The Windmill Girls

‘I’m going to make my way to the exit so I can escape as soon as the all clear sounds.’ Dawn whispered the remark, trying to remain inconspicuous while sliding upwards against the tiles.

‘Don’t think you have to shove off, Dawn, ’cos me old man’s turned up. He won’t mind you sitting with us.’

Dawn gave a fleeting smile, watching the little group getting closer. She realised that, with the press of bodies all around, she’d not manage to get clean away before Rufus joined them so crouched down again with her face lowered into her collar as though she felt very cold.

Rufus swung his smallest son over the seated people, then stepped over too. The other two boys made their own way to their mother’s side. On squatting down by Gertie, Rufus immediately began bickering with his wife because one of the boys had been misbehaving, making him lose concentration while playing Rummy.

Dawn turned further away from the couple, as though to give them privacy, glad Rufus Grimes was too preoccupied to have glanced her way. Now she’d heard his coarse voice there was no doubt he was one of the thieves. But he hadn’t recognised her, and at the first opportunity she’d slip away.

A little stack of novels, belonging to the fellow who’d ogled Gertie, drew Dawn’s lowered eyes. She was tempted to pilfer one, and pretend to read it. She knew, without conceit, that she was pretty and men tended to eye her up. She feared that once Grimes stopped chastising his son he might take more notice of his surroundings, and her …

‘Sit yer arse down, Joey, and stop fidgeting,’ Dawn heard Rufus snap at the eldest boy. Dawn slid a glance at the child, realising he was like his father with his chunky limbs and reddish hair.

Dawn’s heart began pounding beneath her ribs as Gertie’s husband turned his head in her direction. She adjusted her collar, pulling it to her cheeks as though for warmth. Remembering that she had Bill’s letter in her bag, she delved inside for it. Angling it carefully to shield her face she stared sightlessly at it.

‘So you ain’t won any money at cards then?’ Gertie sounded upset.

‘Shut up,’ Grimes rumbled beneath his breath while clumping Joey, who’d continued irritating him. ‘Might as well get going,’ he said testily. ‘Ain’t heard one bomb drop …’

A moment later a short whistle preceded a loud explosion that rocked the ground and sent a cloud of choking dust into the underground.

‘That’ll learn you to keep your mouth shut,’ Gertie chortled, making her eldest son erupt in laughter at his father’s expense.

Grimes shoved Joey in the shoulder for mocking him and in doing so started another row with his wife.

Dawn realised she wouldn’t get a better moment to flee. She stuffed Bill’s letter back in her handbag and keeping her face covered with a hand, as though to sift the filth floating in the air, she got carefully to her feet. She gave Gertie a small smile and a farewell wave.

The peeping Tom rolled over, attempting to get a look up Dawn’s skirt as she stepped over him, making her lose balance.

Grimes put out a hand to steady Dawn and prevent her trampling his kids. ‘’Ere, mind your step, yer clumsy cow …’

‘Oi, she’s me workmate!’ Gertie protested. ‘Watch your language.’

‘Oh … friend of yours, is she now …’ Grimes was peering at Dawn’s face. He drew his head back on his thick neck, cocking it to one side. ‘Is she indeed?’ he muttered softly. ‘Wondered why she looked familiar. Gonna introduce me then, are yer, Gert?’

‘No, I ain’t! And there’s no need to stare at her ’cos she’s pretty,’ his wife hissed resentfully.

‘Going over there by the steps,’ Dawn whispered, twisting her arm free of Grimes’s fingers when he seemed reluctant to let her go. There was a horrible leering mockery in his expression that let her know he remembered where he’d seen her before.

‘So … what’s yer friend’s name then?’ Grimes repeated his question as Dawn negotiated the lounging bodies.

‘’Bye, Dawn …’ Gertie called out. ‘She’s Dawn Nightingale and she’s a dancer at the Windmill Theatre. You shouldn’t have stared at her like that. She’ll think you’re a dirty old man.’

Dawn let out a sigh as she carefully put distance between herself and the Grimes family. Rufus Grimes now knew not only her name, but also where she worked. Dawn rarely swore, but she cussed repeatedly beneath her breath as she made her way towards the exit. She hunkered down close to the steps, ready to make a dash up them the moment the all clear sounded.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Would you show the new girls the ropes, Dawn? I’m in a bit of a rush. The accountant’s turned up and is waiting for me in my office.’

Dawn had been comfortably lounging in a chair, aching feet up on the dressing table, having a crafty smoke. Quickly she stubbed out the cigarette and stood up, tightening the belt on her dressing gown as Phyllis, the manager’s secretary, ushered in two young women then hurried out again.

