LITMIR.BIZ

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to admire a neat ankle and a delicate shoulder.

      ‘And a word to the wise. When you sing, it is towards the ladies you must look, but making sure when you do that the gentlemen can also see you at your best advantage. Maisie knew to a nicety how it should be done, but unfortunately she has grown above herself and must go. So, my beloved helpmate has been making you practise your scales, I hope, and now today you will sing them for me.’

      Obediently Hettie took off her jacket and turned to face him.

      ‘No, no.’ Immediately, and to Hettie’s shock, he placed his hands on her body, one on her arm and the other on her waist, holding her so tightly she could feel their hot clamminess through her clothes.

      ‘You must stand by the piano like so,’ he told her, manipulating her so that she was turned away from the instrument and with her back to it. ‘You are to sing to the ladies, and not to me. However, if you were to be asked to sing in the evening then you would stand close to my shoulder and perhaps even lean forwards to turn my music for me. But then an evening audience is a very different thing and mostly for the gentlemen guests. Now, shall we try again?’

      It was four o’clock before Mr Buchanan declared himself satisfied enough with her progress to dismiss her for the day, by which time Hettie was starving, since they had not stopped for any lunch.

      Rather than go back to the boarding house she decided that, since it was virtually only across the road, she might as well go to the Royal Court and walk back with the other girls as their matinée performance would now have finished.

      Frankie the doorman knew her by now and grinned as he let her in through the stage door. ‘They’ve just come orf,’ he told her.

      Squeezing past him, Hettie made her way backstage to the large communal dressing room shared by the chorus.

      ‘’Ere ’Ettie, come over ’ere and tell us ’ow you’ve gorn on,’ Lizzie called out when she saw her.

      Eagerly Hettie made her way through the busy room filled with chorus girls, no longer embarrassed as she would once have been by their various states of undress.

      A mirror ran the length of one whole wall of the long rectangular room, with an equally long ‘dressing table’ top beneath it. Each girl was supposed to have her own small section of this table and her own chair, just as each girl was also supposed to have to herself one of the lockers on the opposite wall, and a coat hook. But as Babs had explained to Hettie, since there was never enough dressing table and mirror space or lockers, it was a case of first come first served, and frequent arguments and fights broke out amongst the girls over who owned what.

      From one of the shorter walls, a door opened into the domain of the wardrobe mistress, and what space there was left was filled with racks of costumes all jumbled together.

      The air in the room smelled stalely of cheap scent and sweat, but despite that Hettie loved the atmosphere of the dressing room with its frantic bustle and sense of excitement and urgency.

      ‘’Ere, help me get out of these bloody feathers, will yer?’ Lizzie puffed, tugging at her headdress and heaving a sigh of relief when it was finally removed.

      ‘So what was ’e like then, ’Ettie?’ Babs asked her.

      ‘Well, he was…’

      Suddenly the dressing room door burst open and a woman rushed in still in full costume and make-up.

      ‘Oh gawd,’ Sukey muttered. ‘Now we’re in for it.’

      ‘Who is she?’ Hettie whispered curiously, as immediately all the girls seemed to be very busy ignoring the newcomer.

      ‘She’s the bloomin’ star, that’s wot, and she’s ’ere to mek trouble,’ Sukey told her.

      ‘Where is she, then?’ The imperious contralto voice rang theatrically round the now silent room.

      ‘Come on, you little sluts, no way are yer all deaf, even if yer dance like yer’ve never heard a tune in yer lives. Where’s the little slut wot’s bin making sheep’s eyes at my man?’

      ‘Just as well Maureen’s already left otherwise Gertie’d rip her to pieces,’ Babs muttered to Hettie.

      ‘Gertie, my darling, what on earth are you doing in here?’

      Hettie goggled as a tall, handsome, blond-haired man walked into the room, ignoring the chorus girls and approaching the infuriated contralto.

      ‘You know bloody well what I’m doing,’ the contralto howled. ‘I’m looking for that little whore you’ve been seeing behind me back, that’s what. Well, you won’t be doing it no more, matey.’

      Before he could move, she had picked up one of the heavy hand mirrors the girls used to check the back of their costumes and brought it down hard on a place no lady ever looked at on a gentleman. As he doubled up in pain Babs whispered, ‘Gawd, she’s cracked ’im one right in the Kaisers,’ sounding more impressed than shocked. ‘Bloody ’ell that will put an end to his messing about.’

      ‘If you touch that little tart again, I’m cutting it right…’

      As they both left the dressing room still arguing, Hettie looked at Babs and asked her curiously, ‘What was all that about?’

      ‘Well, she’s the star of the show, see, and ’e’s one of the angels.’

      ‘What’s an angel?’ Hettie interrupted.

      Lizzie, who had been listening, sighed and explained, ‘An angel is wot we calls someone wot puts up the money to put on a show. Bertie has a bankful of money he got for marrying his wife.’

      ‘He’s married but…’

      ‘Gawd, but you’re a know-nothing, ain’t yer, Miss Innocent. Of course he’s married. They allus are. But that don’t stop any of them messing about, like. Of course, the moment Gertie clapped eyes on him she’d got her mind set on ’im and ’oo can blame her? It’s part of tradition, see, that the leading lady gets her choice of the men, and ’eaven help any hoofer wot steps out of line on to her territory. Mind you, it’s past time Gertie retired, and if you want my opinion it’s because she’s so old that he’s bin messin’ around with Maureen behind Gertie’s back.’

      ‘She didn’t look very old,’ Hettie had to protest. She had looked very glamorous with her rouged cheeks, cherry-red lips, and her short skirt revealing her legs.

      ‘That’s on account of all the greasepaint. You oughta see ’er close up. More lines on her face than a tram station, she’s got. Anyway it was when we wus doing Cinderella a couple of seasons back that Bertie first come on the scene. Madam there was swarming all over ’im right from the start, and of course it weren’t too long before ’e got the message and the two of ’em became an item, like. But now he’s getting fed up wi’ her and he’s got a bit of an eye for our Maureen who better watch out because that thump she gave him in the balls is nothing to what Gertie’s likely to do to her. Gawd, she left the girl who made eyes at her last fella wi’ a right nasty scar on her face. Threw acid at her, so I ’eard.’

      Hettie gasped with shock.

      ‘There, don’t look so scared, young un,’ Lizzie comforted her. ‘She won’t do owt to ’arm you, why should she? So, what did you think of ’im, then, Ma Buchanan’s ’usband?’

      ‘He was kind and very jolly, not like I expected at all,’ Hettie told her innocently.

      ‘Was he now. Well, you just look out for men wot is kind to yer, cos like as not they’ll want sommat from yer, if yer knows what I mean,’ Lizzie warned her darkly.

      Half an hour later, they all trooped out into the autumn sunshine, laughing and joking as they hurried to the chop house a short walk away from the theatre. The owner of the chop house gave them a good reduction off his normal prices on the understanding that they came in to eat earlier than the other customers, and brought their

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