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

get mud on my clean lino when you come home. And don’t forget to bring my wellies back,’ she said, sliding her feet into her old slippers before disappearing down the hall to the living room.

‘Thanks, Mam.’ Margot took off her shoes and put on her mother’s wellingtons. They were cold and caked in mud – and so were the centre pages of the Lowarth Advertiser.

Trudging along behind her father in footwear that was too big for her, holding her shoes by their heels in one hand and her handbag in the other, Margot wondered which was worse for her ankle – wellingtons that were two sizes too big, or shoes with heels. Not much in it, she decided.

‘You’re quiet,’ her father said, when she caught up with him.

‘I was thinking.’

‘About the letter you were reading earlier?’

Margot laughed. ‘No flies on you, Dad. Yes, it was from my friend George Derby-Bloom. She and my friend Betsy Evans are going to try to get into ENSA.’ Margot paused to pluck up the courage to tell her father that they wanted her to go with them. They walked on for a few minutes without speaking. Then Margot laughed. ‘George wants me to join them. Betsy said we should call ourselves the Albert Sisters, after the theatre. We’d be touring air force and army bases, singing songs mostly, to cheer the lads up. We’d probably do the odd comedy sketch…’ She realised she was rambling and stopped talking. ‘Dad?’ She put out her hand and caught her father’s arm. He stopped walking. ‘Tell me what you think?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Margot. What matters is whether you are ready to go back.’

‘I think I am. I hope I am.’

‘Thinking and hoping doesn’t make it so, love.’

Margot looked up at her father. ‘Is that right?’

They both laughed. ‘Well in your case, it probably does. You’re a headstrong girl, Margot Dudley. All you girls are.’

They walked on for a few minutes, and then her father said. ‘Is it what you want, Margot? To go back to the theatre?’

‘Yes it is. I’m just not sure I can do it any more. I suppose if I spend some time with the girls, working with ENSA, I’ll find out.’

‘What does Bill think?’

Margot didn’t answer until she felt her father’s step begin to slow. ‘He doesn’t know. I’m due to ring him tomorrow. I’ll tell him then. I don’t suppose he’ll like it. He’ll think it’s too soon, like you do.’ Her father gave her a sidewise glance and tilted his head, as if to say he didn’t know whether or not it was too soon. ‘But I’m better. I’m eating well, sleeping through the night, and I haven’t had a nightmare for weeks. My only worry is whether I can still do it.’

‘Why don’t you ask your friends to come up here? You could put on a show for the lads at the Hall, as a practice for ENSA, and then you’ll know.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea, Dad. You clever old stick,’ Margot said, tugging on her father’s arm. When he turned she kissed him. ‘I’ll telephone George in the morning and invite them up. And if all goes well, I’ll go back to London with them.’

‘You’d better telephone your husband first and tell him your plans,’ her father said, shaking his head.

Bill felt so strongly that it was too soon for Margot to go back to work that despite his crippling workload he asked for leave. His boss, aware that Margot had been hospitalised after being injured in a bombing raid, granted him twenty-fours. He left for Foxden immediately.

When she heard Bill’s motorbike, Margot ran out to meet him. ‘Hello, you’ve made good time,’ she said, throwing her arms around him.

Leading him to the door, Margot shouted, ‘Bill’s here! Mam and Dad are dying to see you. Mam’s put some food up, so I hope you’re hungry. Dad’ll be back soon. You can stay till he gets home? He’d be sorry if he missed you.’ Margot took Bill’s jacket and hung it up. ‘I’ve got lots to tell you,’ she said, ‘but come into the living room and have something to eat first.’

‘Margot, stop! We need to discuss this ENSA thing,’ Bill said, closing the front door. ‘Stop trying to bamboozle me with lots of chatter.’

Margot bit her bottom lip. ‘Sorry, it’s just that this is important to me.’

‘It always is!’ he said.

Margot’s mother opened the living room door. ‘Come in, lad, it’s draughty out there. You must be starving,’ she said. ‘Margaret, get Bill’s plate from the larder.’ Margot did as she was told, relieved that, for the time being at least, the discussion about ENSA had been postponed.

‘You’re not strong enough, Margot. Look at you. You need to put some weight on before you even think about going back to the stage. And sleep? Are you sleeping?’

‘Yes. And I haven’t had a nightmare for months.’

‘You haven’t been here for months, Margot.’

‘Weeks then!’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I’m better, Bill, physically and mentally, really I am. I’ve enjoyed it up here, but I want to come home. I want to be with you,’ she pouted.

‘You won’t be with me if you’re touring aerodromes and army camps with ENSA.’

Margot plonked herself down on the settee and, with a face like thunder, glared into the fire.

Bill sat next to her. ‘So,’ he said with a sigh, ‘what’s the plan?’

‘We’re going to see Basil Dean. See if we can support some of the acts,’ she said without emotion. ‘We don’t want to steal anyone’s thunder; we just want to keep our hand in until the theatre reopens. Please say you understand, Bill?’ she pleaded.

Bill shook his head. ‘You’ll do what you want, Margot, you always do. I’m going for a walk to clear my head.’