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Picking up his bag they strolled arm in arm towards the station exit.
‘How have you been keeping?’
‘Not bad …’ Dawn smiled.
‘How about your family?’ Bill had picked up on a slight hesitation in Dawn’s reply.
‘Mum’s driving George and me bonkers. She won’t let up on the gin.’
Bill grimaced in sympathy. ‘Everything alright at the Windmill?’
‘We’ve got opening night for a variety show next week. We’ve got to dress up as ghostly wraiths. A couple of new girls have been taken on as living statues.’
‘I’ll come and take a look,’ Bill said wolfishly.
Dawn gave his arm a playful thump. ‘If you come and have a look at anybody, it’d better be me.’
‘I wish you’d get another job, Dawn,’ Bill said, growing serious. ‘I don’t like you working there with loads of blokes leering at you all the time.’
‘They don’t leer … well, some of them do, but mainly at the nudes.’ Dawn knew that wasn’t strictly true. All the showgirls, whether in the chorus line or in the artistic tableaux, received attention from fellows in the audience. Naturally, naked female flesh was fascinating to the opposite sex – especially those youths who’d never before clapped eyes on an unclothed woman. ‘A lot of the servicemen who come along seem quite young and sweet.’
‘Fancy going to the pictures later?’ Bill changed the subject quite abruptly.
‘I don’t finish till eight o’clock. We could try and fit in a late show somewhere,’ Dawn suggested. Bill had frowned on hearing she had to work, so she added quickly, ‘Are you planning on seeing your folks?’ Bill’s parents were quite well to do and lived in Surrey.
‘I’ll drive over to them this afternoon then meet up with you later on this evening.’
Dawn went onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek. ‘How is it all going in Suffolk?’
‘The main news – and very bad it is too – is that our local brewer has been sent to prison. Shame about that, ’cos he produced a decent whisky.’ Bill, tongue-in-cheek, recounted a tale about the fellow in Ipswich who’d had his illegal still, and his liberty, taken by the authorities. ‘Oh, and there’s a rumour that Midge Williams has gone AWOL. Top brass in the Navy know our top brass and the news filtered down that there’s a bit of a to-do about it. A rating called Jack Chivers was found stabbed in a lifeboat, and Williams has gone missing … odd.’ Bill hadn’t noticed that his girlfriend had turned pale at his news. ‘Midge didn’t return to his ship. But to give him his due, there were some heavy raids on London during his last shore leave.’ Bill paused. ‘He might be under rubble or perhaps he’s still recovering from the effects of too much rotgut.’ Bill glanced at Dawn for a comment, realising she’d remained quiet. ‘Oh, God, I forgot …’ He grimaced in apology. ‘Midge’s sister does cleaning at the Windmill, doesn’t she?’ He drew Dawn close with an arm about her shoulders. ‘Is the poor girl in a state? Has Midge come a cropper somehow or other?’
‘I haven’t seen Gertie for a few days … different shifts,’ Dawn explained.
She’d been mulling over whether to voice her suspicions that Gertie’s brother was alive and a member of a gang of bomb-chasers. Bill had never liked Midge since the seaman and some of his Navy pals had taunted Bill and his RAF colleagues in a pub, calling the airmen nancy boys and starting a fight. Dawn certainly didn’t want Bill feeling he ought to jump to her defence and confront Midge, especially now she knew that Gertie’s brother was wanted for questioning about a murder. But there was no proof of anything, she reminded herself. Nevertheless she decided to keep quiet about the horrible night she and Rosie had witnessed the gang out looting.
‘Is that you, Rosie?’
‘Yeah, it’s me home, Dad.’ Rosie slipped out of her jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall before closing the door. The hallway of the Victorian terraced house was dog-legged and painted in a sepia colour that deepened the gloomy interior. But dark or not, she’d glimpsed her father, in his tan cotton coat, scurrying out of the cellar a moment ago. He’d obviously been alerted to her presence by the sound of her key grating in the lock. ‘You’ve been down there again then?’ she accused. ‘You said you were going to pack it in.’
‘Well I’ve changed me mind.’ John Gardiner sounded obstinate. He shoved his hands into his overall pockets. ‘How else are we going to get by if I don’t tinker around and make us a few bob?’