Dawn had a couple of matinees to do before home time. A short while ago she’d been rehearsing for a new tap routine in shorts and top with her fellow dancers. Her colleagues in the chorus line had sped across the road to the café to snatch a bite to eat before the first show started at half past two.

‘This is a bit poky, ain’t it?’

‘I’ve seen worse in other places.’

‘Suppose it won’t matter in any case; ain’t gonna need a dressing room much if I’m in me birthday suit all the time.’

Dawn thought she recognised that chirpy voice and she tilted her head to see the young blonde standing behind an older brunette.

Rosie Gardiner noticed Dawn then. Her mouth dropped open in surprise before she grinned. ‘Well I never. It’s you, ain’t it! Didn’t know you was a Windmill girl. You got home alright that night after the commotion then?’

‘So did you, I see.’ Dawn looked Rosie up and down. She’d only seen her before in half-light. In the glare of the dressing-room bulbs Rosie’s hair looked artificially blonde. But she had pretty dimpled cheeks and a snub nose dusted with freckles that made her look impish rather than vampish. ‘Didn’t know you were in theatre work too,’ Dawn remarked.

‘Didn’t get much time for chitchat, last time we met, did we?’ Rosie widened her eyes in emphasis. ‘Anyhow, I ain’t in showbiz … I was a shop girl but I need better pay, so thought I’d give this a go.’

‘So, you’ve been a showgirl at other theatres, have you?’ Dawn turned her attention to the brunette, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Dawn Nightingale, by the way.’

‘I’ve worked at a few other places in my time. My name’s Marlene … Marlene Brown.’ Marlene shook Dawn’s hand. ‘So you two already know one another then?’

Rosie nodded. ‘Lucky, weren’t we, that night?’ she said to Dawn.

Dawn hoped Rosie wouldn’t mention the incident. She reckoned the fewer people who knew about that the better. ‘We sheltered together from a raid in a shop doorway,’ she briefly explained to Marlene.

It had been several days since Dawn came face to face with Grimes in the underground shelter. She’d convinced herself that he’d want to forget they’d bumped into one another as much as she did. Gertie hadn’t done a shift since and in her absence Dawn had been brooding on whether Rufus had told Gertie what had gone on. Of course, there was a good chance that Grimes kept his looting sprees from his missus. But meeting Rosie unexpectedly like this had brought back a feeling of foreboding. From Rosie’s attitude Dawn guessed the younger woman hadn’t been able to fully dismiss the episode from her mind either.

‘Right then, I’ll show you where things are kept,’ Dawn said briskly, hoping to buck herself up.

‘Are you one of the nudes?’ Rosie asked, as Dawn opened a cupboard to reveal racks of colourful costumes.

‘No fear! I didn’t fancy going on stage starkers; anyhow my mum would have a fit … or a few gins.’ Dawn muttered the last bit to herself. ‘I’m a chorus dancer and can sing a bit.’

‘I wanted to be a showgirl,’ Rosie sighed dejectedly. ‘But I made a mess of me audition …’

‘Probably ’cos you can’t dance,’ Marlene piped up. ‘Thought I had two left feet but, bleedin’ hell, you was all over the place, Rosie.’

‘Thanks! Anyhow, the manager and his secretary said I’d got a great figure and shouldn’t cover it up.’ Rosie flounced about, turning her back on Marlene.

‘Been here long?’ Marlene asked, poking through some gilt headdresses in another cupboard.

‘About a year,’ Dawn replied. ‘I used to work in a hotel as a cabaret singer and dancer but I got put off when the war started and the hotel closed.’

‘Bloody war!’ Rosie announced with feeling. ‘I’ve had enough of it. Can’t even get meself a new pair of stockings.’

‘I know where you can …’ Marlene said slyly.

‘Where?’

‘Loot Alley.’ Marlene smiled. ‘Can get anything you like down there.’

‘If you can pay for it,’ Dawn chipped in dryly.

‘Don’t always need cash to pay for it,’ Marlene said. She drew out a pack of cigarettes and handed it round. ‘A girl can get what she wants if she’s prepared to do a bit of sucking up …’ She giggled and struck a match.

Dawn shook her head at the offer of a cigarette but Rosie took one. ‘Don’t let Phyllis hear you talk like that.’ It was a light warning from Dawn. ‘The management likes to think us Windmill girls draw the punters in with our nice personalities, and big smiles …’

Marlene hooted a laugh. ‘It ain’t my big smile those randy sods will come to see.’ She thrust forward her full bosom. ‘Let’s face it, if I didn’t have them, I wouldn’t have got the job, would I?’ She took a drag on her cigarette. ‘It’s right, is it, we’ve got to stand there as still as a statue ’cos if you move it’s rude?’

