Chocolate Girls (15 page)

Ethel, ears pricked in the back room, felt her heart beat quicker. There was something familiar about that voice and she struggled to place it. Surely it couldn’t be . . .?

‘Mom – there’s a man . . .’

‘Well, didn’t yer ask his name?’ she scolded, hauling herself exhaustedly up from the chair.

At the front door she stood looking at him for a few seconds as the years peeled back.

‘Mimi! It
is
you, isn’t it?’ The visitor cried melodramatically, throwing out his arms as if to embrace her. The Cockney bus conductor had transformed into a lovesick Clark Gable. ‘My darling, at last I’ve found you!’

Ethel’s knees went weak on hearing her old stage name and her hand went to her heart. ‘No,’ she managed to say at last. ‘Surely not, Ernie Dempsey?’

‘The very man! Mimi has not forgotten me!’ Now there was a touch of the tragic Shakespearian. ‘Oh, to be so remembered by posterity!’

‘Ernie – what’re . . .? My God! Well I never . . .’ Ethel spluttered. ‘What in heaven’s name’re
you
doing here?’

Switching to a roguish Dublin brogue he protested, ‘Sure, are you not going to invite me in, Mimi sweetheart, now I’m after coming all this way?’

Chuckling, Ethel held the door open. ‘You’d better come through to the back,’ she said, thanking her stars she’d just tidied up. ‘There’s tea in the pot. Billy, pour Mr Dempsey a cuppa will you?’ Up close to his ear she added, ‘And make sure the cup ain’t chipped.’

‘These are your boys?’ Ernie Dempsey asked, laying his hat in the table.

‘This is Alfie, my youngest. Do sit down, Ernie, yes, take that seat, by the fire and warm yourself up. That’s Billy in there, he’s ten.’ Billy brought Mr Dempsey his tea and the two boys hovered in the background listening, fascinated.

Ethel brought a chair up close. She felt horribly conscious of the rough state she’d allowed herself to get in since she’d last seen her former colleague. When would that have been? Fifteen years or more ago. Ernie Dempsey! Still looked just the same, only older of course. How old must he be now? Let’s see, she was forty-two, which put Ernie well on into his fifties. He was still full of his sweeping theatrical gestures and bewildering way of talking in different accents, as if he consisted of a whole array of people occupying the same body. It was his way of covering up his shyness. He’d settle down, she remembered, once they got talking, into his usual soft Brummie accent. She ran her hand over her hair. What a colourless mess it looked! She’d have put a touch of rouge on, if only she’d known he was coming!

Ernie sat, rubbing his hands along his thighs. ‘But by my recollection you had a daughter, did you not?’

‘Ruby’s the eldest, Ernie. She was just wed a few months back. A nice young man – away now of course, RAF.’ She felt proud saying that. ‘Ruby was given a position at Cadbury’s. Still there, she is, and her brother George who came next. Then there’s Perce, ’e’s fifteen now so ’e’s at work. Thing is, Ernie – we’ve had a bad couple of years. I lost Sid just over two years ago and I’ve found it hard to pick myself up. Got in a right state to tell you the truth.’ Tears welled in her eyes and she wiped them away. ‘We was very happy together, me and Sid, all these years. He ’ad a growth, you see – only lasted a few months.’

‘Poor Mimi.’ Ernie reached out and clasped her plump hand with genuine tenderness.

She squeezed his, then withdrew her hand. ‘Don’t, Ernie. Don’t get me started.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Tell me about yourself. How’re you both – Edna well?’

‘Edna’s in very good health now. We had a bit of a bad do, oh, three years back, but she seems to be over that now.’

‘And—’ she asked hesitantly. ‘You didn’t have children?’

‘Alas, no . . .’ For a moment Ernie retreated again behind one of his theatrical personae. ‘The fates decreed that it was not to be . . .’ Ethel saw a glimpse of the pain this had given him in his face, then he smiled chirpily. ‘But it has meant that Edna and I have had a marvellous working life together. We’ve been touring a great deal – settling for a time here and there. Blackpool, the south coast, vistas of windswept grey sand . . .!’ He picked up his cup and saucer and sipped his tea. ‘Times were getting very lean though, the last few years. I’m afraid Edna and I had had our heyday.’ He laughed self-mockingly, looking up at her, and Ethel realized she was being sized up. She felt herself shrink under his gaze. What must he think of her? She tried to tuck her feet back so that her skirt hid them. Her ankles were swollen and she was wearing her awful old shoes! She’d let herself go badly, and it hurt her. She was nothing but a fat, blowzy old woman.

