Silver Rain (14 page)

“But why?”

“Because I'm your friend. And because…”

“What's wrong with you?” asked Scoop. “Cat got your tongue?”

Could she tell him? Elsie looked down at her hands. He was her friend. She was his best friend until she grew nubs. She should be able to tell him anything.

Scoop swung his legs over the side of his bed. “You gonna tell me or not?” He looked around the room. “Seen my shoes?” Elsie bent down and peered into the dark under his bed. She pulled out one boot, then the other, and handed them to him. “You can't tell anyone else. Not yet. Specially not Nan.”

“So tell me.”

“You have to promise.”

“All right.” Scoop held out his little finger. She linked hers around it. They shook.

“I think Mother is one of the dancers,” Elsie said.

Scoop got busy shoving on his boots, tying up the laces. “I know,” he said quietly. Almost to himself.

“What?”

“I said, I know. Least, I think I saw her.”

“Me too!” said Elsie. “Just as we were leaving. Why didn't you say?”

“I didn't know what to say. That's why I wanted to get out of there in a hurry.”

“How about the Reverend?” asked Elsie. “You think he saw her too?”

“He'd have said, wouldn't he?”

“I guess so. Well. I have to find out if it's really Mother dancing in that marathon. And if it is, you have to help me get her out of there. I saw her shoes. And her blouse. And you know what else?”

“What?” Scoop got off the bed and hiked up his pants.

“I think the man dancing with her is Dannell.”

“Course it is!”

“I thought he was picking cranberries,” said Elsie.

“You were conned, you were. And your nan. Hey. That's some story,” said Scoop. The old Scoop. All shiny eyes and big ideas. “Maybe it will make the front page. Can you see the headline?
Mother Abandons Daughter to Dance!”

“We couldn't. Nan must never know,” said Elsie.

“Okay, then. We'll keep her name out of it.” Scoop paced around the room. He flicked each little plane overhead as he passed, until they were all swinging. “Your mother went away,” he said. “But she never went to New Westminster. That's why she never wrote to say she got there.”

“I know that. And Uncle Dannell had a newspaper!” Elsie remembered it in a flash. “He cut out something. One minute he was all down in the dumps because he lost that money and Nan said he had to go. Then he said he was going away to work.”

“He'd found out about the dance marathon. I bet that was it,” said Scoop. “Now. We need to pin down this story. Put it to bed. And you know what?” he asked Elsie.

“What?”

“When the story is published, we'll put both our names on the byline.”

“The what?”

“Don't you know anything? It's who it's written by.” Scoop scrawled across the air, as if he was writing more gibberish. “By cub reporters Scoop Styles and Elsie Miller. Or Elsie Miller and Scoop Styles.” He looked at Elsie. “No. It sounds better the other way. What do you think?”

“You can have your name first. I don't mind.” After all, being a newspaperman had been his idea.

“I knew you'd see it that way. Now, let's make plans.” Scoop frowned at her. “One problem. We need twenty cents to get in again. How are we going to get that?”

“Nan sold some silverware.” Elsie showed him the two dimes.

“We're in business!” said Scoop. As if it was all his idea.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SIX

B
y the time they got back to the dance marathon, it was after six, but they persuaded the fat man at the door to let them in for a dime each.

All the way there, Elsie and Scoop had debated whether to sit right at the front, where they could see the dancers' faces, or at the very back, where there was no chance of being seen by Elsie's mother and uncle until they were ready to be seen. Elsie won the argument by saying that she had the money, so she chose to sit right up at the back, way up high, where it was darkest. From there, they had a view of the whole dance floor.

By now, the bleachers were crowded. The noise of the spectators almost drowned out the scratchy music the dancers were ignoring. Near Elsie and Scoop sat a woman with two children, one sleeping against her side, the other leaning forward to watch the dancers. One man had his dog with him, lying right next to him on the bench. If Dog Bob had come along, he would have sniffed out Uncle Dannell in a minute. But Elsie had good instincts too.

“Stop fidgeting,” she told Scoop.