‘If you move we’ll get closed down!’ Dawn stressed.

The Windmill Theatre’s management were sticking to the rules laid down regarding the tableaux vivants. The Lord Chamberlain had threatened to use obscenity laws against any theatre that allowed a nude ‘statue’ to so much as fidget on stage.

‘Why’s that then?’ Rosie asked. ‘We’re still gonna be in the altogether whether we stand still or prance about.’

‘You don’t see statues in museums moving about, do you? You’re supposed to be works of art, not flesh and blood,’ Dawn explained.

‘Good Gawd.’ Marlene took another pull on her cigarette, then held it at arm’s length so she didn’t catch the flimsy gauze alight while she riffled through garments.

‘Did those men catch up with you that night?’ Rosie hissed the question at Dawn the moment the other woman wandered off to sort through some cosmetics discarded on the dressing table. Marlene opened a Yardley lipstick and striped her wrist with it to examine its colour.

‘No. I’ve not told a soul about it, have you?’ Dawn returned in a low voice.

Rosie shook her head, looking sheepish. ‘I was after taking something for me dad from the shop they robbed, after all. Don’t know what come over me … I feel ashamed about that now.’

‘You were probably in shock,’ Dawn said kindly. ‘Those bombs came down pretty close.’

‘I reckon I was in shock, too. I’ve never got caught out like that in a raid. We’ve got a cellar at home, you see, so me and Dad go down there.’ She glanced at Dawn. ‘Hope I never run into any of those men again. Thing is … I thought one of them seemed familiar to me.’

‘Oh?’ Dawn demanded. ‘Which one?’ She was wondering if Rosie also thought she recognised Gertie’s husband, or perhaps her brother, if Midge had been involved. And the more Dawn thought about it, the more she reckoned she’d been right first time about Midge.

‘The tall one who went off pushing the cart. I never got a look at his face though so wouldn’t recognise him again. It was just something about him …’ Rosie shrugged.

Dawn bit her lip, wondering whether to own up that she’d already had the misfortune to run into one of them, and she’d recognised him straight away. And what’s more he was a colleague’s husband!

‘You’ve seen one of ’em!’ Rosie had guessed what was making Dawn look so preoccupied. ‘Who was it … the short-arse? You stamped on his foot, didn’t you?’ Rosie pulled a comical face. ‘The big bloke who had hold of me … what was his name now? The little bloke got a punch for saying it, remember?’

‘Roof … he’s the one I bumped into. I was chatting to his wife in a shelter.’ Dawn felt she might as well admit to the awful meeting. ‘Of course, I didn’t know she was married to him until he turned up. Just my luck, eh?’

Rosie’s eyes had grown round in disbelief. ‘What did Roof say?’ she squealed.

‘He recognised me, just as I did him. But that was it. Neither of us said anything. That’s the way I want it to stay.’ Dawn settled on leaving it at that. She wasn’t going to stir the pot by adding that Roof’s wife worked at the Windmill too. If Gertie were kept in blissful ignorance over it all by her husband, then Dawn was happy to play along.

‘Seen him since, have you?’ Rosie gasped.

Dawn shook her head in a reassuring way. ‘He won’t want to see me any more than I want to see him. I expect he’s keeping his head down.’ She barely knew Rosie so couldn’t recount the full story and trust her to keep her mouth shut. Gertie could be abrasive, as Dawn had already found out, and if challenged over her husband’s thieving, all hell might break loose. As far as Dawn was concerned the less said the better! Her life was complicated enough as it was.

‘’Ere! What you playing at?’ Sal Fiske had entered the dressing room to find Marlene testing her lipsticks. She snatched one from Marlene’s hand. ‘Give it back. That’s mine.’

‘Sorry … only taking a look. Got me own stuff anyhow.’ Marlene threw another tube back on the dressing table and stalked off.

‘Look at these beauties!’ Lorna came in carrying a posy of early spring flowers. ‘Phyllis just handed them over. A fellow called Peter sent them for me,’ she said, reading a small card resting in the foliage. ‘He thinks I’m beautiful and he’d like to take me out.’

‘Ah … sweet …’ Marlene mocked, having listened to Lorna’s cut-glass accent with some amusement. ‘He’ll be out the back waiting for you later then,’ she added knowledgably. ‘So be prepared to show him how grateful you are for his daffs.’

