Sadly, I hadn’t found a shoemaker with the same degree of skill as Maggie had in dressmaking, and by the end of the night— also known as early morning—my feet were hurting.
Once I’d paid the dancers for their chits, I came downstairs, threw myself into a chair, kicked off my shoes and groaned.
Ray pulled up a chair and sat across from me. He picked up a stocking-clad foot, peeled my skirt back a few inches, and began to massage.
“Goodness,” I said, “that’s wonderful. You must want something.”
His strong fingers dug into the fleshy bits on the soles of my foot and gently worked at the aches and pains. “Whatever it is you want,” I sighed in delight, “you can have it.”
Not-Murray carried dirty dishes out from the gambling rooms. We don’t run a restaurant, but when a big spender looks to be about to leave in search of refreshment, we can have something brought out from the back in no time. That evening we’d had several big spenders.
The Savoy was perhaps the only dance hall in town that shut its doors when it wasn’t a Sunday. When I’d started the business, everyone told me I was a fool to close for a few hours; the customers would leave and never come back, they said. I knew I needed to sleep sometime, and I like to keep an eye on what is happening in my own establishment. I talked Ray into seeing things my way, and rather than staying away, the customers flocked back through our doors promptly at ten a.m. when we opened. The temporarily forbidden fruit being all the sweeter.
“It was a good night,” I mumbled, closing my eyes, relaxing against the hard back of my chair and giving into the delightful sensations coming from my feet.
“A very good night,” Ray agreed. “That dress is what did it.”
“Did what?”
“Brought in the punters. Isn’t that right, Jake?”
The croupier laughed. A whisky bottle opened, and liquid sloshed into glasses. Ray allowed each of the male employees one drink—on the house—at closing. Very generous, considering his miserly Scottish roots, but it kept the men loyal. “That it did, Mr. Walker,” Jake said. “Why I saw more than one man forget what cards he was holding when Mrs. MacGillivray walked through the room.”
“Fellow plopped down a bag of dust to pay for one drink and forgot to wait for me to weigh it up, he was so keen on following Mrs. MacGillivray into the dance hall,” Not Murray said.
Eyes still closed, I waved one hand in the air in acknowledgement of the compliments.
“Did he come back for his dust?” Jake asked.
“Looking in a right state too. Pity—it was a heavy bag.”
“Oooh, that looks a treat, Mr. Walker. Can I be next?” Ellie passed through the bar.
“It’d cost ye, Ellie,” Ray said.
She laughed. “If only I’d retained my virtue.”
“’Night Mr. Walker, Mrs. MacGillivray.” A chorus of women’s voices trilled as the group of dancers stepped out into the street. I waved languorously, still not bothering to spend all the effort that would be required in opening my eyes.
“Where can we go to now?” one of the percentage girls— a new one—giggled. “I’m much too excited to go home to bed.”
“…some breakfast perhaps,” Irene said. “I know a nice private place just opened up. The Imperial. It’s on King Street.”
“I’ve heard it’s ever so expensive.”
“My treat,” Irene said. “Night, Mr. Walker.”
Ray set to work on the other foot.
One by one, the men finished their drinks and followed the women out into the new dawn.
I opened one eye. “You’re a good man, Ray,” I said for absolutely no reason.
“Don’t let word o’ that get out,” he said. His voice dropped, and he coughed. “I know ye think I’m a fool for her, Fee. But somethings canna be helped.” His fingers kneaded my big toe. The other toes wiggled in envy.
“Irene has nothing to offer you, Ray.”
“A man can always hope.”
“Not always. Take my word for it, will you?” The expression on his ugly face was suddenly full of so much pain, my heart almost closed. I tried to make a joke of it. “After all, anyone wearing a dress this fantastic can’t be wrong, now can she?”
Some of the cloud behind his eyes slipped aside, and he slapped the side of my foot before giving it back to me.
I took it reluctantly. “Thank you. I did need that.” I patted my skirts back into place around my ankles. “I’m so tired. At a respectable hour, I’m going to go to Inspector McKnight with something I learned earlier. I’m hoping it will be enough to convince him to release Mary. It’s been difficult, what with the murders and Angus so worried about her, but I…”
As if summoned by my thoughts, my son, followed by Martha Witherspoon, who seemed to have taken up the role of Angus’s shadow, burst through the doors.
“Good heavens,” I said. “What are you doing out of bed at this hour, young man?”
Angus opened his mouth to protest, but Martha spoke first. “It’s six thirty in the morning, Fiona. A time when respectable people begin their day.”
“Meaning that I am not respectable, I presume.”
Martha blushed and started to stammer out an apology.
“Never mind. I have never pretended to be respectable.” Well, not to people I had no interest in fleecing. Ray chuckled and went behind the bar in search of his cap.
“What do you want, Angus?” I said.
“Miss Witherspoon has a mind to see the place close up, and…uh…”
“Unfortunately, I overslept,” Martha said. “I wasn’t ready when Angus arrived, so we have missed the closing. I was most anxious to interview men on their way out of the Savoy in order to get their impressions of the evening.”
Ray snorted. “High literature that’ll make. Sir Walter himself’ll wonder why he didn’t think of it.” He tossed the bag containing the bar’s most recent batch of takings on the table and slapped his cap on his head. “Good night, Angus, Miss Witherspoon. And thank ye, Fee. I might consider your advice.”
I pulled shoes back onto reluctant feet and began to lace them. “Your arrival is quite fortunate, Angus. You can check the back rooms to ensure everyone has gone and lock the money in my desk.” I pulled the keys out of my pocket, which I’d had Maggie sew into a discreet fold in the waistband of the gown, and tossed them to Angus. “Then, as a special favour, wash up the dishes so Mrs. Saunderson doesn’t have to face them when she comes in. Take a damp cloth to the bar and a broom to the floor of the dance hall. Don’t forget to draw the curtains and put those lights out.”
“Mother!”
“Mrs. MacGillivray, I do not think…”
I tossed Martha a smile. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Witherspoon, that if Angus wants to be a writer such as yourself, he needs to explore all avenues of life. Even mopping up a dance hall. Good night, dear.” I swept out into the morning.
Never give them the opportunity to argue back.
He might be very young, but I was comfortable leaving my property and my money in my son’s hands, and if the washing up and the sweeping were substandard, it would still give Helen a thrill when she came to work later that morning.
Feeling quite pleased with myself, I set off for Mrs. Mann’s boarding house. My feet still tingled delightfully from the massage, but the too-tight shoes were quickly putting an end to that. I always felt somewhat naughty walking through town in evening wear when the sun was well over the horizon. I exchanged greetings with merchants on the way to open their shops, laundresses heading for work, and men setting out for the Creeks. I walked west down Front Street heading for home and my lovely bed. One or two fools new to town attempted to approach me, but I saw them off with a glance quick enough. And so I missed seeing someone scurrying in from the east—another person who had lost track of the time.