‘He’s what? The police-- What are you going to get mixed up in next, Margot?’
Unable to stem the flow of tears, Margot ran to her worried husband and threw her arms around his neck. Looking up into his eyes, she said, ‘Don’t shout at me, Bill, please. Finding Goldie beaten up, and knowing I could help her-- I’m sorry, but I had to. And,’ she hesitated, wondering whether Bill would understand what she was about to tell him, ‘when I was on stage it was wonderful, of course it was, but it felt right too.’ She lowered her arms, put them round his waist and laid her head on his chest. ‘I wish you’d been there,’ she cried, ‘I wish you’d seen me dancing and singing like a professional.’
‘Shush… don’t cry. I know how much you wanted this. Not Goldie getting hurt, of course, and I’m pleased for you, really I am, but--’ Bending down until his eyes were level with hers, he said, ‘You don’t seem to understand danger, Margot, you don’t see it. There’s a war on and when everybody’s running to safety, to a shelter or the underground, you’re running around the streets to a theatre, or a night club.’
‘I’m sorry, Bill.’
‘If anything happened to you, Margot,’ he said, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, ‘I don’t know what I’d do.’
For the first time Margot realised how reckless she had been during the last few months. She had so desperately wanted to be a singer and dancer that she’d allowed her needs and her wants to override everything else, even her safety. She looked into Bill’s tired, sad eyes. ‘Do you want me to stop working in the theatre and the club? If you do…’
Bill shook his head. ‘Then you’d hate me.’
‘No I wouldn’t!’
Smiling, he pushed a curl of hair from Margot’s face and kissed her on the nose. ‘Yes, you would, which is why I would never ask you to.’
Margot opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Bill put his finger to her lips. ‘If you promise not to walk to the club on your own – either go with one of the girls or get a cab – and if you wait for me to pick you up at the end of the show, I’ll feel happier.’
Margot nodded and whispered, ‘I promise.’
‘Now, tell me all about it. What was it like to sing and dance in front of all those people?’
Bert beckoned Margot over to the small window at the side of the stage door, put out the light and pulled back the blackout curtain. ‘I don’t want you to go out there yet. Someone’s watching the stage door,’ he said, stepping to the side to let Margot take his place. ‘Been standing in the shadows at the entrance of that alley for the past half hour.’
Margot’s eyes soon adjusted to the charcoal darkness that London had become at night without street lights, and she saw a movement. There it was again: the shadow of a man in a trilby hat. She strained her eyes. He was tall, with square shoulders. He struck a match, but must have shielded the flame, cupped it in the palms of his hands to stop the wind from blowing it out, because it disappeared for a second before reappearing and then falling to the ground. In the darkness she saw the end of a cigarette brighten and dim several times. She watched, transfixed, the nerve ends on top of her stomach tightening like the skin of a drum. Suddenly the cigarette flew across the alley and almost immediately the man walked out of the shadows to where it had landed. He crushed the burning stub, twisting and turning his foot until there couldn’t have been anything left. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. He took a cigarette from the box, returned it to his pocket and struck a match. And as the match flared, Margot saw his face. ‘It’s him. It’s Goldie’s ex-boyfriend, the Nazi.’
Margot and Bert watched as Dave, dressed in his usual black leather overcoat and a black trilby, left the alley. He stopped walking after a few yards and turned up the collar of his coat. Then, with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, he swaggered along Maiden Lane as if he owned it. Margot kept watching. She wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to hide in a doorway, pounce on one of the girls as they passed and force her to tell him where Goldie was. Suddenly he stopped. Margot flinched as she watched him turn and walk back towards the theatre. He slowly looked up at the dressing room windows and down again, his gaze settling on the small window where Margot was standing. Her heart leapt in her chest. She knew Dave couldn’t see her, but she felt vulnerable. Then she saw his expression. It had changed from his usual cocky smirk to an angry glare. And she went cold. Slowly, so she didn’t cast a shadow or jerk the curtain, she stepped away from the window. ‘He gives me the creeps,’ she said, and she shuddered.
‘Lord knows how long he’s going to keep this up,’ Bert said.
‘What? You mean this isn’t the first time?’
‘No. I’ve seen him several times, standing in the shadows, watching the stage door. He’s hoping to see Goldie, I expect.’
‘I feel as if he’s watching me.’ Margot shrugged the idea from her mind. ‘He can’t know it’s me on stage in place of Goldie, can he?’
‘No. Even so, I don’t want you leaving on your own tonight, Miss. Wait in the office with me until your husband gets here. By
