Applause (The Dudley Sisters Quartet Book 2) Read online

  Margaret felt sorry for her. She didn’t have anyone except her sister and nieces. At least she hadn’t mentioned any other family. ‘Tea?’ Margaret asked when the kettle began to whistle.

  ‘Please. I’ll get the milk.’ Jenny opened the cupboard above Margaret’s head. ‘There isn’t any sugar.’

  ‘That’s all right. I don’t take it,’ Margaret said, pouring the tea. She added milk to both cups and gave one to Jenny.

  ‘Thanks. Met any of the other usherettes?’ she asked, as they sat down.

  ‘No, you’re the first.’

  Jenny laughed. ‘You’re in for a treat then.’

  ‘Why, what are they like?’

  ‘They’re a mixed bunch. A couple of the girls are married with kids. Their husbands are in the forces and their mothers look after the children while they work. They’re nice enough, but they go home as soon as the show comes down. There are a couple of older women, Miss Smith and Miss Timmins.’ Jenny winked. ‘Spinsters, if you know what I mean. They’ve lived and worked together for so long that they’ve grown to look like each other. You know, like dogs and their owners. They’ve been usherettes here for years. Well before Anton and Natalie Goldman’s time. They don’t mix with anyone and they don’t hang around after their shifts. Finished?’ she said, taking Margaret’s empty cup and putting it on the draining board next to her own. Before she sat down again she handed Margaret a maroon tabard. ‘So if you want a pal at the Prince Albert Theatre, you’re stuck with me.’

  ‘I can think of worse people to be stuck with,’ Margaret said, and they both laughed. Jenny was as dark as Margaret was fair and although they were similar in age, Jenny looked older. She had a bigger bust and hips – and by the way she spoke, she was more worldly-wise.

  Over the next few nights Margaret got to know and like Jenny. Bill liked her too. He’d met her when he called to take Margaret home on her first night as an usherette. The two friends had left the theatre giggling. Bill told Margaret later that he was pleased she’d found a friend her own age. He said Jenny looked as if she was fun – and would be good for her.

  Jenny had latched onto Margaret as soon as they’d met – and thank goodness she had. Margaret had nothing in common with the two older women, or with the married girls. The older women didn’t speak to her and the married ones only talked about babies. Margaret confided in Jenny that she sometimes felt guilty because she didn’t want a baby. ‘Bill wanted to start a family when he got the job as document carrier with the Ministry of Defence. He said I’d be lonely while he was away in London. He thought a baby would keep me occupied, so I wouldn’t miss him so much. But…’ Margaret fell silent.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I had other plans.’ What she was about to tell Jenny she hadn’t told anyone, not even her older sister Bess who she never kept secrets from. ‘If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  Margaret took a deep breath. ‘I promised Bill that if he let me come to London and get a job in a theatre, I’d go back to the Midlands with him and start a family as soon as the war’s over.’

  Jenny sighed. ‘Poor Bill! Never mind, they say it’ll be over by Christmas.’

  ‘They said that last year. But even if it is, I don’t want a baby yet.’ Jenny looked shocked. ‘Now you think I’m horrible, don’t you?’

  ‘No. I think you’re wrong. If I had a husband like your Bill, I’d have a dozen kids,’ Jenny laughed. ‘I’d enjoy making every one of them too.’

  ‘Jenny… You are terrible.’ Margaret gave her friend a gentle shove towards the door. ‘Come on, let’s go. It doesn’t look like Bill’s coming for me tonight. I’ll go home on the bus with you.’

  It was handy for Margaret that Jenny lived in north west London. They travelled to work together most days and if Bill was stuck somewhere in the ambulance and couldn’t pick her up, she travelled home with Jenny. As a Londoner, Jenny had been riding on buses and underground trains all her life. Margaret admired her. She knew all the routes and showed Margaret alternative ways of getting to and from the West End without going on the underground.

  ‘I passed my driving test with flying colours, but I failed the medical,’ Margaret heard Jenny say as she opened the stage door. ‘I’m only working as an usherette until I find a driving job. So if they ever need an ambulance driver at St. Thomas’s you will think of me, won’t you, Bill?’

