All I Want Is You (31 page)

O’Rourke hurried off. I turned to Ash, my blood heated with shame because of my costume and what I’d just seen. ‘We’re not going with you,’ I said.

He took me by my shoulders and I thought he was
going to shake me. He said, in a harsh voice, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool. Do you really want to see your friend Cora go through all that again? She’s due for the midnight show. There are more men arriving to see her this very minute. Did you intend to follow in her footsteps? Because that’s what it damned well looks like, Sophie.’ As he gestured at my flimsy outfit, his mouth curled with what I could only take for contempt.

‘Cora,’ I whispered. ‘I had to help Cora.’

‘Then let’s get on with helping her,’ he snapped. ‘When she arrives, take her to the dressing room, or wherever it is you get changed, and both of you, put something warm on. I’ll be waiting for you here. But be quick.’

I saw that one of O’Rourke’s assistants had brought Cora to the far end of the hall, so I hurried over to my poor friend. ‘Sophie!’ she murmured, blinking in confusion. ‘What are you – why are you…?’

Swiftly I led her towards that mess of a dressing room. Cora was stumbling and exhausted. ‘Danny,’ she kept whispering to me brokenly. ‘Sophie, Danny came back to me. He told me he loved me…’

I briefly held her close, then once in the dressing room I hunted for her coat and mine, and we just pulled them on over our costumes. There was no time for either of us to change fully – we needed to get out of there. That sultry music still played in the distance; no doubt some other poor girl would be on that stage dancing for them now. Sal came in to see if there was anything else we needed, feigning concern but really she was
spying on us. I pushed her away and helped Cora on with her shoes – oh, God, the bruises on her legs, her breasts.

‘Poor, poor Cora,’ I whispered. She was weeping helplessly by then and I held her close. ‘There, there, it’s all right.’ For a short while we were untouchable, because Ash had bought us both – whether for good or ill I didn’t know, and I didn’t have time to consider it, because I had to get Cora out of there. Away from Danny, the man she thought she loved.

We had our coats and shoes on, and I was clutching the dress I’d come in; I’d no idea where Cora’s clothes were, but I wasn’t going to waste a moment looking. I held Cora tightly as we went back to where Ash was waiting calmly still, his arms folded across his chest. And I wanted him. Oh, God, in all my fear and all my shame, my whole body was aroused and sensitised and I wanted him. Danny pretended to be bowing and scraping as he handed us over to him.

‘When you bring them back tomorrow, sir,’ Danny was saying, ‘you might like to try some of our more sophisticated girls. You’ll understand, I hope, that these two are rather inexperienced—’

‘I’m not bringing them back,’ Ash cut in.

‘Now wait a moment. That’s against the house rules—’

‘Be damned to your rules,’ said Ash. He turned towards the door, gesturing to us to go in front of him.

Danny tried to block our way. ‘Now, look.’ His voice had changed to a snarl. ‘If you think you can just walk off with my girls…’

Ash looked down at him with contempt. ‘I’ve paid you for them.’

‘Only for one night.’ Danny, starting to flush with anger, was beckoning to some of his doormen. ‘There are rules in this establishment, and you’re damned well breaking them.’

‘Then I’ll break another one while I’m at it,’ said Ash, and he punched him on the jaw. Danny stumbled to the floor, his hand to his bleeding mouth. Ash’s eyes were blazing with fury. ‘Be glad I let you off lightly this time, O’Rourke,’ he said. ‘You bastard.’ Then he turned and saw Cora and me shivering there. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘My car’s outside.’

I heard O’Rourke behind us, shouting to his men. ‘Fetch the Press. I know that man, I’ve seen him before. We need the Press; I want them to see His fucking Grace going off with two lowlife tarts in tow…’

Ash was pulling me by the arm. ‘Sophie. Hurry, for God’s sake.’

But I couldn’t move. I saw it happening in my mind’s eye: the journalists gathered again round Ash’s mansion in Hertford Street, the gossips agog.
The Duke of Belfield visits Soho club and hires private dancers…
I started backing away. I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t.

Ash grabbed my wrist. ‘I can deal with this, Sophie,’ he told me forcefully. ‘Come with me.
Now.
’

I clutched poor Cora closer. I said to him, ‘Oh, Ash, I’ve just forgotten something. Will you wait for us outside in your car? Two minutes. We’ll be two minutes.’

