‘Cheating how?’ he asked.
‘Well, you’ve got Millie here giving you all the inside information,’ said Alfie. ‘Tips and whatnot. Bet you’ve been practising this in secret all week.’
‘I’ve been here all week with you, you idiot. When would I have . . . Oh, never mind. You just concentrate on trying to remember which is your left foot and which is the right. How did you ever manage to march in the army?’
‘Colour sergeant took pity on me. Used to tap the old left leg with his stick. “Don’t you worry, Lieutenant,” he’d say. “I’ll see you right.” And I’d say, “So that’s the right, then?” And he’d say, “No, sir, that’s the left.” Not much call for parade drill in the trenches, though, so it turned out not to matter much, what?’
‘I suppose not, no,’ said Charlie.
‘Can we try it one more time, please, gentlemen,’ called Millie, sounding not entirely unlike a colour sergeant herself. ‘From the top, please, Dizzies.’
Skins counted them in. The band played. The Alphabet Gang stomped and stumbled. And then the music stopped. The Alphabets were confused – they thought they’d been doing well. They looked to Millie, but it was nothing to do with her. They turned to remonstrate with the band for ruining their most successful effort so far. And that was when they saw why the band had stopped playing and were out of their seats and yelling for help.
Lying on the floor, her saxophone beneath her, was Blanche Adams.
‘Someone call a doctor,’ shouted Puddle.
Benny had already set down his trombone and was kneeling beside his stricken colleague, trying to find a pulse.
‘I think it might be too late for that,’ he said calmly. ‘I think she’s dead.’
Chapter Five
One of the senior members of the club was a doctor. Danny found him in the reading room and he hurried to the ballroom but there was, as everyone already knew, nothing he could do. He called the police to report the sudden death and made arrangements for Blanche’s body to be taken to the local public mortuary.
‘Has to be done, I’m afraid,’ he said when Puddle tearfully protested. ‘Sudden death like this with no obvious explanation has to be reported to the coroner. There’ll have to be a post-mortem to determine the cause. Was she in good health?’
The band had been in a shocked huddle since Benny’s pronouncement. No one answered for a few moments.
Finally, Elk looked over. ‘Fit as a flea,’ he said. ‘Never took so much as a day off work sick. We’ve all been on the crocked list at one time or another, but not Blanche.’
‘You have my deepest sympathies,’ said the doctor, kindly. ‘I know how terrible it is when one loses a comrade.’
The ambulance came and went, followed by a police constable from Bow Street who took witness statements.
‘Why are the police involved?’ asked Eustace.
‘Nothing to worry about, sir,’ said the constable. ‘Just routine. We just need to make sure the coroner has all the information he needs. There’ll almost certainly have to be an inquest. Sudden death, you see.’
He spoke to everyone in turn, but they all told him the same thing. One minute Blanche was playing, the next minute she was lying on the floor on top of her saxophone. He offered them all his sympathies, thanked them for their time, and returned to Bow Street, leaving everyone very much at a loss as to what to do next.
Millie and most of the Alphabet Gang retired to the bar, leaving only the band and Danny in the now rather bleak ballroom.
Danny approached the stage. ‘Is everyone all right?’ he asked.
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Skins. ‘It’s all a horrible shock. But we’ll look after each other.’
‘If there’s anything I, or the club, can do, you’ve only to say. You’ve met a few of the gang. Bunch of misfits, the lot of us. But we look after each other, too. And we’ve rather taken to you all. Had a word with the other chaps. You’ve done us proud these past couple of weeks and they like the cut of your collective jib. So . . . well, as I say – anything you need. We’ll find someone else to play for these stupid classes, of course.’
The Dizzy Heights looked at each other.
‘Well,’ said Dunn after a moment. ‘The thing about Blanche is she’s – she was – a grafter. Like Elk said earlier, she never missed a day. The band always came first, and she took our responsibilities seriously. We promised we’d play, and we’ll play. Right?’
The band nodded and muttered agreement.
‘It’ll be a difficult time – we all loved her – but she wouldn’t want us to let anyone down.’
‘She wouldn’t,’ said Puddle. ‘She’d be angry with us if we did.’
‘So we owe it to Blanche to see it through,’ said Dunn. ‘We’ll get you through your dance contest with the . . .’
‘The Wags Club,’ said Danny.
‘We’ll play for you, get you ready. You beat them for Blanche.’
‘When you put it like that,’ said Danny, ‘it does sound like a fitting tribute. But don’t make any hasty decisions. We’ll understand completely if you wish to back out. And bear in mind that we’ll want to train a bit harder. We’re going to need more than one lesson a week if we’re to be ready in time. Just think about it, but don’t make any rash commitments. We’d certainly appreciate your help, but we’d understand.’
He left them to continue packing up.
‘Did she have any family?’ asked Benny.
‘A brother in Wimbledon,’ said Puddle. ‘I should tell him.’
‘The police will do it,’ said Benny.
‘But it would be better coming from one of us. No one wants a policeman standing on their doorstep telling them their sister has died. It should be a friend.’
‘You got the address?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have to do it alone.’
The rest of the band agreed, and Benny and Puddle set off to take the District Railway to Wimbledon.
‘They’ve left her sax and clarinet,’ said Skins. ‘We ought to look after them in case her brother wants them. We’ll put them in the shop.’
Mickey, Elk, and Eustace helped Skins and Dunn to take their instruments out to the cart and then they all went their separate ways. The rain had stopped, but that meant the streets were crowded with all the people who had delayed their journeys to avoid the deluge. It took Skins and Dunn slightly longer than usual to get back to the shop and on to Bloomsbury, where Skins invited Dunn in for a nightcap. The bassist declined. He wanted to be alone.
Dunn kept to his room for the next couple of days and made no effort to go out, not even to his regular dinner with Skins and Ellie. The band had nothing in the diary and he just didn’t feel up to the idea of seeing people.
By Friday morning, though, he felt the need to do something, so he set off for a walk through the north London streets. He still wasn’t at all certain how he felt. Blanche’s sudden death had been a terrible blow, to be sure, but he was unsure why it had affected him so badly. Friends had died before – under more gruesome circumstances – and he had felt the same combination of shock and loss, but there was an added dimension this time. This time it was someone he . . . Someone he what, exactly? Fancied? Cared about? Wanted? Had decided to settle for? They didn’t have any sort of relationship beyond the friendly comradeship of the band and the promise of a date that could now never happen, so why had this hit him so hard?