Unforgettable (23 page)

Why else would she have had a glimpse of someone she had never thought she would see again? It was
only
a glimpse, when the band had entered the Roxy to take their places in the orchestra pit at the front of the hall, and a tall, handsome dark-haired man with a saxophone had walked in to take his place.

‘Did you see him, Dolly?' she almost croaked.

‘Who?' Dolly was too busy scanning the gods to see if there were any unattached young men in the cheaper seats, and scowling at the numbers of family groups there instead.

‘It was Charlie!'

‘Charlie who?' Dolly asked, still minding her own business.

Gracie felt like hitting her. Couldn't she see that this was a most important moment in her life, when fate had sent her to this very place tonight, where Charlie Morrison happened to be in the band?

Dolly finally registered what Gracie had said.

‘You don't mean your saxophone player?
You're going daft, you are, imagining you see him everywhere you go. I'm sure a head-doctor could put a fancy name on what's ailing you!'

She was giggling now, as a young man in a brown pin-striped suit turned and smiled at her. Then she quickly stopped giggling, as the young woman beside him pulled at his arm and glared at Dolly.

‘I didn't imagine it. It
was
him,' Gracie went on.

‘Well, what you going to do about it?' Dolly said sarcastically. ‘Hang around the stage door until he comes out and tell him you've got a pash on him?'

‘Of course not. He'd think I was crazy.'

‘Ain't that what I just said?'

They were shushed by the people all around them then, as the house lights were dimmed and the band struck up the overture to the show. Gracie saw hardly any of it, even though she registered that the songs were catchy and the dancers were energetic, and there was a story of sorts. It was the music she enjoyed the most, and through it all, she was totally in tune with the mellow, seductive sound of the saxophone, and to her ears it could only be Charlie playing. His style, his rythym. She knew it was foolish to think she could distinguish it, and that Dolly would
probably pooh-pooh her for being so daft, saying that all saxophone players sounded the same. But in her heart and soul she knew it was him.

She was enjoying the show, though she couldn't have told anyone what the story was about. They were always flimsy stories anyway, and what really caught the eye was the singing and dancing and the beautiful costumes worn by the artistes, made of silks and satins and beautiful gossamer fabrics that Gracie would give the earth to sew.

Her creative fingers twitched at the very thought, and without warning she caught her breath as an idea hit her straight between the eyes. A wild, crazy, impossible idea, but one that she simply had to tell Dolly about or she would burst. She hissed in Dolly's ear, her voice hoarse with barely suppressed excitement.

‘Somebody's got to make those show costumes, Dolly. We could do it! If I could get us a good commission, we could go into business together and make our fortunes!'

Her stage whisper was followed immediately by Dolly's guffawing laugh, resulting in everyone around them shushing them angrily.

‘You're bleedin' mad, gel,' Dolly whispered back. ‘I always said you were, and now I know it!'

But it was going to take more than Dolly's reaction to put her off, even if she didn't have the faintest idea how to go about getting such a commission. She didn't know anybody connected with the glamorous world of show business, and the costumes were almost certainly made by professional costumiers. The idea of two amateurs doing it was fizzling out almost before it had taken root …

But then she realized she
did
know somebody in show business. She knew Charlie Morrison.

* * *

‘You're not really going to stand outside the stage door like all these idiots, are you, Gracie? I was joking earlier,' Dolly said in exasperation, after they had fought their way out of the theatre and had their toes trodden on a hundred times.

‘Yes I am, but you needn't wait.'

‘I'm not going to, but don't blame me if you get more than you bargained for. Some of these show-business people lead very dodgy lives, but if you're determined to make a fool of yourself, catch up to me at the tram stop.'

She flounced off, head in the air, and Gracie turned away without a minute's hesitation. Sometimes you had to do what
your head and your heart dictated, and right now, they were both shrieking at her that there was never a better chance of waiting for Charlie to come out of the stage door, and to talk to him on a business matter. It wasn't being star-struck, and it wasn't a crafty move just to be close to him. Not really. Not entirely.