A lively banter continued between Marlene and the chorus girls wearing dressing gowns who’d trooped in from the café. Dawn took the opportunity to draw Rosie to one side as the younger woman appeared rather downcast about Roof’s reappearance.

‘Buck up!’ Dawn said, smiling. ‘We can’t let you out on stage at the Windmill with a face like a wet weekend. You’ll scare away the customers.’

That raised a smile from Rosie and Dawn linked arms with her. ‘Come on … I’ll give you a guided tour of our lovely Windmill Theatre before we open up.’

‘Me mum brought me here to see a variety show when I was a kid; I remember it as being a lot bigger.’ Rosie grimaced. ‘Reckon she must be spinning in her grave to think of me prancing about starkers on stage.’

‘No prancing!’ Dawn wagged a finger in mock reproof.

‘When I was doing me audition I was too nervous to have a good look beyond the footlights.’ Rosie was standing in an aisle close to the stage. Pivoting on one heel she gazed at the rows of seats fanning out in front of her.

‘All good things come in small packages,’ Dawn said proudly, tweaking the heavy tasselled curtain pooling on the stage.

‘Blimey! Didn’t see that when I was up there earlier!’ Rosie was pointing down into the small orchestra pit. ‘Better watch me step or I might end up crashing down the hole,’ she giggled, taking another careful peep. ‘That ain’t very big either, is it?’

‘The building used to be a cinema, till it closed and Mrs Henderson bought it and turned it into a theatre.’

‘Good for her …’ Rosie said.

‘Anyway it might only have about three hundred and twenty seats but we could fill twice that amount. Most nights we’ve got queues of servicemen stretching round the corner. Our revues are the original and best, you see.’

‘The Piccadilly and Pavilion are catching up fast with their nude shows.’ Marlene was sashaying into the auditorium, newly lit cigarette glowing between her fingers.

‘They’re imitating us; we’re the original and best,’ Dawn repeated immediately. She felt a good deal of loyalty to the Windmill. ‘Have you worked as a nude at either of those places, Marlene?’

Marlene gave a lazy nod. She’d told Phyllis at the audition that she was experienced in working in the nude … which was true, but not in the way Phyllis might have hoped. In fact Marlene had only ever been a cigarette girl at the Piccadilly although she’d had jobs at several other nightspots. But lies and exaggeration came easy to Marlene.

‘I’ve never taken me clothes off for strangers before.’ Rosie gave a shy grimace.

‘Always best to get to know him first, Rosie …’ Marlene mocked.

‘It ain’t funny!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘If the pay weren’t so good, I wouldn’t do it.’

Marlene cocked her head, blowing smoke, and giving Rosie the once over. Suddenly she pointed her cigarette at Rosie. ‘You’re a good looker … and young. How old are you?’

‘Eighteen …’ Rosie mumbled.

‘Girl like you should wise up, and make all that work for her.’

‘You sound as though you’ve been a few places,’ Rosie said, half in awe of her fellow new recruit.

‘Me?’ Marlene tilted her head and took a long lazy drag on her Sobranie. ‘I’ve done it all and regretted none of it …’ she drawled, ending her boast on a dirty chuckle.

Dawn stepped forward; she’d heard enough from Marlene. There was something hard and brash about the woman that was already putting her back up. And she’d only known her about an hour! ‘Come on,’ she urged Rosie. ‘I’ll show you the roof terrace. We go up there to cool off … or sunbathe, depending how we feel, when we’ve got some spare time. There’s an outside staircase too goes down the building. We have fire drills …’

By the time the trio had finished looking around and had got back to the dressing room it was time for the showgirls to start getting into costume.

‘Reckon I’ll need a nip of gin to get me out there first time,’ Rosie said while watching the dancers applying their make-up.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Dawn said, using a sponge to put on grease paint.

‘Well, look what I’ve got … handy, eh?’ Marlene gave Rosie a nudge in the ribs as she took a small flask from her bag. She gave her pretty young colleague a wink, dropping the gin back whence it came.

Dawn had seen that in the mirror while outlining her large green eyes with kohl; again she sensed she wasn’t going to get on with Marlene Brown …

CHAPTER FIVE

‘I ain’t going to cause problems, so stop bleedin’ nagging.’ Rufus Grimes turned his attention back to the sports section of the News of the World.

Gertie began bouncing the pram up and down to hush Harry who’d started to whimper at the sound of raised voices. ‘Well don’t expect me to ask Dawn to keep her gob shut, ’cos I won’t do it.’

