Hopes and Dreams for The Seaside Girls

Tracy Baines

Description

As war is declared can The Seaside Girls keep smiling through…

Cleethorpes – September 1939

Struggling to keep their spirits up as the reality of war hits home and theatres are closed, friends Jessie Delaney and Frances O’Leary search for work to see them through until they can sing and dance again.

Frances, once upon a time followed her dreams of becoming a dancer but soon found herself with a broken heart and a precious secret when her lover abandoned her. Keeping her secret from her friends grows more difficult as time passes and their friendship grows..

But with her lover returning to England from a successful tour of America, how long will it be before the truth comes to light?

Secrets aren’t good for anyone and Frances isn’t the only one hiding things from her friends. Ginny Thomspon, another Seaside Girl is hoping for the best. But is hope enough?

Can the Seaside Girls pull together to help each other through the tough times or will their secrets tear them apart?

A gritty and heart-warming saga perfect for readers of Elaine Everest, Nancy Revell and Pam Howes.

Praise for Tracy Baines:

‘A charming, heart-warming saga about ambition, hard work and courage in the cut and thrust of a world often driven by jealousy and spite.’ Rosie Clarke

‘Immerse yourself in the exciting, evocative world of Wartime musical theatre. I highly recommend this book.’ Fenella J. Miller

‘An emotional, entertaining read that had me gripped!’ Sheila Riley

'An absorbing and poignant saga. I loved it from the very beginning and would highly recommend it...' Elaine Roberts

'Terrific - beautifully written. The book twinkles. A well-crafted and satisfying story' Maisie Thomas

‘A pleasure from start to finish.’ Glenda Young

‘…you will have to read this well-researched song and dance of a novel in great gulps as I did’ Annie Clark

‘I just loved this book!' Molly Walton

'The Variety Girls is terrific - beautifully written & with an unusual background. The stage costumes twinkle with sequins and the book twinkles with tiny details of theatre life that add depth and atmosphere to this well-crafted and satisfying story.' Maisie Thomas

‘A pleasure from start to finish.’ Glenda Young

‘…you will have to read this well-researched song and dance of a novel in great gulps as I did’ Milly Adams

‘An evocative, busy, entertaining read, which has well balanced touches of humour, vying with angst, and of course, more than a dollop of tension.’ Margaret Graham, Frost Magazine

‘Characterisation is one of the book’s strong points – the individual characters stay in your mind long after you finish the story.’ Barbara Dynes, The Voice

Sujets

• Mashups
• Feminist
• Holidays
• 20th Century
• Siblings
• Historical
• HISTORY
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Segunda Guerra Mundial
• Friendship
• Historical romance
• Dating
• Sibling
• General officer
• Military
• Woman
• World War II
• Feminism
• The Women
• City Life
• Dance
• General
• Holiday
• Sagas
• Family Life
• War
• Romance
• Christmas
• Fiction
• Seconde Guerre mondiale

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 11 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804265079
• Langue: English

Extrait

HOPES AND DREAMS FOR THE SEASIDE GIRLS


TRACY BAINES
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33


Acknowledgments

More from Tracy Baines

About the Author

Sixpence Stories

About Boldwood Books
To Ant, Nick & Nelly
And the little stars of the show: Elsie, Huxley, Hadley and California
1
CLEETHORPES, SUNDAY 3 SEPTEMBER 1939

