Songbird (8 page)

“I want to open Steve’s eyes and make him see what he might be losing,” she told herself. “No more pink ladies. I’m going to get a fiery red dress! Yes, that’s it — I’ll go for red and be a scarlet woman instead.”

The saleslady looked at Maddy, at her voluminous golden-brown hair and her striking dark eyes, and said, “Oh no, my dear! Not red. With your coloring, you should wear the palest ivory.”

Maddy was amazed. “I’ve never even considered wearing ivory,” she confessed. “I’ve always thought that it would make me look washed out.”

The woman persuaded her to give it a try.

The first dress she put on was nipped in at the waist and full-skirted. “No, it’s definitely not me.” Maddy was unhappy with the style, but amazed by how flattering the color was.

The second one was straight-skirted and fitting, but the neck was high and the sleeves too full.

The third was stunning — low-cut at the top, but with straps instead of sleeves. “Good heavens, what on earth did you do to your arms?” The woman was shocked by the bruises.

Maddy stammered an excuse, and returned to the cubicle where, both disappointed and embarrassed, she began quickly dressing to cover up the bruises where Steve had gripped her last night.

She was reaching for her blouse when there came a knock on the cubicle door. “My dear, I’ve found a dress I think you really should try.” The door inched open and an arm reached through, over which hung the loveliest-looking gown. “You looked wonderful in the ivory,” the saleslady explained, “so I went away and searched through another batch of stock that’s just arrived from Italy. This one is absolutely right for you… trust me.”

Suspecting the woman was trying hard to make a sale, Maddy agreed to try it anyway.

Five minutes later, she emerged from the cubicle, looking a million dollars.

“Oh my dear!” The woman’s mouth fell open. “I knew it was the one for you!”

The ivory-colored dress was plain and elegant; with long, slim sleeves, small silk-covered buttons at the cuffs, it hung exquisitely. In fact, it could have been made for her.

“It simply flows over you!” The attendant was delighted. “And the ivory… so beautiful.”

Maddy was pleased to note the discreet split in the skirt, running down the left side from thigh to hem, which opened only when she stepped one leg forward. The punters at the Pink Lady adored it when she wore something a little bit sexy but still ladylike.

Wondering what Steve might say, she looked at herself in the long mirror. Against the ivory, her eyes and hair seemed richer, deeper in color, and more importantly, the long slim sleeves hid the marks he had made on her arms.

And so she bought it, though it was more than she could easily afford. Steve liked her to have decent stage outfits, but the money he gave her for them was on the mean side. But this was a special dress. A dress on which her whole future depended. Thanking the woman, she left with her precious cargo, and went home to Alice’s flat.

She could hardly wait for the evening, when she would walk out on that Soho stage with her head held high.

Seeing her in that dress must surely melt her lover’s heart? Even a hard man like Steve could not turn away the woman who loved him; the singer who brought in the bulk of his money. And the fact that she was carrying his child must surely mean the world to him. Shouldn’t it?

She was both nervous and excited. Was she taking a chance too far? Was Alice right… would he still reject her, and his child?

There was only one way to find out.

In the evening,
dressed in her new finery, Maddy took a taxi to the club. She was desperately nervous about Steve’s reaction, but was hoping that tonight she could make him see sense.

She felt ashamed and worried at having broken her promise to Alice, even if it
was
for all the right reasons. Later, she would explain it all to her friend, convinced that she would understand.

Her heart beating fifteen to the dozen, she carefully inched open the door and peeped inside. As usual, the club was busy, with Jack and the others rushing about behind the bar. It was difficult to see clearly across the room because of Raymond’s sizeable frame as he meandered about, clearing tables and shyly answering the occasional remark from a client. She smiled. No wonder they all love him, she thought. He’s a real gentleman.

In that moment when Raymond stooped to collect something from the floor, she saw Dino and Dave sitting having a quiet drink at the side of the stage. Steve was standing at the far end of the bar, leaning forward, glass in hand, the usual Dunhill cigarette drooping from his lips.