‘I got a job posing with no clothes on so you wouldn’t need to tinker around,’ Rosie shouted, rapidly approaching him.
John Gardiner pulled off the rubber gloves he’d been wearing and stuffed them in his overall pocket. He turned his back on his angry daughter and disappeared into the kitchenette, throwing over a shoulder, ‘I’ve told you what I think about that! Daughter of mine, acting like a little tart! Disgusting!’ A moment later Rosie could hear the squeaky tap being turned on.
‘And I think it’s disgusting what you’re getting up to … and dangerous too.’ Rosie sighed, thinking it was pointless arguing with the stubborn old git. ‘You’d better pack it up, Dad,’ she warned with a hint of despair in her tone. ‘We can manage now I’m working at the Windmill Theatre and getting good pay.’
John started setting cups as though he’d not heard her pleading with him. ‘Brought me in any empties, have you?’
‘No! And I’m not going to! And I’m not doing any more deliveries for you neither. Nearly got me head blown off in a raid last time.’ Rosie kept quiet about the fact that she’d also almost got set about by looters. Her father exasperated her, but she didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. Besides, Dawn had reassured her that nothing more would come of it. And Rosie put a lot of store in what Dawn Nightingale said. She wasn’t sure why that was, being as they hardly knew one another.
‘I’ll pay you for them … a shilling a pop … that’s a good amount for an empty bottle of whisky.’ John carried on as though he’d not heard his daughter’s complaint. He glanced slyly at her. ‘Must be loads of places round in Soho where they’re putting out empties. Can’t you just have a poke around the dustbins, dear, and fetch me some in?’
‘Somebody died of rotgut poisoning the other day, you know …’
‘Nothing to do with me.’ John banged the filled kettle on the gas stove and put a match under it. ‘I know what I’m doing; I worked as a chemist’s assistant for a long time.’ He tapped his nose in emphasis.
Rosie’s father had always been one to do a bit of home brewing, just for the family, but since the war started he’d seen the profit to be had operating an illegal still, as had many other people who’d turned to peddling hooch.
‘Mum would hate what you’re doing, you know,’ Rosie said in desperation, hoping to talk sense into her father.
‘Oh, yes, I know that. Prudence never liked me enjoying myself or having cash in my pocket.’ John’s lips thinned as he recalled his dead wife. She’d been gone seven years, having succumbed to pleurisy, leaving him to raise their daughter.
A bang on the door made Rosie start to attention and stare wide-eyed at her father. She was on tenterhooks all the time fearing that either the police or the Revenue men would get a tip-off and turn up to search the house. Rosie knew if her father’s still in the basement were uncovered he’d get a long prison sentence. If he were implicated – even wrongly – in supplying lethal moonshine that had poisoned somebody, he might hang.
Unconcerned by the rata-tat John finished filling the teapot with boiling water. ‘Calm down,’ he told his agitated daughter. ‘That’ll be Lenny fetching me round some labels. I’ve been expecting him.’ John held out a cup of tea towards Rosie.
‘Don’t want no fuckin’ tea!’ Rosie was incensed by her father’s attitude. From the moment she’d heard the knocker crash against the door her heart had been crazily racing. ‘I’m sick of being scared half to death all the time,’ she hissed. ‘If you don’t pack it in, I’m moving out.’ She stormed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. About to enter her bedroom, she hesitated, smearing angry tears from her lashes. Crouching down by the banisters, she watched through the sticks as her father opened the door and ushered inside a young man.
They started to talk in low voices and Rosie strained to hear what her dad said to Lenny Purves. Lenny and his father had a legitimate printing business on the High Street and did some under-the-counter stuff on the side. Rosie watched her father hand over some money in exchange for a brown paper package that the young man took out of his pocket. Then her father was ambling away, leaving Lenny to see himself out.
But he didn’t; he glanced up and saw Rosie watching him.
‘Ain’t sure you should be up there earwigging, should you?’
‘Ain’t sure you should be wearing civvies. Too scared to fight?’ Rosie taunted.
