Ellie (41 page)

As they finished their meal, Ellie felt she had to tackle him. ‘You look as if you’ve got something to tell me,’ she said, reaching out for his hand and stroking it. ‘But it isn’t something I’m going to like, is it?’

She saw him gulp, his Adam’s apple leaping over his shirt collar. His soft lips took on a tighter look and his eyes could no longer meet hers.

‘I’m leaving the fire brigade,’ he said. ‘I’m going to Australia.’

It was as if someone had just given her a push off a cliff and she was falling through space. Why did he have to come if it was only to upset her further?

‘When?’ she managed to ask.

‘As soon as I can get a passage,’ he said. ‘It may take some time, what with the war still on in the Far East. But I’ve made up my mind, Ellie. England’s got nothing to offer me for the future.’

‘So you came to say goodbye then?’ she croaked out, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I thought. I hoped –’ She broke off, unable to continue.

‘I came to ask you to go with me.’ He reached out across the table and wiped away her tears with one finger. Ellie looked into his eyes and saw a challenge in them.

‘Just like that?’ she asked. It felt like she was being backed into a corner. ‘You expect me to say yes or no right now without any time to think about it?’

‘What is there to think about? You said in your letter you loved me, prove it Ellie.’

Ellie didn’t answer for a moment as she tried to regain her equilibrium. This wasn’t her gentle, reasonable Charley but a hard-faced version. She wondered who had suggested this plan to him; it didn’t sound like he’d thought it up himself.

‘I do love you,’ she said. ‘But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t just drop everything. I’ve signed a contract for the show.’

‘You can do the show,’ he said, looking directly into her eyes, daring her to stall or prevaricate. ‘Like I said, it might be some time before I can arrange a passage for Australia. But marry me now.’

Ellie felt weak. He was as tense as a coiled spring, sitting bolt upright, his forearms resting on the table.

Once married she would have to obey him, go to Australia, or even China if that was what he wanted.

‘You aren’t being fair,’ she said. ‘I don’t know whether the show will be a success or sink within a couple of weeks.’

‘It shouldn’t make any difference.’ A chill had crept into his voice. ‘If you really loved me that would be all that counted.’

A bubble of anger rose inside her. ‘If I really loved you?’ she snorted. ‘You refused to listen to my apologies and let me leave Coburgh Street without even saying goodbye. You’ve left me to stew for weeks without a word. Now you expect me to give up everything I’ve worked so hard for, just because of what
you
want.’

He had the grace to blush at this. ‘I have to be tough because I know what you’re like.’ He shrugged. ‘A year from now, two years or even three, it might still be the same. You’ll be saying, “Let’s see how this works out” or “I’ve just got an audition for this show.” I want to be married now because I can’t live with uncertainty any longer.’

This last statement offered her a little hope. Maybe the idea of Australia was just a bluff. ‘I’m not against getting married,’ she said more gently. ‘It’s the thought of being whisked halfway across the world. Can’t we reach some sort of compromise?’

‘By that you mean do what you want to do, and I have to fit my life round it.’

Ellie was faced with a stalemate. ‘Why does it have to be this all or nothing stuff?’ she snapped back at him. ‘I want fun, romance, love and adventure. Why can’t we have that?’

Charley smiled sadly. ‘I thought that was what I was offering.’

They talked on and on. Charley made Australia sound very attractive. Building a home together, learning to ride horses, the sunshine – a land full of opportunity. But however dreamily romantic it sounded, she knew if they lived on a ranch there would be no dancing, singing or acting, and not even any people.

Ellie told him all her news, especially about Marleen. ‘That’s another thing,’ she pointed out. ‘How could I leave her? She hasn’t got anyone else.’

Charley fudged that point by saying he’d have to leave his mother, but Ellie was certain that Annie would end up moving to Australia too.

She very much wanted to tell him about Sir Miles Hamilton: the secret had been burning inside her ever since Marleen told her. But under the circumstances it wouldn’t be wise. It might look to Charley like another wedge between them.

They walked around the West End for a little until it grew dark, then Charley walked back with her to Stacey Passage.

‘Come up with me?’ she asked, wanting to be alone with him, to hold him and let him sweep away her doubts.

‘No, Ellie.’ He shook his head. ‘I know how it will be if I go in there. I’m not going to add more complications than there are already. Write or call when you can tell me yes or no.’