At the sight of him, her heart leaped, and all kinds of bittersweet memories flashed through her mind: of the wonderful times they had shared — the many occasions when she was made to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and other times when he was so tender and loving, she thought it would never end. But then there was his explosive jealousy, the inquisitions, and the recent beatings she had suffered at his hands, with Alice’s premonition of worse to come. Steve was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Maddy wondered if she could really face a future with this constant battle on her hands.

For a moment, she was deeply troubled; unsure of whether she should go inside, or turn about and never come back. It was a strange, unnerving sensation.

Needing to think clearly, she closed the door and stood on the pavement, her back against the wall and her thoughts in turmoil. She felt incredibly sad, and lost — and for a moment, all the belief she had in him and their life together seemed to ebb away.

“Pull yourself together, my girl,” she reprimanded herself sternly. “You can’t turn back now — not when you’ve come this far.”

As always, the pull of her feelings for Steve proved to be stronger than her fears, and as she swung round to enter the building, a mischievous smile lit her eyes. “I’ll sneak in the back way,” she murmured, “have a quick check of my makeup, and then I’ll let him know I’m here.” The idea of taking him by surprise was thrilling.

Hurrying down the alleyway, she hoped the back door was not locked.

Good. The door pushed open at the touch of her hand. Excited and hopeful, she slipped into the building and made her way through the corridors which led directly to her dressing room.

As she neared it, she heard a door slam, and then footsteps hurrying away. Not wanting to be seen, she pressed herself into the doorway of the storeroom, emerging only when the footsteps had died away.

With the coast clear, she hurried on, agitating over who those footsteps might have belonged to. She knew it wasn’t Alice, because that dear woman’s light steps were as familiar to her as her own. She was equally certain it wasn’t the man who looked after the stage-lighting because he had a distinctive limp. Nor could they have belonged to Raymond, whose lumbering tread rocked the building. And as far as she was aware, the barmen hardly ever came back here.

Of course, it could have been someone looking for the loos and taking a wrong turn. Yes, that must be it! Someone had taken a wrong turn and got lost.

Nonetheless, for some strange reason, Maddy was filled with a sense of foreboding.

“You’re beginning to imagine things,” she told herself, and gave a harsh little laugh. “It’s Alice’s fault, for putting the fear of God into you.”

Having reached the dressing room, she went quickly inside, instantly taken aback by the odor of a heady perfume, quite different from her own. “Raymond’s been at it with a new cleaning wax, she thought. He’s always trying some new product or another.

She glanced about. There were no signs of the struggle from last night, she observed wryly. All had been neatly swept aside… like herself!

Going straightway to the new mirror that had been secured to the wall, she stared at herself, feeling like a kid on her first date.

He won’t be able to resist me, she beamed. Then, reaching for her lipliner, she was amazed to see that her own hairbrush and cosmetics were gone, and in their place was an expensive range of powders and lipsticks, together with a beautiful silver-backed hairbrush.

While her mind was reeling with the shock, she heard the musicians strike up and then the sweet uplifted voice of a woman in song. It was a voice she had not heard before, and it was really good.

At first she would not let herself believe the obvious, but when she was made to accept the truth, her hopes of a reunion with Steve were cruelly dashed. He’s found another singer to take my place, she thought, and her heart lurched. It seemed that Alice was right, after all. Steve really did want to get rid of her. She had let herself believe that her love was strong enough to bring him round to the idea of family and commitment. But now, she realized that it was never meant to be.

Not only had he beaten and humiliated her by throwing her out onto the streets, but hardly was her back turned than he had brought in another singer to take her place.

That was the final turning point.

If there had been the slightest hope that he might come round to wanting her and the baby, that hope was gone; she had no illusions now. It was over. Steve Drayton had wiped her out of his life, as though she never existed.

