The Windmill Girls

‘When I was doing me audition I was too nervous to have a good look beyond the footlights.’ Rosie was standing in an aisle close to the stage. Pivoting on one heel she gazed at the rows of seats fanning out in front of her.

‘All good things come in small packages,’ Dawn said proudly, tweaking the heavy tasselled curtain pooling on the stage.

‘Blimey! Didn’t see that when I was up there earlier!’ Rosie was pointing down into the small orchestra pit. ‘Better watch me step or I might end up crashing down the hole,’ she giggled, taking another careful peep. ‘That ain’t very big either, is it?’

‘The building used to be a cinema, till it closed and Mrs Henderson bought it and turned it into a theatre.’

‘Good for her …’ Rosie said.

‘Anyway it might only have about three hundred and twenty seats but we could fill twice that amount. Most nights we’ve got queues of servicemen stretching round the corner. Our revues are the original and best, you see.’

‘The Piccadilly and Pavilion are catching up fast with their nude shows.’ Marlene was sashaying into the auditorium, newly lit cigarette glowing between her fingers.

‘They’re imitating us; we’re the original and best,’ Dawn repeated immediately. She felt a good deal of loyalty to the Windmill. ‘Have you worked as a nude at either of those places, Marlene?’

Marlene gave a lazy nod. She’d told Phyllis at the audition that she was experienced in working in the nude … which was true, but not in the way Phyllis might have hoped. In fact Marlene had only ever been a cigarette girl at the Piccadilly although she’d had jobs at several other nightspots. But lies and exaggeration came easy to Marlene.

‘I’ve never taken me clothes off for strangers before.’ Rosie gave a shy grimace.

‘Always best to get to know him first, Rosie …’ Marlene mocked.

‘It ain’t funny!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘If the pay weren’t so good, I wouldn’t do it.’

Marlene cocked her head, blowing smoke, and giving Rosie the once over. Suddenly she pointed her cigarette at Rosie. ‘You’re a good looker … and young. How old are you?’

‘Eighteen …’ Rosie mumbled.

‘Girl like you should wise up, and make all that work for her.’

‘You sound as though you’ve been a few places,’ Rosie said, half in awe of her fellow new recruit.

‘Me?’ Marlene tilted her head and took a long lazy drag on her Sobranie. ‘I’ve done it all and regretted none of it …’ she drawled, ending her boast on a dirty chuckle.

Dawn stepped forward; she’d heard enough from Marlene. There was something hard and brash about the woman that was already putting her back up. And she’d only known her about an hour! ‘Come on,’ she urged Rosie. ‘I’ll show you the roof terrace. We go up there to cool off … or sunbathe, depending how we feel, when we’ve got some spare time. There’s an outside staircase too goes down the building. We have fire drills …’

By the time the trio had finished looking around and had got back to the dressing room it was time for the showgirls to start getting into costume.

‘Reckon I’ll need a nip of gin to get me out there first time,’ Rosie said while watching the dancers applying their make-up.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Dawn said, using a sponge to put on grease paint.

‘Well, look what I’ve got … handy, eh?’ Marlene gave Rosie a nudge in the ribs as she took a small flask from her bag. She gave her pretty young colleague a wink, dropping the gin back whence it came.

Dawn had seen that in the mirror while outlining her large green eyes with kohl; again she sensed she wasn’t going to get on with Marlene Brown …

CHAPTER FIVE (#uc64c4289-e7d3-561b-b450-7ba6caccba8f)

‘I ain’t going to cause problems, so stop bleedin’ nagging.’ Rufus Grimes turned his attention back to the sports section of the News of the World.

Gertie began bouncing the pram up and down to hush Harry who’d started to whimper at the sound of raised voices. ‘Well don’t expect me to ask Dawn to keep her gob shut, ’cos I won’t do it.’

‘I ain’t expecting you to do nuthin’!’ Rufus exploded. ‘Ain’t your business, anyhow.’ Exasperated, he picked up the newspaper and hurled it at the wall with a loud oath, making little Harry cry louder. ‘Just play dumb and she’ll do the same. Dawn Nightingale don’t want no trouble … guarantee it.’

Gertie whipped the baby from his pram and began rocking him to and fro against her shoulder while glowering at Rufus’s stubbly profile.

‘Is my business now though, ain’t it?’ Gertie snapped. ‘You should’ve told me that Midge was still about. Why d’you let me think he’d sailed when you knew all along he hadn’t?’

