Born to Dance (5 page)

She sidled up to him. ‘You wouldn’t be disappointed, I can promise you.’

‘Thank you for your consideration, but that won’t be necessary. Should Bonny be unable to dance, I’ll do it alone.’

‘But how can you?’

‘I once saw Astaire do a number where he pretended to have a partner, I’ll do the same.’

‘But …’ Lily began.

‘There are no buts,’ snapped Rob and he knelt down and bound Bonny’s ankle. ‘The chorus will dance without you in the other numbers, and in the finale I’ll take as much weight off you where we dance together, but I can’t help you other than that.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Bonny, taking two painkillers from Nan and swallowing them down with a glass of water.

‘I’ll help you change,’ Nan said. ‘Now, all of you – and you, Mr Andrews – give the girl some room.’

‘I’ll see you in the wings,’ said Rob, and with one last worried glance walked out.

Lily slunk away to get changed, but Shirley, who had been
watching her, sidled over. ‘It didn’t quite work out as you planned, did it?’

‘What do you mean?’ Lily looked startled.

‘I seem to remember that you came off the stage next to Bonny. What did you do, give her a shove down the steps?’

‘I did not! Ask Bonny. She tripped.’

‘Over what, I wonder?’ She glared at the girl. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past you, you little bitch, but if I find you had anything to do with this incident, I’ll sort you out and that’s a promise.’ And she walked away to get changed.

Sammy Kendrick bought a copy of the
Daily
Telegraph
and read the entertainment column. His friend had kept his promise and had written a glowing report about the show at the Palace, asking why these two talented dancers, Bonny Burton and the well-known musical director Rob Andrews, were not appearing in the West End. Sammy grinned broadly. Great! This was exactly what he’d hoped for.

Peter Collins, the West End producer, also read the report, which only added to his curiosity after dining with Bernie Cohen, who had praised these two dancers highly. Collins held the columnist in high esteem, knowing that his reputation as a theatre critic was well respected. If he didn’t like a performance he could be vitriolic, so praise from him was well earned. And so it was with great interest that he waited to accompany Cohen to Southampton for the Thursday evening performance.

Bonny sat alone in the dressing room whilst the other dancers were on stage. Her ankle throbbed but the painkillers were beginning to kick in, and by the time the finale came round she hoped the throbbing would lessen. Nan had strapped her foot up well and now she was sitting with it up on a chair. Even so, she could see the foot was swollen.

By now she was convinced that Lily had tripped her. After all, there was nothing for her to trip over. The staff backstage were always so careful about keeping the area free and clear to avoid such accidents. Conniving little bitch! She gave a slow smile. But her plan had failed, and Bonny was determined that even if she was in agony, she would dance.

The girls filed back into the dressing room after their number and changed hurriedly for the finale. All the girls – except Lily – asked how she was.

‘I’m fine, a bit sore, but really I’m fine.’

Shirley sat next to her and quietly remarked, ‘Like hell you are.’

Bonny knew better than to try and fool her friend. ‘I
am
going on if it damn well kills me, if only to spite Miss Lily Stevens!’

‘I had a quiet word with Rob Andrews just now,’ Shirley told her. ‘I’m sure she tripped you up, and by the look of thunder on his face I would say she’s for the chop at the end of the week.’

Bonny limped to the wings as the music started for the finale, praying that her ankle would hold up during the routine. Rob came up behind her as the chorus danced on before them.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me,’ she said, and as their entrance came she smiled broadly as she danced on to the stage.

The dance seemed endless. Rob, true to his word, took most of her weight during the lifts and when they were together, but when Bonny and he danced apart the pain in her ankle brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and smiled throughout. At the end of the number, Rob caught hold of her, taking the weight off her feet.

‘Well done you,’ he whispered as they took their bow.

Back in the dressing room, Nan had a large basin of ice cubes ready. ‘Here, put your foot in that,’ she said as she piled the ice around the swollen ankle.

Rob entered the room and looked down. ‘I’m taking you home in a taxi,’ he said, ‘and tomorrow morning I’ll collect you and take you to the hospital. I want a doctor to take a look at you.’

‘I don’t honestly think that’s necessary,’ Bonny argued.

‘You may not think so, but I do. When you’re ready to go home, send Nan along and I’ll get a car.’

‘The master has spoken,’ said Shirley dryly. ‘Besides, he’s right, you should get it seen to.’

‘But what if the doctor tells me I can’t go on?’

‘Then Rob will have to do it alone, as he said he would.’