Slumped in the chair, she let the emotions flow, and when sorrow flared to anger, she picked up the silver-backed hairbrush. For what seemed an age she examined the beauty of it; with the fine, curved handle, it was a magnificent thing.

The sight of a few delicate strands of blonde hair caught in the bristles was like salt in the wound.
He
gave her this, Maddy thought — and no doubt he told her the same wicked lies he told me. It wasn’t all that long ago since he gave
me
a hairbrush not too different from the one I am holding. The man is a liar and a cheat. No good to anyone.

Gripping the hairbrush so hard it hurt, with one vicious swipe Maddy sent the entire collection of cosmetics crashing to the floor. She glanced at the wreckage and thought how like her own life it was.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she reached into the bottom drawer, took out a box of her own makeup, and dabbed a shower of cream powder over her cheekbones. She then tidied her crumpled dress, and fluffed her thick, dark hair. “You don’t need him.” She spoke to her reflection in the mirror. “But you can’t let him get away with it so easily. Don’t let him think he’s broken you.”

Striding from the dressing room, she made her way to the top of the stairs; from here she could view both the stage and the bar area.

She saw him straightaway. Leaning against the bottom of the stage, he was looking up at the singer. Long-limbed and youthful, her slim figure draped in darkest silk, she made a striking image.

From below, his eyes ogling her every move, Steve Drayton was like a dog drooling over a juicy steak. With every wink and “come-on” gesture, he was not ashamed to let her know he wanted her… in the same way he had once wanted Maddy.

When all of a sudden he straightened up and turned toward the stairs, Maddy fled to the safety of the alcove, where she remained until he walked by, blissfully unaware of her presence.

She knew exactly what he had in mind, because of the countless times he used to give her the “come-on” from the foot of that very stage — and hadn’t she always answered his call by making straight for his office after finishing her set? The minute she was in the door he would draw the blinds and they would make love.

She recalled these times with a surge of pleasure, because she had believed in him, believed every lie he uttered. But now, after learning the truth, these times would be shut out of her mind forever. They meant nothing to her now, just as they had meant nothing to him then.

As she made her way to his office, the rage she had felt dissipated, meeting under a rush of fear. What would he do when he saw her? How would he try and explain himself away? Or would he throw her out as before… treating her with the contempt she now knew he felt for her?

As she approached the office door, her fears deepened and for a moment she hesitated. She could see him closing the blinds in anticipation of his new woman’s arrival. She heard the telephone and watched as he answered it, and all the time he remained unaware that she was just outside.

He seemed agitated by the conversation. Pacing up and down beside the desk, he was threatening the person at the other end of the line. “You heard what I said, and let that be an end to it. Now, I suggest you make other arrangements. In fact, from where I’m standing, you don’t have any alternative!” With that he slammed the phone back into its cradle, at the same time thumping his other fist against the desk. “Bastards! If they think they can get the better of me, they’d best think again!”

It was then she made her move. As she flung the door wide open, he glanced up, astonished to see her there. “What the devil do
you
want?” Crudely staring her up and down, he laughed out loud. “All glammed up and nowhere to go, eh?”

Closing the door behind her, she boldly approached him, determination etched in the set of her features. “I want to know why you took on another singer.”

“Because I’m done with you, isn’t that reason enough?” His spite was cutting. “I needed a new face, a younger woman who would know better than to come crying to me, after she’s been knocked up by some other bloke who’s cleared off and left her in the lurch.”

“I was never with any other bloke, and you know it.” It was time to speak her mind and to hell with it. “It’s
your
child, Steve. The reason you won’t admit to it, is because it might hamper your precious lifestyle with a woman and child in tow.”

“You’ve said enough. Now get out!” Taking a step toward her, he gestured to the door. “You’re a dirty little tart, and everyone will know it soon enough. And even if this…
thing
…” repulsed, he prodded her in the stomach, “even if it is mine, which it most definitely is not, you and I both know I would never admit to it.”

“Tell me why not.” Hurt and angry, she stood up to him. “I need an explanation. You owe me that much.”