By the time Violet and Maisie arrived at work, police were scurrying around the dance hall.
Half the people at the Palais probably bought black market gear when they could get their hands on it. The last thing they’d want would be a reminder of their dirty deeds Violet thought as a police officer pushed past her. She thought of Queenie who was no stranger to a bit of below-the-counter buying and selling.
‘I’m sorry about my grandmother last night,’ Violet blurted as Temperance sidled up alongside them, her hands full of coat hangers. ‘She just turned up. I should have known she would.’
Temperance looked at her in confusion. ‘You don’t need to be sorry. We all loved your gran, especially Renee.’
‘Especially Renee what?’ barked the redhead who was walking across the dance floor, Nancy by her side.
‘We was just saying about Queenie,’ Temperance replied.
At the mention of her grandmother Renee’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘Oh yes. She’s a card, your nan, isn’t she? Heart of gold I’d say.’
At the compliment Violet grinned. Her grandmother had been her saviour on more than one occasion.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t meet her,’ Nancy added. ‘I’ve been thinking, we should get the girls together for a few drinks one night. Perhaps you could ask your gran to join us, Violet?’
‘Erm, if you like.’ Violet felt wrong-footed at the suggestion.
‘Great.’ Nancy clapped her hands together. ‘Something to finally look forward to. How about Tuesday? I don’t think any of us are on the rota to work. We can go to the pub around the corner.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Renee agreed. ‘Will you have seen the rabbi by then? Done damage control?’
‘I’m going to the synagogue once the police have gone,’ Nancy said with a grimace. ‘Then I need to go over the books.’
‘More like cook ’em,’ Renee said with a hint of a smile.
‘Honey, if things are as bad as I think they are it might come to that,’ Nancy said with a sigh.
At the revelation Violet felt a cold trickle of fear down her spine. Surely the Palais wasn’t at risk of closure because of the theft? Things couldn’t possibly be that bad? She remembered her mother’s glee at her daughters being forced out of the dance hall and back cleaning pubs for a living. The thought made Violet shudder, not because there was anything wrong with cleaning, but because she couldn’t bear the idea of proving her mother right. If Betty heard of the burglary she would be even more insistent the girls stopped work at the Palais, arguing the place was unsafe as well as immoral…
‘If there’s anything we can do,’ Violet said, her voice trailing off as she realised the impossibility of that statement. What could any of them really do?
Nancy nodded her thanks. ‘We’ll get there, honey, don’t worry. The Palais is as tough as old boots and so are the women that work here.’
As Nancy went to walk away she seemed to remember something. Violet watched her feel inside the pocket of her skirt and pull out an envelope.
‘This came for you earlier,’ she said and then marched across the floor.
Surprised, Violet looked down at the envelope and saw a familiar scrawl that made her stomach drop – her father.
‘That doesn’t look like good news,’ remarked Renee.
‘No, it’s not,’ Violet said with a sigh, pocketing the envelope.
She didn’t get to read her father’s letter until lunchtime. And it was with a heavy heart that she reached for the envelope and ripped it open whilst eating a lunch of thinly sliced cheese sandwiches in the empty staff room.
Dear Violet,
How are you darlin’? I ain’t heard off you, so thought I’d write you a note, thought I might have a better chance of catching you up the Palais, wanted to see how you’re keeping. Your sister reckons you two are getting on all right up that dance hall. I’m glad for you girl, you deserve a bit of happiness.
I s’pect you’re busy sweetheart but I wondered if I could ask a favour. There ain’t many ways to pass the time here in the middle of gawd knows where and me and the lads somehow end up playing cards. We’re s’posed to play for matches but where’s the fun in that? Anyway, I owe the lads here a bob or two and hoped you might send me a couple of bob if you’ve got any spare after your mother’s taken her housekeeping. Hope you don’t mind me askin’ darlin’, but if you could send me something soonest I’d be ever so grateful.
Yours,
Dad x
As Violet reached the end of the note she felt fury course though her veins. Even when her father was fighting for their country he was still managing to get into trouble and ruin the lives of those around him. She wondered if he had asked Maisie for money then thought with a snort of laughter it was unlikely. George wouldn’t want to sully his reputation in his little girl’s eyes but Violet, well, she saw straight through him, no harm asking her. Leaning her head against the cool tiled wall of the staff room Violet closed her eyes and thought of Roy. He had been such a different man to her father. Loyal, kind, honourable and loving. George had been forever disappointed in Roy as he always refused to get involved in his dad’s schemes. Whether it was nicking fish out of Billingsgate Market or putting dodgy bets on ‘sure things’ down the dog track, her father always had a get-rich-quick scheme that Roy never wanted any part of. Her twin had enjoyed his job down the tannery, and told his father there was nothing like the feel of an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work.
As Violet brought her brother’s kind, handsome face to mind she allowed the tears to fall.
The rest of the day passed quickly and by the time the afternoon tea dance was over Violet was more than ready to call it a day. As she strolled along Brook Green Road, the May sunshine warming her face, Violet saw Eamon up ahead and waved. At the sight of her he gave her a warm grin and walked eagerly towards her.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he exclaimed, leaning in to kiss her.
As she felt his warm lips against hers Violet felt a shiver of anticipation. She had never kissed a man in public before, and the thought of it made her feel rebellious. ‘Where are you off to?’ she murmured, reluctantly pulling away from him.
‘Peckham.’ Eamon leaned his forehead against hers and she could smell the musk of sweat on his brow. ‘Want to come?’
She burst out laughing. ‘What do I want to come to Peckham for?’
‘To be with me,’ Eamon wheedled. ‘I’m going to see Dr Moody speak. There’s a meeting for the League of Coloured Peoples. It’s open to everyone. You’d be welcome, Dr Moody’s married to a white woman himself.’
‘All right,’ she agreed.
It didn’t take long to reach the church hall in Peckham where the meeting was being held. As Violet stepped inside the sparsely furnished hall she saw the place was packed with people of all ages and races in a crowd of around two hundred.
‘I said you wouldn’t be alone.’ Eamon grinned.
Guiding her to a seat at the back, he nodded and smiled at other attendees and Violet felt a flush of pleasure to be in his company.
Before long, a stocky bespectacled man took to the small stage at the front of the room and everyone applauded.
‘Good evening. For those of you who have never met me before I am Dr Harold Moody.’
At the mention of his name, the crowd erupted into applause again. Violet joined in, loving the feeling of being a part of something so energetic and positive.
‘The aim of the League of Coloured Peoples is to create the best version of British identity possible,’ Dr Moody began. ‘I was born to a middle-class family in Jamaica and taught to see my birthplace as an important part of the British Empire. Being a British citizen should hold the same meaning for all Britons, regardless of colour. I am proud of my British citizenship, but I am more proud of my colour, and I do not want to feel my colour is going to rob me of any of the privileges to which I am entitled as a British citizen. My friends, we have already had some success. Since we began our work in 1931 we have successfully overturned the colour bar in the military but our fight for equality continues during war. We have seen already how black children evacuated to the country were shunned and refused homes, simply because of the colour of their skin. Our fight must go on. Racial discrimination must be illegal everywhere. Why should we be refused work and entry to hotels, restaurants and other public places simply because of the colour of our skin? This must end.’
As Dr Moody brought his rousing speech to a close the crowd broke out into another round of thunderous applause and Violet found herself up on her feet joining in. As she turned to Eamon, her eyes were shining with tears. Here, in this old church hall, she hadn’t found just one honourable man like her brother, she had found several. Perhaps there was hope left in the world after all.