head to toes.
Florrie’s smile switched on like a light bulb. ‘I’m Sally’s mother,’ she simpered. ‘You must be Jim.’
‘Indeed I am,’ he said with a wink. ‘Sure, and you’re not old enough to be the mother of Sally. Why you’re far too young.’
‘I can tell you’re full of the Irish blarney, Jim,’ she said with a giggle. ‘You are a one.’
‘Well now, I’ve always found that a pretty woman likes to receive a compliment.’
‘Get away with you,’ she said, lightly tapping his arm.
‘When you’ve quite finished,’ snapped Peggy from the doorway. ‘Tea’s ready.’
‘I was just welcoming our new—’
‘I know exactly what you were doing, Jim Reilly. Go and help your father in the kitchen.’ She turned her furious gaze on Florrie. ‘Are you staying for tea?’
‘Why not? I am paying for it after all,’ replied Florrie, her gaze never wavering beneath Peggy’s glare.
‘Then you’ll respect my home and my family by not flirting with my husband, or bullying your daughter.’ Peggy folded her arms. ‘You can sit at the end of the table next to Ernie.’
Sally didn’t say much during the meal; the conversation round the table was stilted, the atmosphere charged. Jim and Ron ate in silence, Peggy glared down the table at Florrie, and even Mrs Finch was unusually quiet as the boys chattered to one another.
Cissy had no real idea of what was going on as she’d only just arrived home, but she’d clearly decided to try and lighten the mood by chattering on about her day and the show she was rehearsing that evening. ‘I like your hairstyle,’ she said to Florrie. ‘Is that the latest fashion in London?’
‘It’s called the Victory Roll,’ she replied. ‘It’s ever so easy to do. You just roll it back at the sides, and up at the back, ’olding it in place with pins or, if you ’ave one, a snood. A lot of girls stuff wadding in the rolls to make ’em look thicker.’
‘I’ll give it a try when I get back tonight,’ murmured Cissy.
Florrie smiled slyly as Peggy glowered at the other end of the table. ‘It sounds ever so glamorous being on the stage – someone told me once I should give it a go, cos I look like Dorothy Lamour.’
Peggy snorted and Sally bit her lip, not daring to catch her eye.
‘It’s not as easy as people think,’ replied Cissy. ‘We do revues in the theatre most nights, and of course there’re the shows for the forces. Any spare time is taken up with costume fittings and rehearsals. Sally’s been an absolute brick when it comes to the costumes. We don’t know what we’d do without her now our usual wardrobe lady has gone off to join the Wrens.’
‘Really?’ Florrie eyed Sally thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t realise you’d come on so much since yer gran taught yer.’
‘You weren’t interested, so I didn’t bother to tell you.’ Sally put her knife and fork together on her plate and helped Ernie scrape off the last bit of meat from the bones.
Cissy looked from Florrie to Sally with a frown, and decided to fill the awkward silence. ‘What I’d really like to do is join ENSA – but Dad won’t give his permission and I have to be twenty-one before I can join without it.’
‘You can’t blame ’im for that,’ laughed Florrie. ‘Some of them shows ain’t worth seeing – and I should know, I’ve been to plenty.’ She left most of the meal on the plate and pushed it to one side. ‘Do y’know what ENSA stands for in London?’
‘Entertainments National Service Association,’ said Cissy.
Florrie gave a shriek of laughter that made Sally cringe and Mrs Finch shudder. ‘Every Night Something Awful. And that about says it all when the fat lady can’t sing, the one on the piano can’t play, and the comic ain’t funny.’
‘That’s only the small shows,’ said Cissy defensively. ‘I want to be in the big ones with people like Gracie Fields, Arthur Askey, Tommy Trinder and George Formby.’
‘Only famous people get into them,’ said Florrie, careless of Cissy’s feelings. ‘I’d stick to what yer doing, luv. You’ll probably find a nice rich stage-door Johnny before too long, and won’t ’ave to bother with prancin’ about in some draughty town hall.’
Sally broke into the frosty silence before Peggy could give vent to the palpable rage that stormed in her eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to be late for your drink at the Mermaid?’
‘Gawd, yes, and I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Down the road, turn right