‘I ain’t expecting you to do nuthin’!’ Rufus exploded. ‘Ain’t your business, anyhow.’ Exasperated, he picked up the newspaper and hurled it at the wall with a loud oath, making little Harry cry louder. ‘Just play dumb and she’ll do the same. Dawn Nightingale don’t want no trouble … guarantee it.’

Gertie whipped the baby from his pram and began rocking him to and fro against her shoulder while glowering at Rufus’s stubbly profile.

‘Is my business now though, ain’t it?’ Gertie snapped. ‘You should’ve told me that Midge was still about. Why d’you let me think he’d sailed when you knew all along he hadn’t?’

‘’Cos he asked me not to tell you!’ Rufus roared. ‘He knew you’d go on about it, like this, and didn’t want earache off you. Can sympathise with the bloke. You’re driving me nuts. Now fer Gawd’s sake shut up.’

‘You won’t say that when the coppers turn up looking for him, will you?’ Gertie stormed. ‘You’ll scarper and leave me to do the talking.’

Rufus approached his wife, fist raised and shaking. ‘I said shut up about your bleedin’ brother. He’s a pain in the arse at the best of times. Now if you got a gripe with Midge, take it up with him, the bleeder.’

Rufus stalked off and flung himself down in a chair at the table.

Far from not knowing about her husband’s criminal activities, as Dawn had suspected, Gertie Grimes encouraged Rufus to supplement his municipal earnings as a road sweeper with ‘overtime’ worked during bombing raids. So far she’d done quite nicely out of his thieving. She’d received a few bits of quality clothing for herself and the kids, and some household stuff. But he didn’t like to upset Pop, who controlled the gang Rufus was in with. Most of the stolen merchandise went straight to the fences, or to Loot Alley, to be sold and the proceeds were then split between the gang members. Gertie had moaned at Rufus that she deserved a little dip in before the stuff was spirited away, but her husband was charier of Pop than he was of her. That annoyed Gertie because she’d got used to being the person pulling her husband’s strings.

When Rufus had his cut of the proceeds in his pocket, that’s where it stayed. His ‘bunce’, as he called it, was his alone. And Gertie knew where his money went: booze, gambling and prostitutes. There might be a war on, but there was still a thriving market in every sort of vice in London, if you knew where to look.

‘No point sulking over it, Gertie,’ Rufus lilted in a conciliatory way. He never fell out with his wife for too long; she was too useful to him to upset. ‘Tell you what, gel, we’ve got our sights on a tobacconist next ’cos Pop wants a nice briar pipe. See if I can get you a few packs of Players, shall I?’

‘Reckon you can do that, do you?’ Gertie muttered sourly.

Rufus came up behind her, nudging her buttocks with his groin. ‘Do anything for you, gel, you know that …’

Gertie gave a smile, unseen by Rufus. He always came round when he was feeling horny … which was most of the time. She let him open her blouse and slide a hand inside to squeeze her warm breasts.

‘Nip upstairs, shall we?’ Rufus breathed against her cheek. ‘The boys ain’t due in from school for a while. Stick Harry back in his pram; only be five minutes, won’t we …’

‘No fear!’ Gertie pushed him away. ‘I reckon it’s the wrong time of the month for me and I don’t want another kid filling that there …’ she pointed at the pram ‘… before I’ve even turfed Harold out of it and onto his feet.’ She turned to confront Rufus, hands planted on her hips. ‘I’ve got enough kids running round me ankles, Rufus, and I don’t want no more.’

He looked sullen, avoiding her eye. They’d had this conversation before and he always got moody when she mentioned visiting the Marie Stopes clinic. Like most men he thought women who used birth control were sordid, yet he wasn’t prepared to spoil his own pleasure by using a Johnny instead so they could limit the number of mouths they had to feed.

‘Please yourself,’ Rufus muttered, shrugging himself away from her. He began gathering pages of the newspaper scattered on the floor. ‘Probably won’t be able to get you no fags on the sly anyhow when we do the tobacconist.’

Gertie knew his game; it was always the same one – she was nice to him and he was nice to her. She put little Harry back in his pram and sat next to her husband at the table. He had his elbows planted on the open newspaper and his chin cupped in his palms, continuing to ignore her.

Gertie’s fingers crept to undo the buttons of his fly. He was hot and hard … as usual. It didn’t matter what time of the day or night it was, Rufus was ready for action. In a way, Gertie felt quite sorry for him and his affliction.

‘Could do with a lighter as well as some fags,’ she murmured as her fingers started to pump beneath the table. ‘Silver’s nice … if you spot one like that …’