She wouldn't let herself think that Charlie might think so, and remembered instead the way they had danced together, the feeling of being held in his arms, and the way he had looked into her eyes. There had been a definite spark between them then, and there was nothing wrong in waiting to speak to an old friend …

She was almost squashed in the rush of other theatre-goers eager to see anyone glamorous at the stage door, but most of them were waiting to see the stars of the show, hoping to get their autographs. It was doubtful that any of these people would be waiting for the band members. In fact, it was a very long while before any men carrying instrument cases began to appear, and by then most of the crowd had drifted away.

Gracie began to feel foolish. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thought about creating theatre costumes, and when she thought
about it more sanely, common sense told her that such productions, even relatively minor ones like this one, would need a professional team of workers to create the costumes.

Such a commission would never be given to an unknown seamstress and her friend, working on their own, in a rented flat above a shoe shop.

She was almost ready to slink away into the shadows, overcome with embarrassment at her own temerity, and acknowledging that Dolly Neath had far more sense than she did in certain matters. Dolly had her feet on the ground, while Gracie was still looking at the stars. And ordinary people who did that usually fell flat on their faces.

She was pushed aside as a crowd of chattering extras came out of the stage door, followed by more band members. And there he was. Her heart beat louder than any drum, as for one, dazzling, glorious moment, she saw Charlie, illuminated in the light of the doorway before he stepped out into the night. She made an involuntary move to step forward, and then resisted it when a musical voice called out to him.

The girl was beautiful, tall and willowy with a dancer's grace, and she clung laughingly to Charlie's arm as they came outside. Gracie tried to flatten herself against
the wall, but in any case, they weren't going to notice her. They were far too intent on themselves.

So much for dreams, she thought, with an unexpected sob in her throat. The sound was obviously louder than she thought, because Charlie turned and glanced her way. She was mostly in shadow, but she could see his frown, and virtually trapped as she was, she knew she would lose all her dignity if she upped and ran, even though she felt like doing just that.

But, oh God, he was moving forward, loosening the other girl's grip on his arm … coming towards her …

‘Is something wrong, miss? Are you hurt?'

The next moment it was as if a small tornado was hurtling towards her as Dolly came rushing back, yelling that they were going to miss the last tram if they didn't hurry, and she wasn't going to leave her to get trampled by all these toffs. She effectively blocked her from Charlie, and to Gracie's despair she heard the glamorous girl calling him and pulling him away.

‘Do come on, darling. We don't want to get caught up with these people, and we'll be late at the supper club if we don't hurry.'

‘All right, Joyce, I'm coming,' he said, his voice becoming fainter as he moved out of
Gracie's sight. ‘I thought I saw someone I once knew …'

Gracie could have felled Dolly as soon as look at her. Eyes blinded by tears, she lashed out at her with words instead, as she shook off her arm.

‘Do you know what you've done?' she raged. ‘Charlie was on the point of recognizing me, and you've gone and spoiled everything.'

‘Oh really?' Dolly said sarcastically. ‘I suppose you didn't hear that glamour puss call him darling? He's already spoken for, and you're wasting your time.'

‘You don't know
anything
, do you?' Gracie said furiously. ‘People in the theatre call each other darling all the time. It doesn't mean anything.'

‘Oh, come on, stop going on about the bloke. We'll get arrested for hanging around on street corners if we're not careful. You and your crazy ideas! We'll have to run for the tram now, and I want to get home sometime tonight.'

It had all gone sour for Gracie now. One minute her hopes had been as high as the sky, with her wonderful, unrealistic idea of creating spectacular stage costumes, and having an excuse to speak to Charlie.

She had already imagined his eyes gazing at
her wonderingly, joyfully … and then Dolly had come blazing along to spoil it all. As they jogged along on the rattling tram towards home, she was plunged into misery and fury. But as the usual late-night revellers catcalled to them, and Dolly answered back in kind, she began to think how pointless it had all been.