I dragged Cora back down to the dressing room again, where I’d noticed earlier that there was another
door, a fire escape. Cora was confused. ‘Oh, Sophie. That was your man, wasn’t it? Your lovely, lovely man. The Duke. Aren’t we going away with him?’

‘No.’ I bundled her through the door and up the grimy outside stairs to the street at the back of the building. ‘No, we’re not, Cora. We’re on our own now, do you understand? We’re on our own.’

So my life moved onwards, and once more it was Cora and me, in London together again.

Those first days reminded me of when I came here from Belfield Hall last autumn, and found myself all alone in this big, busy city. Cora was ill for several days, but I nursed her in my little room where the trains rattled by night and day. I had failed my mother, I had failed Ash. I would
not
fail Cora.

‘Sophie,’ she murmured one day. ‘Sophie, have you been to see your man to explain that you were only at Danny’s because you were looking for me?’

Something in my face must have warned her.

‘Oh,’ she whispered. ‘You haven’t. And it’s truly over. You must be so very sad…’

‘No,’ I said quickly, trying desperately not to let my smile break. I took her hand and squeezed it. ‘No, it’s all right, really, Cora. I’m no good for him.’

‘You’re just what he needs,’ Cora said quietly. ‘Sophie, I’m so sorry.’

A week after I’d found her at Danny’s, Cora was strong enough to go out, and I still had a little money left, so we went, not to the Lyons’ Corner House as we sometimes
used to, but to the Ritz, for afternoon tea. Cora’s spirits visibly lifted as we took the bus down to Piccadilly. It was May by then, the sun was shining, the plane trees were coming into leaf and the pigeons were strutting and cooing in the London squares.

Cora was very nervous as we entered the Ritz; I think she half expected to be thrown out, but after the waiter had served us and she realised no one beside the staff had paid us the slightest bit of attention, she was soon chattering in her old, optimistic way.

‘Perhaps we’ll both get jobs as chorus girls again, Sophie. Or maybe we’ll find ourselves some nice, ordinary men – the kind who go to work in an office every day and come back to their wife and children…’

Then I realised she was shaking. Unshed tears filled her eyes. ‘Cora,’ I said softly, ‘we’ll get over it, both of us.’

‘But Sophie. Your Duke!’

I took her hand. ‘I always knew it couldn’t last, with Ash.’

‘Oh, Sophie. He came to Danny’s for you. He loves you, he must love you! He’ll be back… won’t he?’

I tried to smile. ‘He did enough damage to his reputation by stooping to take me for his mistress just for a short while.’

Cora said fiercely, ‘He thumped Danny for you. Yet you think he doesn’t care? He’d have taken on the whole blooming lot of them that night, sweetie. For
you.
’

‘Yes,’ I whispered as a sudden dark, wild longing for my man surged through me. ‘Yes, he would have done, I believe. But I had to leave him, Cora. It really is for the best.’

She heaved a sigh. ‘So what shall we do now? What are you going to do? Will you dance again?’

I shook my head, knowing that Ash hated me dancing on stage.

‘I know!’ Cora’s face lit up. ‘We could both go into service in a grand house. They say it’s so much better being a maid these days, especially in London – you get proper wages, and more time off. Or we could work in a hotel and meet lots of rich men!’

We chatted, we fantasised about impossible jobs. I did it to cheer Cora up.

And then I became aware of some marvellous music drifting through the air. Cora had heard it too, the eloquent notes of a saxophone, and quickly she was on her feet, peering through a half-open door to a wide, airy room adjoining ours, with clusters of potted palm trees set around a polished dance floor.

‘Benedict,’ she exclaimed delightedly. ‘Sophie, it’s Benedict and his band!’

Benedict – our kind neighbour in Bayswater. Eagerly we hurried through. The dance floor was crowded; the band was playing ‘Any Time’s Kissing Time’, and Benedict was in the middle of a thrilling saxophone solo. We clapped loudly when the music ended and he caught sight of us, waving to us in delight. ‘My favourite girls!’ he called. ‘Let’s see you strut your stuff!’

Almost immediately he swung round to his band again, this time to conduct, and they briskly started on ‘Tiger Rag’
.

‘Come on, Sophie!’ cried Cora. ‘Let’s show them what we can do!’

As I said, the dance floor was almost full. But when Cora and I began a lively two-step, everyone else drew back to stand amongst the palm trees, and watch us with increasing delight.

