The Windmill Girls. Kay Brellend
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shut. Gertie could be abrasive, as Dawn had already found out, and if challenged over her husband’s thieving, all hell might break loose. As far as Dawn was concerned the less said the better! Her life was complicated enough as it was.
‘’Ere! What you playing at?’ Sal Fiske had entered the dressing room to find Marlene testing her lipsticks. She snatched one from Marlene’s hand. ‘Give it back. That’s mine.’
‘Sorry … only taking a look. Got me own stuff anyhow.’ Marlene threw another tube back on the dressing table and stalked off.
‘Look at these beauties!’ Lorna came in carrying a posy of early spring flowers. ‘Phyllis just handed them over. A fellow called Peter sent them for me,’ she said, reading a small card resting in the foliage. ‘He thinks I’m beautiful and he’d like to take me out.’
‘Ah … sweet …’ Marlene mocked, having listened to Lorna’s cut-glass accent with some amusement. ‘He’ll be out the back waiting for you later then,’ she added knowledgably. ‘So be prepared to show him how grateful you are for his daffs.’
A lively banter continued between Marlene and the chorus girls wearing dressing gowns who’d trooped in from the café. Dawn took the opportunity to draw Rosie to one side as the younger woman appeared rather downcast about Roof’s reappearance.
‘Buck up!’ Dawn said, smiling. ‘We can’t let you out on stage at the Windmill with a face like a wet weekend. You’ll scare away the customers.’
That raised a smile from Rosie and Dawn linked arms with her. ‘Come on … I’ll give you a guided tour of our lovely Windmill Theatre before we open up.’
‘Me mum brought me here to see a variety show when I was a kid; I remember it as being a lot bigger.’ Rosie grimaced. ‘Reckon she must be spinning in her grave to think of me prancing about starkers on stage.’
‘No prancing!’ Dawn wagged a finger in mock reproof.
‘When I was doing me audition I was too nervous to have a good look beyond the footlights.’ Rosie was standing in an aisle close to the stage. Pivoting on one heel she gazed at the rows of seats fanning out in front of her.
‘All good things come in small packages,’ Dawn said proudly, tweaking the heavy tasselled curtain pooling on the stage.
‘Blimey! Didn’t see that when I was up there earlier!’ Rosie was pointing down into the small orchestra pit. ‘Better watch me step or I might end up crashing down the hole,’ she giggled, taking another careful peep. ‘That ain’t very big either, is it?’
‘The building used to be a cinema, till it closed and Mrs Henderson bought it and turned it into a theatre.’
‘Good for her …’ Rosie said.
‘Anyway it might only have about three hundred and twenty seats but we could fill twice that amount. Most nights we’ve got queues of servicemen stretching round the corner. Our revues are the original and best, you see.’
‘The Piccadilly and Pavilion are catching up fast with their nude shows.’ Marlene was sashaying into the auditorium, newly lit cigarette glowing between her fingers.
‘They’re imitating us; we’re the original and best,’ Dawn repeated immediately. She felt a good deal of loyalty to the Windmill. ‘Have you worked as a nude at either of those places, Marlene?’
Marlene gave a lazy nod. She’d told Phyllis at the audition that she was experienced in working in the nude … which was true, but not in the way Phyllis might have hoped. In fact Marlene had only ever been a cigarette girl at the Piccadilly although she’d had jobs at several other nightspots. But lies and exaggeration came easy to Marlene.
‘I’ve never taken me clothes off for strangers before.’ Rosie gave a shy grimace.
‘Always best to get to know him first, Rosie …’ Marlene mocked.
‘It ain’t funny!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘If the pay weren’t so good, I wouldn’t do it.’
Marlene cocked her head, blowing smoke, and giving Rosie the once over. Suddenly she pointed her cigarette at Rosie. ‘You’re a good looker … and young. How old are you?’
‘Eighteen …’ Rosie mumbled.
‘Girl like you should wise up, and make all that work for her.’
‘You sound as though you’ve been a few places,’ Rosie said, half in awe of her fellow new recruit.
‘Me?’ Marlene tilted her head and took a long lazy drag on her Sobranie. ‘I’ve done it all and regretted none of it …’ she drawled, ending her boast on a dirty chuckle.
Dawn stepped forward; she’d heard enough from Marlene. There was something hard and brash about the woman that was already putting her back up. And she’d only known her about an hour! ‘Come on,’ she urged Rosie. ‘I’ll show you the roof terrace. We go up there to cool off … or sunbathe, depending how we feel, when we’ve got some spare time. There’s an outside staircase too goes down the building. We have fire drills …’
By the time the trio had finished looking around and had got back to the dressing room it was time for the showgirls to start getting into costume.
‘Reckon I’ll need a nip of gin to get me out there first time,’ Rosie said while watching the dancers applying their make-up.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Dawn said, using a sponge to put on grease paint.
‘Well, look what I’ve got … handy, eh?’ Marlene gave Rosie a nudge in the ribs as she took a small flask from her bag. She gave her pretty young colleague a wink, dropping the gin back whence it came.
Dawn had seen that in the mirror while outlining her large green eyes with kohl; again she sensed she wasn’t going to get on with Marlene Brown …
‘I ain’t going to cause problems, so stop bleedin’ nagging.’ Rufus Grimes turned his attention back to the sports section of the News of the World.
Gertie began bouncing the pram up and down to hush Harry who’d started to whimper at the sound of raised voices. ‘Well don’t expect me to ask Dawn to keep her gob shut, ’cos I won’t do it.’
‘I ain’t expecting you to do nuthin’!’ Rufus exploded. ‘Ain’t your business, anyhow.’ Exasperated, he picked up the newspaper and hurled it at the wall with a loud oath, making little Harry cry louder. ‘Just play dumb and she’ll do the same. Dawn Nightingale don’t want no trouble … guarantee it.’
Gertie whipped the baby from his pram and began rocking him to and fro against her shoulder while glowering at Rufus’s stubbly profile.
‘Is my business now though, ain’t it?’ Gertie snapped. ‘You should’ve told me that Midge was still about. Why d’you let me think he’d sailed when you knew all along he hadn’t?’
‘’Cos he asked me not to tell you!’ Rufus roared. ‘He knew you’d go on about it, like this, and didn’t want earache off you. Can sympathise with the bloke. You’re driving me nuts. Now fer Gawd’s sake shut up.’
‘You won’t say that when the coppers turn up looking for him, will you?’ Gertie stormed. ‘You’ll scarper and leave me to do the talking.’
Rufus approached his wife, fist raised and shaking. ‘I said shut up about your bleedin’ brother. He’s a pain in the arse at the best of times. Now if you got a gripe with Midge, take it up with him, the bleeder.’
Rufus stalked off and flung himself down in a chair at the table.
Far from not knowing about her husband’s criminal activities, as Dawn had suspected, Gertie Grimes encouraged Rufus to supplement