‘Oh, all over France,’ said Blanche as she worked. ‘Wherever they needed us.’
‘You must have some stories to tell. Was it dangerous?’
‘Not so much. We were always a fair way behind the lines.’
‘But you had to be close by. I’m not sure I could ever have done anything like that.’
‘The Advanced Dressing Stations were a little further up, it’s true, but we were never in any real danger from the fighting. Well, I say that. We weren’t completely safe but the closest I ever came to proper danger happened when I was at home on leave. I got back to find myself posted to another station because ours had been destroyed.’
‘My goodness,’ said Millie. ‘What on earth happened? Was it shelled? One heard about atrocities like that. Shelling hospitals. Barbaric.’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Blanche. ‘It was an aeroplane. A German Albatros, they said. It had been shot down. The story was that the pilot could have bailed out, but he stayed in the plane trying to steer it away from the dressing station. He didn’t manage it. Everyone was killed.’
Millie said nothing; she just sat there, looking up at the former nurse.
‘Sorry, darling,’ said Blanche. ‘Didn’t mean to bring the mood down. There we are. All done.’ She pinned the end of the bandage in place. ‘I’d see your doctor in a day or two to get the dressing changed and the wound checked, but you shouldn’t have any trouble. I’ve seen people get better from much worse. You’ll have a scar, but I’ve made a neat job of sewing it all up – even if I do say so myself – so it should only be a tiny one.’
‘What with that and the limp, I’m beginning to look like an old soldier myself,’ said Millie. ‘Thank you so very much. If there’s ever anything I can do for you . . . anything at all.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Blanche. ‘All in a day’s work for the Dizzy Heights. Songs, jokes, and emergency medical attention. That’s us.’
‘Jokes? I didn’t know you did jokes.’
‘We try not to let them do it very often, but Skins and Dunn fancy themselves as a comic turn. They think it adds a little extra zing to the proceedings.’
‘We have them rolling in the aisles some nights,’ said Skins.
Puddle had brought a glass of brandy for the casualty. ‘Some nights. Most nights they just stare blankly at you before telling you to shut up and play another song.’
‘Early days yet,’ said Dunn. ‘Early days.’
Charlie’s head appeared round the door. ‘Hello, all. What news from the dressing station?’
‘All stitched up and ready to return to the front,’ said Millie. ‘Are you all right now?’
‘What? Oh, yes, that. Right as rain. Come back and join us. Will you chaps be ready to play again soon? The natives are getting restless.’
‘We’ll be on in a little while,’ said Blanche. ‘Give us a few minutes to tidy this lot up.’ She indicated the bowl of bloody water and the even bloodier napkins.
Charlie whitened and wobbled slightly. ‘Don’t worry about that – I’ll get the staff to see to it. If you’re all fit, we’d rather you played. We’ve dancing to be getting on with.’
The Dizzy Heights gathered themselves together for the second set.
The dance ended without further incident and the next few days were similarly excitement-free. Barty Dunn had once again entirely failed to find a date and was giving serious consideration to Ellie’s suggestion that he look closer to home, to someone with whom he actually had something in common. To Blanche Adams.
She was clever and funny. She was talented and capable – watching the businesslike way she had tended to Millie’s injury had been something of a revelation. And obviously they shared a taste in music. Now he came to think about it, she was quite good-looking, too. She was a few years younger than him, he reckoned, but that shouldn’t be an obstacle. It couldn’t be more than, what, eight years? Nine at the absolute outside. And it might be much less. She might be older than she looked. And age didn’t always matter, did it? He was a catch, after all. Well, sort of. He didn’t have a steady job, as such, but he’d not been out of work for nearly twenty years. That had to count for something.
He would ask her to dinner after the dance lesson. Probably. Or the pictures. Everyone loved going to the pictures. There was a new Clara Bow film, he was sure. Or Buster Keaton. There must be a Buster Keaton film on somewhere. There always had been in the past.
The Augmented Ninth had been closed on Monday night for decoration, so they had left their instruments at the Aristippus Club. This meant that their journey to Mayfair on Tuesday evening should have been easier than usual. Except that it was raining. Dunn had hopped off the tube at Russell Square and together they walked the half an hour to the Aristippus Club, with Dunn complaining even more energetically than usual about not having a van.
‘Or even a car,’ said Dunn. ‘Couldn’t you afford a car? You could do without at least one of your servants.’
‘I offered to pay for a cab,’ said Skins, ‘but you were having none of it. You’re fine with me blowing all my cash on a car, but a few bob for a taxi is beyond the pale, apparently.’
‘Well, the next time I suggest walking a mile and a half in the rain, tell me I’m an idiot.’
‘You’re an idiot.’
‘The next time. This time I’m a man of principle and honour.’
‘And waterlogged boots.’
‘Them, too.’
They finally arrived, moistened and bad-tempered, and set about lugging the instruments out of the storeroom and into the ballroom.
‘You know how Puddle and Blanche keep on about us getting a manager?’ said Dunn.
‘They’ve got a point, don’t you think?’ said Skins.
‘Definitely. I reckon it would be worth taking a drop in our share of the takings just to have everything properly organized – someone to make sure there are clean towels in the dressing room, a few bottles of beer for after. That would be more than worth it, come to think of it. But I was wondering if managers help lug things about.’
‘I’d pay extra for one who’d do that. Or for a porter. Could we hire a porter between us?’
‘That would be swanky, wouldn’t it?’ said Dunn as he heaved a couple of instrument cases on to the stage. ‘Would he bring us drinks? Press our clothes?’
‘Like a batman? I like the way you’re thinking, old son.’
It took several trips, but they finally had everyone’s gear on the stage, with the chairs in their usual places. There was still three-quarters of an hour to go before things were due to kick off, so they set off in search of someone who might be able to supply them with a couple of towels and a warming drink.
The club bar was the place to be, it seemed, and it was there that they met Charlie and the rest of the Alphabet Gang. Alfie, Bertie, Danny, and Ernie were engaged in some sort of indoor version of croquet, using the club’s leather chairs and the older members sitting in them as natural obstacles. Charlie was umpire.
Once he saw the state the two musicians were in, Charlie kindly arranged for them to be supplied with the necessary hot toddies and towels.