The Melody Girls (8 page)

‘Ladies and gentlemen, will you please take your partners for a ladies' excuse-me, in our quickstep medley.'

And turning back to the band, he raised his stick, murmured to the players, and gave them the beat for the first melody, which Lorna was always to remember. ‘Jeepers, Creepers'. Oh, Lord, would she ever forget trying to play her best to that tune, when under sentence of telling off? For it would come, she knew it would.

And it did. At the end of the evening, when Suzie had sung her last song, the last waltz had been played, and the dancers had left, the band left too. Except for Rod and Lorna, standing, waiting, for Luke to speak.

He wasted no more time.

‘Can you just tell me what got into you, Rod?' he demanded coldly. ‘You know what I think about people in the band who come in late. I don't care whether it's for a rehearsal, or a broadcast, or a dance programme, or what the hell it's for, but everybody who plays for me turns up on time. So, how come you made Lorna – who's playing with us for the first time – as late as you? How come you kept everybody waiting? Everybody in the band, everybody on the floor, and me, for God's sake?'

‘I don't know, Luke,' Rod answered tightly. ‘It was a natural mistake. We were having a coffee and talking, looked up, saw the time and ran.'

‘A natural mistake? You're not in this band to make natural mistakes, Rod!'

‘OK, I've said I'm sorry. It's not exactly a hanging offence. If you want to sack me for being five minutes late, go ahead. But Lorna's not to blame, so leave her out of it.'

‘I'm as much to blame as Rod,' Lorna declared, clearing her throat. ‘But it's just like he said, it was a mistake. We were talking, we missed the time. It won't happen again.'

Seeming stunned by the way they were answering him back, Luke stood perfectly still, his pallor turning to scarlet on his cheekbones, his dark eyes moving sharply between the two young people. Then, as Lorna had seen him do before, he suddenly relaxed.

‘I take it you don't want me to sack you, Rod?' he asked smoothly.

‘Of course I don't, Luke. I like working for you.'

‘And Lorna?' Luke gave her a wry smile. ‘You've not had much experience yet, but you're doing so well, just try to remember my rules in the future, eh?'

‘I will, Luke.'

‘OK, let's forget this and say goodnight. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.'

At these words of farewell, on to the stand swept Suzie, in fur wrap and silk headscarf, followed by Flo, wearing her coat and carrying Lorna's.

‘Now now, tough guy!' Suzie cried. ‘That's enough of blowing people up. Let's get home.'

Luke frowned. ‘Everything I do is for the audience, Suzie. I don't make the rules for myself.'

‘Oh, come on, you know you like throwing your weight about!' She laughed and took his arm. ‘That's it for tonight, though.'

‘I was thinking we'd go for a drink with the lads.'

‘No, we're going home. Goodnight all!'

As Luke was led away, Rod turned uneasily to Lorna and Flo. ‘You two coming for a drink?'

‘I think I'll just get off home, Rod, thanks all the same,' Lorna murmured.

‘Me, too,' Flo said, passing Lorna her coat.

‘I suppose I'm in the doghouse, am I?' Rod asked, gazing at Lorna. ‘Got you into a row with Luke. Thanks for supporting me, anyway.'

‘I missed the time as well. Why should just you be blamed?'

He put his hand through his short fair hair. ‘If you really don't blame me, thanks again.'

‘OK, OK, let's break this up,' Flo said crisply. ‘I'm dying to get home. Come on, Lorna.'

‘Maybe I can see you to the tram? Or are you getting a taxi?'

‘Too dear and the tram's just up the road. You go and join the lads, Rod – you look as though you could do with a drink. We'll see you Monday.'

‘Lorna, how about Sunday?' he asked eagerly. ‘Can we meet?'

‘I'm sorry, Rod, I said I'd go over to my mother's tomorrow. She'll be wanting to know how things went.'

‘Say they went well,' he said glumly.

‘As though I'd say anything else! See you Monday, Rod.'

‘At the rehearsal studio,' Flo called over her shoulder. ‘Luke wants to tell us his plans.'

‘Monday,' Rod agreed, as a caretaker appeared with a broom and meaningful scowl, at which they all three hurried away.