‘I’ve been a bit any’ow lately, Ernie,’ she said, miserably.

‘Not a bit of it, Mimi love.’ Again, he touched her hand. ‘You’ve been through a difficult time of it. Now – you listen to me.’ For a moment he was back to the Cockney bus conductor role. ‘Uncle Ernie’s got just the ticket to lift you out of yourself. How would you like,’ he leaned back and paused, to maximize the dramatic effect of his words, ‘to work again? With me?’

Ethel stared dumbfounded at him. ‘Work?
Me?
What on earth are you going on about, Ernie? I’m on my own here with five to look after, no husband . . .’

‘Well, surely that’s all the more reason to earn some money, although I can’t promise fabulous wages . . .’

‘But look at the state of me!’

‘Ethel, Mimi,’ Ernie put his cup down and sat forward, speaking urgently. ‘War’s a terrible thing, but it does bring with it certain opportunities for people like us. Two years ago I was put out to pasture, finished, and I knew it. Edna gets the odd character role here and there, but we knew we’d had our time. Suddenly, bam!’ He punched his left hand with his right fist, ‘Mr Hitler. Things look even worse. They close all the theatres and picture houses so it’s looking bad for everyone. Curtains. But what we’ve got now is factories full of people, overworked and blue and hungry for any kind of entertainment. And old Ernie Dempsey manages to land himself a nice little job with ENSA.’

Ethel gave a faint smile. ‘The entertainment people?’

‘That’s us – Every Night Something Awful. Anyroad, they have all the bands in and the professional troups, but Joe Loss and Geraldo can’t be everywhere – nor the pros from the Rep and the Alex. They can’t keep up with the demand for concerts and shows. So, I’m getting together a little variety group of old hands. So far I’ve got Alf Lonsdale—’

Ethel let out the most full-hearted laugh any of them had heard from her for a very long time. ‘Not that old devil, oh deary me, his jokes were out of the ark back in nineteen twenty-five!’

‘Well, he’s aboard, and Dot O’Sullivan, remember her?’

‘Oh yes, God love ’er. Still doing the same old character pieces?’

‘Variations on a theme, let’s say. And a few younger ones. But you were a real goer in your day Ethel, and you still could be. Why don’t you come and join us?’

Ethel stopped laughing, seeing he was serious. ‘But Ernie – look at me! I can’t dance any more! I ain’t had a pair of dance shoes on for as long as I can remember.’

‘No, but I bet you can still sing given half the chance. You used to be able to belt them out like no one else I know. None of us is a spring chicken any more, but I bet you could do a few moves. Bit of a song and dance routine – they’d love it.’ He went over to the long-silent piano and lifted the lid, teased out a few chords. ‘That’s what they want, a good sing-song with someone who knows how to jolly ’em along!’

‘Oh Ernie—’ Ethel smiled at the sound of the old piano. She could barely trust the flicker of hope that ignited in her. Could she have some sort of life again after everything had felt so dead and buried for so long? ‘Oh no – I couldn’t!’

‘Mimi love—’ He came over to her again. ‘Once a performer, always a performer. It’s in the blood. What I’d like to say to you this evening is, welcome aboard the troup to my old pal Mimi Cohoon. We’ll have a ball, you and me and Edna. Like old times.’

‘But, Ernie.’ Ethel tried to keep her excitement within bounds. He didn’t think she was past it, past everything, the way she’d felt for months now. He really thought she could do it! A flush of pleasure rose in her cheeks.

‘Go on, Mom,’ Billy said from behind her, and Ethel jumped.

‘Oh Lor’ – I’d forgotten you two were listening in!’

‘Would you be on the stage again, all dressed up and that?’ Billy asked.

‘She would indeed, young man,’ Ernie said. ‘And wouldn’t that be fine? Your mother,’ he added solemnly, ‘has the voice of a nightingale.’