  ‘Er hum! Is that my husband you’re trying to lead astray?’

  Bill laughed. Sitting astride his Triumph motorbike, he leant sideways and kissed Margaret full on the lips. ‘No such luck. Pretty girls have given up on me now I’m an old married man,’ he laughed, handing Margaret her motorbike helmet.

  Every time Jenny saw Bill during the weeks that followed she pestered him about vacancies at St. Thomas’s. She played up to him, jokingly begging him to put her name forward if a driving job, or any job, on the ambulances came up. And her persistence paid off. Squealing with excitement, Jenny threw her arms around Bill’s neck. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’

  ‘Thank you for what?’ Margaret asked, joining Bill and Jenny outside the theatre.

  ‘There’s a vacancy at St. Thomas’s and Bill’s put my name forward. Isn’t he wonderful?’ Jenny said.

  ‘Yes, he is wonderful. And I’ll have him back now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jenny said, giggling. ‘I got a bit carried away. What happens now?’ she asked, her arms firmly by her side.

  ‘Go down to Tommy’s tomorrow; they’re expecting you at eleven--’ Jenny squealed. ‘And fill in an application form. Write down your driving experience and don’t forget to tell them about your qualifications. Take anything you’ve got on paper. They’ll ask to see proof.’

  ‘I will.’ Jenny jumped up and down. ‘And then what?’

  Bill laughed. ‘You wait. They’ll let you know if you’ve been accepted.’

  The following week Jenny was offered a job as a trainee ambulance driver. The next week she took the driving course, the following week the advanced course – and passed both with flying colours. The week after that she left the Prince Albert Theatre.

  Jenny’s replacement was another married girl. She brought sandwiches on matinee days, instead of going out for tea, and left the theatre as soon as the curtain came down at night. Without Jenny to pal up with, Margaret was bored between the matinee and the evening show and often stayed in the theatre by herself. She eventually got to know the other usherettes and one day while they were having their tea break in the cramped staff room she let slip her ambition to be an actress. ‘My stage name,’ Margaret said, pausing to make sure she had their full attention, ‘will be Miss Margot Dudley.’

  The spinsters looked at Margaret as if she’d said she was going to be a Spitfire pilot.

  ‘You should have a baby,’ one of the married girls said.

  ‘You won’t have time for daydreaming then,’ her friend said, sarcastically.

  ‘I shall have a baby one day,’ Margaret told them. ‘When the war ends, Bill and I are going back to the Midlands. And as soon as we’ve found somewhere nice to live, we’re going to start a family. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to--’

  Miss Smith and Miss Timmins, dressed in plain brown skirts and white blouses under knitted waistcoats, looked at each other, wrinkled their beaked noses and left.

  That night as she was leaving the theatre, Margaret heard one of them say, ‘Who does she think she is?’ and the other said, ‘Miss La Di Dah, that’s who.’ She couldn’t tell who said what because not only did they sound alike, they were shrouded in dark overcoats and wore trilbies over their short grey hair.

  They went off cackling like a pair of old witches. It was the first time Margaret had heard the spinsters laugh. And it was the first time she’d felt unhappy in her job.

  ‘Jealous! That’s what they are,’ she told Bill when he picked her up later. ‘In future I
shall keep myself to myself like they do.’

  Bill smiled, but didn’t comment. His wife couldn’t keep herself to herself if her life depended on it.

  The afternoons and evenings ticked by without incident, and Margaret began to put her plan into action. As soon as the lights in the auditorium went out, before the curtain rose and the stage lights came on, Margaret turned towards her seat. Her eyes darted from one exit to the other, taking in the usherettes, to make sure Miss Lesley wasn’t with them. Then, quickly and quietly, she made her way to the back of the stalls. Beneath the overhang of the circle, along the walkway that ran parallel with the stage, Margaret was able to watch the show unobserved.