‘Somebody's smitten,' Flo whispered to Lorna, when they'd hitched up their long skirts and climbed on to a late tram. ‘Rod can't take his eyes off you, eh?'

‘What a piece of nonsense, Flo! You've got a wonderful imagination.'

‘No wonder he forgot the time, talking to you. But he's a nice guy, you know.'

‘If you say I could do worse, like my mother, I'll throw you off the tram.' Lorna laughed. ‘I told you, I'm no' interested in young men at the minute.'

‘Only your career, eh?'

‘That's it, exactly.'

‘Well, maybe you're right. As I told you, falling in love never did me any good.' Flo gave a long sigh. ‘Och, when you see Luke in full flow, don't you wish we could just run away and start our own band?'

‘Start our own band?' Lorna stared. ‘As though we could!'

‘Has been known. What about Ivy Benson, in London? And a few others I could mention.' Flo took out her cigarettes. ‘Oh, forget it! Just a pipe dream, as they say.'

‘A lovely pipe dream, I say.'

But in her bed that night, picturing herself with her own band – as though it could happen – Rod's rueful face suddenly came into Lorna's mind. ‘A nice guy', Flo had said, more than once, and of course he was. Not that Lorna was interested. Still, before she finally fell asleep, she was smiling.

Fourteen

Plans. Seemed Luke had plenty, and when the band gathered in the studio on Monday afternoon, looks were exchanged and shoulders shrugged, because no one ever knew with Luke what might be coming.

As there was no rehearsal scheduled, people sat where they liked, and it didn't take long for Rod to find Lorna and join her, at which point Flo, some distance away with George, gave a knowing smile.

‘Enjoy Sunday?' Rod asked.

‘Yes, it was good to be back home.'

‘See the young man who isn't your young man?'

‘As a matter of fact, I didn't.' Lorna, who was feeling bad that she hadn't contacted Ewen, changed the subject. ‘Why no rehearsal today? I thought we were playing for a private dinner dance?'

‘True, at the Commodore Hotel, but they don't give a damn what we play. It's some rich young fellow's birthday and we know what those dos are like. Everybody playing the fool and racketing about the place.' Rod laughed. ‘So, Luke picks out the numbers we all know backwards and that's it. No rehearsal needed.'

‘Attention everybody!' Luke, immaculate in fine wool sweater and perfectly pressed trousers, was on his feet, controlling his band as though he was about to conduct. ‘Just want to put you all in the picture with what I've got lined up for you.'

‘Hope it's something good!' came a cheeky call from Dickie Tarrant, whose size matched the bass instrument he played in the rhythm section.

‘Damned good!' Luke retorted. ‘First off, what would you say to a broadcasting contract?'

Broadcasting? A murmur of interest ran round the band, and Lorna, her eyes shining, caught her breath. Broadcasting? Could it be that what she'd failed to achieve at the talent contest was coming to her at last? Seemed so, for as Luke explained, he'd managed to negotiate a six-week contract with the BBC in Glasgow to begin mid January. A half-hour slot, five evenings a week.

‘We'll be able to fit them in before our other engagements,' he said happily. ‘And who knows where it'll lead? It's about time we got on the airwaves again – haven't had a spot since pre-war days.'

‘That really is good news,' George commented. ‘Broadcasting will give us just the publicity we need.'

‘Exactly.' Luke nodded. ‘All you read about in the papers are the big names down south – Ambrose, Jack Hylton, Geraldo – all great bands, but where's Scotland? We've got good bands too.'

‘We'll need the latest numbers, Luke. Want me to get started on arrangements?'

‘Too right, but we mustn't forget the old favourites. We'll have to work out the right balance, and see what Suzie thinks. The BBC's keen to have a vocalist.' Luke smiled indulgently. ‘She could end up being famous – me too!'

‘This is so thrilling,' Lorna whispered to Rod. ‘It's what I've always wanted, to be on the wireless, playing to all those unknown people out there – I can't wait to start!'

‘Not going to be nervous of the red light?'

‘The red light?'

‘Means you're “On Air”.'

‘Oh, no, I see what you mean!'

