Jazz Baby (16 page)

‘For Christ's sake, Millie, this isn't a social call.' Jack dragged his hands through his hair. ‘Cut to the chase. What happened?' In the time it took Millie to settle down at the table Dolly could be on the other side of the harbour being dragged off to God-only-knew where, or worse, be lying in some gutter doped up to her eyeballs.

‘Dolly was pretty upset when she'd spoken to Ted and we had a chat. And don't go thinking it's all Ted's fault. You're equally to blame.' Millie pinned him with the stare she reserved for uncooperative clients.

‘Me? What the hell did I do other than leave her with her brother after
he'd
forced a meeting?' Christ Almighty! From the moment he'd clapped eyes on Ted the situation had gone from bad to worse. He should have taken Dolly and put her on the train straight back to Wollombi.

‘She's got it in her head everyone knew about Ted except for her and you don't care because you're in love with Cynthia.'

Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a shuddering sigh. Once Dolly got an idea in her head there was no stopping her. ‘And what about the job offer?'

‘I thought it might make her feel better if I suggested she stopped cleaning and combined her singing with a bit of entertaining.' Millie had the grace to blush.

Exactly what she'd suggested to Dolly didn't need any further explanation. ‘I told you she wasn't to get involved in anything like that.'

‘I hadn't got any intention of following through. I just wanted her to feel she had more to offer, more control and wasn't being treated like a child.'

‘Ooooh!'

Jack flinched as Alice's long drawn-out cry silenced Millie.

‘Alice?' he asked, gritting his teeth as he tried to control the anger he knew was plastered across his face. Too many people interfering. First Cynthia, then Millie, and now Alice.

‘I think I made everything worse.' Alice sniffed and clamped her soggy handkerchief to her nose as tears dribbled down her cheeks. ‘I told Dolly she hadn't got any option. If you…Mrs Mack…' — she bobbed her head at her employer and sniffed — ‘…said something it wasn't a suggestion, it was a fact, and she'd be out on her ear if she didn't do what she was told.'

The sound of Alice blowing her nose drowned out his groan. So Dolly had come to the conclusion that everyone had kept her in the dark about Ted and if she stayed at Number Fifty-Four she'd been working as one of the girls and that he and Cynthia were an item. Not bloody surprising she'd taken off.

‘The important question is, where's she gone?' All business-like Millie stood and fixed him with a steely stare. ‘We can sort the rest later.'

Jack shrugged his shoulders. ‘She's not at my place. Least she wasn't when I left and unless Ted told her the address I don't think she even knows where my apartment is.'

The scraping sound of a chair interrupted Jack and he glanced up at Alice ringing her handkerchief and chewing her bottom lip. ‘I might know,' she stammered. ‘I don't want to break a confidence.'

‘Spit it out now!' Jack thumped his fist on the table sending the lid of the sugar bowl skittering across the top.

‘Lawrence.' Alice sniffed.

‘Lawrence?'

‘The piano player.' Alice's voice, barely more than a whisper, quavered. ‘She'd got some card from him about a jazz club. She might have gone there.'

‘Where?' Jack leapt to his feet toppling the chair behind him.

‘The Barbary Coast.'

‘Surry Hills? Shit. That's no place for her to be.' He made for the door.

‘Slow down,' Millie said. ‘There's no point in you going anywhere. It's eight o'clock in the morning. Any place like that will be locked and barred until evening. You'll get nowhere until after the six o'clock swill.'

‘Least I can do is go and find the wretched place.'
And take Lawrence limb from bloody limb if I lay eyes on him.
Jack bunched his fists in anticipation.

‘Leave it with me, Jack. I'll put the word out we're looking for Dolly. If you go it'll be like looking for a virgin on Palmer Street. Lawrence is a good bloke, with any luck he'll have found her somewhere to spend the day until this club opens.'

Jack slumped back down in the chair. As usual Millie was right. With her connections she'd find Dolly much faster than he could. He exhaled, his jaw aching with the effort of controlling his temper. Millie had found Ted when he couldn't, and she'd find Dolly. Meanwhile he could deal with Ted. Keeping things quiet had proved disastrous. He intended to front Ted, level with him and tell him how he felt about Dolly. If Ted chose to clock him one then so be it. He probably deserved it.