‘Got poor eyesight. Can’t see nuthin’, me,’ Lenny said slyly. He’d swung the lead at his medical. His father had dodgy eyes so Lenny had pretended he was afflicted too and couldn’t see past the end of his nose. He’d been discharged from the army on medical grounds almost before he’d been enlisted.
Lenny liked to think he wasn’t a coward, he was just protecting his inheritance. His father was a crafty git who’d stashed away a tidy sum, and Lenny was an only child because his mother had died having him. Lenny didn’t want to risk taking a bullet and losing out on enjoying a pot of money coming his way.
‘Can’t see nothing … that right?’ Rosie said sarcastically. ‘Just saw me well enough, didn’t you.’
‘Yeah … well, you’re a sight for sore eyes, ain’t yer, Rosie,’ he purred.
‘Piss off,’ Rosie said defiantly, standing up. She knew Lenny fancied her; he’d tried to touch her up before on one occasion when he’d come round to bring her father’s order. But she’d nothing but contempt for him. He was a gangly, spotty youth with unkempt greasy hair.
Lenny swaggered to the bottom of the stairs and gazed up at her, head cocked to one side. ‘Gonna give us a show then?’ he asked coarsely. He pulled out the money her father had just handed over. ‘Want paying to flash yer tits, I suppose, do you?’ He peeled off a ten-shilling note. ‘There … how about that for a start?’ He began climbing the stairs, leering at her and waving the cash in his fingers to and fro. ‘If I like what I see I’ll pay up for the works …’
Rosie felt her face burning in anger and embarrassment. She hadn’t told many people that she’d started working as a nude in the Revudeville shows at the Windmill Theatre, but obviously word had got around.
Lenny lived just a few streets away and was about twenty-one. He’d been at the same school but in a different class. Rosie had never liked him; he’d always been a show-off with a fast mouth.
‘I told you to piss off, so get going before I call me dad and tell him what you just said to me.’
Lenny was just below her on the stairs now. He poked his face forward giving Rosie a close up of a yellow-headed spot on his chin. She recoiled from his sour breath but refused to back away.
‘What’s yer old man gonna do to help you?’ Lenny drawled. ‘I’ll knock him down with a punch. He’s probably disgusted by you anyhow now you’re stripping off. Come on … how much to go all the way?’ He looked Rosie up and down, suddenly grabbing at her breast.
Rosie shoved her palm into Lenny’s face making him stumble down a few stairs and clutch at the banister.
‘Rosie? Want any tea this evening or are you still sulking up there?’ John Gardiner had come out of the kitchen and ambled along the hallway. He stopped when he saw his daughter and his business associate face to face on the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing, mate, just thought I’d say hello to Rosie being as we used to be school pals.’ Lenny descended the stairs in a cocky, rolling gait, grinning. ‘Let us know when you need a few more of them labels run off. Nice doing business with you. Me dad says hello …’
As the front door slammed shut after Lenny’s departing figure John stared suspiciously at his daughter. ‘Was you misbehaving with him just then?’
Rosie choked a laugh. ‘I can’t stand the creep and I wish you’d tell him not to come here. Anyhow, it ain’t me misbehaving, Dad, is it? It’s you; and if you keep doing business with people like him …’ Rosie jabbed her forehead at the front door. ‘Then you’re gonna be in big trouble.’
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_6c53c6b8-3945-5042-934b-109beff542b2)
‘Are you driving to Surrey to stay at your mum and dad’s tonight?’
‘Is that an invitation to come home with you instead?’
Dawn smiled wryly, moving her cheek against Bill’s pleasantly scratchy jaw as they waltzed to the jazz trio. ‘I don’t think my mum would appreciate seeing you on the couch in your vest first thing in the morning.’
‘If you top the old girl up with gin she’ll be too sozzled to see me at all, arriving or leaving. Then I could bed down upstairs with you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ll happily stump up for a bottle of Gordon’s for your mum and a few beers for that brother of yours, if you agree to me staying over.’
Dawn drew back, frowning at Bill. Sometimes his sense of humour was too black for her to appreciate; that was, of course, assuming he was joking. If he weren’t then she’d be worried …
‘Don’t take it so seriously, darling.’ Bill drew her close again, nuzzling her neck. His hands, stroking at the centre of her back, began massaging closer to her buttocks. ‘Let’s get a room in a hotel, then, if you don’t want to upset your family. I don’t intend driving to Surrey, and I’m damned sure you could do with a break from your set-up in the East End.’
