Applause (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 2) by Madalyn Morgan (best authors to read txt) 📕

At that moment George and Betsy stood up and began to applaud her.

Margaret’s mouth fell open. ‘What are you doing, George? Sit down, Betsy!’

Nancy leaned forward and whispered in Margaret’s ear, ‘If you won’t sing for them, will you sing for me?’

George and Betsy pulled Margaret to her feet and pushed her forward. ‘All right, I will,’ she said, looking over her shoulder at Nancy. Everyone was clapping as she walked across the dance floor. She felt so small, and the floor seemed so big.

As she approached the stage the bandleader put out his hand. Margaret took it and, like a real starlet, stepped up with her head held high. ‘What’s your name?’ he whispered.

She opened her mouth to answer, but her mind went into a spin. When she was a child she’d learned monologues and songs and dances, which she performed to her long-suffering family. She’d called herself all manner of names, mostly those of famous actresses that she’d seen in films at Lowarth Picture House. Sometimes she was Myrna Dudley, or Greta Dudley. A favourite was Mae, another Marlene, but mostly she called herself Margot, a shortened version of Margaret. ‘Margot Dudley.’ The bandleader whispered into her ear again. She replied, ‘“They Can’t Take This…” I mean, “That… Away From Me”.’

The bandleader instructed the band and Margaret moved nearer to the microphone. Hardly able to contain the excitement she felt, she looked out into the audience, and they began to applaud. She hadn’t even started to sing and they were clapping. She was so excited she wanted to clap too. She found Nancy’s smiling face in the darkness. She was clapping enthusiastically. Margaret took a breath to calm her nerves and smiled back. Then she turned to the bandleader, her heart beating so loudly in her chest she thought the microphone would pick up the rhythm, and she nodded. The band began to play; she began to sing.

When the song came to an end, the bandleader joined her. ‘Miss Margot Dudley, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. And while he and the audience clapped, Margaret took a bow.

‘Thank you, Miss Dudley.’ The bandleader proffered his arm and Margaret, beaming, took it and allowed him to help her from the small stage. Once on the dance floor the bandleader bowed, and then stepped back onto the stage.

Margaret looked around. The band had begun to play, but people were still applauding her. She tried to smile, but the muscles in her face were paralysed. She peered into the darkness and saw Salvatore walking towards her. She put out a shaking hand. ‘Salvatore, thank goodness,’ she said, resting her hand on his arm. ‘I feel all wobbly. My legs are like jelly.’

Salvatore laughed. ‘You were wonderful, Margaret. Listen to the applause. They love you.’

‘Do they? Was I? I don’t remember,’ she said shakily.

‘Hold tight, Margaret,’ Salvatore said. ‘Or should I call you Margot?’

As she turned to answer him someone shouted, ‘Lovely song, Margot.’ Someone else called, ‘Nice to see you, Miss Dudley.’ And a third, ‘Hope we see you again, Margot.’

‘Margot!’ she said, smiling up at Salvatore. ‘Call me Margot!’

As she arrived at the table the girls stood up, lifted their glasses, and shouted, ‘To Margot!’

Margot dropped into her chair and George poured her a glass of wine. ‘I don’t how I dared do that,’ she said, taking a sip.

‘You were a hit, Margot,’ Salvatore said. ‘Would you like to do a spot every Thursday night around this time?’

Margot didn’t reply, but stood open-mouthed.

‘A couple of numbers for… shall we say, £10?’

Wondering whether the jumble of words in the back of her throat would ever find their way into her mouth, Margot nodded.

‘She’d love to,’ Betsy and George said together.

‘Yes!’ Margot gasped finally. ‘This could be my big break!’ she squealed. ‘Oh my God!’ She looked at Nancy. ‘I’ve completely forgotten about Bill. What on earth is he going to say?’

‘He’ll be proud of you,’ Nancy said, and everyone agreed. Margot wasn’t so sure.

‘More importantly,’ Betsy said, ‘how are you going to get out of the theatre?’

‘Oh! I hadn’t thought… I-- I can’t, can I?’

George nudged Betsy, and then tapped Margot on her arm. ‘We’ll think of something,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll get Salvatore to arrange for your spot to be in our second act. That’ll give you plenty of time to get here, do two songs, and get back to the theatre before the curtain comes down. Easy!’

‘Easy?’ Margot screwed up her face. ‘I don’t think it’ll be easy, but I’ll do it!’

Margot walked the route from the Prince Albert Theatre to the Prince Albert Club a dozen times – and the longest it took was ten minutes. She reasoned that it would take five minutes to get out of the theatre, ten to get to the club, five to change into an evening dress, five hanging about, and ten to do the two songs. Then ten minutes to walk back to the theatre, and five to change back into her usherette uniform. A total of fifty minutes. It was tight, but she was determined to do it.

On the first Thursday night, as the curtain rose for the second act, Margot checked her section of the audience. Every seat was taken. Before the stage lights came up, she side-stepped behind the curtains at the exit and, in one movement, slipped through the door. She nipped to the staffroom and picked up a large bag containing her handbag, gasmask, dress and shoes. Seconds later she was through the pass-door leading from front of house to the backstage area and walking unseen along the passage behind the stage. So far, so good.

The door to the stage door area stood ajar. Margot peered through it. Bert was in