‘After all that publicity! No, I can’t let that happen. I’ll ask the doctor if I can’t have an injection for the pain before I dance. There are two nights and Saturday’s matinee to go. After that I can rest my foot at home. After all, I have only the final number to dance. Surely I can manage that?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see what happens,’ Shirley said, but she doubted that any doctor would advise such a thing.

Once in the taxi, Bonny put her idea to Rob. ‘If the doctor at the hospital agrees with the injection, we could have a local doctor standing by before each performance, couldn’t we?’

Although Rob admired Bonny’s determination, he didn’t want her to add to the damage. As a dancer, he knew just how important it was to treat any injuries with care, but he also knew that Bernie Cohen was bringing the producer down one evening and Bonny’s future would depend on her being seen. It was a dilemma. It would all depend on what transpired at the hospital tomorrow morning.

Bonny put her case the following morning in the emergency ward. ‘I have three evening performances to do only,’ she pleaded. ‘I can rest my foot all day until Saturday when we have a matinee in the afternoon, and then until the evening performance. Please, Doctor, this is vital.’

‘The show must go on, Miss Burton, is that what you’re saying?’ But his tone was sympathetic.

‘There! You do understand.’

‘I have tickets myself for tonight’s performance,’ he said with a smile, ‘but, of course, that won’t sway my judgement.’ He examined her foot carefully. ‘You should rest it completely, but I am prepared to go along with your idea … as long as you don’t put any weight on it in the meantime and you keep the foot elevated. I’ll get a nurse to bandage it to give you some support, but you must rest as much as possible, and after the weekend you really need to keep any weight off it altogether.’

‘Oh thank you, Doctor. I promise I’ll do everything you tell me.’

‘I’ll see you get a pair of crutches to use in the meantime.’

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said Rob. ‘Come backstage after the performance if you like.’

The doctor grinned broadly. ‘Thanks, I’d like that and so will my wife.’

Rob took Bonny home and was ushered into the living room by Millie, who was anxious to hear the verdict. She made a cup of tea whilst Rob told her what the doctor had said.

‘I’ll send a car for you tonight,’ he told Bonny.

‘Don’t you worry about her, Mr Andrews,’ Millie said. ‘I’ll make sure she sits on the settee with her feet up until then.’

He drank his tea and then rose to his feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Burton, and thanks for the tea.’ Turning to Bonny, he said, ‘I’ll see you this evening.’

‘He seems a nice chap,’ said Millie after she’d seen Rob to the door.

‘You’ll see just what a wonderful dancer he is when you come to the theatre on Saturday.’

‘Yes, imagine you dancing with the likes of him! Whatever next, I wonder?’ Millie remarked as she walked into the scullery.

That evening, Bernie Cohen and Peter Collins took their places in the stalls as the auditorium began to fill. Collins was intrigued about the evening before him. He thought about the report he had read about the show. It had been unusual for the man to write about any show other than one in the West End, and his enthusiasm for the Astaire–Rogers number was quite rare.

The lights dimmed and the overture began.

Backstage, Bonny, with the help of Nan, the wardrobe mistress, had dressed and put the final touches to her stage make-up, before sitting with her foot up on a chair – a doctor standing by to give her an injection during the interval.

Having rested her foot all day, the swelling had gone down considerably, but she knew that after her performance it would be swollen once again.
Never
mind,
she thought,
as
long
as
this
gets
me
through every performance it doesn’t matter
.

The second half was all but over when Rob came to her dressing room to collect her. ‘Use your crutches,’ he said. ‘Nan will hold them in the wings during the dance. How’s the foot?’

‘Fine. The rest has brought down the swelling and the injection has deadened the pain.’

He smiled slowly and squeezed her hand. ‘You are an amazing young woman. Right, here we go,’ he said, and they danced on to the stage.

Peter Collins sat upright in his seat and watched carefully.

At the end of the show, Bernie Cohen sent word to Rob that he wanted to see him and Bonny in Rob’s office, so Rob went along to the girl’s dressing room and asked Bonny to accompany him. Puzzled, she took hold of her crutches and followed him. Just as they reached the office door they were met by Bernie and his associate, who looked askance at Bonny. ‘Miss Burton, whatever is the matter?’

Rob intervened. ‘Please let’s go inside.’ He didn’t want anyone to see his visitors.

Once inside, Bernie introduced the man. ‘Rob, Bonny, this is
Peter Collins, the West End producer.’ Looking at Bonny, he said, ‘I’m Bernie Cohen, a talent scout, and I asked Mr Collins down here to see the two of you dance.’