‘’Cos he asked me not to tell you!’ Rufus roared. ‘He knew you’d go on about it, like this, and didn’t want earache off you. Can sympathise with the bloke. You’re driving me nuts. Now fer Gawd’s sake shut up.’

‘You won’t say that when the coppers turn up looking for him, will you?’ Gertie stormed. ‘You’ll scarper and leave me to do the talking.’

Rufus approached his wife, fist raised and shaking. ‘I said shut up about your bleedin’ brother. He’s a pain in the arse at the best of times. Now if you got a gripe with Midge, take it up with him, the bleeder.’

Rufus stalked off and flung himself down in a chair at the table.

Far from not knowing about her husband’s criminal activities, as Dawn had suspected, Gertie Grimes encouraged Rufus to supplement his municipal earnings as a road sweeper with ‘overtime’ worked during bombing raids. So far she’d done quite nicely out of his thieving. She’d received a few bits of quality clothing for herself and the kids, and some household stuff. But he didn’t like to upset Pop, who controlled the gang Rufus was in with. Most of the stolen merchandise went straight to the fences, or to Loot Alley, to be sold and the proceeds were then split between the gang members. Gertie had moaned at Rufus that she deserved a little dip in before the stuff was spirited away, but her husband was charier of Pop than he was of her. That annoyed Gertie because she’d got used to being the person pulling her husband’s strings.

When Rufus had his cut of the proceeds in his pocket, that’s where it stayed. His ‘bunce’, as he called it, was his alone. And Gertie knew where his money went: booze, gambling and prostitutes. There might be a war on, but there was still a thriving market in every sort of vice in London, if you knew where to look.

‘No point sulking over it, Gertie,’ Rufus lilted in a conciliatory way. He never fell out with his wife for too long; she was too useful to him to upset. ‘Tell you what, gel, we’ve got our sights on a tobacconist next ’cos Pop wants a nice briar pipe. See if I can get you a few packs of Players, shall I?’

‘Reckon you can do that, do you?’ Gertie muttered sourly.

Rufus came up behind her, nudging her buttocks with his groin. ‘Do anything for you, gel, you know that …’

Gertie gave a smile, unseen by Rufus. He always came round when he was feeling horny … which was most of the time. She let him open her blouse and slide a hand inside to squeeze her warm breasts.

‘Nip upstairs, shall we?’ Rufus breathed against her cheek. ‘The boys ain’t due in from school for a while. Stick Harry back in his pram; only be five minutes, won’t we …’

‘No fear!’ Gertie pushed him away. ‘I reckon it’s the wrong time of the month for me and I don’t want another kid filling that there …’ she pointed at the pram ‘… before I’ve even turfed Harold out of it and onto his feet.’ She turned to confront Rufus, hands planted on her hips. ‘I’ve got enough kids running round me ankles, Rufus, and I don’t want no more.’

He looked sullen, avoiding her eye. They’d had this conversation before and he always got moody when she mentioned visiting the Marie Stopes clinic. Like most men he thought women who used birth control were sordid, yet he wasn’t prepared to spoil his own pleasure by using a Johnny instead so they could limit the number of mouths they had to feed.

‘Please yourself,’ Rufus muttered, shrugging himself away from her. He began gathering pages of the newspaper scattered on the floor. ‘Probably won’t be able to get you no fags on the sly anyhow when we do the tobacconist.’

Gertie knew his game; it was always the same one – she was nice to him and he was nice to her. She put little Harry back in his pram and sat next to her husband at the table. He had his elbows planted on the open newspaper and his chin cupped in his palms, continuing to ignore her.

Gertie’s fingers crept to undo the buttons of his fly. He was hot and hard … as usual. It didn’t matter what time of the day or night it was, Rufus was ready for action. In a way, Gertie felt quite sorry for him and his affliction.

‘Could do with a lighter as well as some fags,’ she murmured as her fingers started to pump beneath the table. ‘Silver’s nice … if you spot one like that …’

Dawn bobbed to and fro on the station platform looking for a tall figure dressed in smart blue uniform. Suddenly she spotted him, and dodging around a couple strolling in front of her, she broke into a trot.

Bill Sweetman dropped his kit bag, ready to grab Dawn as soon as she was within reach.

‘You look well,’ Dawn said breathlessly, hanging onto her hat as he spun them around. She touched his freshly shaven cheeks.

‘Plenty of bracing air where I’ve been,’ Bill said, swooping to kiss her on the lips.