Applause (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 2) Madalyn Morgan (chromebook ebook reader txt) 📖

‘Your sister Bess telephoned earlier. She sent her love.’ Margot turned to hear more clearly what Anton was saying. ‘She rang to let us know the children are safe after the bombing of Coventry. We were a little concerned, with Foxden being so near to two RAF aerodromes, but she assured me the cellar walls are five feet thick and will protect the Foxden residents if the bombers return. Have you heard from Bill?’

‘Yes, he telephoned the stage door. His mum and dad are all right, thank goodness. They live quite a long way away from the centre of Coventry and apart from having their windows blown out, there’s not a lot of damage done. It’s the city centre that’s been blitzed to smithereens. The cathedral has been gutted. It’s a shell, Bill said.’

Anton clicked his tongue. ‘I suppose they were after the aircraft factory.’

A cold shiver took Margot by surprise and tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Oh my God. I used to work there, before I came to London. I’ve got friends who still do. I hope…’

Anton glanced at her briefly. ‘I’m sorry, Margot, I didn’t think. But I’m sure your friends would have finished work for the day and been at home, or in shelters, when the bombs fell.’ The night shift wouldn’t have been, Margot thought. They drove in silence for some time, and then Anton said, ‘What are you and Bill doing for Christmas this year?’

‘I’m not sure. We’re staying in London,’ she said, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘We thought about going up to the Midlands, but it isn’t possible. Travel’s bad now, but Bill says it’s going to get worse. The MoD has asked anyone who doesn’t have to travel not to. They want to keep the roads clear for the emergency services and the trains for moving troops.’

‘We’ll miss the children, with them being at Foxden. We don’t celebrate Christmas,’ Anton said, ‘but we take the holiday. It’s an excuse for a rest!’ he laughed. ‘Why don’t you and Bill come to us for your lunch on Christmas Day?’

‘Thank you, Anton, I’ll ask him.’

‘And I’ll ask Natalie.’

They both laughed.

‘Listen to that, sweetheart,’ Bill said, opening the window. Margot pulled on her cardigan and joined her husband. Hampstead was a long way from the City of London, further still from the East End, but they could usually hear the distant rumble and crump of falling bombs. ‘Silence. I’d forgotten what it sounded like. And tonight,’ Bill said, ‘no bombs and no ambulance work.’ Margot whooped. ‘The married chaps have been given Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. So,’ he said, closing the window, ‘did wardrobe give you any chocolates this year?’

‘Yes. And they’re mine,’ Margot shouted, jumping on Bill’s back in an attempt to stop him from reaching her present. Bill fell sideways, rolled over, and pulled Margot on top of him. Laughing almost hysterically, Margot pulled at his shirt. Bill grabbed her and kissed her. Then, lying on his back, he gently pushed her until she was sitting up, straddling him. He took off her cardigan and blouse. Margot undid his belt and the buttons on his trousers. He pulled her down again and, holding her with one hand, slipped the other inside her slacks. As he caressed her, Margot arched her back and moaned with desire. Unable to wait any longer, Bill picked her up and carried her to the bedroom – all thoughts of the chocolate forgotten.

CHAPTER NINE

Betsy screamed. ‘Damn, I’ve dropped my lipstick. Who switched the bloody light off?’

‘No one,’ George said. ‘There must be a power cut.’

‘Stay where you are, girls, I’ll get a candle.’ Margot felt her way to the old chaise longue. To the left of it was a small cupboard. She opened the door and, feeling around, found the medicinal brandy. She then found a box of matches and half a dozen candles. ‘Got them,’ she said, lighting one. By its pale light she returned to the dressing table and lit candles for George and Betsy. There was a knock on the door.

‘Company on stage please, ladies,’ Bert said, entering the room with a torch in one hand and several candles in the other. ‘Mr Goldman is making an announcement.’

‘What’s happened, Bert?’

‘Power cut. The electrician’s checking now. He says it isn’t the fuse box and there’s nothing wrong with the wiring. External, he reckons, caused by heavy bombing across the river.’

‘Bloody Luftwaffe,’ Betsy said. Crawling around on the floor she found her lipstick. ‘It’s been every bloomin’ night for the last six months.’

‘Follow me, ladies, and bring your candles. I don’t want you falling down the stairs. But please blow them out before you go on stage. There’s so much wood and paint – and it’s as dry as tinder. We don’t want the place going up in flames, do we?’

Anton Goldman and Pamela Lesley were on stage by the time the artists arrived. Without lights it felt cold. Margot nudged Betsy, and shivered. Betsy exhaled loudly, forcing the air to reverberate between her lips indicating that she was cold too.

‘Ah! What’s that?’ Betsy hissed. ‘Something as cold as ice just touched me on the shoulder. Was it you, Margot?’

‘No. Stay where you are,’ Margot said, straining to see in the dark and stretching out her hand in the direction of Betsy’s voice. ‘I’ve lost you.’

‘Ah! There it is again. George?’ Betsy hissed. ‘If you’re playing silly beggars...’

‘Ooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Betsy Evans, I’m coming to get you.’ George flicked on a torch and held it under her chin. Her face, illuminated grotesquely, made Betsy squeal.

‘Found you,’ Margot said, following the light of George’s torch. ‘Let’s hold onto each other.’

‘Good idea.’ Betsy grabbed George’s hand with the torch.

‘Spoil sport,’ George laughed.

‘What’s that