‘Why the crutches?’ asked Collins. ‘After seeing you dance just now, I can’t believe you need them.’

‘I had a fall last night and twisted my ankle,’ she explained.

‘But you still danced. Wasn’t it painful?’

She grimaced. ‘Yes it was but a doctor gave me an injection during the interval. I couldn’t let Rob and the public down after all the publicity.’

He looked at her with admiration. ‘That is the sign of a real trouper, Miss Burton, and are you able to complete the week this way?’

‘Yes, then I’ll be able to rest up.’

Collins turned his attention to Rob. ‘I really must commend you on your choreography; it was first class throughout the evening. Your chorus work was very innovative but the finale was spectacular.’

‘Thank you.’ Rob looked pleased.

‘I am putting together a show to be held at the Adelphi Theatre in the West End in four months’ time and I would like the two of you to join the cast.’

Bonny gasped and turned to Rob, who was looking thoughtful. ‘I would have to know a lot more about it before I could possibly give you an answer,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ said Peter. ‘I would also like to offer you the job as choreographer, but we need to meet up and discuss it in detail. Are you free next week to come to my office in London?’

‘Yes, that would be fine.’

The two men arranged a day and time and Collins rose to his feet. He shook Rob’s hand and then Bonny’s. ‘You are a very talented young lady and I would love to have you in my show.’ Then the two men left the office.

Bonny, who had been shocked into silence, spoke. ‘Am I dreaming?’

With a chuckle, Rob said, ‘No, Bonny, we have been offered a place in a West End show. How do you feel about it?’

‘Absolutely stunned!’

‘Well, I would need to find out what it entails before I was able to even think about accepting, but if everything works out would you be willing to take the job?’

‘Are you joking? Of course I’d accept, it’s my dream. How could you even doubt it?’

‘What about your parents? How would they react to you moving away from Southampton and home?’

‘I am a professional dancer, they couldn’t possibly imagine I’d be staying put, not if I’m any good.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘Do you really think I’m good enough?’

He took her hand in his. ‘Do you think I’d have danced with you if I had any doubts? Of course you’re good enough! Peter Collins himself told you that you were talented and he should know.’

‘Were you aware that he was coming?’

Rob told her about Bernie and how he arranged this meeting. ‘Bernie is a brilliant talent scout. He was so impressed that he invited Collins down to see the show.’

Seeing how tired Bonny looked, he insisted they booked a taxi to take her home. ‘I’ll come in and have a word with your parents, if you like, and pave the way should we decide to accept Peter Collins’ offer.’

Bonny thought the idea was sound. In her heart she thought her mother would approve, but she wasn’t at all sure about her father. But no one would stop her if Rob decided the move was a good one. And she was right.

Sitting around the table in the living room of the Burton’s house, Rob told them what had transpired that evening. Bonny’s mother, Millie, was thrilled, but Frank, her husband, was shaken to the core.

‘But Bonny is only eighteen!’

‘So are many others in the profession,’ Rob said quietly. ‘I cannot impress upon you enough the great opportunity this is for your daughter. She has an immense talent that should be nurtured. Peter Collins is a renowned producer, one of the finest in the country. He doesn’t make these offers unless he thinks he has a star on his hands. When you come to the theatre on Saturday, you will see for yourself why he’s done so.’

‘You can’t stand in her way,’ urged Millie. ‘After all, this is what Bonny’s worked for. What we paid for when you agreed to let her have dancing lessons.’

‘Yes, but she was a child, I never thought it would get this far.’

Bonny gazed at her father. ‘But it has, Dad. I’ve never wanted to do anything else but dance. This is my great chance. If you tried to stop me I don’t think I could ever forgive you.’

Such was the determination in her voice, Frank knew she meant it.

‘There’s lots of negotiations to go before I would commit either Bonny or myself to this project, so let’s wait and see what transpires,’ suggested Rob, wanting to defuse the moment.

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Millie. ‘Now I want to bathe Bonny’s ankle in cold water before she goes to bed.’

‘I’ll send a car for you tomorrow, Bonny,’ Rob said as he took his leave.

Later, when mother and daughter were alone, Millie looked at Bonny and said, ‘Don’t you worry about your father, I’ll have a good talk to him. You will go to the West End, even if it’s over my dead body!’

Bonny hugged her. ‘Oh, I do love you.’

‘Of course you do, I’m your mother!’