“I'm looking for that reporter.”

“Can you see who's dancing?”

“They all look the same from up here,” Scoop answered. “That's hardly dancing. It's even slower now.”

“They must be dead tired,” said Elsie. “It seems cruel, it does, making them dance all day.” She watched a handkerchief fall from a dancer's sleeve and drift onto the floor. No one picked it up. When a woman's heel tipped, her shoe fell off, but she kept dancing. One man was being held up by his very fat partner, his face almost completely buried in the lady's large chest.

“I don't think they're here,” said Elsie as she studied each couple on the dance floor. “We must have imagined it.”

“I know what I saw,” said Scoop. “Some might be out back sleeping in shifts, like the Reverend said.”

“You think so? Maybe that's where Mother and Uncle Dannell are,” said Elsie. “We'll wait until they come back out.”

Just then the music stopped, and all Elsie could hear now was the shuffling of feet around the dance floor, and the audience's chatter. The dancers hadn't even noticed that the music was no longer playing.

“Look!” Scoop's sharp elbow nudged her arm.

Elsie had also seen the fancy couple come through the curtain.

“It's those toffs we saw that day,” said Scoop.

“I know. Sshh.”

The couple moved toward the front of the dance floor. “Ladies and gentleman,” the man announced. He waited until most of the chattering and laughing from the audience died down. “As you will see, the number of dancers is dwindling. The wheat has been separated from the chaff. The weak from the strong. Only the strong and the valiant remain.”

Elsie couldn't see anyone who looked strong. And she had no idea what
valiant
meant.

The man went on. “As this event moves inexorably toward its conclusion, my partner Letty Driver and I would like to perform for you.”

Inexorably?
Even if he couldn't write, Scoop would know what it meant. She'd ask him later.

The dancers were hardly moving now. They just rocked in place, their heads resting against each other's shoulders and chests. As if none of them had noticed that the fancy couple had upstaged them.

“Let's give our friends here a short break. And a show of our appreciation.” The man clapped, his partner's hand dropping from his elbow as she joined in. The audience
—
those who were listening and watching, and not too busy gossiping or eating
—
clapped too.

The fancy couple stood aside as two nurses came through the curtain, moved across the dance floor and led the dancers away. As if they were children, thought Elsie. Or dogs.

Then the man took Letty Driver's hand and turned her in a big circle until she was standing next to him in the center of the dance floor. As he drew her into his arms, she rested one hand on his shoulder and placed her other in his outstretched hand. She turned one way and stretched out her foot a little way ahead. The man did the same.

The chattering of the audience subsided.

“They look like statues,” whispered Elsie.

“They're waiting for the music,” said Scoop.

Someone in the row ahead giggled as the silence continued. Then suddenly the gramophone started again. First a hissing crackle. Then a familiar tune. “I know that song,” said Elsie.

“They're not very good, are they?” said Scoop. He was right. One minute the woman was trying to keep up with the man. And in the next moment, his steps lagged behind hers. No bright glittering ball sent showers of light down onto them, as it had on the poster. And although Elsie caught a glimpse of a ring flashing on the man's hand, these dancers looked almost as dowdy as the other couples.

At last their turn was over. They bowed to the audience, although not many people paid much attention. The woman stood with her hand tucked into the man's arm as they watched more dancers shuffle through the curtain onto the dance floor.

“I don't know what all the fuss is about,” said Scoop. “Those toffs were no better than the others. You wanna go now? They're not here, you know. I've looked and looked. We must have imagined it. Anyway. I'm hungry.”

“Mother must be here. She must.”

“I don't see her.”

“Just wait, will you!” Elsie felt like a lump of cold clay as she stared at the sad bunch of dancers who seemed to hardly know they were being watched. Or if they did, didn't care. The thought that she had been mistaken, that Uncle Dannell and Mother were not here, that no one knew where they were, made her whole body so heavy she could hardly get up.

“What's this, then?” said Scoop.

