The Windmill Girls. Kay Brellend
the four boys,’ she added flatly, as though she’d forgotten saying a moment ago how happy her husband was to avoid looking after his sons in favour of a trip to the pub.
‘They mustn’t half be a handful,’ Dawn said. It was the most Gertie had ever spoken about her family.
‘You’re not kidding! Run me ragged, they do. Oi … what’s your game? Never seen a hungry baby before?’
A young fellow had been lounging on his coat next to them. He’d been reading a book, in between slyly trying to get a glimpse of Gertie’s bare breast. He blushed scarlet and rolled over onto his other elbow, bringing the novel right up in front of his face.
‘Bleedin’ saucy git!’ Gertie muttered, giving Dawn a wink.
‘Oh … here he is …’ Gertie put the quietened baby back in his basket and whipped the edges of her coat together, surreptitiously buttoning her blouse underneath. ‘He don’t like me flashing me tits in public, as he calls it,’ she whispered. ‘So don’t let on I’ve given little ’un a drink or that the young bloke there was having a gander or Rufus’ll cause a scene.’
Gertie suddenly waved to attract her husband’s attention. ‘He don’t look happy; probably lost a packet at cards,’ she grumbled beneath her breath.
Dawn turned to look at some people making their way through the crowd. She froze for a few seconds before shrinking back against the tiled wall. Her shoulders were hunched up towards her ears in an attempt to conceal her face while she darted glances to and fro. But there was no chance of a quick getaway without drawing attention to herself; she was hemmed in on all sides. From under her lashes she flicked another look at the stout, red-headed fellow approaching, accompanied by three boys of varying sizes.
It might have been dark that evening, and she might only have seen the brute for a matter of minutes, but she was certain Gertie’s husband was the same man who’d threatened her and Rosie Gardiner to keep their gobs shut about the robbery at the outfitters. It occurred to Dawn then that she’d heard the man she’d thought was Gertie’s brother call his mate ‘Roof’. With sudden clarity she realised it was Rufus’s nickname. She was now wondering if she’d been right in thinking that she short bloke had been Midge Williams … Rufus’s brother-in-law. It’d be an odd coincidence indeed if it weren’t the case …
‘I’m going to make my way to the exit so I can escape as soon as the all clear sounds.’ Dawn whispered the remark, trying to remain inconspicuous while sliding upwards against the tiles.
‘Don’t think you have to shove off, Dawn, ’cos me old man’s turned up. He won’t mind you sitting with us.’
Dawn gave a fleeting smile, watching the little group getting closer. She realised that, with the press of bodies all around, she’d not manage to get clean away before Rufus joined them so crouched down again with her face lowered into her collar as though she felt very cold.
Rufus swung his smallest son over the seated people, then stepped over too. The other two boys made their own way to their mother’s side. On squatting down by Gertie, Rufus immediately began bickering with his wife because one of the boys had been misbehaving, making him lose concentration while playing Rummy.
Dawn turned further away from the couple, as though to give them privacy, glad Rufus Grimes was too preoccupied to have glanced her way. Now she’d heard his coarse voice there was no doubt he was one of the thieves. But he hadn’t recognised her, and at the first opportunity she’d slip away.
A little stack of novels, belonging to the fellow who’d ogled Gertie, drew Dawn’s lowered eyes. She was tempted to pilfer one, and pretend to read it. She knew, without conceit, that she was pretty and men tended to eye her up. She feared that once Grimes stopped chastising his son he might take more notice of his surroundings, and her …
‘Sit yer arse down, Joey, and stop fidgeting,’ Dawn heard Rufus snap at the eldest boy. Dawn slid a glance at the child, realising he was like his father with his chunky limbs and reddish hair.
Dawn’s heart began pounding beneath her ribs as Gertie’s husband turned his head in her direction. She adjusted her collar, pulling it to her cheeks as though for warmth. Remembering that she had Bill’s letter in her bag, she delved inside for it. Angling it carefully to shield her face she stared sightlessly at it.
‘So you ain’t won any money at cards then?’ Gertie sounded upset.
‘Shut up,’ Grimes rumbled beneath his breath while clumping Joey, who’d continued irritating him. ‘Might as well get going,’ he said testily. ‘Ain’t heard one bomb drop …’
A moment later a short whistle preceded a loud explosion that rocked the ground and sent a cloud of choking dust into the underground.
‘That’ll learn you to keep your mouth shut,’ Gertie chortled, making her eldest son erupt in laughter at his father’s expense.
Grimes shoved Joey in the shoulder for mocking him and in doing so started another row with his wife.
Dawn realised she wouldn’t get a better moment to flee. She stuffed Bill’s letter back in her handbag and keeping her face covered with a hand, as though to sift the filth floating in the air, she got carefully to her feet. She gave Gertie a small smile and a farewell wave.
The peeping Tom rolled over, attempting to get a look up Dawn’s skirt as she stepped over him, making her lose balance.
Grimes put out a hand to steady Dawn and prevent her trampling his kids. ‘’Ere, mind your step, yer clumsy cow …’
‘Oi, she’s me workmate!’ Gertie protested. ‘Watch your language.’
‘Oh … friend of yours, is she now …’ Grimes was peering at Dawn’s face. He drew his head back on his thick neck, cocking it to one side. ‘Is she indeed?’ he muttered softly. ‘Wondered why she looked familiar. Gonna introduce me then, are yer, Gert?’
‘No, I ain’t! And there’s no need to stare at her ’cos she’s pretty,’ his wife hissed resentfully.
‘Going over there by the steps,’ Dawn whispered, twisting her arm free of Grimes’s fingers when he seemed reluctant to let her go. There was a horrible leering mockery in his expression that let her know he remembered where he’d seen her before.
‘So … what’s yer friend’s name then?’ Grimes repeated his question as Dawn negotiated the lounging bodies.
‘’Bye, Dawn …’ Gertie called out. ‘She’s Dawn Nightingale and she’s a dancer at the Windmill Theatre. You shouldn’t have stared at her like that. She’ll think you’re a dirty old man.’
Dawn let out a sigh as she carefully put distance between herself and the Grimes family. Rufus Grimes now knew not only her name, but also where she worked. Dawn rarely swore, but she cussed repeatedly beneath her breath as she made her way towards the exit. She hunkered down close to the steps, ready to make a dash up them the moment the all clear sounded.
‘Would you show the new girls the ropes, Dawn? I’m in a bit of a rush. The accountant’s turned up and is waiting for me in my office.’
Dawn had been comfortably lounging in a chair, aching feet up on the dressing table, having a crafty smoke. Quickly she stubbed out the cigarette and stood up, tightening the belt on her dressing gown as Phyllis, the manager’s secretary, ushered in two young women then hurried out again.
Dawn had a couple of matinees to do before home time. A short while ago she’d been rehearsing for a new tap routine in shorts and top with her fellow dancers. Her colleagues in the chorus line had sped across the road to the café to snatch a bite to eat before the first show started at half past two.
‘This is a bit poky, ain’t it?’
‘I’ve