Vintage Love (264 page)
Clarissa Ross
Avon, Massachusetts
Chapter One
It was an evening in April, 1920, in Lynn, Massachusetts, and the Nolans were having a party.
Not that this was anything out of the ordinary. The big, noisy Nolan family were always throwing parties. But this late Saturday night was a very special celebration, in honor of the third youngest son of the family of twelve, who had just finished playing a week in the vaudeville show being offered at the local motion picture emporium, the Orpheum. All the Nolans were there along with many of their friends. Marty Nolan, the star of the event, a gangling red-haired youth with a freckled face and winning smile, danced and mugged his way about the lower rooms of the modest frame house in which his family lived.
For one of his guests, pretty, black-haired Anita O’Hara, eldest daughter of butcher Ned O’Hara and his wife, Mollie, who lived next door, it was the most exciting evening of her life. For Anita was hopelessly, foolishly in love with Marty Nolan.
From the time she was eleven or twelve she had spent endless hours in movie houses and vaudeville theatres. Despite her father’s growled warnings that all actors were little better than tramps, she was enthralled by the images of Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Valentino and too many others to enumerate. The vaudeville stage shows accompanying the movies seemed just as magical to her. The tackiest of staging, the shabbiest costumes and the second-rate talents of the weekly parade of vaudevillians who appeared at the local theatre, were all transformed into glowing, glamorous mystery in her eyes.
Dan Nolan, Marty’s proud father, was a member of the Lynn Fire Department. He was a huge man with a lilting tenor voice of which he was proud. His wife, overweight and jolly Rosie, played the piano with great gusto entirely by ear. And if the ancient upright rescued from some long-ago restaurant at a bargain price was a little out of tune, no one noticed it as Dan Nolan sang and his son, Marty, the star of the evening, did a soft shoe.
The place was filled with Irish faces and Irish laughter. There were a few “foreigners” in the group — like Louis Grimaldi, the Italian boy from down the street who had been Marty’s friend since early school days. Louis now had an uncle in Revere who was making excellent gin for the Prohibition trade, and it was he who had supplied the alcoholic refreshments for the affair.
As the dancing and singing went on, Louis came up to Anita with a glow of sheer happiness on his olive-skinned, pleasant face and said, “What do you think of Marty now?”
Admiration gleamed in Anita’s lovely green eyes as she told the young man, “I think he’s wonderful!”
“So’s your old man!” Louis teased her in the latest slang.
“No, I really mean it!” she enthused. “Every minute I could get away from the restaurant this week I’ve been at the theatre watching him! He’s the best on the bill! And one of the most popular acts we’ve had here in weeks!”
Louis said, “Well, he’s a local. And then he’s Marty! I always did like the kid!”
“Kid!” she exclaimed in reproach. “He’s at least as old as you! He has to be twenty-two! He’s four years older than me!”
Louis enjoyed teasing her. “So now I know your age! You’re sweet eighteen and never been kissed!”
She blushed. “You know that’s not true! You’ve kissed me yourself!”
“And I’d like to kiss you more, in a lot of different places,” he said with a knowing smile.
Anita turned away from him quickly. Louis had the reputation of being fast with the girls in the neighborhood. They all agreed that anybody who went out with him had to be careful. She wanted none of that. She was saving herself for someone like Marty, and for a stage career for herself. Working as a waitress at O’Reilly’s was only temporary. She had no intention of remaining there. When she had enough money saved she was taking a train to New York and then straight to Hollywood.
Dan Nolan was now leading a sing-along of “Rosie O’Grady” and his boozy friends were joining in with drunken sentimentality. Marty stopped dancing and talked and shook hands with some friends. Then he headed straight for Anita, a purposeful look in his blue eyes.
He came up close and taking her hand in his said, “Let’s go out to the back hall!”
The dark back hall was the only place not filled with guests. Marty embraced her hungrily and she thrilled to his multitude of kisses. She begged laughingly, “Let me breathe!”
Marty, still holding her, looked down into her face and smiled. “I’m leaving after midnight on the night train,” he said. “I open in upper New York State on Monday.”
“You’re so wonderful, Marty,” she whispered huskily. “I just know you’re going to be a great star!”
“Sure I am,” he replied with Irish bravado. “I’ve got weeks of work ahead. And one of these days I’m going to join my pal, Billy Bowers, in Hollywood!”
She gasped at the name of the two-reel comedy star who had gained widespread fame as a bashful, awkward young man always struggling to win the lady of his choice. She said, “You actually
know
Billy Bowers?”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “We played vaudeville together. But he’s had all the lucky breaks.”
“You’ll be as big a star as he is, I know! I’ve been to the theatre almost every performance this week.”
“The owner told me,” Marty said. “And I told him it was because you had good taste!”
“Oh, Marty, I do love you so!”
“You mean it, kid?”
“You know I do,” she said.
“Then come away with me tonight,” the red-haired youth said as in the other room his father switched to singing, “It’s a long way to Tipperary,” and the gang in the front of the house raucously joined in.
She at once felt a thrill of excitement along with some apprehension. “I couldn’t! What would my folks say?”
“That you were lucky to catch yourself a star!”
“My father hates actors! He calls them bums!” she worried.
“He better not let me hear him say that. I’ll show him who’s a bum!” Marty said with some anger.
“He doesn’t really mean it,” Anita told the young man as he held her close to him. “He’s just afraid I might marry some actor and go away. He knows how I love the movies and the vaudeville shows.”
Marty said, “You want to go on the stage? Marry me and I’ll take you into my act!”
“I’d never be able to,” she protested. “I wouldn’t be any good. I don’t know how to sing or dance well enough!”
