‘If George had courted me when I was at home I might have been only too happy to marry him and live in a police house,’ Molly said, squirming a bit, because she wasn’t really comfortable with Rose thinking she was too good for Robert now. ‘But he didn’t, and even now he isn’t saying he’s always loved me, or anything positive.’
‘Forget him. You don’t want some dull policeman in an even duller place. We’ll find ourselves a couple of dream boats at the Empire,’ Rose said with a grin. ‘We need to have a list prepared to tick off: good job, well educated, nice-looking, smart clothes, a car, parents with money.’
‘If they’ve got all that, they probably only want a girl for one thing,’ Molly said. ‘We aren’t that much of a catch, working at Bourne & Hollingsworth.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ Rose grinned. ‘And I might be prepared to go the whole way if the man was worth it.’
Molly laughed, because she didn’t believe Rose would ever go that far before marriage. Like most of the young staff here, she wanted fun, but of the innocent kind: going out to tea, the cinema or the theatre with a man, but nothing more. Molly had been told about a girl who’d been asked to leave back in the spring when it was discovered she was pregnant. The disdain and lack of sympathy for her expressed by many different girls was quite disturbing really, for surely some of them must have had moments with some boy, as she had with Andy, when she had almost succumbed.
In fact, Molly felt that if she ever felt that way again with a man who she knew loved her and who she could trust, she doubted she’d hold back. Besides, there were several girls back in Sawbridge who were pregnant on their wedding day, and their marriages were all happy ones.
Then, of course, there were Cassie’s views on the subject. She made no secret of liking sex and, often, when Molly had been listening to her speaking about her relationships with men, she’d felt Cassie was the most honourable, truthful person she’d ever met.
In one of Cassie’s poems she’d spoken of hypocrisy. ‘I am shamed by those who speak out with others’ voices, knowing that it is not their truth.’
She certainly didn’t think Cassie would’ve approved of anyone searching out a man using a cold-hearted list of required assets. She would’ve said that kindness, passion, loyalty and honour were more important.
But maybe Rose and other girls that said similar things were just showing off, trying to make themselves sound more sophisticated.
Dilys was fascinated by Soho – the strip clubs, jazz dives, gambling places and the spivs and floozies who worked there. One evening about six weeks after Molly had started at Bourne & Hollingsworth, she persuaded Molly it was time they went to a jazz club.
‘How can we not do it?’ she said. ‘Soho is right on our doorstep. Imagine how we’ll feel when we are old if we hadn’t dared to try it out?’
Molly liked the idea in theory, but there were always memos being posted up in the staff room about the dangers of Soho, advising staff to keep away.
‘Okay, then,’ Molly agreed, not wanting to seem dull and unadventurous. ‘If we go on Saturday we can be out till twelve.’
Both girls wore new dresses for their adventure. Dilys was in turquoise shantung, a princess-style dress with a stand-up collar that framed her face, and a flared skirt which they thought looked very sophisticated. Molly wore a cream crêpe sheath dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, the most daring, slinky dress she’d ever worn. Even though it was a bit chilly they decided against wearing a coat or cardigan, as they wanted to show off their dresses.
They went to a pub first for a couple of Babychams to give them some courage, and at nine they sauntered off to find the Blue Moon Club just off Wardour Street.
It was a bit disappointing to find they were too early. The emptiness of the basement club made the grimy walls, sticky floor and the smell of stale drink and cigarettes more noticeable. It was also very dark, just a few dim lights here and there on the walls and candles on the tables. A jazz quartet was playing, and a waitress in a very short black satin dress like a skater’s outfit plonked two glasses of red wine down in front of them and said, ‘They’re on the house,’ in a very surly way.
The wine was horrible, but they sipped it anyway, and when Dilys looked around two men at the closest table to them grinned and raised their glasses in a toast.
‘They’re old enough to be our dads,’ Molly said in horror.
Although both men were smartly dressed in dark suits, they had thinning hair and the slack jowls of men over fifty who drank too much.
‘As long as they buy us a few drinks, does it matter how old they are?’ Dilys said. ‘We’re here in a Soho night club at last! We don’t have to marry them.’
Molly liked jazz – sometimes they had a jazz band playing at the Pied Horse – but the band here was much better, and when a girl singer came on after a couple of numbers to sing ‘Frankie and Johnny’ it got even better.
At the same time, the two men came over to the girls’ table. ‘That red wine they give girls in here is terrible. Let us get you a drink you like?’
‘Well, thank you,’ Dilys simpered. ‘It is awful, and we’d love a Babycham.’
The taller of the two men introduced himself as Mike, waved his hand at the waitress and gave her the order, Babychams for the girls and whisky for them.
‘This is my pal Ernie,’ he said of his companion. ‘We’re down in the Smoke on a business trip and so I’m sure you won’t mind if we keep you company.’
It wasn’t a question, more an ultimatum, and both men sat down before either girl could respond. ‘So,’ Mike said, grinning at Molly. ‘What are your names, and where do two such pretty girls come from?’
Close up, the two men looked even more worn and saggy; they had bad teeth, paunches and nicotine-stained fingers. From their accents, they sounded like they came from Birmingham, and Molly felt a little threatened.
‘I’m Molly, from Somerset, and Dilys is from Cardiff,’ she said. ‘We are both nurses at the Middlesex Hospital. I’m a midwife and Dilys is a sister on the children’s ward.’
Dilys bit her lip so as not to laugh. They had said on the way here they would make up a different job and place to live as they didn’t want anyone tracking them down to Bourne & Hollingsworth.
‘We like nurses,’ Ernie said, and when he smiled his brown teeth were even worse than the girls had first thought. ‘Do you live in a flat outside the hospital?’
‘That would be telling,’ Dilys said with a very naughty grin. ‘Never tell a gentleman where you live, that’s what my granny told me when I came to London.’
The drinks arrived just as the club started to get busier. The girls downed their Babychams quickly and, almost immediately, a second round arrived. The men had moved their chairs closer to the girls and Mike kept trying to take Molly’s hand. All she wanted to do was listen to the great music and perhaps have a couple of dances, but it looked like they were stuck now with these two old men, and all the other tables had filled up, so even if they’d felt able to move there was nowhere to move to.
Molly drank the second glass of Babycham and felt a little squiffy. The music was too loud to really make conversation, and she could see Dilys was uncomfortable with Ernie, too.
But the club was exciting, lots of very elegant women in beautiful evening dresses, their hair just perfect, and the men all looked so suave and sophisticated. But there was an undercurrent of something odd. She noticed that there were other girls who came in without male partners, but they weren’t alone for very long; a man would always join them. Molly could tell just by watching that they didn’t know the girls.
By her third Babycham, Molly knew she was drunk, and she could see that Dilys was, too. Mike and Ernie took them to the dance floor for a dance, and Molly didn’t like the tight way Mike was holding her one bit.