‘Sometimes I think I need you to keep my feet on the ground,' she muttered by way of an apology for her temper.

‘Didn't I always tell you so, gel?' Dolly said cheekily, half her mind on one of the lads winking at her from the back of the tram. ‘Forget him, and I'll see you in the park on Sunday afternoon.'

As she climbed the stairs to her flat, Gracie thought that Dolly was right about a lot of things, but not everything. She was fast realizing that making theatrical costumes wasn't for the likes of them. And not
all
stage artistes called one another darling without meaning something more, but as for forgetting Charlie Morrison … well, she agreed that that was sensible advice, but who ever thought sensible thoughts when you were in love?

All the same, it was the closest she had been to Charlie ever since the night of the fire, and she might be able to block out those
wayward thoughts while she was awake, but dreams were out of her control, when the wildest, most romantic things could happen, and often did.

* * *

Gracie knew that the best thing to do when the heart was involved was to plunge straight into work matters. She got the swatches of material from Toby's shop and presented them and the patterns to Mrs B-G to their mutual satisfaction. Later she was introduced to the small bridesmaids.

The seven-year-olds weren't intimidated by this very pretty girl with a mass of red curly hair and laughing blue eyes who told them funny stories while she measured them, especially when she had a mouthful of pins that fascinated them both, as they wondered, half-hopefully, if she was about to swallow them every time she spoke.

But by now Gracie was impatient to see her advert in the newspaper, and when at last it appeared, it looked gloriously professional. Even Dolly was impressed, as were the elderly couple in the shoe shop downstairs.

‘Old Lawson saw it as well,' Dolly informed her in the park that Sunday afternoon. ‘He was even bragging about it to the girls, just as
if he'd taught you everything you know, and he said he always knew you'd make good.'

‘Pity he never said it while I worked for him, then!'

‘You were always his star machinist, Gracie.' She sat up and looked at Gracie quizzically. ‘What's up? I thought you'd be over the moon now you're so famous, but you look as if you've just lost a tanner.'

‘I'm not famous just because I've got my name in the paper,' Gracie said crossly. ‘You can be so daft sometimes, Dolly.'

‘Well, pardon me for breathing, I'm sure. What is it then? You're not still mooning over that Charlie bloke, are you?'

‘No. If you want to know, I've given up thinking about him.'

She didn't add that she could hardly stop dreaming about him, but that was something Dolly didn't need to know.

‘Thank God. Now perhaps we can find a couple of blokes to suit us both.'

‘I'm not looking for a bloke at all.'

Dolly stared at her as if she had grown two heads. ‘Are you planning to be a nun or something?'

‘Of course not. I just want to earn my living at what I do best, that's all.'

Dolly relaxed. ‘Yeah, well, I aim to find me a bloke with enough money so I don't ever
have to work again. That's my ambition.'

‘Why doesn't that surprise me?' Gracie asked with a grin.

‘There's nothing wrong in it. Wouldn't you like to be a lady of leisure like your Mrs double-barrelled, sitting around all day putting flowers in vases and having a maid to see to the children and all that stuff until your adoring husband comes home from work and makes mad, passionate love to you?'

Gracie laughed as Dolly got more and more enthusiastic, and several passers-by tut-tutted as they overheard Dolly's last words.

‘For goodness' sake, Dolly, put a sock in it. People will think we're a couple of tarts.'

‘You can't tell me it don't appeal to you! The truth now, Gracie.'

‘Oh, all right, of course it does. But I'd soon get tired of being so idle, and I'd still be making clothes for the children, even if I had a dozen of them.'

‘Blimey, gel,' Dolly said with a grin. ‘You and your old man are going to be kept busy in the bedroom department then, aren't you!'

* * *

A couple of weeks later, Charlie Morrison unwrapped his fish-and-chip supper from the
newspaper without much interest, his mind on other things.