The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(25)



Ruby beamed as she accepted her sandwich. ‘Yes please, Rita,’ she said. ‘I would like to help you. Michael and Megan are my best friends, so I’ll help you. I don’t forget anything, ever.’





CHAPTER TEN


‘Oh, this is nice!’ Nancy flung herself back on the elaborate counterpane of the big double bed and looked at the ornate ceiling. ‘They must think a lot of you, putting you up in here. Oh, I could get used to this. Who’d have thought it? If some of those old bags from Empire Street could see you here they’d have a fit. Serve ’em right and all.’

Gloria grinned. ‘Believe me, not every hotel’s like this. I’ve stayed in some right fleapits since starting the tour.’ She sat down on the velvet stool which stood in front of the mirrored dressing table. It was in the exact shade of the gorgeously thick curtains, which toned with the counterpane – it was all the height of luxury. ‘But no, I grant you, this is all right.’

‘Just think, all those nights we were downstairs when you were singing, and we didn’t know what the bedrooms were like.’ Nancy stretched her arms above her head. ‘This is the comfiest bed I’ve ever been on.’

Gloria raised her eyebrows. ‘Does that mean you’ve been trying out a few since we last met? Nancy, you dark horse.’

Nancy gasped, then realised her friend was teasing. ‘No, of course not. Don’t be like that, Glor. You know I’m not like some girls we could mention.’

‘Just as well, I suppose.’ Gloria gazed at the wallpaper above the mirror. ‘Apart from being on tour, I haven’t tried out any either.’

Nancy rolled on to her side and propped her head on her hand to regard her friend. Gloria had always attracted men without any effort – her looks alone guaranteed she would be the centre of attention wherever she went, with her natural platinum-blonde hair and stunning face, but added to that she had the gift of a powerful voice that she used to tug on the heartstrings of anyone listening. In her more honest moments, Nancy admitted she was deeply jealous of her friend, but it had also been useful to stick by her side as she then could bask in the reflected glory and also meet a fair few men herself. But times had changed.

‘Your impresario fellow making you work all hours, is he?’ she asked. ‘You want to stand up for yourself, make sure you get a bit of time off. All work and no play and all that.’

‘What do you think this is?’ Gloria said, smiling to take the edge off her reply. ‘I’m not performing this evening. He knows I can’t sing every night, or and move hotels as well. I’ll get too tired, and then my voice gets tired and we can’t risk that. No, he’s good, I’ve been very lucky. He knows what he’s doing. I trust him. No, not like that,’ she added, reading the inquisitive expression on Nancy’s face. ‘I tell you, I’m concentrating on my career now.’

‘Really?’ Nancy couldn’t quite believe it.

Gloria spun round on the delicate little stool to face her friend. ‘Yes, really.’ She paused and clasped her hands. ‘I can’t waste my time going out in the evening with men when I’ve got a chance to really do something with my singing. I can’t mess around, this is my one shot at it and I’m not going to waste it.’ Her face grew determined. ‘I mean it, Nancy. I know we used to have a lot of fun—’

‘We did,’ Nancy said eagerly.

‘And I don’t regret it, but things are different now.’

‘Don’t say “there’s a war on”,’ Nancy said wearily. ‘I’m sick and tired of hearing it. Every time I try to liven things up a bit at home, someone in my family will pipe up to remind me there’s a bloody war on. I’m fed up to here of it.’ She punched the beautifully soft pillow in exasperation.

Gloria laughed indulgently. ‘Yes, but your family are all doing their bit, aren’t they? This is my way. And talking of family, it’s all my mother’s fault.’

Nancy looked up, surprised. ‘What, has she been writing to you or something? Don’t say she’s been down to see you, I know she hasn’t, I see her around the street every day. Sometimes she says hello, sometimes she doesn’t.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Gloria’s voice dripped with contempt. ‘She won’t bother with you ’cos you’re not a regular customer. That’s all she cares about. That’s my point. She’s stuck in that filthy old pub, seeing the same old faces day in day out, watching my dad get drunk with whoever’s left after the call-up. But she used to sing, you know.’

‘Yeah, I know. Never heard her though.’

‘Nobody has. She lost her voice before she had me. She didn’t take care of it. She had this talent and she did nothing with it. Well, I’m not going to fall into that trap.’ Gloria pursed her immaculately painted lips. ‘You’ve got to seize the chances that come your way, and she didn’t. I’m serious about this work. I love it, and also it’s helping the war effort. People feel better after hearing me sing. That sounds big-headed, I know, but that’s what Romeo Brown says. I don’t care if I have to sing “We’ll Meet Again” over and over – if that’s what they want to hear and if it gives them the will to go on, who am I to say no?’

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