Frances O’Leary lay on top of her bed in Barkhouse Lane, watching the shaft of light grow stronger through the gap in the curtains as the sun rose. She’d left them like that when she’d arrived home from the theatre with Jessie Delaney, her fellow Variety Girl, in the early hours. It had been a night of excitement followed by hours of worry and she hadn’t bothered to undress, unable to sleep, her mind busy with what might happen today. German troops had marched into Poland only two days before and the prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, had been forced to issue an ultimatum. If Hitler didn’t withdraw his troops they would be at war. It felt to Frances like the whole world had been holding its breath, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be at conflict again. But what did hope ever achieve?
A quiet tapping on her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts and Jessie stuck her head around it.
‘Can I come in?’ Her friend’s eyes were puffy and red from crying, her face blotchy. How soon happiness turned to tears. Frances felt for her young friend, forgetting her own worries and fears and forcing them to the back of her mind.
‘Of course.’ Frances slung her legs over the bed, went over to the window and drew back the heavy blackout curtains to reveal a blue, almost cloudless sky. Down in the yard, their landlady, Geraldine, was slicing beans from the stalk with her ivory-handled penknife, dropping them into a white enamel pan on the path. As though sensing she was being watched, Geraldine turned and looked up at her, and Frances put up a hand in greeting. ‘I haven’t slept anyway.’
‘I don’t think any of us have. Mum and Geraldine have been in the back room since six.’
Frances smiled. ‘Ah, but your lack of sleep will be for different reasons.’ Jessie came beside her and the girls linked arms. ‘Harry’s proposal, a London impresario coming to hear you sing. And in Cleethorpes, of all places! What a wonderful night it was for you.’
Jessie gave her a half-hearted smile. ‘It was. And it wasn’t.’ She let out a heavy sigh. ‘Life’s complicated, isn’t it?’
Frances could only agree. And the older you got the more complicated it became, but she couldn’t tell Jessie that. Instead she said, ‘Lots to look forward to: a ring, a wedding…’
‘But when?’ Jessie’s voice cracked. ‘If the news is bad today, and we know that it will be…’
‘Don’t.’ Frances loosened her arm; they couldn’t give in to dark thoughts. It didn’t help. ‘You have to think of all the wonderful things that lie ahead for you and Harry. You’ll need to set a date, find a dress… and that’s just the start of your good fortune. Your mum must be so excited for you.’ Harry and Jessie had met almost a year ago when Jessie was secretary at her uncle Norman’s legal practice in Norfolk, and Harry a solicitor. He’d recently joined the RAF and Jessie was proud but afraid. Frances tugged her friend close. ‘For a girl with the world at her feet, you’re awfully glum.’
Jessie leaned her head on Frances’s shoulder. ‘I know. All my dreams coming true at once – only it’s not what I thought it would be. I’m so confused.’ She lifted her head and turned to Frances, the fear clear in her eyes. ‘If it’s war, Harry won’t be safe, none of us will.’
Frances gripped her friend’s shoulders and gave her a bit of a shake, hoping to dislodge the despair. ‘Harry will be back before you know it.’ They had to be strong, for who knew what lay before them. She changed tack. ‘Enough of that. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you much last night, there was so much going on, and I am desperate to know how it went with Vernon Leroy.’
Jessie smiled then. ‘Oh, Frances, always turning your face to the sun, looking for the good. What would I do without you?’
‘You’d manage.’ Frances grinned. She couldn’t have Jessie losing her spark. It was what Frances loved about her. They’d met when Jessie was the latecomer to the dancing troupe who were appearing for the three-month summer season at the Empire. She’d arrived with nowhere to stay and Frances had brought her to Barkhouse Lane, which Geraldine had taken on only a week before, having inherited it from her aunt. The terraced house had been drab and neglected but over the last two months they’d all worked together to make it a cosy home. ‘Come on, tell me what the marvellous Mr Leroy said?’
‘I was so excited, so nervous, that I can’t remember half of it.’ Jessie’s green eyes began to recover their sparkle. ‘Harry had just proposed, and I was walking on air. We went back to the dressing room together and Mr Leroy was there with Mum and the star of the show, Madeleine Moore.’ She stopped, smiled. ‘He told me I had a great voice, had a great future ahead of me. He’s thinking of putting me in his next West End production.’
‘That’s wonderful, isn’t it?’
Jessie shrugged. ‘It would’ve been, a few weeks ago. But now that Mum and Eddie are here with me, it’s different. I don’t want to leave them again. Harry’s in the RAF… and if it’s war…’ Her voice faltered as fear took hold. Frances released her arm.
‘Look at it this way: you’re with your family and you’re doing what you love. That’s everything, isn’t it?’ It was so much more than she had herself. It had been four years since she’d seen her own family. Four long, lonely years.
Jessie lifted her head. ‘Oh, Frances, you’re right. Here’s me, going on like an idiot when we’ll perhaps have worse things to worry about soon.’ She paused. ‘Harry was so glad that I was here with you and Geraldine. He said he knew we’d all look out for each other.’
‘And he’s right,’ Frances agreed. They had become as tight-knit as any family. She hadn’t realised it before but now, as they stood on the brink of war, she knew that that’s what they meant to each other.
‘I’m so glad to have a friend like you, someone to share all my happiness and fears with. My secrets.’
Guilt pierced Frances. Secrets. Should she tell of her own? To do so would be such a relief – to share all that brought her happiness, gave her joy. Jessie’s eyes were bright with expectation. No, not yet. This is her moment , she told herself, don’t spoil it . She nudged Jessie’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be daft. What about your mum? And your brother?’
Jessie rested her hand against the window frame, thoughtful. Her mother, Grace, had been so ill when Jessie brought her to stay at Barkhouse Lane at the end of July, rescuing her from the neglect of Grace’s cousin’s wife, Iris, and nursing her back to health. Her younger brother, Eddie, had been set to inherit the family legal firm – not that he wanted to, for he was mad about engines – but all the same, it was lost opportunities, so Jessie had her own guilt to contend with and Frances didn’t need to burden her with any more.
‘I can’t talk to them like I can talk to you. I can’t tell them how afraid I am.’ She frowned. ‘Mum’s thrilled to bits for me but she’s still not well. And Eddie…’ She smiled. ‘Eddie is thriving too, isn’t he?’ Frances agreed and Jessie went on, ‘Do you know, when I first brought them here, I thought I’d done the worst thing, that I’d been rash and made a mistake. But it all turned out right in the end. Things do, don’t they, if we have courage?’
If only courage was all it took. Frances looked at the younger girl, her freshness, her innocence. At eighteen, Jessie’s age, she had been innocent too. Then it all changed. She turned away, reaching past Jessie for her washbag, which lay on the chair at the bottom of the bed. When she turned back, she made sure she was smiling. ‘Let’s go downstairs. I need to freshen up. We have no idea what the day will bring and I want to be ready to greet whatever comes.’



