Jazz Baby (3 page)

‘Show me your hands.'

Dolly spread her fingers and held them out for inspection, checking to see how dirty they' d got on the train.

‘Put your arms down and turn around slowly.'

Clamping her arms by her side she did as Mrs Mack told her. What else could she do? Numerous pairs of eyes scored her burning back as she revolved slowly until she faced the assembled crowd again.

‘The job's yours if you want it, love. Come and sit down and have some tucker, then one of the girls can show you to your room. Everyone say hello to Dolly.'

‘Hello Dolly,' the girls chirped and returned to their gossip.

A plate and some cutlery appeared in front of her then a tureen of steaming soup. Dolly's stomach churned; she hadn't eaten since she'd left home. She was famished…but she had a job!

‘Would you like some water?' Not waiting for her response the girl next to her filled her glass. ‘If you want anything stronger you'll have to wait until she's gone about her business.' She flicked her hair in the direction of the head of the table. ‘Won't be long now.'

Concentrating, Dolly ladled the soup into her bowl then picked up the spoon to taste the thick stew-like soup. As it filled her insides the kick of elation grew. This was just the beginning. No more worrying where her next meal came from, no more accepting other people's charity and no more loneliness. As soon as she got settled she'd send Alf a letter and say thank you. She had no idea how he knew Mrs Mack and she didn't intend to ask. When she got paid she'd send him back the train fare he'd lent her, too.

‘My name's Alice.'

Dolly turned to the rake thin girl next to her and cracked a huge smile.

‘I'm from Orange. You'll like it here. The food's great,' Alice said.

‘This soup's delicious.'

‘Mrs Mack doesn't stint on her girls and the rooms are fine. You might end up sharing with me and Rosa. There's a spare bed in our room.'

Dolly shovelled in another mouthful while she took a good look at Alice. She didn't appear much like a girl from out bush. Her short haircut and make-up belonged in the city.

‘Here, have some bread. You look as though you could do with a decent feed.'

Dolly put down her spoon and took the slice of bread. The soft white dough and golden crust looked almost too good to eat. Mrs Mack must employ a cook as well. She stared down the table, unable to imagine that all these smart, good-looking girls actually worked in the house.

Mrs Mack clapped her hands once and all the girls' faces turned to the head of the table. ‘Off you go. We're going to be busy tonight. Hop to it.' She stood up and walked down the length of the table. ‘Alice, show Dolly to your room and get her settled and don't be late getting downstairs.'

The last strand of tension eased and Dolly beamed at Alice. Life was on track. She'd got the job, had a full stomach and a roof over her head.

‘Come on.' Alice pushed back her chair. ‘If we're quick I can take you for a tour before things get started.'

Dolly followed Alice out of the room and back down the hallway, the rabbit warren of rooms beginning to make sense. Behind the façade of the three identical terraces the building was actually one. The front rooms were all set up along similar lines to the one where she'd met Jack. Plush yet somehow cosy and each painted a different colour. The bright colours appealed to her, though her father would have been horrified. They made her want to smile. A red room, a green room and a blue room, and then beyond them, behind the stairs and down the hallway, were Mrs Mack's rooms. Past the kitchen and out the back the girls' bedrooms sprawled higgledy-piggledy into the concrete yard where three dunnies stood in a row like sentinels guarding the back fence.

‘Leave your suitcase where it is and I'll take you for a quick look upstairs. We've got to get a move on. It's getting late and the rooms will all be busy soon, and I've got to get into my glad rags.'

‘Glad rags?' Dolly cast another glance at Alice. Wearing a red drop-waisted frock and heeled shoes with a slash of matching lipstick across her mouth she looked more than ready for a night on the town.

‘Put my working clothes on. Best bib and tucker. You know.'

Dolly's mind swirled and she frowned. ‘I thought the day was pretty much over. I'm quite tired and hoped I'd get some sleep so I'd be ready for work tomorrow.'

‘Don't worry. Mrs Mack won't be expecting you to do anything until then. You'll start off cleaning, getting to know the place. Me, I've been here a while. Got myself a step up.' Alice stuck out her scrawny chest and batted her eyelashes. ‘Come on, quick.' She grabbed Dolly's hand and raced her up the stairs.