‘Don't worry, you'll be OK. Soon as you begin to play, you'll forget where you are. I know – I did some broadcasts for the Forces radio.'

‘Everybody – hush!' Luke suddenly shouted, raising his hand. ‘I haven't finished yet. Thing is, I've been thinking for some time that we ought to be playing more theatres. Yes, I know, we're a dance band and always will be, but a theatre engagement's also good publicity, and should be worth considering. I'm looking into it and I'll let you know what happens.'

‘Sounds good,' Josh remarked. ‘I'm all for a bit of variety.'

‘I'm glad you said that.' Luke grinned. ‘Because the next thing on my programme is touring.'

Touring? At the word there was a general sagging of jaws and quiet groans, which Luke of course did not miss.

‘Come on, come on,' he said irritably. ‘What are you complaining about? Most of you never played the army camps during the war with George and me, and the few guys we could manage to scrape together – my God, you'd have had something to moan about then!'

‘Oh, the freezing barracks, the freezing food,' George agreed, nodding. ‘But they were grand lads, you know. Grand audiences. And never knew when they were going out to meet Jerry. Bravest of the brave.'

‘Yes, well it should be more comfortable for us now,' Luke went on. ‘I'm arranging bookings for next March, which is when we'll be free of contracts here and the radio contract as well.'

‘Booking where?' asked Dickie Tarrant. ‘Don't say the Highlands. They'll probably still be under snow in March.'

‘The Borders, as a matter of fact, but taking in Ayr, Carlisle and Berwick as well. And we needn't start worrying about snow at this stage. Come on, we've just said we want to get the band better known. Touring's a way to do it.'

‘Should be going to London, then.'

‘That'll come, just give us time!'

‘Bags I sit next to you on the coach,' Rod said in Lorna's ear, as people began to drift away. ‘And don't think I'm joking.'

He touched her arm. ‘Listen, tonight we'll be finishing late, I won't have the chance to ask you to go on anywhere, but tomorrow we'll be free until the evening. Couldn't we meet for lunch somewhere?'

Still starry-eyed from the news of the broadcasting engagements, she said at once, ‘Why not? If you know any good places to eat?'

‘You mean you're interested in the food?' He gave a mock groan. ‘And I'm only thinking about seeing you.'

‘Ah, you are joking, aren't you?'

‘Honestly, I'm not.'

Now, she really looked at him. ‘We have only just met, Rod.'

‘What's that got to do with it?'

‘Well – nothing, really, I suppose. Where shall we meet, then?'

‘I'll call for you at twelve. No trouble, it's on my way. We can go into town together. All right?'

‘Oh, yes. Fine. But I'll see you tonight, anyway.'

‘Not going home now? We could get the tram.'

‘We're going shopping,' Flo interrupted, coming up with Ina. ‘Have to fit shopping in sometime, you know.'

As Rod left them, saying he'd see them at the hotel dinner dance, Flo shook her head at Lorna.

‘Well, that frightened him off, eh, talking about shopping? But honestly, he's turning into a limpet. If you don't want him, you might have a job to get rid of him.'

‘I'd hang on to him, if I were you,' Ina said with a smile.

Do I want him? Lorna asked herself. Apart from her unwillingness to be sidetracked from her career, it was true what she'd said – they'd only just met. But that didn't seem to matter to him.

‘Great news about the broadcasts, eh?' Ina asked, as they set off for the shops, and Lorna, glad not to have to think any more about Rod, eagerly agreed.

‘Oh, it's grand, really grand. Couldn't be more thrilled.'

Fifteen

For lunch next day, Rod took Lorna to a pretty little tea room in Sauchiehall Street.

‘No, not the famous Willow Tea Room,' he told her apologetically. ‘You know, the one designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh way back. I thought we'd never get in there, and this place seems right for you.'

‘Right for me? How?'

‘Well – pretty and sort of feminine.'

‘Feminine?' Lorna, looking round at the elegant little cafe, smiled a little. ‘You mean, for the little woman?'

‘Ah, now, come on, Lorna! What's wrong with being feminine?' Rod passed her a menu. ‘The light lunches are right for everybody, anyway, in spite of rationing. I think you'll find them OK.'