mad, and her mad to leave. But Aurora was partnered with Jimmy and the new number would lift them into the big-time for certain, Clover thought. Bella could tag along, and there would be a baby to look after too, so that would keep Mama happy, and none of them would miss her.
The moment would come—must come—when even her sisters, who ignored the war as far as they were able, would see she had to go.
You Need That Pride
Mr. Walker agreed to see Aurora first thing in the morning, asking Dot to bring a cup of tea with an extra nod, which seemed to mean call my wife! For along with the tea, in very short order, came Mrs. Walker.
Aurora had had time to explain that she was without a partner and to offer the Belle Auroras as substitute for the first-act closing slot, which would now be empty; Walker waited for his wife to sit, and said, ‘Seems we’ve lost young Jimmy to Miss Masefield’s New York company, Hattie.’
Mrs. Walker, imposing in brown corded silk, pursed her full mouth and considered. ‘Well, that’s no bad thing in my opinion—you couldn’t marry the fellow, in your situation, and I had my doubts whether it was suitable to book the two of you, smelling of April and May and dancing so romantic, with you not even a widow. And beginning to show, my dear,’ she added, with a kindly glance that made bile rise in Aurora’s throat till she thought it must burst out into screeching.
What could she answer? It was no slander but perfectly true, and Mrs. Walker had every right to say so. She ran a polite vaudeville house and must guard its reputation.
Aurora would not look down, however, but met her eyes and refused the shame she was being so benevolently offered. ‘Therefore,’ she said, speaking low and careful, ‘you may be happier with the same pretty number performed with my youngest sister, as a child with an Eaton Beauty Doll. The dance is whimsical and charming and so is my sister, as you know, and I’m persuaded we can pull it off this very day, at the evening show at least, for Bella has watched rehearsals.’
‘You need that pride, to be a vaude artiste,’ Mrs. Walker said, approvingly. ‘To suffer through the constant trial of self and skill. You’re a nice little dancer, and so was he. I could see you making a big hit. But without him, no. Your sister in his place—no, not for us, not so soon after you’ve played.’
‘But we’ll still take the girls for that spot I’d mentioned, eh, Hat?’ Walker asked her. ‘Second-act openers, not next week but the week after?’
Prisoners in the dock must feel like this, Aurora thought.
Mrs. Walker looked sober. ‘I think we’ll have to wait on that, Mr. Walker,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure that without the balance of the romance we can fit in the sister act.’
‘We can do Lakmé,’ Aurora said, and could have bitten her tongue out.
Mrs. Walker gave her a firm nod. ‘A little resting time may be just what you girls need,’ she said. ‘I’ll see her out, Mr. Walker, I’m going myself.’
Sweetness in Song
Verrall passed their door on his way to rehearsal call at the Orpheum, and heard Flora’s first shrieking. He shrank against the wall and would have snuck down the stairs in a cowardly fashion, but then he heard Aurora give one cry, and then there was a smash—‘Oh lord,’ he said to himself. ‘There goes the bureau mirror. Seven years’ bad luck.’
Taking his courage in both fists, he gave a timid knock upon the door, and when nobody noticed, opened it. As he’d suspected, glass lay sprinkled across the Turkey carpet, a glittering mound on the hearth tiles where Bella was sweeping it with the little broom and coal shovel. He ought to fetch East, really.
‘Trouble?’ he asked, in as nonchalant a voice as he could manage.
‘Only the usual ruin of everything,’ Flora cried. ‘A man too weak to break with temptation!’
‘It was a thousand a week she offered,’ Aurora said mildly. She was lying flat on the bed in a tangle of sheets, wearing her outside coat and the frippery blue hat that Verrall loved. Her boots, stuck out into the room, were still wet with snow.
‘He’s gone, is he? Well, good riddance,’ said Verrall. ‘I never liked him much.’
Hiccuping over the broken glass, Bella raised her head and said, ‘No, no, it is all that nasty