Dawn was fed up with things at home: her mother drove her mad and her brother George’s moodiness was a pain, but she didn’t want Bill rubbing it in simply to get her into bed. Dawn knew he was getting impatient with her because she hadn’t yet agreed to sleep with him. She wasn’t holding out because they’d only known each other for a short while, or because he would be her first real lover. She’d been kissed and caressed by boyfriends but the thought of an unwanted pregnancy was always at the back of her mind, terrifying her when she was aroused and tempted to capitulate. But the main barrier to her throwing caution to the wind with Bill … and he was by far the boyfriend she fancied the most … was Bill himself.
His callous joke about her mother’s alcoholism had added to her niggling doubts that he might not be the right man for her. When they’d first met she’d been sure she’d fallen head over heels for him after the first few dates, but then the giddy pleasure of the newness of it all had faded, removing the blinkers from her eyes.
On the first occasion she’d seen Bill he’d been in the audience at the Windmill Theatre, giving her his undivided attention. He’d sent her a lazy wink, blown her a kiss that had almost put her off her step, and then disappeared at the end of the show, or so Dawn had thought.
She’d been disappointed not to find him amongst the crowd of eager fellows hanging around the stage door, hopeful of chatting up a showgirl. Then she’d spied a man dressed in RAF uniform lounging against a lamppost further along the street, smoking.
As she’d walked towards him Bill had blocked her path, telling her he’d not let her pass till she agreed to go out with him. She’d thought him wonderfully handsome close to and his persistence had excited her. His eyes were startlingly blue and his hair as fair as her own. So she had agreed to meet him the following evening; that had been five months ago, yet although they wrote regularly Dawn realised she’d only been in Bill’s company a handful of times. The war kept them separated, as it did most young couples.
Dawn felt warm fingers fondling her behind and gave her boyfriend a ghost of a smile. Taking his hand she started leading him back to their table before the saxophonist had finished playing. As they weaved through swaying bodies, in half-light, the atmosphere was thick with cigarette smoke and the sultry scent of brandy cocktails. They sat down opposite Bill’s pal. Glenn Rafferty was stationed with Bill and was a squadron leader. Dawn got the impression that it riled Bill that his friend was about the same age but held a higher rank than he did.
Bill had said Glenn had plenty of girls to choose from when he came to London on leave. But this evening he had with him the same girl who’d accompanied him last time, called Tina.
Dawn had been surprised by how different in looks the men were; her boyfriend had the quintessentially fair and dashing looks of a middle-class Englishman, whereas Glenn was dark-haired and tanned and in Dawn’s fanciful opinion might have Romany blood. A gold earring would have completed his startlingly handsome, rather villainous presence.
They’d not planned on meeting up for another double-date this evening; Glenn and Tina had been leaving a bottle party club when Dawn and Bill had bumped into them on Regent Street. They’d entered the Kitkat Club as a foursome.
The last time they’d all been together Tina had acted sullen; she didn’t seem any friendlier this evening although she slid flirtatious glances at Glenn … Bill too, Dawn noticed with a pang of annoyance.
Determined to be friendly, Dawn attempted to draw the young brunette into conversation. ‘Do you live locally, Tina?’
‘Yeah …’
Following her terse reply Tina lifted her port and lemon and took a sip, leaving Dawn thinking she’d had no more luck in having a chat with Glenn’s girlfriend than the last time she’d attempted to make conversation.
‘Gonna dance then, are we?’ Tina nudged Glenn’s arm and pouted him a kiss.
‘Just let me finish this. I’m parched.’ Glenn lifted his glass of beer.
For a man who was thirsty he drank little, Dawn observed with a slight smile, watching Glenn take a single mouthful then replace the tankard. He hadn’t even looked at Tina when she’d spoken to him.
No need to get upset, Dawn told herself as she again noticed Tina’s dark eyes slide Bill’s way. The brunette looked quite young – about nineteen – and was probably testing her powers of attraction on every good-looking fellow she met.