As they reached the top of the narrow staircase Dolly skidded to a halt on the polished floor. A landing ran to her right and left with lots of closed doors. The high ceilings, ornate plasterwork and dangling chandelier belonged in a fairy story, the prisms of light dancing and scattering rainbows.

Alice placed her finger on her lips and tiptoed to the nearest door. She pressed her ear against the painted timber, opened her eyes wide and shook her head, then crooked her finger indicating Dolly should follow. Alice repeated the same process at the next door, nodded and turned the brass doorknob. Together they crept inside.

‘Oh my!' Dolly clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘It's beautiful.'

Heavy curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows and the enormous brass bed was covered in cushions and pillows. The golden yellow of the coverlet matched the curtains and the only light in the room came from a bedside lamp. The shade, like the solitary stained glass window in the church in Wollombi, beamed rays of coloured light everywhere.

Alice's painted lips spread into a wide grin and she plumped down on the bed and gave a bounce. ‘A darn sight more comfortable than the wretched cotton mattresses we get. Shame I don't get to actually sleep in one.' She gave a toss of her head and jumped up. ‘Come on. We need to get out of here. You'll see the rest tomorrow morning when you're cleaning up.'

Taking one last look around the room Dolly followed Alice back onto the landing, closing the door quietly behind her. She raised her hand to her gaping mouth and glanced back over her shoulder. At least ten doors opened off the landing and there had to have been twenty or more girls sitting around the table. Then she remembered the green room downstairs, set up with card tables and the blue room with the piano. With a thousand questions buzzing in her head she followed Alice back down the stairs, past the dining room and out beyond the kitchen.

The dark passageway snaked out to the ramshackle assortment of lean-tos that in a strange way seemed more homely. It was as though an almighty hand had drawn a line. She belonged on one side and the other side was for Jack in his smart suit and bowtie. A far cry from the boy she remembered with the cloth cap and the knees out of his trousers. The war had changed Jack; maybe Ted would have turned into the same suave man-about-town if he'd come home. Jack and Ted had always said they'd stick together through thick and thin.

Knowing she had a roof over her head and a job sorted Dolly unpacked her few belongings with a feeling of relief, then poured some water from the china jug into the bowl on the washstand and sluiced her face and hands. She'd think about Jack later.

Jack rammed his narrow brimmed hat onto his head and buttoned up his overcoat. A squall of damp rain hit him as he opened the door and he lifted his collar. Regardless of the weather he needed to get out of the cloying atmosphere of Millie's and think. He turned his back on Oxford Street and headed into the maze of streets around the back of St Vincent's Hospital.

When Dolly walked into Number Fifty-Four he hadn't recognised her for a moment. She'd grown from the child he remembered and changed into a damned attractive woman and that's where the problem lay. She'd be safe enough for a week or two while she got to know the place, any longer and Millie would be making plans for her. He'd seen the flash in Dolly's eyes and it could only mean trouble.

Stifling a groan he skirted a couple of blokes sitting in the gutter under a streetlight sharing a bottle of something dubious. The new legislation around licensing hours had turned the city on its heels. The
six o'clock swill
saw every man cramming the last swig of beer down his throat before the pubs shut their doors, then the drinkers turned to the sly-grog shops springing up throughout Darlinghurst. And it wasn't only grog. A man could get pretty much whatever he wanted in the back streets — five shillings for a twist of snow, a woman for not much more and a bullet if you looked sideways at the wrong person. Darlinghurst made Millie's up-market brothel in Paddington look like a safe haven.

Not safe enough for Dolly though. Why couldn't she have stayed in Wollombi? With her father gone, life must have become easier. His fists clenched as he remembered the black eyes and bruises she'd copped from her father. The thought of someone, anyone, touching her made his blood boil, bringing out an old protective streak he'd forgotten. God only knows what her life must have been like once he and Ted had left.

Sooner or later she would start asking questions about Ted and he'd have to tell her the whole story — fess up and admit the cock-up. Half an hour with her and all the stuff he'd put behind him reared its ugly head and now he couldn't even stand his own company. She'd been so pleased to see him, her childlike pleasure nothing short of a kick in the guts.

