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

Dave too, until she saw him, or thought she saw him, at Oxford Circus. Her stomach lurched as she approached the station. She had no intention of travelling on an underground train, but she was late for a hairdresser’s appointment in Bond Street and decided to take a short cut through the station. On her way across the ticket hall she bumped into a man, or rather he bumped into her. She turned instinctively to apologise, but he’d gone. She didn’t take any notice at the time but as she was going up the steps at the Oxford Street North exit the same man bumped into her again. ‘Hey!’ she said, turning to confront him. But again he had disappeared, melted into the crowd.

Bending down outside the station, Margot adjusted the strap on her shoe. She looked under the brim of her hat and saw the man pushing his way past people entering the station. There was something familiar about him, but Margot couldn’t put her finger on it. She backed into a doorway and watched him as he looked up and down Oxford Street. After a few seconds he turned to join the sea of people going into the station and she saw his face. It was Nazi Dave. Her heart began to pound and she could hardly breathe, but she forced herself to follow him.

She kept him in sight as they went down the steps and into the ticket hall, but lost him in a crowd of people heading for the moving stairs and the trains. ‘Damn! Gone again!’ Margot looked at the clock above the ticket office. She had missed her hair appointment, so she made her way through the crowd to the Regent Street exit. There he was, at the top of the steps that she was about to mount. She pushed her way out of the station and looked around. She couldn’t see him. She climbed onto the bottom rung of the railings and scanned a crowd of people crossing Regent Street – and there he was. Keeping him in sight, she ran across the road. A lorry screeched to a halt. She put her hand up to say sorry and stepped back onto the pavement. When she looked again, he had gone.

She had almost given up when she saw him looking in a shop window. ‘Got ya!’ She wasn’t going to lose him again so, as soon as the traffic eased, she zigzagged her way south determined to catch up with him.

‘Blast!’ For a second Margot couldn’t see him – but there he was, just a few yards ahead. She watched as he took off his trilby and ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair. She froze, shocked. She was sure this was the man who’d been following her – the man she thought was Nazi Dave – but this man’s hair was light brown; Dave’s was almost black. He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder. Fearing he would see her, Margot ducked into a bus shelter. She lifted her hand so her arm partially covered her face, and pretended to check the timetable. She watched him take a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches from his pocket. He put a cigarette between his lips and struck a match. After lighting it, he inhaled deeply, blew out the flame and flicked the match into the street. Margot was confused. She felt sure the man who had bumped into her in the station was Nazi Dave. If it was, who was she following along Regent Street?

She needed to speak to the man, but he was on the move again. He began to walk quickly. Margot walked faster. ‘Excuse me!’ she shouted. ‘I want to talk to you.’ The man ignored her and carried on walking, but Margot stayed with him. She grabbed hold of his sleeve. ‘Who are you and why have you been following me?’

The man didn’t turn round. He pulled away from her and began to walk away at speed.

Margot ran after him and caught hold of his arm, and he spun round. Her heart was pounding. She looked up at the man’s face and her heart sank. ‘You’re not… I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

The man said nothing. At first he looked angry. Then he bent down until his face was so close to hers she could smell cigarettes on his breath and said, ‘Go away! Now!’

Shaking, Margot stumbled into a nearby café, ordered a cup of tea and sat down. She hadn’t seen Dave, or anyone resembling him for weeks, until today. The last time was at the Prince Albert Club. She shuddered at the memory.

When her tea came she wrapped her hands around the cup and drank absentmindedly. Refreshed, she paid at the counter and left. Buttoning up her coat in the café’s doorway, Margot examined the face of every male that passed. She sighed with relief. She couldn’t see either man. At the end of Regent Street, in Leicester Square and again in Covent Garden, Margot stopped and looked back. She’d taken a roundabout route to get to the theatre, but it was worth it, because she knew she hadn’t been followed.

After the first air raid the safety curtain came down and when the girls had changed into their own clothes, they came back on stage, stood in front of the curtain, and began to sing “Roll Out The Barrel”. In no time the audience were singing and cheering. “There’ll Always Be An England” followed, and then “We’ll Meet Again.” When the second raid began, wave after wave of German planes roared overhead, drowning out the sing-along. As soon as the all clear sounded the audience were shown to the exits and the company went home.

Grateful for the lift, Margot sat in the passenger seat of Anton Goldman’s car while he navigated his way around a huge