* * *
In the back sitting room, Grace and Geraldine were sitting at the oak table, stripping and slicing runner beans. An old copy of the Grimsby Telegraph was spread over it, a growing pile of ends and strings in the middle, the sliced beans mounting in a colander. They looked up as the girls came in.
‘Morning,’ Frances said.
‘Morning,’ Grace replied, making short work of the last bean and deftly wrapping the paper around the scrapings. Geraldine got up and took it from her, along with the colander, and Frances followed her into the kitchen.
‘Let me get rid of these and we’ll get on with breakfast. Same as we always do, eh?’ Not waiting for a reply, Geraldine put the colander on the side and went out to the dustbin. Frances picked up the kettle and the gas popped as she placed it on the stove. The pans for lunch were on the side, the potatoes scraped, carrots chopped and now the beans would sit alongside them. Everything prepared in advance. It was the same every Sunday, she presumed, for she was always up and out, no matter how late they got back from the theatre the night before.
‘Are you not going to see your friend this Sunday?’ Grace called through to her.
Frances wrung out a dishcloth and went back into the room. ‘I thought I’d wait until after the prime minister’s announcement at eleven and then go.’ Grace lifted her hands as Frances wiped the table. ‘As luck would have it, her husband’s home from sea for a few days. She won’t be on her own.’
‘That’s good,’ Grace said. ‘Bad news is more bearab