Swearing loudly he rapped on the peeling paint of the locked shop door. Yellowing newspaper covered the cracked glass of the front window and blocked any view inside but he knew exactly what he'd find.

The door opened an inch or two in response to his knock.

‘Susie in?' Obviously the password hadn't changed in the last twelve months and the question admitted him to a dingy smoke-filled hallway.

Wondering if anything at all had changed he shut the door behind him and nodded to the beefy bouncer. Not that he really cared, just as long as he could find something to take his mind off Dolly and Ted. Stop thinking. Stop harping on about what might have been. All he wanted was to turn a few hands of cards and not have to talk and pretend he was something he wasn't.

He elbowed his way past a rowdy group lounging against the wall laughing uproariously at nothing and attracted by the ‘Come in Spinner' call, he headed out the back. The last time he could remember playing two-up was on the ship coming home and the loud groans and shrieks as the coins fell reminded him of more optimistic times.

This place was nothing like the swanky green baize of Millie's tables — where wads of pound notes replaced the pennies and there wasn't a whiff of the rotgut Susie served. French champagne and Johnnie Walker for Millie's patrons, nothing but the best. Although this side of town gave him a strange comfort: at least when he lost his money it might find its way back to someone who needed it.

He hovered behind the crush of men ringing the sheet of canvas spread on the ground and waited for a space. Sooner rather than later one of the gamblers would stomp away with a raging thirst brought about by guilt, his empty pockets, and the prospect of facing his wife and kids when he got home. Jack didn't have to wait long.

‘Ssall yours. Bunch of bloody sharks. Game's fixed.' The bloke rammed his cloth cap on his head and wiped a weary hand over his bloodshot eyes.

‘Thanks, mate.' Jack eased his way into the group. The circle of men craned forwards around the canvas as the Spinner raised the kip and gave it a toss. The two pennies twisted and twirled, the golden side with the sovereign's head twinkling in contrast to the blackened tail.

Silence fell as the Ring Keeper stared up, checking the height of the toss for a foul. ‘Throw's clean.' The coins hit the sheet with a thud and he leant over and made the call. ‘Heads.'

A mixture of groans and hoots ran around the circle as money changed hands and the punters searched their pockets for their next bet.

Wrapping his fingers around a handful of coins in his pocket Jack pulled them out and held his arm high, waiting to catch the eye of the Boxer who was busy taking bets. A couple of blokes in front of him turned and pushed their way past, leaving him at the edge of the tattered canvas.

The Boxer approached and tilted his chin. ‘What's your bet, mate?'

Jack took one step forwards. A grimy hand reached out from the overly long sleeves of the Boxer's battered greatcoat and rested heavily against his chest.

‘Stay out of the circle.'

Jack opened his palm and held out the coins.

‘Flush tonight, hey?'

The jibe riled him and he stared at the Boxer, the wide brim of his battered hat hiding his eyes. ‘What's it to you? Taking my bet or not?'

He lifted his head and squinted at him, one eye socket horribly disfigured and the other a bright shiny reminder of what he'd lost. Clear and bright as the winter skies over Wollombi. Clear and bright as the eyes that had defied him earlier in the evening. His stomach churned and he clamped his palm closed.

‘Changed your bloody mind? Haven't got all night.'

Jack swallowed, his mouth as dry as a vicar's birthday party and a shiver of horror sliced through him. ‘Ted?'

The Boxer dropped his head, shielding his face, and pushed Jack's outstretched hand away before disappearing into the crowd on the other side of the circle.

‘Ted!' Jack rammed the coins back into his pocket and stepped onto the mat, intent on following. A burly figure with bunched arm muscles that stretched the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt blocked his path.

‘Out of the bloody circle.' He gave Jack a hefty push and turned his back on him. ‘All bets done. Come in Spinner.'

With the two-up cry echoing in his ears Jack forced his way through the crowd, determined to catch up with the Boxer and see if he'd been dreaming. A scuffed brown boot stretched out in front of him. He toppled and landed flat on his face. The menacing eyes of the mob of aggressive drunks glared down at him.