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

‘Am I allowed to wear these?’ Margot asked. ‘Isn’t it against the law to wear military badges if you’re not in the services?’

‘Might be if they were the real thing, but these aren’t,’ George said. ‘These are smaller – and they’re silver.’

Artie poured himself and Tommy a glass of bourbon. ‘Who have I got to thank for this, Tommy?’

‘No idea. A young GI gave me the bag when I was signing autographs. Said he’d enjoyed the show and would never forget us.’

Margot looked at George and Betsy. They knew it was First Lieutenant Boyd Murphy who had sent the gifts, but they said nothing. Margot had been friends with Murphy, nothing more, but it didn’t stop her from feeling guilty as she pinned the silver wings onto her jacket.

It had been sad saying goodbye to Tommy, but the Sisters were happy to be back in London and were looking forward to the grand reopening of the Prince Albert Theatre. While the finishing touches were being made to the theatre, Margot, George and Betsy spent their days at Margot’s apartment running lines and learning songs. Artie, having had a taste of show business, had no intention of going back to his old job as a night watchman and turned up after a couple of days with his accordion.

One Wednesday morning at the beginning of March Margot was woken by a furious hammering on the outside door. ‘All right, I’m coming,’ she shouted, dragging on her dressing gown and running down the stairs. It was George. ‘Hello. I didn’t think we were working today. Where’s Betsy?’

‘She’s been called up,’ George said, beads of perspiration on her forehead and out of breath from running. ‘She received a letter this morning telling her to go for a medical.’

‘Damn! Just when things were going so well! Come in, love,’ Margot said, leading the way to the apartment. ‘Sit down while I get dressed.’ A few minutes later, wearing slacks and a button-through cardigan, Margot joined George on the settee.

‘What if she’s sent overseas, to the front line?’ George burst into tears. ‘I couldn’t bear it, Margot. I don’t know what I’d do if she was…. I couldn’t live without her.’

Margot put her arms around her friend. ‘I didn’t realise you felt that way about Betsy. Does she know?’

‘No! And she must never find out. She’d be mortified if she knew I … had feelings for her.’ George pulled away and, looking terrified, said, ‘You won’t tell her, will you? Promise you won’t, Margot.’

‘Of course not. Not if you don’t want me to. But I think you should.’

‘No! Never! I would lose her. Swear you’ll never say anything.’

‘I swear.’ Margot smiled at her friend. ‘I’ll make a cup of tea and we’ll decide what we’re going to do.’

‘If there is anything we can do.’ George put her head in her hands.

‘We’ll think of something. Come on,’ Margot said, ‘chin up. She hasn’t been accepted yet. It’s silly worrying till we know. Besides, she’s a member of ENSA. That’s it! Betsy’s still in ENSA. She’s already working for the war effort – so are we. Surely they won’t ask her to leave the work she’s already doing.’ Margot made tea and took it into the sitting room. George was at last dry-eyed. ‘Drink this.’ Margot handed George a cup. ‘Did she say where she was going?’

‘Seven Dials.’

Margot smiled. ‘It won’t take us long to get there from here. And when we find her we’ll take her to the club for a drink.’

‘Drown our sorrows?’

‘No,’ Margot said, ‘celebrate that the conscription office has made a mistake.’

The queue along Monmouth Street was a mile long. It reminded Margot of the day they auditioned for ENSA except everyone waiting to go into the Drury Lane theatre looked hopeful. Some of these women looked scared to death. Betsy was nowhere to be seen.

‘Are you sure she said twelve?’

‘Positive.’ George looked at her watch. ‘She’s either already in there, or she’s late.’

‘We’ll hang on until a few more come out and if she isn’t among them, we’ll go back to the beginning and start again.’

As four women came out of the recruitment office, four went in. ‘This is hopeless!’ George turned and marched back the way they’d come.

Margot ran and caught her up. ‘Stop!’ she shouted, pulling on George’s arm. ‘Look! She’s over there.’

‘Where?’

Margot pointed to a low wall on the opposite side of the street, surrounding the paved garden of an official-looking building. Betsy was sitting on the wall, frowning.

‘Betsy!’ they called in unison. Running over to her friend, George flung her arms around her. ‘Bets, I’m sorry.’

‘Me too,’ Margot said.

‘Anyone would think I’d been accepted.’

‘What?’ George looked worried, while Margot jumped with joy. ‘You mean they’ve turned you down? Why? Are you ill?’

‘Yes. No! Not ill, but I had scarlet fever as a child. They said I wasn’t fit for duty. So it’s back to Every Night Something Aaaaaabsolutely wonderful.’

Relieved, the three friends danced along Monmouth Street arm in arm, singing “Sailors Three” from Tommy Trinder’s film.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Margot inhaled deeply before opening the stage door. Taking a tentative step, she looked around at what should have been a familiar place. It didn’t look or feel familiar. Cards and telegrams were piled up on the post table in the usual way, but the table was round, not square. Margot didn’t like it. Nor did she like the regulation green coloured paint on the door to Bert’s office, or the frosted glass in the window. ‘Bert’s office,’ she said. ‘That’s Bert’s office,’ she told a man who had suddenly appeared at the window. ‘Bert’s window and Bert’s office,’ she said, nodding frantically, willing the man to nod that he agreed, but he didn’t. Instead he stepped