“I can show you,” Marty said, and kissed her again. “In fact, I can show you a lot of things!”
She was trembling now, afraid of her own emotions. She truly cared for the red-haired young man and being in his arms had stirred up feelings which she wished she could ignore. Nervously, she asked, “Shouldn’t we go back and join the others?”
Marty’s smile was mocking. “They’ve never even noticed we’re not there. Listen to Dad murdering ‘I’m Just Wild About Harry!’ They’ll be singing that for the next ten minutes or so. When they get a favorite number they keep going over it!”
“Please, Marty, someone might come here and find us like this!”
“Is it a crime to hug and kiss? If so, I ought to be put in jail, kiddo!” And he laughed.
“Let me know where I can write you,” she said.
“Come with me and you won’t have to write,” he told her.
“I couldn’t! They’d never forgive me!”
“Listen, forget about them. Think about us! I love you, Nita. You’re the only girl I’d ever ask to marry me. I get the others without any strings.”
She was trembling and in a troubled voice, she asked, “But Marty, are you sure you truly love me?”
Marty’s blue eyes were fixed on her in a most peculiar way. His voice suddenly became low and taut and he said, “I’ll prove it to you!” And he took her by the hand and started to lead her up the dark back stairway.
She pulled back. “We can’t go up there!”
“Don’t be a ninny!” he said, almost harshly as he literally dragged her up the steep back stairs to the upper floor of the house where the bedrooms were. He halted before a door, opened it and then manipulated her inside. “This is Jenny’s room,” he said. “She won’t be up here and she wouldn’t snitch on us anyway!”
Anita stared at him in the near darkness, bewildered. “Marty, what is it? Why did you bring me up here?”
He took her firmly by the arms and pushed her back onto the bed and whispered, “You asked me to prove that I love you! I’m going to do it!”
And to her added shock he lifted up her skirt and pulled at her scanty underthings. He unbuttoned his trousers and within a matter of a few seconds she felt the pain of his hard sexual organ penetrating her. She gave a tiny whimper of pain and would have cried out had not he placed a hand over her mouth and told her to be silent. Anita had barely gotten over the first discomfort when Marty’s probing came to a throbbing end.
Now the enormity of what had passed betwen them in that tiny cubicle of a dark room struck her. She began to sob and said, “I’ve always been decent!”
Marty was buttoning himself up. “You’re decent now!” he told her.
“No!” she wailed. “I’ve disgraced myself and I’ve disgraced my family!”
“Holy Mother!” Marty cried, placing his hand over her mouth again. “Not so loud! Next thing you’ll be asking me to bring Father Pat up here for a special confession!”
“I couldn’t tell Father Pat,” she wailed. “I can’t tell anyone!”
“Listen,” he said earnestly, bending over her, “You’ve not a thing to cry about! I told you we’d be married, didn’t I? All you’ve got to do is come away with me tonight.”
She considered it and knew that now she had no alternative. If she refused to marry him she might find herself alone with a baby in Lynn in nine months! And she knew what her father would have to say about that! Her mother as well!
In a panic, she said, “Where will I meet you?”
“I’ll wait for you out back of your place. I’ll go to the station first and get our tickets and check my baggage. Then I’ll come back for you and your bag. Don’t bring more than one!”
“I only have one,” she said sorrowfully. “And I haven’t enough good clothes to fill that. Can I bring my doll with me?”
“Your
doll
?” Marty said incredulously. “What kind of a bride am I getting?”
“It’s my good luck charm,” she told him. “My grandfather gave it to me. It always brings me luck!”
“Okay!” Marty said with disdain. “So bring it along! And do you have any money?”
She nodded. “Almost forty dollars. I’ve been keeping it under my mattress. To take me to Hollywood one day.”
“Bring the money with you,” he said, rising. “We may need it — it costs money to be married. And I’ll take you to Hollywood!”
“All right, Marty,” she said, halting her tears and beginning to shamefacedly arrange her clothes. As she covered her nudity it occurred to her she was probably the only girl who had ever lost her virtue to the rousing melody of “Barney Google,” which Dan Nolan was roaring out in the room below them.
“We’d better get back to the party,” Marty said smoothing back his hair. “I’ve got some drinking to finish.” His urge to return to the party was in direct contrast to his lack of interest in it before.
“I hope I look all right,” she worried as she stood up fumbling with her skirt.
“No one will know,” he promised her. “There’s no special look on you after a little tumble in the hay. The girls in the shows often do a trick and then go straight onstage singing and dancing and no one ever guesses.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “My face feels red still!”
“It wasn’t your face that was involved,” Marty jeered at her. “Let’s get going.”
“When do we meet?” she wanted to know.
“One-thirty,” he told her. “The train leaves at two. And be sure you get out of the house without anyone hearing you.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “I can’t believe we’re going to run off together and get married!”
“That’s life, kid,” Marty told her somewhat impatiently. “You just happen to be a lucky girl.”
They went back down to the riotous party and it was true that no one seemed to have noticed they’d been away. But when Marty’s sister, Jenny, smiled at her, Anita turned beet red at the thought of the way they’d rumpled her bed.
The singing went on and by enthusiastic request Marty did another tap dance. After that he amazed her by the amount of gin he downed within a short time. She hoped that he wouldn’t get so drunk that he’d forget all about meeting her. The singing went on with Dan Nolan and Molly doing a duet of “Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Shean,” which was very well received.
“Where were you and Marty?” It was the Italian youth, Louis back again, smiling at her in a wise fashion.
“Nowhere!” she stammered.
“I’ll bet you had lots of fun there,” Louis teased her. “Your dress is all wrinkled in the back.