  Tap, tap, heel tap – and arms like a windmill. And tap, tap, heel tap – and scoop and tap and scoop and tap. Tap, tap, heel tap… Every night, Margaret practised the dances until she was step-perfect, and she listened to the songs, singing them over and over again until she knew every word.

  Better keep an eye on the time, she thought, and she looked at her wristwatch. ‘A room with a view, one two! I must be back in my seat, three four! Back in my seat, three four! And…’ Margaret needed to keep in time with the rhythm, ‘two three four.’ She mimed the last verse of the song as she walked back to her seat, and she was standing at her post ready to show the audience to the exit at the interval and at the end of the show.

  Wait For Me Dearest was a collection of modern songs and sketches. Margaret knew the words to half the songs already because they were often on the wireless; the rest she worked hard to learn and by her second month as an usherette she knew them by heart. It hadn’t been easy learning the dances, because she was constantly looking over her shoulder. Miss Lesley would often turn up at one or other of the usherette stations without warning. Margaret had got away with being absent from her post several times but decided not to push her luck. After tonight, she would practise at home. As the last song of the show came to an end and the stage lights began to dim, Margaret made her way back to her seat. Miss Lesley was sitting in it.

  Margaret felt her throat constrict. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed hard. She opened her mouth to speak, but fear had taken her voice. There wasn’t anything she could say anyway. She had been caught away from her post and nothing could excuse that. She thought about fainting. She had almost collapsed when she saw Miss Lesley. She could lie. She could say she’d been sick. She felt sick. But Miss Lesley would probably see through her.

  Once the audience had left and the auditorium was empty, Miss Lesley led the way to her office. She opened the door, stood back to allow Margaret to enter and followed her in. ‘Sit down,’ she said, pointing to the chair in front of her desk. Margaret perched nervously on the edge of the seat. Miss Lesley sat down heavily in the chair opposite. Leaning her elbows on the desk, Miss Lesley clasped her hands under her chin. For a long minute there was an awkward silence. ‘Well?’ she said suddenly, making Margaret jump. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sure you are, but that is not what I meant.’ Miss Lesley looked over the top of her glasses. ‘What was so important that you left your station during the show? Were you ill?’

  Margaret thought again about lying. She decided against it. ‘No, Miss Lesley.’

  ‘What then?’

  Margaret lowered her eyes. She hadn’t thought about what she’d say if she was caught. She hadn’t planned on getting caught.

  ‘What would have happened if a member of the audience had been taken ill?’

  Margaret opened her mouth. It was shame this time that had taken her voice.

  ‘Well?’

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes. ‘I don’t know!’ she whispered.

  ‘Then I’ll tell you. One of the other usherettes would have had to leave her post to help them.’ Silence hung heavily in the air of the small office. ‘Tonight wasn’t the first time you left your post, was it?’

  Margaret shot the front of house manager a tearful look, but said nothing.

  ‘What is so important that you’ll risk losing your job? What have you been doing?’

  ‘Learning the dances.’

  ‘You’ve been what?’

  There was no going back now. Margaret wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I’ve been practising the dances from the walkway at the back of the stalls. I know most of them by heart and I thought--’

  ‘You thought what?’ Miss Lesley snapped.

  Margaret cleared her throat. ‘I thought, because the girls in the chorus are always leaving at short notice, there should be someone--’ she swallowed hard, ‘someone who already works in the theatre that could step in and take over.’

  ‘And that someone would be?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes!’ Margaret stuttered on. ‘Once I knew the routines well enough to perform them, I was going to ask if you’d have a word with Dick Smiley-- I mean, the director, Mr Smiley – put a good word in for me. I’ve learned all the songs too. Singing is my strong suit. I could sing before I could walk--’

  Miss Lesley put her hand up. ‘You’re obviously serious about this, Margaret. So if I speak to Mr Smiley on your behalf you must promise not to leave your post again.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Lesley,’ Margaret said, clapping her hands. ‘I mean, no, Miss Lesley. I won’t leave my post again. I’ll practise at home. I’ll practise every night.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’ Miss Lesley looked at the clock on the wall. ‘You had better go, your husband will be waiting for you.’