He kissed her then, long and hard, holding her so tightly she knew he meant exactly what he said. ‘If it’s yes,’ he said, breaking away, his eyes brimming with tears, ‘we’ll get engaged on Victory Day.’

He didn’t have to say what would happen if her answer was no. Somehow she knew he’d be on the first ship out.

Chapter Fifteen

May 1945

‘Stop!’ Ambrose yelled, running down the aisle of the stalls, a long raincoat ballooning out behind him.

The pianist’s hands paused in mid-air, his last notes echoing as he turned on his stool in surprise. He sensed an electric charge coming from the producer, but in the gloom of the theatre he couldn’t tell if it was anger or excitement.

The sixteen dancers on the stage halted their cancan routine, flopping instantly to the floor, glad of a break for whatever reason. Some of them had been working under Ambrose’s direction for as long as two years, but they had never been driven quite so hard by him in previous shows.

They had been The Gaiety Girls, The Cover Girls and The Brighton Belles. Now he was insisting on calling them ‘The Dingle Belles’ a name which alternately made them cringe with embarrassment or giggle helplessly. But whatever they thought of their new name, or of Ambrose as a man, they all had to admit that he’d kept his promise to them. He had got his girls on a West End stage.

‘Sally!’ Ambrose yelled again, and now, as he moved closer to the stage, they could all see his face was flushed. ‘Round up the entire cast. Everyone, stage-hands, performers, the lot.’

Speculative whispers broke out amongst the girls as Sally got up and ran off into the wings. The ones who’d been with Ambrose the longest had seen his ruthless pruning and weeding out of girls. All the girls on the stage were uniformly tall and slender, their fatter and shorter friends long since dismissed. Ambrose was a perfectionist, not just about the choreography, but about their appearance. If a girl had a hole in her tights, her hair or make-up less than perfect, he wiped the floor with her. If her dancing wasn’t up to standard she was packed off on the next train home.

‘You don’t think the show’s been cancelled?’ Muriel whispered anxiously to Frances.

Muriel, Frances, Sally, Margaret and Bonny were the only girls left of the ones auditioned in Littlehampton. Frances had had to lose her excess weight to stay.

‘I don’t think he’s angry.’ Frances twirled a black corkscrew curl round her finger, looking thoughtfully at Ambrose. ‘It might be he’s got a date for opening at last.’

All the girls were aware that Ambrose had been under a great strain. Opening night had been planned for Saturday 28th April, but the theatre owners had insisted that since peace was so close, the show should open to honour it. The BBC had interrupted a programme the night before to say that Hitler was dead and now, on May 3rd, the whole of Britain was holding its breath, hour by hour expecting the news that peace had been declared.

Rumours had been flying thick and fast amongst the cast during this uncertain time, hysteria affecting them all. They had seen Riccardo, the pompous tenor, walk out twice, only to return some hours later. Jimbo threatened to pull out as a backer unless he had a bigger hand in running the show. There were suspicions that Edward Manning only got the part because Ambrose fancied him. Lorenzo the magician was secretive enough about his real name and background to be a deserter and the Doc, Jimbo’s partner, had been arrested, apparently for fraud. On top of all this, costumes for the dancers on loan from another theatre had been lost in transit, and had only finally turned up yesterday.

‘What’s wrong now?’ Lorenzo came on to the stage, his narrow face furrowed by frown lines. He was a very ordinary looking man, small, thin and grey faced. But once dressed in his top hat and tails, pulling white doves out of chiffon scarves, or sawing his willowy assistant Magda in half, he really was The Great Lorenzo, one of the finest magicians in the country.

‘I’ll give the news when everyone’s here,’ Ambrose replied from the darkened front of the house.

Ellie and Edward, who had been going through their sketch back-stage, arrived next. Riccardo followed with a couple of the stage-hands he’d been arguing with. One by one they all trailed on to the stage. Buster the comic, wearing a ridiculously large pair of checked trousers wired at the waist and held up by red braces, bounced them to make the girls laugh. Fred, the man who handled the flies, appeared eating a sandwich; the props girl, Ruth, nervously holding her clipboard as if expecting a reprimand.

