And All That Jazz Episode 08
Dora’s chair was uncomfortable, and not for the first time she wished she’d stayed at home.
Freddie leaned towards her, shouting over the music.
“Would you like another drink, Dora?” he asked.
Would she? She really had no idea.
What was the appropriate drink to have in this dark, most peculiar-looking dance hall?
Lizzy had told her some cocktail names – Bees Knees, Blood and Sand, Clover Club – but it had all sounded ridiculous.
In the end Lizzy had chosen for her – or rather the young man behind the bar had chosen – and she’d been handed something called a Negroni.
She had to admit it tasted rather lovely, sweet and full, like orange groves in the sunshine.
She nodded a reply to Freddie and he beckoned a waiter over.
After the argument with Lizzy, Dora had walked around the boating lake and back to the bandstand.
As she walked her temper had cooled and she began to see the whole thing as foolish.
Perhaps Lizzy had overstepped the mark, but Dora made a point of never losing her temper, no matter how sorely tested.
What was it about the conversation that had so upset her?
Had it been the suggestion that she was somehow misleading Vincent?
It had all been something over nothing and Lizzy must have felt the same way.
In fact, the next evening she had been standing on Dora’s doorstep, asking her to come to the club with her.
Lizzy had looked so forlorn, and while she’d been apologising, Dora knew it was she who should be saying sorry for behaving like a child.
So it had been Dora’s guilt that had accepted the invitation to Texas Tommy’s.
Lizzy suddenly appeared, almost stumbling off the dance floor in her haste.
“Do come and dance, Dora,” she invited her.
There was something so naturally beautiful about her sister that night, her cheeks flushed, breathless and laughing.
Dora could understand why men turned to look at her, though Lizzy seemed utterly oblivious.
When had Dora last felt so young and free and happy? Had she ever?
“I don’t know any of these dances, Lizzy,” Dora protested. “I’d make a fool of myself.”
“Nobody cares what you look like. Come on.” Lizzy took Dora’s hand, tugging her out of her seat.
The band had just started a fresh melody, something impossibly fast.
Lizzy had her arms around Dora’s waist and was pulling her around the floor, hopping from foot to foot, spinning until the room blurred.
Dora couldn’t make sense of the steps at first, but then she saw the pattern and her feet fell in rhythm with Lizzy’s.
Dora had to remind herself that she wasn’t the ancient crone she sometimes felt.
She was only thirty years old, and definitely not her mother’s age.
She allowed herself to jig along to the tune, to feel the bounce in her ankles, the air rushing into her lungs until she was giddy.
Eventually the music stumbled to a halt and Dora felt a rush of relief mixed with sadness that it was over.
Back at the table, Lizzy threw herself into her chair.
“Lord, I could do with a bath when I get home,” she said.
Freddie pulled a disapproving face, squinting at her through his cigarette smoke.
“A lady needn’t share such things,” he admonished her.
Dora felt a stab of dislike for Freddie. How dare anyone wipe the pleasure from her sister’s face.
Dora felt suddenly protective and wished she hadn’t insisted they invite Freddie as chaperone.
How much nicer it would have been with Vincent Jakeman sitting with them.
He wouldn’t have scowled through the evening as if the whole thing was a penance.
Reaching across the table, she clutched Lizzy’s hand.
“Come and choose another cocktail for me,” Dora requested, pulling her sister out of her seat.
The crowd was just starting to ease as they reached the bar.
Dora’s legs were still quivering from dancing, so she rested a hand on the wood for support.
The sweet-faced barman appeared in front of them immediately, even though there were other customers waiting.
Dora wilted under stares and huffing noises, though Lizzy didn’t seem to notice.
“Cocktails, please, Charlie,” Lizzy ordered gently.
There was something about his smile, something incandescent that reflected in Lizzy’s face, like the sun bouncing off a mirror.
Bottles were taken from shelves and a frothy concoction was poured into two glasses.
Lizzy sipped her drink.
“Perfect.” She fiddled with the clasp of one earring then the other, slipping them into her purse.
“These things are horribly heavy for dancing,” she commented.
Dora let the sweet sour liquid wash over her tongue, wishing it would never end.
“I say, Dora, hold on to this for me, won’t you?” A purse was thrust at her.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“I need some fresh air,” Lizzy explained, turning away.
“I’m rather warm. I’ll come with you.”
A hand gripped Dora’s arm and she looked up.
Lizzy had fixed her with the most extraordinary expression, a silent pleading mixed with worry and excitement.
Her sister needed something from her, and though Dora wasn’t sure what it was, it felt like a test of her loyalty.
Mother would have insisted Lizzy be accompanied at all times.
One part of Dora was sure that was the right thing to do, but then Lizzy’s world was so different from her own, from the one they’d been raised in.
“Actually, I am rather tired. Perhaps I’ll stay here,” Dora found herself saying.
Lizzy’s face split into a grateful smile.
Dora was aware of movement, of the bar flap opening and closing, and then Lizzy was gone.
“Where is your sister going?”
It was Freddie.
“She needed some fresh air,” Dora answered.
On the tip of her tongue were the words, “With her gentleman friend”, but she kept them to herself.
“Has that barman gone, too?” Freddie rapped the bar with his fingertips. “Damn nerve of the man.”
“He seems perfectly nice,” Dora countered.
She remembered thinking years earlier that Freddie might make a good match for Lizzy.
But now just the thought of Lizzy’s spirit crushed by his glowering expression made Dora heart ache.
Freddie continued to mutter, though his words flowed over Dora.
She went back to trailing her finger over Lizzy’s purse, watching the sequins flip one way then another.
Then a wave of nausea swept over her, making her feel faint.
She pushed the purse at Freddie.
“I won’t be a moment,” she muttered and raced for the ladies’ restroom.
Dora sat on a pink plush seat after dampening her face at the basin.
Was it wrong to let Lizzy go off with Charlie?
Dora couldn’t imagine what her sister had seen during the war.
She had felt both ashamed and relieved to stay at home and help Mother with fund-raising and knitting.
The war had changed Lizzy, though, turning a high-spirited girl wilful and independent.
But why shouldn’t the young people enjoy each other’s company, the romance of a glance, a touch of fingertips?
Vincent’s smile appeared in her mind, though she quickly pushed him away.
Dora was gone longer than she intended.
By the time she returned there was a crowd surrounding the bar, and when she couldn’t see Lizzy or Freddie she panicked.
What if something awful had happened?
What if her negligence had led to her sister being hurt? How could she live with herself?
Then she saw Lizzy’s bobbed hair and Freddie’s supercilious expression.
Her pulse eased, but still there was something wrong.
A policeman was struggling with someone, tugging him by the arm.
Lizzy’s strained voice snapped Dora to action.
“Leave him alone. He’s done nothing wrong!” she shouted.
Dora was beside Lizzy in a moment, just in time to see Charlie as he was dragged away in handcuffs, his head bowed.
“What on earth is happening?” Dora questioned.
Lizzy was now weeping uncontrollably so it was Freddie who spoke, his eyes glowing with triumph.
“It was that conchie barman.” He pressed his moustache flat. “I left Lizzy’s purse with him for a moment and he stole her earrings.”
The evening disintegrated after that.
Freddie spoke to another policeman, thumbs tucked smugly in his waistcoat pockets.
Lizzy was inconsolable.
Don called them a cab, and Dora sat in the back seat, suddenly sober as the car rocked back and forth and Lizzy’s tears soaked her shoulder.
To be continued…