Jazz Baby (12 page)

‘Ten!' Alice turned around and her eyes widened. ‘Holy moly. Spin around.'

Dolly rotated slowly and when she faced Alice again she slipped the string of pearls over her head, gave them a twirl and grinned.

‘You'll do. Shoes.' Alice held out the pair of Rosa's shoes Dolly had worn last night and she slipped them on.

‘Take a peek in the mirror. You won't be able to see much. You're just going to have to take my word for it. That dress was made for you.'

Crouching down Dolly peered into the cracked mirror hanging at an obscure angle from a piece of chain. The russet red gave her complexion a warm glow and the plain neckline and thin straps accentuated the pale tone of her shoulders.

‘Just a bit of lipstick, I think. This should match.' Alice handed her a brush and pot of colour. ‘And pull the brush through your hair, tuck it behind your ears. I'd kill for hair like yours. No one would know you were fast asleep half an hour ago.'

Dolly took the lipstick, painted her lips then stood upright and smoothed the velvet over her hips. The sensuous touch against her palms made her stomach clench and for some reason Jack's face popped in front of her eyes. She shook the picture away, praying he wouldn't be in the Blue Room tonight. She'd looked like a nun last night compared to this. He'd be livid.

‘Come on. Hurry up. It's six o'clock. We'll be late.' Alice grabbed hold of her hand and towed her along the hallway and into the dining room.

God was definitely on her side. When they walked through the door chaos reigned, chattering girls swapped seats and sprawled across the table laughing at some joke. She slipped into a chair at the very end closest to the door and Alice sat next to her shielding her from the masses.

Annie settled a large beefsteak pie in the middle of the table and returned with two more to pass down the table. The aroma of the food settled the girls and before long everyone tucked in. Dolly sipped her glass of water insulated by the chatter and gossip and then pushed a few morsels of meat around her plate.

‘Singing again tonight?' Mrs Mack's voice, as always, stilled the conversation.

Dolly nodded.

‘Did you see her last night?'

‘She was brilliant.'

‘Jazz Baby, indeed.'

Dolly let the words wash over her, bobbing her head now and again in the direction of the compliments. No one expected a response from her and she made the most of the strange anonymity. They treated her as if she was an object, not a person, like the gramophone — a vessel for the songs.

The only person who seemed remotely interested in her was Mrs Mack. Her beady brown eyes raked her body and one eyebrow lifted as she studied her.

As soon as Dolly could leave the table she wandered off in search of Lawrence. Tonight she wanted to make a list of all the songs so she knew what to sing.

The door to the Blue Room stood open and it was as empty as when she'd finished cleaning earlier. The polished side tables reflected pools of light from the Tiffany lampshades and the cushions lounged plumped and ready. She peered into the mirror-like surface of the piano. Her reflection stared back, distorted and unrecognisable. She pursed her lips and blew a loud kiss across the surface.

‘I hope that was intended for me?'

Dolly jumped and spun around. Immaculate as always in his evening suit and pristine white shirt Jack grinned at her. Butterflies battled in her tummy as she waited for his onslaught. She didn't want to argue with him, more than anything else she wanted to sing.

‘Performing again tonight?' His eyes roved her body and a flush of heat trickled across her skin.

‘Yes. I like it. I'm waiting for Lawrence to arrive so we can go over the songs. I want to know exactly what we are going to sing and when and I don't want to have to stop and think about it or sing
Jazz Baby
nine hundred times and I think we should start with some slower numbers and — '

‘Dolly, you're babbling.' His face broke into an enormous grin.

Warmth bathed her. ‘I am a bit nervous actually.' She lifted her hand to her throat gathering the rope of satiny smooth pearls.

The heels of his shoes clicked as he crossed the hatched parquet floor.

‘Don't be angry with me like you were last night. I don't think I could stand it.' Her heart fluttered in confusion, the recollection of his anger as he had dragged her from the room battling with the memory of his warm lips.

