Page 84 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“Home? Certainly not! I’ve dozens of things to keep me busy.”

“Only I thought you might be rather tired of sitting around on a dusty floor.”

“Not at all! As soon as the paint is dry, I want to start decorating that table and I still need to write a letter to Lil. Albert said he would deliver it for me.” She lifted her chin. “How soon do you suppose I can ask her to start rehearsing here with me?”

Clem did not speak for a moment. “Next week?” he offered.

“How about this Wednesday?” When he eyed her coolly, she explained, “We need to work around the hours she keeps bar, you see.”

“Very well, this Wednesday,” he agreed and moved away from the door.

Theo did not realize she was staring after him until Albert spoke. “Ain’t very keen to give you your break, is he?”

She gave an awkward laugh. “It’s not that Albert; you mustn’t think that. He’s actually been wonderfully supportive.”

“Could have fooled me,” Albert sniffed, and for the first time that day, they sat a moment in perfect silence. It was at this moment that Theo heard the brush of long skirts approaching along the corridor.

“That’s wot you fink. E’s been courting ‘er on the sly,” they heard someone pronounce with relish. “They been spotted going about togevver all sorts of places. Taking her out to eat in the chop ‘ouse and even at Wards! He ain’t been near any of his regular ‘aunts in an age.”

“You mean he ain’t been to see Goldie of late?” asked another voice with interest.

“Lord, he ain’t seen her for months,” another said scornfully. “She’s got a banker now, set her up in style he have, somewhere along the embankment.”

“Good for ‘er,” said another. “She’d have caught cold waiting on the likes of Dabney.”

“Well, but he married this one though,” the other pointed out thoughtfully.

Theo cleared her throat and moved forward to shut the door which had been standing ajar to dissipate the smell of paint.

“Dancing girls,” said Albert who had leaned forward in his chair to peer out. He turned back to Theo curiously. “Did he really take you to Wards?”

TWENTY-ONE

Over the next two weeks, Dora accompanied Clem to the concert rooms every morning without fail. She bustled happily about the place keeping herself busy while Clem found himself increasingly on edge. He had finally taken her to an evening’s performance there, and she had sat through every act with her eyes glued to the stage and an expression of rapt attention on her face.

She did not laugh out loud once at Florrie Foss’s vulgar humor, but she squeezed Clem’s arm when Oh Mr. Hipkins started up and whispered, “She’s very good, isn’t she? I can see why she’s so popular.”

“Can you?” Clem asked, eyeing her doubtfully.

She nodded furiously. “Oh yes, I can’t take my eyes off her.” At the close and third encore of Mr. Mellar’s Prize Marrow she had clapped furiously along with the crowd and drummed her feet against the floor as loudly as any man present.

At dinner the following night she could not speak highly enough of the entertainment at The Eagle and Sun.“You must visit it when you can,” she had urged her skeptical brother and Allsop without reservation. “It is so inspiring to see how the crowd embraces it.”

As for his star act, she could not praise Florrie Foss highly enough. “Oh, she’s wonderful,” she had enthused. “So exuberant and magnetic even. You feel as though you could watch her recite a laundry list and be entertained. Her manner is so exceedingly inviting and, and … warm. Even when she is being quite crude, you cannot take it amiss, for she is so likeable.”

Allsop dabbed a napkin to his lips delicately and enquired if she had yet managed to obtain a pianist to accompany her act.

A frown marred Dora’s brow. “Not yet,” she admitted, and Clem meant to ask her about it after they went upstairs but forgot. As it happened, Dora raised it herself the next day, when she announced after breakfast that Allsop, of all people, had offered to play for her and Lil on The Eagle’s piano, for the regular pianist had declined to learn their musical numbers.

“What do you mean, he ‘declined to learn them’?” Clem asked sharply.

“Well, it seems the poor man is quite inundated at present. Apparently, there have been so many new acts come and go recently that he can scarcely keep up with the musical score.”

“If he can’t keep up, then I’ll sack him,” Clem said crisply. “There has always been a high turnover of acts at The Eagle.”

“Harold volunteered,” Dora murmured. “And he really is an excellent performer, Clem.”

“He may find music hall rather different to his tame musical recitals,” Clem pointed out tetchily.