Everyone agreed. And while they dressed for the opening number, they reminded Margot of Goldie’s cues. At the five minute call everyone hugged and kissed her, and as they waited in the wings, they gave her the thumbs-up, wishing her good luck and assuring her again that they would be there to help her in any way they could.
Margot waited nervously for her call – Goldie’s call. She took several deep breaths, which made her feel dizzy. She cleared her throat a dozen times, rotated her shoulders and sipped water from a small glass that Mrs Horton had put at the side of the flats. Suddenly she was aware that the orchestra were playing the opening chords of the first sketch. It was time. She looked across the stage to the wings opposite and in the dim light she saw Betsy waving.
Margot waved back before running onto the stage. The lights came up on a 1920s speak-easy and Margot and Betsy, dressed as flappers, shimmering from head to foot in golden tassels, danced the Charleston with a couple of gangsters. When Betsy circled her hands to the right, Margot mirror-imaged her, circling her hands to the left. At the end of the dance, before Goldie made her exit, she always struck a pose, held it for two beats, and then blew a kiss at the middle of the first row of the balcony before taking an exaggerated bow. Margot copied the routine exactly; she struck the pose, looked up at the balcony and blew a kiss. But instead of taking a bow she stumbled. The recipient of the kiss was Nazi Dave.
At the interval the girls took it in turns to look through a small hole in the curtains.
‘I can’t see anyone in the middle of the balcony,’ George said, crouching down so her eyes were level with the small hole.
‘Here, let me look. I know where Margot blew her kiss,’ Betsy said, taking George’s place. ‘There’s no one there now, Margot. He’s probably satisfied himself that he didn’t hurt Goldie too badly and gone home.’
‘Or he’s waiting outside for her,’ Margot said.
‘Well, we won’t know until the show’s over, so it’s pointless worrying. Come on, it’s time to get changed for the second act.’
‘Hats, masks, feathers, fans, parasols, we’ve got all manner of paraphernalia so your face won’t be seen too clearly. If it was Nazi Dave out there earlier,’ Mrs Horton warned, ‘we mustn’t let him see you’re not Goldie.’
‘But Goldie doesn’t wear all this stuff. Won’t he suspect something?’
‘No. He’s been around the theatre long enough to know she couldn’t go on stage looking like she did. He’ll expect her to wear something to hide the bruises.’
‘He might not have realised how badly he hurt her,’ Margot added. ‘When I first found her it was only the cut on her lip that was really noticeable. She couldn’t stand, of course, but he wouldn’t have known that. The bruising and the swelling on her face came out later, in the dressing room, so he might not suspect anything.’
Margot copied Goldie’s songs and dances perfectly. She remembered every smile, tilt of the head and wink, unique to her friend’s performance. No one would know it was me in the show tonight, she thought, as she took Goldie’s curtain call, sandwiched between George and Betsy.
In the dressing room afterwards, while the girls hugged and kissed her, Nancy opened a bottle of champagne. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,’ she said, keeping her voice to a whisper. ‘And I can’t think of anything, or anyone, more special than you, Margot. What you did today, helping Goldie, was wonderful and we’re all very grateful. But what you did tonight, on the stage, was amazing. You gave a star performance and we’re all very proud of you.’
Everyone raised their glasses and mimed their congratulations. Mrs Horton popped in and joined the silent applause, but refused a glass of champagne. ‘Well done,’ she whispered to Margot. ‘I’ll be back for the costumes in ten minutes,’ she said in her normal voice. And then, quieter, ‘Don’t want any changes to the routine.’
‘Mrs Horton’s right. We still have to be very careful,’ George warned. ‘We must act as if tonight is an ordinary night.’
‘I agree,’ Nancy said. ‘Margot, you’ll still have to go to the club and do your spot, or it’ll look suspicious. Finish your champers darling, and when you’ve changed, meet me at the stage door as normal. I’ll give you a lift to the club.’
For the next few nights, Goldie Trick performed on stage at the Prince Albert Theatre as usual, George and Betsy did, or didn’t, go to the Prince Albert Club, and the only person that knew what was going on, outside the theatre, was Bill. Margot had hurt him by not telling him she was singing at the club, and wasn’t going to upset him again. Besides, she was so excited, she thought she’d explode if she didn’t tell someone.
‘Tell me you’re joking, Margot,’ Bill said, shaking his head. ‘You said Goldie’s bloke was a gangster. Think of the repercussions.’
‘There won’t be any repercussions.’
‘He’s dangerous!’ Bill shouted. ‘If he could do that to someone he’s supposed to care about, because he thought she might leave him, what the hell do you think he’ll do to you when he finds out he’s been watching you on stage every night, not Goldie, because you’ve helped her to leave him?’
‘He won’t hurt me like he