The dirty curtains hung like dying leaves on the rusted rail, failing to block out the bright afternoon sunlight. Dolly didn't dare touch them; they'd disintegrate at the slightest tweak. Lawrence had brought her to his room from Mrs Mack's with the best intention in the world and he had been more than kind. She was aware now of just how lucky she'd been to end up at Number Fifty-Four. Even the walk to Surry Hills with Lawrence had been an eye-opener. Women openly plied their trade on every street corner, some not even bothering to duck into a dark alleyway for their encounter. If not for her incessant burn of anger over Jack's lies she might well have given up and gone back, taken Millie up on her offer, because Number Fifty-Four was far safer than these streets swirling with insidious violence.

Lawrence had brought her to the pub and left her upstairs in his room, saying he had somewhere else to bunk down. He'd promised to come back and pick her up at six and take her to find something to eat before they went to the club. Somehow the shine had gone off the whole idea now she'd spent all day locked away alone, although she'd had time to think. Think about Ted and Jack and wonder if she hadn't over-reacted. Back in Wollombi everything had seemed so simple. Take a job and make her way in the world, be independent. Coming to Sydney had been a dream come true. Now her dreams had soured.

Her adventure had started out so well. Her first sight of Jack, so welcoming and so utterly handsome in his evening suit still made her heart flutter. Then the excitement of her new life and the accolades she'd received for simply singing — doing something she loved to do. She'd been entranced, and then foolish. Foolish to imagine someone like Jack would see her as anything except the little girl who'd tagged behind him suffering a severe case of hero worship.

No good harping on what might have been. She still intended to make her own way, not ride on someone else's coat-tails. If she had to start afresh in a different part of town, so be it. She could make an audience happy and that was what she would do.

Dolly rolled off the sagging mattress and straightened her crumpled clothes, then swung her suitcase up onto the bed and searched for her blue frock. It might not be such a showstopper as Alice's velvet creation and she had no pearls, but it wasn't shabby. She filled the chipped bowl with water and stripped off, scrubbing every inch of her body until she'd removed the misery of the previous evening.

After something to eat she would be prepared. Her last debut had been a success and this would be too. Once she'd established herself and found somewhere to live she would track down Ted and find out what his plans were. Until then he, and Jack, could suffer a taste of the dark cupboard under the stairs they'd pushed her into. She'd find them when she was good and ready.

The knock on the door startled her and she pressed her ear against the peeling paint.

‘Dolly. It's Lawrence. Open the door.'

Pulling the chain free she turned the heavy key in the lock. The knob swivelled and the door swung open.

‘All ready to go?' Lawrence said. ‘Leave your belongings here. I'll bring you back after the gig.'

The sight of his smiling face lifted Dolly's spirits. The day alone had been more than enough to make her understand how much her life had changed. With the constant companionship and hustle and bustle at Number Fifty-Four she'd come out of her shell, and instead of shunning companionship she now craved it. ‘More than ready, Lawrence, and I could eat a horse.'

‘I hadn't got a horse in mind. I thought a bowl of Ah Tom's noodles might set us both up for the evening.'

‘Ah Tom? Noodles?'

‘Yes. Chinese food. Nothing like it. My grandfather introduced me when I was a nipper. He'd got to like the stuff when he was working in the goldfields.' Lawrence took the key from the inside lock. ‘Let's go.' He ushered Dolly out, then locked the door behind him and gave the knob a rattle to make sure it was secure. ‘Can't be too careful around here.'

With a full stomach and Lawrence's cheerful company Dolly's spirits lifted further and her enthusiasm returned. As they stepped out into the darkened street she took Lawrence's arm. All the pubs had closed and it was comforting to have someone by her side to guide her through the thronging masses roaming the streets in search of a night's entertainment.

‘Where is this Barbary Coast? Down near the harbour?'

‘We're there already,' Lawrence said with a chuckle. ‘It's just the name they give this area around here.'

‘Why the Barbary Coast? It sounds like something out of Robinson Crusoe or a Boy's Own paper.'