Ambrose waited for a second, quickly counting heads to make sure everyone was present. They were an ill-assorted bunch. Pretty girls with graceful bodies in leotards, gnarled stage-hands in stained overalls, not one of them under fifty. Fred, with his neanderthal long arms, looked even more bizarre beside Edward’s physical perfection. Riccardo, a twenty-stone giant, was resplendent in a bright red jacket, his black hair and moustache gleaming with oil. Next to him stood Angus, the stage-manager, stooped and prematurely aged, in a Norfolk jacket and corduroys.

When Ambrose had been summoned by the theatre owners, he’d assumed they’d decided to call the show-off. Despite all his efforts he hadn’t been able to lure Tommy Trinder, only Buster Bradley, who although very funny and on his way up, wasn’t exactly a household name. By now Ambrose was so dejected he hadn’t even got any counter arguments prepared: in his darkest moments he’d even told himself he could never lick this rag-bag collection of people into anything resembling a slick revue.

But suddenly, with an opening date, he was euphoric. His Dingle Belles were the loveliest girls in the West End, Riccardo’s voice would make strong men cry, Lorenzo was a spellbinder and Buster was the funniest man in England.

As he looked at the weary stage-hands and the imbecilic Fred he felt a surge of affection. Ellie and Edward would have the audience rolling in the aisles. It was going to work.

He clapped his hands for quiet. ‘I’ve just been given an opening date,’ he announced. ‘Wednesday 9th May!’

For a moment there was stunned silence.

‘Whoopee,’ Sally yelled out, jumping a couple of feet into the air. Fred threw his woolly cap right up into his flies and gave an ear-piercing whistle.

Pandemonium broke out. Cheering, shouting, stamping on the floor and hugs all round.

‘Does that mean peace will be declared before that?’ Edward bellowed.

‘Almost certainly.’ Ambrose smiled beatifically. ‘As a gesture of good will I’m going to let you all have the rest of the day off. Tomorrow we’ll have a full dress rehearsal.’

No one needed telling twice. A half day off was an unheard-of treat from their dictatorial producer. The girls picked up their jumpers and spare shoes and vanished first, quickly followed by the stage-hands who fully expected to be called back.

Ellie saw Edward jump down from the stage to join Ambrose. She paused for a moment, as the thought crossed her mind that the rumours about these two could be true. She and Edward had become good friends and shared a great many confidences, but she had never asked him about his relationship with Ambrose.

But Ellie’s attention was suddenly diverted by Bonny. She was hanging back on the stage, and she looked forlorn.

Ellie liked most of the dancers. In the main they were a rowdy, gregarious bunch. Ellie had felt a little intimidated at joining these seasoned professionals for her number from
The Quaker Girl
at first, but they had accepted her, often coaching her privately in odd moments.

Bonny was different from the others, however – cool and occasionally downright hostile. The girls who had been working with her for almost a year claimed she was a trouble-maker, a man-eater, a spoilt brat and entirely self-centred. Maybe all this was true, but Ellie reminded herself that Bonny was the youngest in the troupe. Besides, she didn’t like to see anyone looking sad.

‘What’s up?’ Ellie asked. ‘You don’t look too happy.’ She expected a sharp, mind-your-own-business reply, but to her surprise the girl’s lip quivered and a tear trickled down her cheek.

There was no denying that Bonny was the prettiest girl in the troupe, and the best dancer. Ellie often sat and watched the girls rehearsing, and it was always Bonny who her eyes were drawn to. Her long blonde hair swung with her graceful body, she had flirtatious, big blue eyes and a show-stopping smile. She was like a hot, dangerous flame on stage, her feet like quicksilver, every muscle tuned to perfection. None of the other girls could match her. Ambrose had given her two tap-dancing solos and Ellie had no doubt that if Bonny’s singing had only matched her dancing, it wouldn’t be Ellie’s name on the programme for the
Quaker Girl
number but Bonny’s.

‘Tell me.’ Ellie instinctively moved to put her arms round the girl. She couldn’t bear to see anyone upset and even though she expected a rebuff, she couldn’t help herself. To her surprise Bonny didn’t move away, but instead leaned on Ellie’s shoulder and sobbed.

‘I don’t know what to do now,’ she said, her voice wobbling through her tears. ‘They’ll all go out together and leave me on my own.’

Ellie knew enough about the politics within the troupe to know this was true. They were split into small tight groups of friends and Bonny was excluded from all of them. But she was surprised this troubled Bonny, who’d always given Ellie the impression this was what she wanted.