As Artie played the opening bars of the first song, Margot’s heart was breaking with the injustice of it all, but her head told her to sing, to do what she had worked so long and so hard for – and she did. She sang and she sang and she sang.
Margot sat on the apron of the stage on the afternoon of opening night and looked around. On either side of the stage there were new canvases, flats and curtains. Above, new lights shone down from the flies and below, surrounding the orchestra pit, was a new mahogany partition. The smell of recently waxed wood filled her nostrils. It reminded her of the ballroom at Foxden Hall before her sister Bess turned it into a hospital wing. Bess would be in London now. She had come down for her old housemates’ wedding and stayed on. Claire wasn’t able to get leave from the WAAF, but Ena was coming. Margot couldn’t wait to see them. She looked over to where they would be sitting with Natalie and Anton Goldman. The box didn’t look as if it had been refurbished. Most of the seats in the auditorium hadn’t either. Only the first three rows had been replaced; the rest had been cleaned. They’d have been covered in brick and plaster dust after the--.
‘Time to get you into your opening costume, Margot,’ Thelma, her new dresser called from the wings.
‘I’m coming.’ Margot jumped up and followed Thelma to the dressing room.
‘What do you think of your name on the door?’ Thelma asked, helping Margot out of her jacket. ‘Stan did it while you were on stage.’
Margot went back to the door, opened it and smiled. ‘That was kind of him, but it’s a bit big. A bit showy, don’t you think?’
‘No I don’t! The big star was my suggestion. I thought you’d like it.’ Thelma looked disappointed.
‘I do. Thank you.’ Margot secretly enjoyed being in the number one dressing room. It was the only one with a gold star but, more importantly, it had been Nancy’s dressing room. ‘When I was at school,’ she said, laughing, ‘whoever came top of the class at the end of each term was awarded a gold star. I was always near the top, often second or third, but I never came top, so I never got the gold star.’
‘Stand still.’
‘Sorry.’ She laughed again. ‘I wonder what my teacher would say if she could see me now with a gold star that big on my door?’
Dressing room one was nearest the stage and was the female lead’s dressing room. Number two was the male lead’s room, except there wasn’t a male lead, so George and Betsy were in it. Artie was in dressing room three with a couple of musicians. And the rest of the orchestra were in room four – the biggest dressing room. Five and six, on the first floor, housed jugglers, magicians and other guest acts. Wardrobe and the white room were where they’d always been and Natalie Goldman’s studio was still in dressing room seven. Eight and nine, which were only used when there was a large cast, were home to the chorus – boys in eight and girls in nine.
It was a fairly big cast, although there were no glamorously dressed back-drop girls standing at the back of the stage holding elegant poses in picturesque tableaux. Until last summer there had been quite a turnover of young women. They didn’t do much and they didn’t say anything. But dressed as Indian maidens, Greek goddesses, or Spanish flamenco dancers, they looked stunning.
‘Your five minute call, Miss Dudley.’
Margot looked at Thelma. ‘Did he say the five? I don’t remember him calling the half.’
‘You had your eyes closed. I thought you were asleep and didn’t want to disturb you.’
Getting up, Margot looked in the mirror. She bit her bottom lip. ‘This is it then?’
Thelma nodded. ‘This is it. Get out there and show them what you’re made of,’ she said, hugging Margot. ‘Break a leg.’
‘Don’t say that. My ankle has only just healed.’ They both laughed.
‘You’ll be fine; better than fine. I’ll see you for your first costume change.’
George and Betsy, Artie, the entire orchestra, dancers, musicians, everyone backstage and front of house, had wished Margot good luck one way or another. And she was ready. When the stage manager said, ‘This is your cue, Miss Dudley,’ she walked out onto the stage as if she’d never been off it.
The show was a massive success. It was a series of sketches and songs that were familiar to many people in the audience. They sang along with “Run Rabbit Run” and “Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree” and all the other songs. Artie Armitage had them rolling in the aisles, jugglers on stilts had them gasping, and at the finale Margot, George and Betsy, dressed in their ENSA uniforms, sang their interpretation of The Andrews Sisters’ hit “Bei Mir Bist du Schoen” to rapturous applause and a standing ovation.
Margot’s dressing room was buzzing with members of the company as well as friends. Natalie and Anton arrived with Bill and Bess but not Ena, who had been refused time off work at the last minute.
The first night party at the Prince Albert Club was a little subdued, but everyone was exhausted anyway. The bandleader asked Margot to sing, which she agreed to do only if George and Betsy sang with her. The three friends ran across to the stage. They sang, “Putting On The Ritz”, which went down a storm. Margot and Betsy left George on stage to do her new party piece “Burlington Bertie” and she brought the house down.
When they had finished and were back in their seats a waiter gave Margot a card and pointed at the bar.