‘I'm not angry, Dolly. Not angry at all.' His voice sounded raspy and a pulse throbbed on his forehead. ‘That dress is very becoming.' The back of his fingers grazed the velvet of her shoulder strap. The butterflies in her stomach took flight. The knowledge his hand had all but touched her nakedness beneath the dress overpowered her. She reached for the piano for support, battling a wave of light-headedness. Standing so close his warm breath fanned her cheek, and when she lifted her chin her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled his sandalwood scent.

She could barely breathe, never mind think. Taking a tiny step she slipped her arms around his neck, her whole body vibrating with anticipation.

The moment her arms touched his skin he blinked and his eyes widened as though she'd startled him. Bracing his hands on the piano he pushed back, towering over her, his obsidian eyes burning like coal. Licking her lips in anticipation of his kiss she opened her mouth to say his name.

His eyes snapped shut and he shook his head, his face almost contorted in pain. Then his mouth curved in a lopsided grin, making her heart lurch and her tummy sink.

He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear and caressed her cheek with a slow slide of his fingers. ‘I wanted to talk to you before you sang, to apologise for Cynthia's behaviour last night.' His hand fell and he stepped away.

Aching for more of his touch she moved closer until he held up his hand to stall her. She clamped her hands together, terrified she'd reach out and bring his fingertips to her mouth and cover them with kisses.

‘Dolly, I…' — he sucked in a deep breath — ‘…owe it to Ted to make sure you are safe.'

The blush licked over her cheeks again. For a moment she thought he was going to say he wanted to kiss her. Beneath the smooth velvet of the borrowed frock her skin danced and burned. She wanted his hands on her, his lips on hers and now he was talking about Ted.

Bewildered, she didn't know how to respond or how to make sense of her body's reaction. She shook her head. ‘I don't understand. What do you want me to do, Jack?'

‘I want you to sing tonight and every night you want to. I want you to be happy and I want to look after you.'

‘Oh, Jack.' A bubble of happiness swelled in her chest and exploded, sending rays of warming sunshine through her blood. ‘I want to be your girl.' She threw her arms around his neck, tilted her head with eyes closed, waiting for the touch of his lips.

‘Dolly, slow down.' He unpeeled her arms one by one from around his neck and settled them at her side. ‘That's not what I'm saying. I want you to sing and do all the things you said you wanted to do when you came to Sydney. Find a new life.'

The smile she expected didn't eventuate. Jack's face remained impassive. The confusion created by his words swirled in her head. He wanted her to sing, and he wanted her to stay at Mrs Mack's. All in all she rather liked the idea. More than singing though, she wanted him to hold her. The image of Cynthia's glinting eyes sent a shudder of disappointment through her.
I'm his girlfriend. I've staked a claim
. A pang of envy hit her chest as the words played over in her mind.

Jack reached out and clasped the loop of pearls in his lean fingers. Unbidden, her body arched again and he dropped the pearls. With a rueful tilt of his lips he said, ‘I'll be back with Cynthia soon to listen to you singing.'

The material of Jack's evening jacket strained across his broad shoulders as he left the room and when he closed the door Dolly sank down onto the piano stool, the idea of singing in front of an audience suddenly unbearable. She needed time to clear her head and make sense of Jack's contradictory behaviour. He wanted her to sing and he wanted her to find a new life. Where was she supposed to do that if not at Number Fifty-Four? The kiss they'd shared last night meant nothing. Cynthia was his girl. She ran her fingers down the strand of pearls forcing the memory of his touch from her mind.

She'd already lost Ted and if she didn't stop behaving like a love-struck fool she would lose Jack's friendship, her only connection with her family and the past. While she'd been cleaning she'd imagined all sorts of wonderful scenarios, most of which included Jack taking her in his arms and telling her he loved her, had always loved her, and Cynthia meant nothing to him. Her insides twisted with a mixture of longing and foolishness. A pale substitute for what she really wanted. If she couldn't have Jack then singing would have to do. She'd throw herself into her new career and make a name for herself, then maybe Jack would come around and see her as a woman instead of a little sister.

‘And how's the little Jazz Baby this evening?'

Dolly started and turned from the window. ‘Hello, Lawrence.' She smiled. ‘I'm well, very well in fact.'

