The Windmill Girls. Kay Brellend

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СКАЧАТЬ She hadn’t liked to hear her fellow dancers running Rosie down, but the truth was that Rosie was flirting too much and if she carried on she was likely to cause aggravation all round. Brawls in the theatre didn’t happen that often, but when they did the management went mad, especially if one of their girls had sparked it.

      ‘Anyone going to tell me what the commotion was all about?’ Marlene shook the teapot that was on the table, grimacing in disappointment on finding it almost empty.

      ‘Those two old hags are jealous of me.’ Rosie scrubbed at her face. ‘They was saying I act like a tart but Dawn stuck up for me, didn’t you, Dawn?’

      ‘I told them to stop talking about you behind your back. I didn’t say they were telling lies,’ Dawn retorted. Her blunt answer brought a forlorn look to Rosie’s face. ‘You know, don’t you, what they mean?’ she said with a significant nod. ‘So think what you’re doing, Rosie.’ Rather than rub it in Dawn knew that it would be best to leave the younger woman to stew in her own juice. She said a brief goodbye, glad to be going back to her mum and brother.

      Marlene shrugged off her dressing gown and watched Rosie thoughtfully as the girl preened in front of the mirror. Rosie reminded Marlene of herself at eighteen: eager for compliments and excited to discover that her youth and beauty wielded such power over men. Marlene was now twenty-five but because she had an enviably youthful appearance, she easily got away with giving her age as twenty-one. The younger you claimed to be in the business, the better you got on, Marlene had come to learn. Lying about her age was just one of the tricks in her repertoire, and with her boyfriend’s help, she’d certainly perfected a few.

      ‘You gave Lorna and Sal what for, I take it?’ Marlene said admiringly.

      ‘Not going to take any notice of two over-the-hill hoofers, am I?’ Rosie replied, teasing her platinum waves with a hairbrush.

      ‘That’s the spirit,’ Marlene said approvingly. ‘Us nudes have got to stick together.’ She gave Rosie a lewd wink. ‘Not your fault you’ve got fellows fighting over you, is it?’

      ‘I never asked that sergeant to start on the other bloke for me.’ Rosie was as eager to convince herself of her innocence as she was Marlene.

      ‘Sergeant?’ Marlene scoffed at the low rank. ‘You could have a major with your looks, Rosie.’

      That compliment prompted Rosie to smile and resume styling her hair. She’d already noticed that a few older officers were regularly coming in to give her the eye. But she didn’t fancy getting involved with somebody’s husband. She didn’t want to cause that sort of trouble when she could enjoy herself with single men of her own age.

      Young as she’d been at the time, she remembered her parents’ shouting matches. Her dad had caught her mum with another man and thrown her out. Her mum had been allowed back after what seemed an age but had probably only been a matter of months. In a way Rosie had wished her mother hadn’t returned. The arguments had stopped by then but the long cold silences had been even worse to bear; Rosie sometimes wondered if her mother had been glad she’d got ill and died rather than having to endure the awful atmosphere any longer.

      ‘So what d’you reckon, then, Rosie? Shall we find you a rich handsome man who’ll take you to posh hotels instead of treating you to a night at the flicks before he jumps on you?’

      Rosie frowned at the hint that she slept with her admirers. ‘I’ve not let any of them … you know …’ she said falteringly. ‘I’m not that sort of girl.’

      Marlene eyed her mockingly. ‘Honestly? You’re really still pure as the driven?’

      ‘’Course,’ Rosie said rather bashfully. ‘Aren’t you?’ she asked curiously.

      ‘’Fraid not … but you are sweet …’ Marlene murmured with a private smile. ‘And all the more reason to get you the man you deserve …’

      She turned to the wardrobe cupboard, her expression very thoughtful. She earned decent money working at the Windmill but her real employer was her boyfriend, a Maltese fellow by the name of Nikola. Marlene, in common with others, called him Malt.

      Malt was a heavy-set, swarthy fellow who liked to think people respected him because he’d fostered for himself a hard reputation. In fact the men he classed as his rivals saw themselves as his superiors and despised him for trying to muscle in on their territory when he’d neither the brains nor the financial clout to do so. Malt was under his uncle’s thumb and just a hireling.

      But Marlene seemed enthralled by her pimp, and when he told her that he needed to run more girls if he was to be a success and earn enough for them to settle down, she’d eagerly offered to do what she could to help. She’d got a job at the Windmill Theatre at Malt’s suggestion because he’d told her he didn’t want any old slags but classy birds: young, shapely and preferably blonde had been the shopping list of requirements he’d given to his girlfriend.

      Marlene turned about, holding up a hanger on which was a wispy Grecian toga. When on stage it was artfully draped about the nudes’ hips. She looked past her costume at Rosie; the younger woman had put down her hairbrush and was now outlining her mouth in different colours; first one shade then another was put on and wiped off with tissue. Marlene felt satisfied that Rosie fitted Malt’s bill. All she had to do was get Rosie away from home because the blonde seemed ripe for the picking. She’d already mentioned to Rosie that she had a spare bedroom going begging and wanted very little rent for it. Marlene had seen Rosie’s eyes light up at the thought of her own little place, away from her father’s watchful eye. Rosie was pretty and popular with the servicemen and sooner or later she’d fall for one and want to take him back for the night. So Marlene reckoned she’d need to do very little to lure Rosie into her nest.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘Be reasonable, love,’ Rufus appealed with an elaborate gesture. ‘I can’t take kids with me on a job. Midge will go nuts fer a start, and Pop won’t like it.’

      ‘I don’t care about them! I’m sick of carting our four boys about with me.’ Gertie pulled on her gloves and wheeled the pram containing baby Harold into the hallway. Adam, who was six, grasped the handle in readiness for the off while Simon, who was just two years older than baby Harold, was swung up by Gertie and settled atop the pram’s coverlet. With a hand on his shoulder she propelled the eldest boy in her husband’s direction. ‘Joey ain’t staying here on his own in case the house gets hit while we’re out. Can’t risk it. If the Grimeses’ luck’s out, and please God it ain’t, then we all go together as a family.’

      The idea of one of the boys dying alone in the house was enough to make Gertie feel faint. She was determined that at all times the kids would either be protected by her, or her husband. ‘You take Joey with you, Rufus. I’ve me job to do and old Pickering won’t like having Joey turn up after he caught him dipping in his coat pocket.’ Her eldest son got a reproving glare.

      ‘Best take Joey with you then; our kitty could do with a boost,’ Rufus joked, giving his son a wink.

      ‘Think it’s a lark, do you?’ Gertie snapped. ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face if me boss turns nasty. Just as well Joey didn’t take nothing that day …’

      ‘I did.’ Joey was anticipating Rufus’s approval and he soon got it. He’d not owned up sooner about the theft because he’d thought he’d get a clump, СКАЧАТЬ