  Margaret pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Thank you, Miss Lesley.’

  ‘And Margaret?’ Miss Lesley said, as Margaret opened the door. ‘Be on time tomorrow.’

  ‘I will,’ Margaret said, grinning from ear to ear.

  It had been three weeks since Miss Lesley promised to have a word with the director about Margaret being an understudy – and she’d heard nothing. She pushed her supper around her plate and sighed loudly.

  Bill knew the signs. The novelty of being an usherette was wearing off. Most things did with Margaret – and usually much quicker. ‘That was a big sigh. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, putting down her knife and fork. She waited for Bill to ask her again, but he didn’t.

  ‘Well, if you really want to know,’ Margaret said, with no intention of telling Bill she had almost lost her job, ‘Miss Lesley thought that, because I know the songs and dances in the show, I’d be a good stand-in. She said she was going to suggest me to the director.’

  Now it was Bill’s turn to put down his cutlery. ‘When was this?’

  ‘A few weeks ago,’ she shrugged. ‘With chorus girls being called up, or leaving to do war work, we thought it would be a good idea to have an understudy on hand.’

  Bill put Margaret’s plate on top of his own and put them on the draining board in the kitchenette. ‘And what did Dick Smiley say?’

  ‘That’s just it. He hasn’t said anything. He’s been auditioning girls all week, but he hasn’t called me in.’ Bill opened his mouth to speak, but Margaret didn’t notice. ‘And I know why,’ she said. ‘He wants to get his hands on the new girls. They’re all batting eyelashes and giggles.’ Margaret was annoyed and she was jealous, not that she’d ever let him maul her the way the new girls did. ‘Miss Lesley must have told him about me by now.’

  ‘The brass neck of the man. And you want to audition for him? I don’t think so!’ Bill said. ‘The mucky bugger isn’t going to get his hands on my wife.’

  Margaret wished she’d kept her opinions to herself.

  Bill said nothing more until they were in bed. ‘You keep doing your usherette job, love.’

  ‘I will,’ Margaret said, going through the latest routine in her head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘Look!’ A note on the message board in the front of house staff room caught Margaret’s eye. ‘CAN YOU SEW? Volunteers wanted to help make costumes for the
new show. If you have sewing experience, a few hours to spare and would like to earn some extra money, add your name to the list below. Signed H M Horton, Wardrobe Mistress.’

  Annie, Jenny’s replacement, squinted at the note and sniffed.

  ‘Can you sew, Annie?’ Margaret asked, hoping she couldn’t, but making conversation. She still missed Jenny. Although Bill kept her up to date with what she was doing, and how well she was getting on working with him on the ambulances, it wasn’t like spending time with her. Margaret missed their chats, missed having someone to confide in.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t volunteer for nothing. You get taken advantage of if you do.’

  ‘Good. Not good that you’d get taken advantage, I meant-- Oh never mind.’ Margaret took the pencil from the shelf beneath the message board and wrote her name in capitals below that of the wardrobe mistress. ‘The less people that volunteer the more chance I’ve got of getting the job.’

  Annie looked bewildered and left the staff room sniffing. She didn’t look as if she’d got a cold, Margaret mused, but she sniffed all the time. Margaret wondered if she sniffed while she was showing people to their seats, and she stifled a giggle. All the usherettes were a bit strange. The spinsters – the Sisters Grimm, as she called them – arrived together and left together. They whispered all the time, gave each other knowing looks and rarely contributed to a conversation.

  Neither of the married girls had put their names on the list, Margaret was pleased to see. And if the Sisters Grimm didn’t, she was bound to get the job. While she was thinking about it the Sisters Grimm arrived, took off their outdoor coats and put on their tabards.

  ‘Hello,’ Margaret said, greeting them with a bright smile.

  Both women turned and nodded. ‘Margaret!’

  ‘Are you volunteering to help in wardrobe?’

  They looked at the notice board, and then at each other. ‘No.’

  ‘We don’t have time,’ Sister-Grimm-Timmins said.

  ‘No, we don’t have the time,’ repeated Sister-Grimm-Smith.