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

age Margot, George, Betsy and Artie inched their way from one paving slab to the next behind jugglers, comics, belly dancers and other singers and dancers. After three hours they entered the theatre through the stage door. After another hour they were invited to sit on wooden benches in a backstage corridor.

Betsy wriggled, transferring her weight from side to side on the bench. ‘My bum’s sore. I never dreamt there’d be this many people trying to get an audition.’

‘Me neither,’ George agreed. ‘But it shouldn’t be long now, Bets.’

It was twenty-five minutes past six when a smartly dressed woman appeared from a door marked Private. ‘Mr Dean will see one more act today.’ She looked around. ‘Miss Derby-Bloom?’

‘I’m Derby-Bloom.’ George jumped up, beckoning the others.

‘That’s it for today,’ the woman said, turning to the disgruntled queue. ‘Interviews will resume tomorrow at nine o’clock. The doors will open at eight.’ Without waiting for a reply the woman turned, opened the door to Basil Dean’s office and stood to the side.

Margot followed George into Dean’s office with Betsy behind her and Artie bringing up the rear. Basil Dean, sucking on a pipe, sat behind a large desk. As he lifted his head to acknowledge them the telephone began to ring.

‘I’ll take it, Mr Dean,’ his secretary said, leaving the office.

Basil Dean nodded, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. He was older than Margot thought he’d be. Or perhaps it was that he had a receding hairline. He wore a dark blue pinstripe suit and waistcoat over a white shirt and blue tie. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and loosened the tie. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, picking up something Margot thought could be their letter of introduction. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, directing the question at Artie.

It was George who replied. ‘We are part of the Prince Albert Theatre company. I’m sure you know the theatre was damaged some months ago and is being repaired. Anton Goldman had hoped to be up and running before Christmas. Unfortunately the work has been delayed, which has put the opening back until March or April of next year. So we would like to offer ENSA our services until the Prince Albert re-opens.’

‘We can provide our own costumes and props,’ Betsy said.

‘And we have Anton Goldman’s support,’ Margot added.

Basil Dean picked up the letter again. ‘Yes, Anton has been in touch. So has your father, Miss Derby-Bloom. He has made a substantial contribution to-- Most unusual, but I’m in no position to turn down such a generous offer. I wish we had more sponsors like him,’ he said. ‘Be in costume and ready to show me what you can do at three o’clock tomorrow.’

As if on cue, the door opened and Dean’s secretary appeared. ‘Thank you,’ George said. But by then Basil Dean had his head down and was busy writing.

The theatre was buzzing with artists, both professional and amateur. Illusionists, jugglers, singers, dancers, comedians – it seemed everyone who had ever trod the boards was there. And the worst of it was, after each act had performed they went into the audience and watched the other acts.

When the Albert Sisters were called, Artie entered the stage first in top hat and tails. Walking over to the piano, he took a bow. He flicked the tails on his evening jacket and flexed his fingers several times. Everyone laughed when, instead of sitting down to play, he stood to attention. Then he shouted as loud as any sergeant-major: ‘Please give a big welcome to the Prince Albert Theatre’s conscripts, Misses WAAFY, WAACY and WREN.’

Margot marched in first dressed in a short WAAF costume and high heels, followed by Betsy and George in army and navy costumes.

‘Halt!’ Artie called, when they were level with him. Artie was the smallest of the Alberts so, leaning backwards as if it was an effort to look up at them, as well as accentuate the difference in their height, he shouted, ‘About turn!’ and the girls turned and faced the audience. ‘At ease!’

As Artie played the opening bars to “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B” the girls began to swing their hips. The song went well. Just before the end, Margot stepped forward and sang, ‘In the army now!’ George barked ‘In the navy now!’ and Betsy followed with ‘RAF!’

When they had performed their three songs Artie stood up and shouted, ‘Atteeeeeeeeention!’ and the girls stood to attention. ‘About turn!’ They turned so their backs were to the audience. ‘And… Left, right. Left, right.’ Marching off, the girls looked over their right shoulders, saluted, and held the pose until they were in the wings. A second later Artie took his bow and marched off behind them.

Back stage the three women danced round Artie. Betsy shushed them. ‘Listen! They’re clapping.’ She looked round the flats separating the stage area from the wings. Then, turning back, she said, ‘Basil Dean’s nodding and writing something in his note book.’ She looked again. ‘Now he’s saying something to the bloke sitting next to him. Oh my God,’ she said, ‘it’s Tommy Trinder! And he’s smiling. They’re both smiling.’

‘I think the big man like us,’ Artie said, mimicking Basil Dean. The girls huddled round him, hugging and kissing him – and purposely leaving red lipstick kisses on his cheeks.

‘Where have you been, Margot?’

‘The telephone box,’ she said, going to the oven and taking out a small joint of brisket. Holding the roasting tray with an oven cloth, Margot carefully placed it in front of Bill before passing him the carving knife and fork. ‘I phoned George to see if she’d heard anything. She hadn’t, so I telephoned Basil Dean’s office.’

Bill carved the joint, putting a couple of slices onto Margot’s plate before putting the same onto his own. ‘And?’

Margot shook her