Looking at her reflection in the mirror as she applied her lipstick, Margot could see how tired she looked. Gently she dabbed face powder under her eyes and rubbed a little more rouge into her cheeks – she looked better.
Seeing Lieutenant Murphy at Trafalgar Square had reminded Margot of the silver wings he’d given her when she was touring with ENSA. She took them from her handbag and put them on. They were lovely and set the dress off perfectly.
Waiting in the wings, Margot listened to the applause as the band played the first few chords of her signature tune. When she felt the audience had clapped enough, she entered the room smiling. Thanking them and blowing kisses, she made her way to the stage and the microphone. ‘“They Can’t Take That Away From Me,”’ she said, ‘for my husband, Bill.’ Margot looked over to the bar and blew him a kiss.
Her second song was a Talk of London favourite, “That Old Black Magic”. Coincidentally an elderly gentleman walked across the dance floor as Margot began to sing “It Had to be You”. She sang the first line of the song to him and everyone laughed, including the man.
Taking a short break to mingle with the audience, as she always did, she spotted Lieutenant Boyd Murphy walking towards her. ‘You’re wearing the wings?’
‘What? She put her hand up and touched the brooch he had given her. She could feel her heart beating. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘When we got to Hendon we were given our papers to go home,’ Murphy said. ‘I leave tomorrow. I won’t be coming into London again, but I wanted to give you this.’ He handed Margot his card. ‘My address in the States. On the flip side is the movie studio. You’re made for the movies, Margot.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ She looked down at the small card.
‘Say you’ll come! Or at least say you’ll think about it,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘This blue bird is done flying over the white cliffs of Dover, it’s the Atlantic tomorrow.’
‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’
‘Promise you’ll think about it,’ he said, his eyes penetrating hers.
With butterflies of excitement flying around in the pit of her stomach, she nodded. ‘I’ll think about it.’ The band began to play the opening chords of “Every Time We Say Goodbye”. ‘I must go.’ Letting go of his hand, Margot returned to the stage. She looked into the audience, to where her American film maker had been standing. He had gone.
Margot brought the first day of VE celebrations to an end with “I'll Be Seeing You” and left the stage to rapturous applause. After talking to people, accepting their compliments and thanking them, she joined Bill at the bar.
‘You were wonderful, sweetheart.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek.
‘Drink?’
‘Please. Make it a large one,’ she whispered to the bartender. ‘It’s been quite a day.’
‘What did the GI want?’ Bill asked as soon as they were home.
Margot looked at him quizzically before remembering the card that she’d tucked down the front of her dress. ‘Ah,’ she said, producing it. ‘He’s in films.’ She handed Bill the card. ‘He said if I ever go to America I should get in touch with him, and he’ll get me work in the movies.’
Bill rolled his eyes. ‘And what did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You were a long time not saying anything.’
‘He’d been given his papers and was going back to America. He’d come from Hendon specially. I could hardly ignore him.’
‘Still, it’s academic, as my boss would say.’
‘What is?’
‘You going to America. It’s academic, because we’re going home now the war’s over. I’ll be demobbed from the MoD soon, and then we’ll go home.’
‘I’ve signed a contract to do the summer at the Albert.’
‘What the hell have you done that for?’
‘My contract at The Talk takes me up to August, so when Salvatore asked me, I thought I might as well. How was I to know the war was going to end?’
‘Because I’ve been telling you for a year it was gearing up to end,’ Bill shouted. ‘You just didn’t bloody listen!’ He stormed off. ‘Do what you like Margot, but I’m going home as we both agreed we’d do.’ Margot heard the bedroom door slam.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Margot took her bow, threw back her head and opened her arms to the audience. They weren’t clapping. They always clapped when she finished singing, often before. She bowed again. Still no applause. She looked around the audience and settled on the table nearest the stage. The couple looked familiar. Of course they do, she thought. They come to see me every time I appear at The Talk of London. ‘Hello,’ she said, smiling. The man looked away and busied himself with his cigarette case. He took out a cigarette and immediately the waiter nearest to him struck a match. Margot smiled at his wife. She smiled back, but looked sad. How could that be? She dropped her head. She looked as if she was going to cry. ‘Don’t cry,’ Margot whispered.
The band began to play and Margot stepped back behind the microphone and into her light. She turned to the bandleader and frowned. The band was playing a tune she didn’t recognise. Why were they doing that? She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, trying desperately to remember the words. Perhaps the tune didn’t have any. Ah, that was it. There were no words. She gave the bandmaster a hard stare. He should have told her she