‘More like a foghorn,’ Ethel chuckled. ‘Look, Ernie, this is all very well, and I’m more grateful to you than I can say. But I can’t just launch into summat like this. I’d have to speak to Ruby, and George. They’ve been golden, the pair of ’em, while I’ve not been myself, and if this is going to make life too difficult for them I’ll have to let it go.’

‘Oh, go
on
, Mom,’ Billy said. ‘Our Ruby won’t mind.’

‘When will she be home?’ Ernie asked.

Ethel looked at the clock. ‘George is on firewatch tonight, but our Ruby’ll be back within the next half-hour I should think. I mean you can wait if you want but if there’s a raid you’re going to get stuck here.’

‘Well, that wouldn’t be an entirely tragic occurrence, would it?’ He lapsed back into his Shakespearian mode of speech.

‘How about I put you out a nice bowl of parsnip soup while we wait?’

‘That, my dear,’ Ernie gushed, ‘sounds like the nectar of the gods.’

So, each with a bowl of heavenly nectar, which was in fact rather pale and stringy, they sat at the table reminiscing over old times. Billy and Alfie grinned at each other, hearing their mom’s unfamiliar laughter ringing round the room. She was like a woman reborn.

At last they heard the back door opening, and Ruby appeared, pink-cheeked from the cold. Ethel laughed again at the astonished expression on her face as she came in.

‘You awright, bab?’ Ethel asked her.

Ruby nodded wearily, but with a smile playing on her lips at her mother’s obvious jubilation. ‘Who’s this?’

‘This, Ruby, is my old friend Ernie Dempsey, and he’s come tonight to offer me a job.’

An hour later Ernie Dempsey arranged his hat jauntily on his head, stepped out of number six, Glover Road, and walked off along the dark road, whistling.

Well, that had gone very satisfactorily! Seeing Mimi again had done him the power of good, even though he’d had to conceal his sense of shock on first seeing her. That daughter of hers, Ruby, looked more like the Mimi he remembered – buxom and full of fun. She’d only hesitated a few seconds before saying excitedly, ‘Go on, Mom. You’d
love
it – you know you would.’ He’d always had a soft spot for Mimi. She’d gone to seed a bit now, of course, but she wasn’t past redemption. There was something about her still, an earthy appeal, and a good costume and plenty of make-up could remedy a great many ills. His little band of followers was growing. Now all they needed was to find a name for themselves.

He turned on to the Bristol Road to get the bus home, a lighthearted spring in his step. Oh yes, the war wasn’t proving half bad for Ernie Dempsey. He felt as if years had been lifted off him. He and Edna were looking at being able to work again and having a few quid in their pockets. And after seeing poor old Mimi, he felt the glow of knowing he’d given someone else a chance as well.

Edie sat on the 61 bus, on her way to the rest centre at St Matthew’s, gas mask on her lap, arms hugging her coat round her. She was cold, tired and miserable. All day she’d been on the line at Cadbury’s and another long night on duty stretched in front of her. This in itself did not bother her. Being busy and among other people was better than sitting at home on her own.

Since the night last month when she and Mrs Lordly had help deliver Alicia Jewel’s baby (which was, she had heard since, thriving), her own grief for the loss of her child had been opened up, more deeply and painfully than ever. Watching the other woman labour and bring forth her child made her ache for the baby she had never been able to carry in her arms. It was no good saying anything to anyone. Everyone had their problems these days and hers was past history to them. She was expected to put it away and get on with life.

She’d just come from her mother’s house. To her astonishment, Rodney had come round yesterday with the suggestion from Nellie that Edie go round to Charlotte Road for her tea that day when she’d finished work. Edie was briefly cheered by this suggestion. Perhaps her mom was waking up to the fact that she was suffering – that she was so sad and lonely. But when she arrived she found out soon enough why she was suddenly welcome back home. Florrie and the two boys had landed on her suddenly. They’d come two days ago after the horrific nights of bombing on Coventry. The
Gazette
was still in the house with its banner headline, COVENTRY – OUR GUERNICA.

Florrie had not been bombed out, but seeing the devastation of the city the day after had sent her, and many other people, into a panic. She’d managed to get a lift in a neighbour’s van and join the slow-moving trail of people escaping from city. Her mom’s was the only place she could think of to go.

‘It’s all very well, wench,’ Dennis Marshall said to her, ‘but I reckon you’ve climbed out of the frying pan into the fire coming ’ere.’