CHAPTER TWENTY
‘I have the newspapers, Miss Margot.’
Margot laid her hand on the new stage doorman’s arm. ‘Thank you, Stan.’
Margot meant more than thank you for the newspapers, and saw in Stan’s kind eyes that he knew. ‘Congratulations, Miss,’ he nodded, handing her half a dozen dailies.
‘Anyone in yet?’
Miss Betsy and Miss George. Both weighed down with papers,’ he laughed.
‘Thank you, I’ll join them.’ With her own bundle of newspapers tucked under her arm, Margot ran to George and Betsy’s dressing room.
‘You’ve hit the headlines,’ Betsy said, throwing her arms around Margot as soon as she stepped through the door.
‘Damn right too,’ George said.
‘You were spectacular last night. Considering-- I mean, how upset you were before the show.’
George handed Betsy The Stage and the Evening Standard. ‘Find the reviews in these while I look through The Times and the Guardian. Then lay them open on the table. What have you got, Margot?’
‘Telegraph and Mirror.’ Dropping the rest of the papers on the floor, she laid the Mirror on the table and began to read the Telegraph.
‘Right, let’s see what the critics have to say! Come on, you two,’ George said, ‘don’t be shy.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘What is it?’ Seeing tears in Margot’s eyes, George went to her and looked over her shoulder. ‘Let me see what it says.’
‘“No one could take the place of the wonderful Nancy Jewel…”’ Margot burst into tears. ‘I wasn’t trying to take her place. I wish she was here more than anyone.’
‘We know,’ George said. ‘Hang on; what you read was out of context.’ She took the paper out of Margot’s hands. “‘No one could take the place of the wonderful Nancy Jewel, the toast of London and star of The Prince Albert Theatre in London’s West End, except the equally talented Margot Dudley. It must have been hard for the relatively unknown actress, Nancy Jewel’s protégée, to take over her mentor’s role, but she did and she did it brilliantly. We toast you, Miss Dudley. Theatreland is agog!”’
‘I’m sorry. When I read the opening sentence it made me feel as if I was stepping up on Nancy’s coat tails. Made me feel--’
‘Oh I think you’ve earned your stripes, Margot. I think the theatre critics and reviewers know it too.’
“‘Margot Dudley stole the show. Not the first time and it won’t be the last, I hope.’”
‘It says in The Stage, “Regional actress Margot Dudley, who arrived in London a couple of years ago and began her life at the Prince Albert Theatre as an usherette, stole the show.”’
“‘A star performance!” the Guardian says. “The Prince Albert Theatre at its very best,” from the Evening Standard, and The Times, “Margot Dudley gave the performance of her life.” Do I need to go on, Margot?’ Margot shook her head and put her arms around George. ‘I think Nancy would be proud of what you did last night-- what we all did.’
At that moment Richard Smiley came into the room. ‘Does anyone around here have time to rehearse, or should we just go up tonight in the slip-shod fashion we went up in last night?’
The three girls turned and glared at him. Unable to keep up the pretence, he broke into a broad smile and ran across the room. Lifting Margot off her feet he swung her round, before dropping her and putting his arms round George and Betsy. ‘Stars! You’re all bloody stars!’
‘Does that include me, Mr Smiley?’ Artie said, entering the dressing room.
‘You’re all included,’ the director said. ‘But we have to keep up the standard. Today we enjoy our fame. Tomorrow we start re-working the opening number. I want it tighter, sharper and more energetic.’ Richard Smiley left to good-humoured protests and sounds of mock rebellion.
‘Shush everyone,’ Betsy shouted. ‘Shush, listen!’ she shouted again.
‘What is it, Bets?’ Margot said.
‘That Dave. Goldie’s ex-bloke. That’s him, isn’t it?’ she said, taking the Daily Mirror from the table and passing it to Margot.
‘Looks like him. Oh my God!’ Margot began to read. “‘Three men taken into custody for their own protection were later arrested. At Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park, three men were heckling an elderly Jewish man speaking about the plight of Jews in Germany. Several people in the crowd recognised the hecklers from an earlier confrontation in the East End and set about them, accusing them of having been members of the disbanded British Union of Fascists.”’
‘So was Nazi Dave one of them arrested?’ Betsy asked.
‘It doesn’t give names,’ Margot said.
‘Let’s see if there’s anything in The Times.’ George flicked through the paper. ‘There’s a short report here. “Ex-BUF members David Sutherland, Harold Alsop and Richard McCauley, taken into custody for their own protection after being attacked in Hyde Park, were later charged with membership of an illegal organisation, failing to answer the call up and resisting a constable in the execution of his duty. All three men have been kept in custody pending a court hearing.”’
‘Woo-hoo!’ Betsy hooted. ‘He’s in the clink.’
‘Well! That’s one to celebrate.’
‘And we should. Let’s go to the club after the show. Margot, you won’t have to look over your shoulder ever again,’ Betsy said.
‘Depends on how long they give him.’
‘It won’t matter, Bets. He’ll be interned until the war ends, like Mosley,’ George said.
Margot felt conspicuous sitting in the court,
