Jazz Baby

Jazz Baby

Téa Cooper

www.escapepublishing.com.au

In the gritty underbelly of 1920s Sydney, a fresh-faced country girl is about to arrive in the big, dark city – and risk everything in the pursuit of her dreams.

Sydney is no place for the fainthearted – five shillings for a twist of snow, a woman for not much more, and a bullet if you look sideways at the wrong person.

Dolly Bowman is ready and willing to take on all the brash, bustling city has to offer. After all it is the 1920s, a time for a girl to become a woman and fulfil her dreams. Turning her back on her childhood, she takes up a position working as a housemaid while she searches for her future.

World War I flying ace Jack Dalton knows he's luckier than most. He's survived the war with barely a scratch, a couple of astute business decisions have paid off, and he's set for the high life. But a glimpse of a girl that he had forgotten, from a place he's tried to escape suddenly sets all his plans awry. Try as he might he can't shake the past, and money isn't enough to pay the debts he's incurred.

Téa Cooper is an Australian author of historical and contemporary romance. In a past life she was a teacher, a journalist and a farmer. These days she haunts museums and indulges her passion for writing.

As always my thanks to my fabulous critique partner Eva Scott and her Grammar Guru, your ongoing encouragement and patience defy description. Also to Kate Cuthbert, the Escape team, especially my editor, Sharon Ketelaar, and all of the Escape Artists for your support.

I would also like to acknowledge the assistance of Kate Dunbar, celebrated Australian jazz musician. She put me in touch with Bill Haesler, Australian jazz historian, avid jazz record collector, discographer, broadcaster, writer and washboard player whose knowledge of vintage and classic jazz is legendary. Thank you. Making contact with such amazing people is half the fun of writing historical fiction.

For my own Jazz Baby
and all those magnificent men and their flying machines,
most especially
Captain F.A.B. Cooper

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

Sydney, 1923

Clutching five pennies in one hand and a borrowed suitcase in the other Dolly Bowman stared up at the three identical terrace houses — and prayed her Ma and Pa weren't watching over her.

A volatile mixture of excitement and trepidation clawed at her throat. The blood red front doors reminded her of an old man's missing teeth, dark and cavernous between the double-hung windows. Even the delicate iron lacework on the overhead balconies failed to alleviate the brooding mood of the place. Not in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined a place like this when she'd announced she was going to the city in search of work. But beggars couldn't be choosers and a job cleaning at Mrs Mack's boarding house was one step up from the rundown watering hole in Wollombi where she'd spent the past months trying to earn enough money to keep body and soul together.

One step at a time — she had to get through the interview before she could count herself employed. It couldn't be too difficult, although she had country not city experience; surely changing sheets and cleaning had to be the same everywhere.

The winter sun had already disappeared behind the terraces and it wasn't even four o'clock in the afternoon. No matter how far back she craned her neck the ominous shadow of the house covered her face. She opened the gate, flinching at the squeak of the black metal latch then scuttled up the steps and dumped her suitcase on the polished tiles.

Before she had a chance to rap on the ornate brass knocker the door flew open and two girls tumbled out and pushed her aside, startling her with their shrieks of laughter and noisy exuberance. They bolted past her and ran down the steps into the street.

She took a deep breath and peered through the wide-open doorway into the hall. A series of gold-framed pictures cast an eerie glow against the red walls. ‘Hello!' Her pathetic squeak failed to rise above the toe-tapping jazz number and the playful sound of chitchat wafting down the hallway. She tried again. ‘Hello. Is there anyone home?'

Faced with two choices — walk in or walk away — and despite the overwhelming desire to pick up her suitcase and run, she stepped over the threshold, raised her hand to the knocker then slammed it hard three times. ‘Hello!'

The music rose to a crescendo before grinding to a halt on a discordant note. A door down the passageway opened. Horrified by her boldness, Dolly reversed down one step and plastered a tight smile on her face.

Heeled shoes tip-tapped on the black and white floor tiles and she gawked at the vision framed by the narrow hallway. A shiny-black beaded frock, fringed and tasselled, stopped almost at the woman's knees and her long slim legs, encased in the sheerest silk stockings, led to the most elegant ankle-strapped shoes ever seen. Smoothing her hands down her brown worsted coat, Dolly blinked and peered at the woman. Her bobbed hair lay like a waved helmet on her head and the ribbon holding it all in place looked like a fine bandage.

Halfway down the hall she stopped and gave a little shimmy. ‘Well hello! What have we here?'

‘I'm here to see Mrs Mack, about the job.' Dolly screwed up her face, cringing at the squeaky sound of her voice.

‘Oh! A new girl. How exciting!' Lifting her hand to her mouth the woman dragged on a cigarette in an ivory holder, then exhaled a cloud of perfect smoke rings that made Dolly's eyes water.

‘Darling!' the woman called behind her. ‘Come and meet the new girl. So exciting.'

‘Bring her in. Bring her in.' A deep baritone reverberated down the hallway.