‘I’ll dance with you.’ Bill had taken the hint when Tina continued staring at him and swirling her port and lemon to attract his attention. Discreetly Bill raised his eyebrows at Dawn by way of apology then led Tina towards the thrumming music being belted out by the band.
‘She’s not standoffish … just shy …’
Dawn shot a look at Glenn; it was the first time the two of them had been left alone together to talk. ‘Shy?’ Dawn queried with a snort. She might have toned down her sarcasm had she not noticed, in the light of the flickering candle on the table, a gleam of amusement at the backs of his eyes. Glenn knew as well as she did that Tina was downright rude. And that begged the question: what did Squadron Leader Rafferty see in her? Dawn got her answer quickly enough: young or not, Tina had a very vampish manner. The brunette was dancing cheek to cheek with Bill and a moment later Dawn felt her temper rise as a pair of shapely arms slid about Bill’s neck. Tina’s palms suggestively cupped the back of his head as though she might urge his face down and kiss him. Dawn’s insides writhed in anger. Tina was deliberately making a play for Bill, no doubt to punish Glenn because he wouldn’t dance with her.
‘Shall we give them a run for their money?’
Dawn snapped her eyes back to Glenn who was draining his glass. He pushed to his feet, held out a hand. ‘Come on. Bill’s not stupid … well, not all the time,’ Glenn said very dryly. ‘He didn’t have a lot of choice in it. I’m sure he’d sooner have kept on dancing with you …’
From that Dawn deduced that Glenn was letting her know he’d seen Bill’s hands roving her body a few minutes ago. Well, if Glenn Rafferty thought he could try it on too … he’d find out he was mistaken. He wasn’t going to make Tina jealous by touching her up! Slowly Dawn stood up. Once his long fingers had closed on hers he tugged her behind him onto the small dance floor.
His touch was light and cool and he kept his hands to himself. He moved very well … as well as Bill; but he was a bit taller than her boyfriend, Dawn realised. With Bill she’d no need to stretch her arm so far to rest it on a broad shoulder. Dawn darted glances Bill’s way, trying to get a glimpse of the swaying couple through the crowd.
‘Aren’t you bothered about your girl flirting?’
‘Nope …’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s not my girl,’ Glenn said and suddenly whipped Dawn around so fast in time with the beat that her next words were lost in a gasp.
It was his way of telling her to shut up and mind her own business, she realised. So she did, stiffening in his arms. As though he found her pique a challenge he urged her closer, dropping his head towards hers. As soon as the music faded Dawn pulled away, trying not to make it too obvious that Glenn had succeeded in aggravating her … and more. The pleasant scent of his sandalwood cologne clung to her cheek where their skin had scuffed together. She was the first to sit down; moments later Bill joined her.
‘She’s an odd sort of girl.’ Bill was glancing at the dance floor. Tina had intercepted Glenn before he could leave and they were now waltzing.
‘That’s an understatement,’ Dawn said sourly, taking a long swallow of her drink. ‘She’s rude and arrogant and the most outrageous flirt.’
‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ Bill sounded genuinely surprised. ‘Forget about her, sweetheart; I’ve only got one girl on my mind this evening.’ He leaned forward and slowly tickled her chin. ‘Want another brandy and soda?’
‘I think I’ve had enough, thanks all the same.’ Dawn could feel a warm glow on her cheeks and a cold top lip … sure signs that she’d had too many cocktails! Besides, she suddenly wanted to leave. She knew she had no reason to be jealous but, even so, resented another woman rubbing her nose in it while she flung herself at Bill.
Pulling out a packet of Players, Bill offered one to Dawn then took one himself.
‘She doesn’t have much to say for herself, either,’ Dawn said, dipping her head to the lighted match cupped in Bill’s palm.
‘She seems to have enough to talk about to Glenn.’ Bill drew hard on his cigarette. He sat back in his chair, watching the couple. ‘Probably discussing her price,’ he added caustically.
Dawn shot him a glance. ‘You think she’s a working girl?’
‘’Course she is … those bottle party hostesses are all the same. They’ll charge you a week’s pay for a watered-down beer and a fruit juice for themselves, then they’ll try and get you to stump up again for having the pleasure of their company all night.’ He tapped ash into an empty glass.