‘No side effects from your late night last night?'

Dolly squared her shoulders, bolstered by her newfound determination. ‘No. I feel great.'

‘You look great, too.' He ran his eyes from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Nothing in his look sent shivers up and down her spine the way Jack's eyes had and she turned around showing him the low sweep of the back of her frock.

‘Wow! That should give them something to think about,' he said with a friendly wink. ‘Now, what are we going to sing tonight?'

Lawrence was lovely. He'd been so kind to her yesterday. The people she'd met in Sydney made everything worthwhile. So many of them had gone out of their way to help her: Alice, Lawrence, Mrs Mack and all the other girls. Only Jack and Cynthia had been difficult. ‘
Jazz Baby
, I guess, though only once. Shall we save it for later?'

‘I've got some more sheet music here. Let's have a look.' He fanned out the pile of papers in his hand. ‘I'm sure there are some you'll recognise and I've brought copies so you can have the words next to you while I have the music.'

The next couple of hours passed in a blur. Before Dolly knew it, the chatter of people filled the room blending with the now-familiar cocktail of cigarette smoke, alcohol and perfume.

Lawrence adjusted the piano stool and began to play some gentle background music. Dolly pored over the list they'd made and crooned the first of the songs following their decision to start slow and easy and wait until people wanted to dance before they sang the more upbeat numbers.

Jack slid into a chair, drink in hand. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and he silently toasted her before resting back in the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Her tummy gave a flutter that reflected in her voice. The words summed up everything she felt for Jack, everything that might be if Cynthia hadn't got her claws into him.

In the break between songs Lawrence whispered, ‘You're singing beautifully. You've got them in the palm of your hand. No more nerves tonight?'

She shook her head. ‘It's just perfect. Am I doing all right?'

‘More than all right. There's something in your voice tonight. You're finding your feet — or else it's love.' He wriggled his eyebrows and shot a meaningful look across the room.

Dolly turned, willing away the tinge of red blooming on her cheeks. ‘Don't be silly, Lawrence.'

‘I'm not being silly. I can tell when a woman is smitten and you haven't taken your eyes off Jack all evening. You sorted out your little tiff last night, then?'

Frantic to change the subject, Dolly said, ‘Is it time to up the pace?'

‘I think it might be.' Lawrence started to play and applause broke out, swelling Dolly's heart and making her smile. The final confirmation: singing was her vocation. Jack's eyes never left her. His very presence buoyed her and gave her a confidence she'd never imagined.

‘Time for dancing.'

As before the chairs were moved back and the small dance floor created. Jack stood close to the window, relaxing against the wall with an easy grace she remembered from the past.

‘We'll start with
Just a Girl That Men Forget
. Though I don't think they'll be forgetting you,' Lawrence said.

Dolly reached for the sheet music. Not over-familiar with the words she kept her eyes on the paper. Only when they reached the last chorus did she feel confident enough to look up. Jack hadn't moved but he no longer watched her. He stared across the room his dark brows knotted, the colour draining from his face. On the other side of the room stood Cynthia, cigarette in hand, deep in conversation with a tall man in evening dress.

‘Dolly, what's next?' Lawrence tapped her arm with his fingers.

‘Oh, sorry.' She moved closer to the piano and straightened the music. ‘
Nobody Knows When You're Down and Out.
'

‘Come and sit down here with me for a while.' Lawrence patted the piano stool. ‘Give your legs a break. This is a slow number.'

Dolly smoothed the skirt of Alice's velvet frock and settled on the end of the piano stool.

‘Ready?'

She nodded, her heart sinking when she glimpsed the empty space where Jack had stood. Peering past a couple in a clinch resembling one of the pictures in the hallway, she spotted him on the other side of the room. From the set of his shoulders she could see he was angry. Cynthia pointed to the man standing next to her with her cigarette holder. For a second Dolly's breath caught. The tip of the man's head and the tilt of his chin reminded her so much of Ted.

‘Dolly!' Lawrence's voice interrupted and she glanced down. ‘Are you ready? What's wrong?'