Benedict kept glancing at us too as he conducted, a big grin on his face when he realised the impact we were making. My heart was thrumming with pleasure as I danced –
oh, this was the way to forget my troubles.
When it was over our audience burst into rapturous applause and Benedict insisted we come up to share it. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he was calling. ‘Two of the best dancers in London – let’s hear it for Cora and Sophie!’

Cora and I made little bobs of curtseys, then Benedict took my hand and urged in my ear, ‘Sing. Go on, Sophie. I mean it – I used to hear you singing when you lived next door to me in Bayswater. Just tell me what you want the band to play.’

I hesitated. Then: ‘Jazz Baby, Be Mine,’I breathed.

He smiled and nodded. ‘Here we go!’

I was nervous at first, but the band were so good, and Benedict kept looking round to smile his approval. The applause took me aback; they weren’t just politely clapping, they were begging for more. But I shook my head and went to rejoin Cora, who hugged me tightly.

‘You showed them!’ she whispered. ‘Attagirl!’

We returned to our table and poured ourselves more tea; we could see from there that Benedict and his band had started on another number, and the dance floor was filling up again. Cora started chattering away.

‘Sophie?’ I realised Cora was asking me something and I snapped back to attention. ‘Sophie, you’re not
even listening to me, are you? I was talking about your singing… You must stop thinking about him, your Duke. He should never have led you on so…’

I put my hands to my face; my throat was suddenly aching. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

Cora jumped from her chair to hug me hard. ‘Oh, sweetie. You’re really suffering, aren’t you? Oh, my. Let’s go, shall we? Let’s just go.’

We were putting on our coats when Benedict appeared in front of us. ‘Girls,’ he said, ‘are you thinking of dancing on stage again, the two of you? A friend of mine, Max, is taking his chorus troupe on a tour of the south coast resorts in summer; I could get you fixed up with him, no problem.’

I saw Cora’s face glowing. ‘Yes. Oh, yes please.’

‘Then I’ll speak to him.’ He turned to me. ‘Sophie? What about you?’

I shook my head. ‘No more dancing for me,’ I tried to say lightly.

‘No? Then how about singing with my band? You were wonderful in there – those people just adored you. And you sang as if you really meant it. As if you were really in love…’ He broke off as he caught Cora shaking her head fiercely. ‘Oh, I’m sorry…’

‘Benedict,’ I said, ‘I’d absolutely love to sing with your band.’

‘You would?’ His kind face beamed with pleasure.

‘I would. I really would.’

He hugged me and grinned at us both. ‘That’s just wonderful. I’ll give Max a ring for you, Cora, about the summer season. And as for you, Sophie, we’ll discuss
the details over supper tonight, shall we? Meanwhile, how about singing with the boys again? You could look on it as a kind of sealing of the contract.’

He led me back through to the dance hall, and what else could I sing but ‘All I Want Is You?’When I’d finished there was absolute silence and my heart plummeted.
They didn’t like it?
Then the rapturous applause began and went on and on, Cora as enthusiastic as any. Benedict blew kisses at me, and played a jazz fanfare on his saxophone.

I was a singer.

I started taking daily singing lessons from a teacher Benedict knew. ‘Your voice is superb, Sophie,’ Benedict assured me, ‘but you need to be trained in performance techniques, you know? It’s hard work on those vocal cords, singing night after night. We want yours to be a career that lasts.’

Benedict’s band was, I’d discovered, fast becoming one of the most successful in London, with regular slots at the Ritz, the Dorchester and all the other most prestigious venues. He’d come far in the short time since we’d lived next door to each other in Bayswater – and so had I, since I was, for the first time in my life, paid well.

Cora joined the chorus troupe Benedict had recommended and left for Brighton; as for me, I rented a small but smart flat not far from Piccadilly. All summer and into early September I sang with Benedict’s band at afternoon tea dances and expensive evening clubs, and people flocked to see me. I was a success. But I was expecting some sort of blow all the time, and
finally it came. ‘Some news here, Sophie,’ Benedict said to me quietly one night before the band went on stage. ‘I’m so sorry.’

For a moment I didn’t understand. But my ignorance didn’t last long, because he was holding out a page from a society newspaper.

News is arriving from New York that a young American heiress, Miss Diana Oakley, daughter of the Chicago steel tycoon Mr Ross Oakley, is shortly to be betrothed to His Grace the Duke of Belfield. Miss Oakley’s father is said to be delighted with the match.