingered to chat with another one of the customers. There was no denying, she was a special woman, and Alice was right… he did not deserve her.

  “I’m not surprised she cleared off,” he conceded regretfully. “The last time we had a set-to, she took a terrible beating – and all for something and nothing. A fella at the club put his arm round her as she walked out and as usual, I laid the blame on her.” He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what it was all right – something and nothing.”

  He sighed self-indulgently and took another measure of whisky. “Mind you, we were busy making up till the early hours, and I can tell you here and now, your precious Maddy didn’t have no complaints about my performance that night!”

  “You’re an arrogant divil.”

  “Yes, so you keep saying.”

  Straightening his shoulders beneath the beautiful cloth of his Jermyn Street suit, Steve drew himself up to his considerable height. “She always comes running back. It only goes to prove how bad she wants me.” He flicked open a box of Dunhill cigarettes and lit one with a gold lighter. “Want one?” He offered the box to Alice, who ignored it.

  “Why don’t you marry her?” Alice was known to come straight to the point.

  He laughed. “I never marry my women. Can’t trust a single one of ’em. My old mother taught me that, the poxy tart. God knows who my father was – she had more men than you’ve got spuds in Ireland, love. No, there’s no woman alive who’ll get me shackled to her.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “I don’t have to, she already knows my opinion – that women are good for one thing only.” Swinging round to face Alice, his mood suddenly darkened, as it so often did. “I think it’s time you got back to work
,” he hissed. “Before I get to thinking I might be better off with somebody who doesn’t ask so many questions! Bloody women, it’s nothing but yap, yap, yap.”

  Despite her recent vanishing act, Steve was satisfied that he had his Maddy exactly where he wanted her; his little songbird on a string. And it didn’t matter what he did to her, because she always ended up singing along to his tune.

  Still weaving a path through the dining tables, Madeleine was stopped many times by clubbers who were delighted to see her back, from what they had been told was a well-deserved holiday away from the hustle and bustle of Soho.

  With a sweet smile, she thanked them and moved on toward her tormentor; the man she could neither live with, nor without. She loved him, she hated him, and now as she glanced at him across the room, she wanted him as much as ever.

  Not overly handsome, Steve Drayton was a big man. Fit and toned, with a quick mind and an instinct for making money, he had built the Pink Lady up from nothing. There was an aura of power about him that was very sexy, and a certain kind of look from his narrow hazel-colored eyes that could turn Maddy’s blood to water. Sometimes he was so good to her; at other times, he became a devil.

  Though apprehensive, she was glad to be back, to realize that he still wanted her. And yet there was always that niggling doubt that he might throw her aside; that he would find someone else, younger than her thirty years, and she would have no part in his life. In her heart she knew that might well be for the best, but she hoped it would never happen.

  Now though, she had something to tell him. Something that might seal their future together, once and for all.