The Windmill Girls. Kay Brellend

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СКАЧАТЬ and the comedian got a lot of applause, even though he forgot his punchline a couple of times …’ The rest of Dawn’s report was drowned out as more showgirls came into the room, chattering like starlings. The troupe was dressed in beaded Red Indian costume, with colourful feathers embellishing their hair.

      ‘What’s up with Olive Roberts? She’s got a face on her fit to curdle milk.’ Sal Fiske was stepping out of her short, fringed skirt while speaking.

      ‘No change there then …’ Gertie muttered. ‘The woman’s ugly as sin, don’t know what her husband sees in her.’

      ‘Have you been upsetting Olive again, Gertie, you naughty thing?’ Lorna Danvers had entered the dressing room to boom that out in her cut-glass accent. She began unhooking fancy suspenders and rolling down her fishnet stockings. ‘I dearly hope we don’t have to wear these costumes again; this leather’s made me itch dreadfully up here.’ She started to scratch close to her groin. ‘I’ll wriggle about in a mermaid tail for my wages but I really don’t fancy getting eczema on my Minnie for a thousand pounds.’

      ‘I reckon you would!’ came a chorus of voices.

      ‘Gordon’ll scratch it for you,’ Sal called out.

      It was well-known that the senior stagehand had a thing for La-di-da Lorna, as she was fondly called due to her upper-class roots. Gordon was starting to get on Lorna’s nerves because he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

      ‘You need a bit of Endocil cream on that.’ Gertie examined the angry rash Lorna was picking at. ‘My brother suffers with eczema something chronic on his knees ’n’ elbows. Told him to always dab a bit of Endocil on to soothe it.’

      Dawn carried on hanging up her squaw’s costume, strolling to and fro in just her brassiere and camiknickers, as were the other girls as they moved between the various dressing cupboards. But her ears had pricked up on hearing Gertie mention her brother. She’d tried to forget about the robbery last week and hadn’t mentioned anything to Gertie about suspecting Michael might be a looter.

      Dawn had never been introduced to Michael but Gertie had once brought her brother to Dawn’s notice by telling her that he’d bagged a prime spot in the front row of the theatre. Dawn had promised to look out for him and when she went on stage had squinted through the lights in the direction of a boyish-looking able seaman. Dawn’s boyfriend had spoken about Midge Williams too, not because he liked Gertie’s brother, but quite the reverse. In Bill Sweetman’s opinion Midge was a troublemaker with a chip on his shoulder and he was glad their paths crossed only rarely when they both had leave. But before saying she suspected Michael was a deserter and a thief, Dawn knew she’d have to be sure of her facts. Gertie was short like her brother but could be aggressive, especially when defending her relatives. Gertie’s animosity towards Olive stemmed from her disgust because the older woman didn’t fawn over her children in the same way as Gertie did. Dawn had to agree that Olive seemed a remote mother, but different people had different ideas about bringing up kids.

      ‘Don’t suppose it’s easy for your brother to get Endocil cream on a frigate.’ As Gertie had brought up her brother’s name a few minutes ago Dawn took the opportunity to carry on the conversation. In that way she might discover if Midge was in Malta and put her suspicions to rest.

      ‘You’d be surprised what the NAAFI can get hold of.’ Gertie laughed.

      ‘I wouldn’t!’ Sal chipped in. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d joined the NAAFI instead of taking this job. Could’ve made myself a packet selling hooky stuff on Loot Alley. Not that I’ve ever been there …’ She dropped a sly wink following her mention of the haunt in Houndsditch where merchandise changed hands.

      ‘Had a letter from your brother Michael yet?’ Dawn tried again to pump Gertie for information while putting on her outdoor clothes.

      ‘Ain’t one for letter writing, is Michael. I expect he drops Mum a few lines in Clacton.’

      ‘Michael’s in Malta then?’ Dawn continued doggedly, making Gertie glance sharply at her in surprise.

      ‘Reckon he might have docked. But he don’t give us his timetable,’ she said rather sourly.

      Dawn supposed that reply would have to do; she must have been mistaken in thinking Michael a villain. Having dragged a brush through her hair she gave the others a cheery wave as she’d finished her shift. Gertie followed her towards the cloakroom.

      ‘Off home then, are you?’

      ‘Yeah …’

      ‘Mum better, is she?’

      Dawn gave Gertie a speaking look; Gertie was aware of her mother’s drinking because Dawn had once mentioned it to some fellow dancers. Afterwards, she’d wished she’d kept schtum because women working together forgot nothing and gossiped about everything.

      ‘Don’t you worry, she’ll pull herself round once this war’s over with. It’s taking it out of all of us.’ Gertie nipped at her lower lip with her teeth, looking thoughtful.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ Dawn prompted.

      ‘Were you asking about Michael for a reason?’

      Dawn blushed guiltily.

      ‘Now you tell me what’s wrong,’ Gertie demanded. ‘Come on out with it. I knew there was more to it than eczema and Endocil cream.’

      ‘It’s nothing really …’ Dawn blurted. ‘It’s just … I thought I saw him recently; but you’ve said he’s abroad, so I must be mistaken.’

      ‘Yeah … you must.’ Gertie gave a slow emphatic nod. ‘If people got to hear he was still round these parts, they’d think he was a deserter now, wouldn’t they?’

      ‘I’ve said I’m probably mistaken.’ Dawn sounded cross too. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make as he is quite … remarkable, isn’t he.’

      ‘What d’you mean by that?’ Gertie snapped.

      ‘Well … there aren’t many men about as small as him; that’s why I thought it might be him.’

      ‘I suppose you could say he’s wiry … Anyhow, I’d be obliged if you’d keep your ideas to yourself.’

      ‘Right … sorry I mentioned it,’ Dawn muttered to Gertie’s retreating back.

      Gertie got her coat out of the cloakroom, obviously ready to leave work herself. Dawn loitered for a moment wondering whether to offer to walk a short way with the other woman, as they sometimes did. At Piccadilly Circus Gertie would then head off towards her home in Holborn while Dawn travelled east to Bethnal Green. Gertie barged past and hurried out into the street. Dawn shrugged to herself and slowly followed her colleague into the dark early evening, hoping that she’d get home without the need to bomb-dodge.

      No such luck! Dawn inwardly groaned a few moments later as the sirens started. With a cursory scouring of the sombre heavens she joined those dashing towards the underground station. Her heart was pumping and her misty breath bathed her cold face as she ran down the steps, jostled and bumped by others seeking shelter. As she stepped onto the busy platform, the smell of urine and dirt immediately struck her, making her wrinkle her nose. Picking her way through bodies and bedding she found a small СКАЧАТЬ