‘Jolly good idea. Leave your suitcase here, sweetheart.' The woman, though perhaps no more than a girl, waved her cigarette randomly at some place inside the door. Dolly hefted her case and propped it against the wall next to a mirrored hat stand.

‘Close the door and come with me.'

Taking great care, Dolly shut the front door and followed the intermingled cloud of perfume and cigarette smoke, trying not to gawp at the outrageous pictures in the gold frames: women in all manner of undress, lying across every kind of overstuffed furniture, and even a piano.

‘Come along. Don't dawdle.'

Hot on the woman's clattering heels, Dolly entered the room.

A snug fire burnt in the grate and deep red velvet curtains blocked the view of the street. A large dimpled leather sofa sat in front of the window, festooned with a series of cushions of varying sizes. Everything had tassels.

‘Jack,' the woman purred. ‘This is the new girl.' She stepped aside and Dolly gaped at the man lounging on the sofa dressed in an immaculate evening shirt and black trousers. His loosened bowtie hung casually around his neck and his long legs sprawled out over the thick carpet.

‘Come and say hello, sweetheart.'

Speechless, Dolly blinked at the nonchalant body reclining in front of her. ‘Jack!'

‘Dolly!' He leapt to his feet, a look of horror etched across his familiar face. ‘What in God's name, do you think you're doing here?'

‘Well! This is cosy. You two already know each other.' The purr changed into something more menacing. ‘I am at a disadvantage, I'm afraid.' She put out her hand. ‘I'm Cynthia.'

Dolly dragged her eyes away from Jack and stammered, ‘Cynthia, nice to meet – '

‘Oh for God's sake, don't be so ridiculous, woman. Sit down.' Jack's words bounced off the striped wallpaper.

With an exaggerated sigh, Cynthia perched on the arm of a chair and disentangled her burnt out cigarette from the holder while her catlike eyes raked Dolly.

‘What are you doing here?' Jack's voice held a hint of the warmth Dolly remembered from their childhood, but his coal black eyes bore into hers, making her insides squirm and sending her mind into a stupor.

‘Darling, I told you,' Cynthia interrupted from her perch on the armchair. ‘She's the new girl.'

‘No, she bloody well isn't. Not if I have anything to do with it. What are you doing in Sydney, Dolly? Why aren't you at home?' The bit of warmth in his voice vanished and the first prickle of tears scuffed behind her eyes.

‘I'm here for an interview with Mrs Mack about a job. I wrote to her from Wollombi and she invited me to come up and meet her.'

‘Does your father know what you are doing?'

Dolly hiccupped back a noise that was something between a growl and a sob. Of course her father didn't know. ‘Pa died, six months ago.'

‘Oh God.' In an instant Jack's big, warm hand rested on her shoulder and he eased her down onto the sofa. ‘I had no idea. I'm so sorry.' He settled her amongst the voluptuous cushions then stood staring at her with a perplexed frown on his face.

Foraging in her pocket for a handkerchief, Dolly kept her eyes in her lap, not daring to look up into Jack's face. The last time she'd clapped eyes on him he and Ted had been marching down the street with huge grins on their faces. Off to fight for King and Country and show the world no one messed with Australians or their mates. The battered Union Jack she'd waved was tucked with the other reminders of home in the corner of her suitcase; she had no intention of showing it to him.

‘Here, have mine.' An immaculate white handkerchief waved in front of her face.

Taking it she blotted the tears trailing down her cheeks.

The sofa sagged as he settled next to her. ‘Let me look at you.' He tilted her chin.

She peered up at him, grinning through her tears, nearly dizzy from surprise and his comforting proximity. Struggling for words she managed to stammer, ‘It's great to see you, Jack.'

He held out his arms. ‘Come on, give me one of those bear hugs. You remember?'

‘It's very touching, Jack, however I'm feeling a bit left out.' Cynthia's voice dripped with disdain and Dolly leapt to her feet, shocked she'd forgotten the woman's presence in the room — not a good recommendation for an interview.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss. Seeing Jack surprised me. He's an old friend of my brother's and I haven't seen him since…' She paused. How could she explain she hadn't seen her childhood hero since the day he and her brother hot-footed it down to Sydney with mad ideas about shooting down all the German air aces.

‘Why don't you go and get us all a drink, Cyn, while Dolly and I catch up,' Jack said.

With a long-suffering sigh Cynthia uncurled her sinuous body from the arm of the chair and sauntered to the door. ‘Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Jack darling. You don't know where she's been.' She tossed the comment over her bare shoulder as she left the room.

Paying no attention to Cynthia Jack stared into her face. ‘So how are you, Dolly-girl?'

‘I'm all right.' The old term of endearment reminded her of a simpler time and she smiled. ‘It's so good to know you are home…and safe.' Try as she might she couldn't resist sneaking a look at his leg. She hadn't noticed him limping; she'd been too surprised at the sight of him to think about much else.

‘Ted?' They spoke the word in unison and both shook their heads.