Jazz Baby Page 2

  In a matter of moments Dolly would have her job. Millie wouldn’t turn her away — she was far too pretty. He cast his eye up and down her trim figure. She’d undone the dreadful brown worsted coat and the sight of the heart-shape neckline on her plain cotton dress made a man wonder what lay beneath. Jack quelled the desire to laugh at his reaction, sitting here watching his erstwhile sister thinking thoughts he didn't even dare admit. Like a country cousin she presented the very picture of modesty with her feet clamped close together. Beneath the faded cotton frock he knew her knees would be pressed tightly together too, although he sensed a hidden sensuality in the girl. Maybe it was the blush he had seen rise to her plump cheeks when he hugged her. He restrained a groan. Jesus Christ! If he thought that way, what the hell would Millie suggest?

  As the front door opened he took a deep slug of his whisky.

  ‘Here’s Mrs Mack,’ Cynthia trilled. ‘Time for your interview, chickadee.’

  Jack’s heart twisted as Dolly rose, smoothed her dress and pulled her coat closer. She was scared witless, yet she had guts. She always had, even as a kid. The memory of her standing on the side of the creek, a rope as fat as her arm dangling by her side, flashed behind his eyes. Ted had slung off at her, calling her a coward because she wouldn’t swing across the swirling floodwaters.

  She’d done the same thing then, taken a deep breath, straightened her dress and launched across the water with her sky blue eyes wide open, staring blindly and her full lips clamped tightly together. Exactly the same look sat on her face now; he’d never talk her out of her interview.

  Cynthia strolled to the door and held it open. ‘The dining room’s first on the right, down the hallway. She’ll be in there.’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I’ll do this on my own.’ Dolly left the room without even a backward glance.

  The same way she’d acted down at the creek all those years ago.

  ‘Tough little thing, isn’t she?’ Cynthia said as she closed the door behind Dolly’s retreating figure.

  There was no doubt about Dolly’s toughness. She’d been like that from the word go. Determined. Determined to do what she wanted to do and determined not to be left behind. She’d had to be to survive. A mixture of pride and relief swept through him knowing she’d put behind her the abusive existence she’d suffered. His gut still twisted at the memory of the bruises her father had inflicted and he’d caught the flicker of fear in her eyes when he’d snapped at her, told her she shouldn’t be in Sydney.

  A part of him wanted to follow her down the passageway and stand guard over her. Millie didn’t offer a charity service. She’d see beyond the worn dress and run-down shoes and before anyone could whistle Dixie, Dolly wouldn’t be changing the sheets she’d be between them, earning a stack of money and giving more than half of it back to Millie for the privilege.

  Who was he to interfere? He’d brought enough grief to Dolly and her family to last a lifetime. Besides, he wasn’t going to be in Sydney much longer and dragging her off to Queensland wasn’t an option.

  Jack knocked back the rest of his drink and slapped the glass down on the small table next to the sofa. Cynthia’s over-glossed mouth quirked as she studied him. He raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

  ‘A side of you I hadn’t seen, Jack.’ She toyed with her glass, running a manicured nail around and around the top. ‘I somehow didn’t imagine you had a past. I only see you as the dashing aviator. All leather jacket, goggles and derring-do.’

  ‘Shows you how little you know, Cynthia.’

  She slid from her chair and deposited her glass on the table at his elbow. ‘I’d like to know so much more.’ She slid to her knees and ran her hands up and down his thighs, her touch firm and deliberate. The neckline of her dress swung loose and, as she intended, Jack got more than a glimpse of her pert breasts and slippery satin camisole.

  He sucked in a deep breath, betraying the effect her touch had on him.

  Cynthia didn’t miss his reaction. ‘The night’s young. Let’s go upstairs.’ She pushed to her feet and held out a hand. ‘You’re so tense, you need to relax.’

  Her low, husky drawl made something snap and he ignored her outstretched hands. ‘I have an appointment.’

  Cynthia pouted at him. ‘In that case I’ll go and get ready to earn myself some money.’ Thrusting her shoulders back she swivelled on her high heels and walked out, letting the door slam behind her.

  The lie sat heavily on Jack’s lips. Why had he invented some fictitious appointment? He’d intended to spend the evening at Millie’s with Cynthia. She could do with the cash and if he went out drinking he wasn’t going to be fit for anything tomorrow morning. He needed to get his mind out of the past and look firmly to the future. The offer to fly for the new air service in Queensland was exactly the kind of proposition he could sink his teeth into. The vision of Dolly’s fingers clasping the thin cotton of her frock and lifting her chin rose unbidden. He owed her and her family so much. He poured himself another glass of whisky.

  Bloody Ted.

  Chapter 3

  Drawn to the sound of laughing voices Dolly walked down the corridor. Through the open door on her right a long wooden table dominated the space that was filled to overflowing with chattering girls; their clothes reflected the light giving the impression of a bustling flock of brightly-coloured lorikeets fighting in a field of freshly slashed wheat.

  Clamping her lips together to keep back the cry of fear hovering in her mouth, she walked into the room. The animated gossip died, dropping a wet blanket of silence over her. Everyone stared, delivered rapid appraising glances from the top of her head to the soles of her sensible brown lace-up shoes, then dismissed her and turned back to their raucous chatter.

  ‘I’m looking for Mrs Mack,’ she said, her voice barely breaking the noise. Sucking in a lungful of smoke-filled air she tried again. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Mack.’ The group closest to her turned and stared again.

  ‘She’s up the other end, love.’ A pasty-faced girl, with hair the colour of a rusty gate and lips to match, pointed down the room.

  Dolly nodded her thanks and made her way to the far end of the long table, taking great care not to bump any of the assorted chairs.

  Clad from head to toe in black the tiny woman presided over the table from her perch on a high stool. Wisps of brown curls escaped from the black cloche hat sitting low over her eyebrows, softening a series of very sharp features.

  ‘Mrs Mack?’ Dolly asked.

  The woman turned her head, her chin resting on her interlocked fingers. ‘And who would be asking?’

  A wave of heat racked Dolly’s body as Mrs Mack’s cinnamon eyes, framed by ridiculously long darkened eyelashes, swept her from head to toe. ‘Dolly Bowman, Ma’am. I’ve come about the job.’

  Possibly the word ‘job’ or the mere fact that the matriarch had spoken halted the girls’ conversation again.

  ‘And which job was that? I get lots of girls coming to me looking for jobs.’

  ‘The cleaning job, Ma’am. Alf at the hotel in Wollombi put me in touch with you. I wrote you a letter. You said I should come. I travelled down on the train — ’

  ‘I don’t need to know how you got here. Take that dreadful coat off.’

  Dolly blinked twice.

  Mrs Mack’s gaze didn’t falter. ‘Take it off. I want to see what’s underneath.’

  Dolly peeled the coat from her shoulders and let it slip to the floor, resisting the temptation to hug her arms around her overheated body. Her thin cotton frock clung in all the wrong places — if only she had a petticoat to wear underneath.

  ‘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 sco
red 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.

  Chapter 4

  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 dow
n 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.