‘That's pretty much right, my sweet.' Lawrence gave her arm a squeeze and pulled her closer.

Dolly released her hold on his arm and rubbed at the fine hairs standing to attention on her arms. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Round here a man can get whatever he wants. Grog, women, more snow than you could shovel — untold treasures. Just like San Francisco before the earthquake. The madams have got everything illegal tied up. Stick with me and you'll be fine.'

Dolly managed a polite smile to hide the rising sense of trepidation. The memory of Mrs Mack's dining room with all the girls chattering over Annie's bread-and-butter pudding became more enticing with every step she took through the dingy streets.

‘Are we nearly there, Lawrence?' Dolly cast a furtive look over her shoulder, trying to recall the streets and laneways they'd turned down, wishing she had paid more attention. A man brushed past her and accelerated into a run, almost knocking her off her feet. Before she had a chance to regain her balance his pursuer rammed into her, throwing her against Lawrence.

‘Steady on. Take it easy.' Lawrence reached for her arm. ‘It's not much further, just around the next corner.'

‘I'll be glad when we get there.' She swallowed the quaver in her voice hoping he hadn't heard.

‘Here we are.' He stopped by a small two-storey building.

The front resembled a corner shop except the large glass windows were covered in old newspaper and a red light dangled from a frayed cord above the firmly closed door.

Lawrence rapped on the door and it opened a crack. ‘I'm here with the singer.'

The door swung wide and the blast of unwashed bodies, cheap perfume and stale smoke caught in Dolly's throat making her cough and her eyes water. Lawrence pushed her inside and the door closed behind them with a click.

‘Through there.' The man on the door flicked his head in the direction of the back room.

Lawrence led the way down the narrow passageway. Dolly peered into the first room and stifled a shocked gasp. A dirty tangled mess of limbs writhed on a broken-down cast iron bed — a far cry from the lavish rooms she'd been cleaning. ‘I thought this was a Jazz Club,' she hissed.

‘That's up the road a bit. We've got to go and make you known, so you'll stay out of trouble.'

Stay out of trouble?
Dolly's stomach plummeted realising she'd got herself into plenty of trouble already. ‘I think I've changed my mind. Can you take me back to Number Fifty-Four, or tell me which way to go and I'll get out of your hair.'

Lawrence's hand clasped her upper arm tightly and she tried to shrug him off. ‘Too late now. It'll all be fine. Just come down here.' He kicked open the door in front of them keeping a firm grip on Dolly's arm and pushed her into the back room.

A well-covered woman wearing a low-cut black blouse and a large brimmed hat sat at the table flanked by two men. The larger of the two had his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up. His meaty hands cradled a gun. On the woman's other side a smaller man, dressed in a suit that wouldn't have looked out of place at Number Fifty-Four, rested against the back door, his hat tipped at a raffish angle over one eye.

‘Lawrence. What have you brought me tonight?' The woman leant back in the chair.

‘This is Dolly. I was telling you about her. She sings.' Lawrence placed the palm of his hand in the small of Dolly's back and nudged her closer to the table. Dolly resisted for a moment then took one small step.

‘Nice.' The woman's eyes roamed Dolly making her feel like one of the cows at the Wollombi cattle sales. ‘You're looking for a job, I hear.'

Dolly sucked in a deep breath of the fetid air and peered over her shoulder at Lawrence. He nodded in encouragement. ‘I'm a singer.' Her voice sounded small and for a moment she imagined she was back at Mrs Mack's on the very first night, but this time there was something in the woman's shrewd hard eyes making her flesh crawl.

‘Sure you want to sing? I could offer you something a little more lucrative.' Her flat, cold eyes slid to one side and the big man with the gun curled his lips in a parody of a smile.

Dolly nodded. ‘Yes, I want to sing, maybe…not this evening.'

‘I think this evening is as good an evening as any. We'll talk about your future career another time. Take her around to the cellar, Lawrence, there's a good boy. Jim'll talk to you later.'

Dolly recognised that the woman had dismissed her though somehow her legs refused to move. Lawrence's hand slipped back to her arm and he tugged her out through the door.