Ellen sat on the chair by the side of the piano while the musicians packed their instruments and shuffled off the stage, untying their black dickie bows and undoing the top button of their shirts. Harry, the drummer, winked and grinned at her as he passed, his round face red and glistening with sweat.
‘See you in a bit. Going out for a bit of fresh air.’
Oh yeah, Ellen thought. She glanced down at the dance floor. The chubby girl who’d been eyeing him all night from the edge of the stage had disappeared. ‘Don’t forget I’ll need a lift home,’ she whispered, ‘and don’t have me hanging around outside on my own.’
High up on the ceiling the large crystal ball slowly turned round scattering small snowflake impressions over the crowd. The clock on the wall was wreathed in swirling blue cigarette smoke; the air reeked with the stench of nicotine and sweat. Ellen practised her breathing exercise, relaxing her throat ready to sing, and wished she hadn’t. She checked the time: eleven thirty. Another fifteen minutes and the club would close and the crowd ushered out.
Her palms were damp and she surreptitiously ran her hands down the side of her dress, leaving smudged marks. It was ruined anyway. The stupid saxophonist had spilt some beer on it coming back on stage after the interval. Besides, it was so tight it rubbed under her arms and around her waist whenever she moved. All she could think about was getting home and out of the bloody thing.
She stood and adjusted the microphone out of habit; it was set perfectly for her. She cleared her throat and switched it on, smiling at the depleted crowd of dancers. The chairs at the back of the Palais were full of boys and girls smooching but there were still some left on the dance floor.
‘I’d love to get you on a slow boat to China…’
The crowd began to move, a disjointed mass of huddled couples and girls swinging one another around.
Over by the bar a man jumped up on top of the counter.
Ellen faltered.
‘Some idiot wants a fight,’ the pianist called over his shoulder, ‘keep going.’
‘All by myself, alone.’
‘Come on,’ the man yelled, tearing off his shirt. ‘You want a fight? Well here I am. I’m ready.’
Ellen watched as he started jumping around on top of the bar and jabbing at the air like a boxer. There was raucous laughter and then someone grabbed his legs and he somersaulted out of sight onto the floor, amid cheers.
She raised her voice. ‘Get you and keep you in my arms evermore…’
At the back of the room another scuffle broke out. Ellen could see Eddie, the bouncer usually at the door to the foyer, coming towards the stage, struggling to keep hold of a smaller man who was determinedly fighting him off.
‘Leave all your lovelies weeping on the…’ Her voice trailed away. She dropped her arms to her side, fear tightening her throat. ‘Ted?’
He was still in his white overalls.
The pianist swivelled round to see what was happening. ‘Ellen?’
She took no notice of him. ‘Ted? What is it? The children?’
‘No.’ He held out his hand. Ellen looked around. The dancers were still, watching her in shared curiosity.
Bewildered, she let Ted lift her from the stage. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you here?’ She felt the sting of frightened tears.
‘Get her things,’ Ted said to the pianist. The man moved swiftly without questioning. ‘I’ll tell you outside, love.’ He covered her shoulders with her coat and kept his arm around her. ‘I’ve got the van. Come on, Ellen,’ he said when she hesitated. ‘Not here.’
‘What’s going on?’ The manager of the Palais came from his office and stood in their path as they crossed the dance floor. ‘You can’t leave yet, you haven’t finished your stint.’
‘Shift out of the way.’ Ted shouldered him aside.
Ellen registered the unusual aggression in her husband. She looked back at the manager.
‘Don’t bother coming back – you’re fired.’
Right at that moment she didn’t care. Something dreadful had happened and the sooner they were out of the place the sooner she’d find out.
‘Was it an accident? I don’t understand.’
‘I told you, love. Peter just said the driver didn’t stop. It sounds as if whoever it was panicked.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Ellen repeated.
‘Come and sit down.’
‘No, I can’t.’
Ted had almost carried Ellen into the house and now he held her close. She pushed back to look at him, bewildered. ‘What if it wasn’t an accident?’
‘It was,’ Ted insisted. ‘Why would it be anything else?’ He stroked her hair. ‘You know that’s a bad corner outside Mary’s house.’
‘Of course it’s possible it wasn’t an accident,’ Ted’s mother said. ‘You never know.’ Although it was almost one o’clock in the morning, way past the time she normally went to bed, Hannah was still up, sitting in her armchair. She pulled the cord of her maroon dressing gown tighter in a vain attempt to cover her nightdress and laced her fingers over her stomach. ‘Perhaps somebody didn’t like what … who … he was.’
‘Shut up.’ Ellen clenched her fists against Ted’s chest. One day she’d swing for this woman.
Ted spoke at the same time. ‘Yes, shut up, Mother. And go to bed, there’s no need for you to be here.’
‘Well!’ Hannah heaved herself out of the chair. ‘There was a time you’d never have spoken to me like that, Ted Booth.’
He didn’t answer her. He put his face close to Ellen’s. ‘Hush now, love. Try to calm down. We’ll speak to Mary tomorrow. Find out what happened. Peter didn’t say much when he rang the shop. He was upset and I think he had enough on his plate trying to look after Mary.’
‘She’ll be in such a state she won’t know what to do with herself. She adores Tom,’ Ellen sobbed. ‘We have to go to her. Now.’ She pulled at the lapels of his overalls to stress her words. ‘Now, Ted, right away. She’ll need us.’
Hannah stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs. ‘You’ll take – the kids with you?’
‘Of course we bloody will.’ Ellen didn’t look at his mother. ‘I wouldn’t leave them with you. I wouldn’t leave a dog with you.’
‘Well, you’ve changed your tune. You’ve foisted her – them – on me often enough in the past.’
‘Mother!’ Ted roared. ‘Go, get out – go to bed.’
‘Well!’ Crimson with annoyance she jerked the curtain aside and hauled herself onto the first step.
They waited, listening to the creak of the stairs under her heavy tread before either spoke again.
‘We have to go to Mary, Ted.’ Ellen could hardly get the words out. She felt as though her chest was bursting.
‘We can’t.’
‘Tomorrow, in the morning then, as soon as it’s light.’
‘Now just a minute, love.’ Ted took her face between his hands. ‘Look at me.’
She stared at him.
‘There’s nothing we can do. It’s happened. And Mary’s got Peter to look after her. I think she’ll want to be left alone. At least for now.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Of course we have to go. She’s my sister. He was my brother. I want to be with her.’ She couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘I need to be with her.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Yes.’
‘No, love. When it’s the funeral.’
How could he be so cold, so practical? Ellen pushed him away, took a few steps backward until she walked into the table. She gripped the edges. ‘I can’t stay here. I can’t carry on as though nothing’s happened. We have to go.’
‘I can’t leave the shop just like that.’
‘Why not? You’ve got Archie. You’ve said he bakes as good as you.’ Her voice was shrill.
‘I can’t.’ Ted came towards her, holding out his hand.
She knocked it away from her. ‘Why?’ she demanded again. She moved, putting the table between them. She didn’t trust herself not to hit him.
‘There’s still the shop. I can’t ask him to do both. He can’t bake and serve – wouldn’t be fair to ask him. And Doreen doesn’t know all the ropes yet.’
‘She’s been working for you for months. If she doesn’t know how to serve by now you should sack her.’
‘No. I’m sorry, Ellen, I can’t leave the shop just like that.’
‘Then shut the bloody place.’ Why he was arguing about something so important to her? So awful?
And then she knew. It wasn’t the shop he didn’t want to leave. She put the flat of her hands on the table, held her breath, swallowed. For a long moment they watched one another.
‘Then I’ll go on my own.’