The fancy man stood in front of the dancers, looking up into the audience again. “We now have a special treat. This is the time when you, the audience, have the chance to see the very special talent of our competitors here,” he said. “Now's your chance to send down pennies from heaven.” He looked up into the high rafters and laughed at his own little joke. “My friend here will randomly select one lucky couple who will perform their party piece. Just as Miss Driver and I did for your entertainment and amusement.”

“I wasn't very entertained.” Scoop's voice was so loud that two women turned around and frowned at him. A man farther along their bench laughed.

“Hush,” said Elsie. “I want to see what's going to happen.”

The man was still speaking. “We ask that you shower our talented competitors with whatever few coins you can spare. Silver Rain, we call it. So, as you can imagine, to make the best show today, nickels and dimes are most welcome.”

“Have you got any more money?” asked Scoop.

Elsie ignored him.

“Let's acknowledge the talent we have here before us,” said the man. “Our fortunate pair will be permitted to keep your contributions, so I'm sure you will be generous.” He turned to his partner. “Miss Driver. Who is to be today's lucky couple?”

She stepped across the floor and circled the dancers. Then she stopped beside one pair and put her arms around them.

For a moment, the man staggered as if he might fall. But when his partner touched his arm, he stood a little straighter.

Elsie gasped. He was thinner than she remembered. But she recognized the man's sandy hair and the thin mustache above his top lip. Uncle Dannell!

“Ouch. Leggo!” Scoop peeled her fingers from his knee, and Elsie clenched her hands in her lap. She held her breath. If that was Uncle Dannell, surely his partner must be…

The woman at Uncle Dannell's side lifted her head as if it was too heavy for her neck. She set her shoulders back and took a deep breath that seemed to draw air right from the bottom of her feet. Elsie watched, hardly daring to breathe as Uncle Dannell stood closer to the woman as she began to sing, her voice so thin and wavery that if Elsie had not already known the song by heart, she might not have recognized it.

Her mother was singing a song she and Father often danced to. “Ten Cents a Dance,” it was called. Which was just what she and Scoop had each paid to come in!

“I knew it!” whispered Scoop. “There's your mother.”

Elsie couldn't answer. She couldn't even move. All she could do was watch the singer take another deep breath to start another verse.

“Mother!”

Only when Scoop hissed, “And that's your uncle too!” did Elsie realize she had spoken aloud.

She stood up and called, “Mother!” Her cry echoed into the rafters above her head, loud enough for the people around her to turn toward her. And for the singer below to stop, as if she had woken from a long sleep, to look around the bleachers that surrounded the dance floor. And then to gaze up. Up, up. To where Elsie stood.

“Mother!” Elsie waved to her mother, who seemed so far away.

The sudden noise that followed was like the buzz of a thousand bees. It was, in fact, the sound of dozens of voices telling Elsie to sit down, to be quiet, so they could hear the rest of the song. And of others calling for quiet so the dancer could hear her daughter's voice.

Elsie turned this way and that as the noise of the crowd rose toward the ceiling. Then, in a lull, she heard her mother's frail voice calling up to her, “Elsie?”

“It's me, Mother. It's me…”

Through the titters and chatter, Scoop yelled, “Be quiet. Everyone. Hush. Let her finish her song!” His bony hand gripped Elsie's, crunching the bones in her fingers together. “Let her finish. So people can throw down the Silver Rain. Pennies from heaven, just like the man said.” He yanked on Elsie's arm, urging her to sit down.

She yanked back until he let go. She stared down through the shadows to the dance floor below, where her mother stood with Uncle Dannell beside her.

Scoop's fingers found Elsie's again and gave them another hard squeeze. “Let her finish,” he hissed.

Elsie looked around at everyone who had turned to stare at her. She looked back down toward the dance floor below. Now that she had found her mother and Uncle Dannell, she could wait a little longer. “All right. Sing, Mother,” said Elsie. She cleared her throat and called again more loudly, her voice ringing out like a bell to where her mother and uncle stood at the edge of the dance floor so far away. Her words sailed through the air, as clear as day. “Finish the song, Mother.”