Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [68]
They’d watch gangs of young boys diving into the murky water, probably the only bath they ever had, for these boys lived on the streets — they were known as street Arabs — sleeping in doorways and foraging for food.
With an ice cream each from a stall, they would talk about how cold it had been on deck on the ship coming over from England.
‘In the winter we’ll talk about how hot it was this summer just to warm ourselves up,’ Jack would say.
It was an easy, uncomplicated relationship, for they were the very best of friends, but Beth always felt a little nervous when Jack began kissing her. She liked the tingly feeling she got in her belly, the way she seemed to melt into his arms and want to stay there for ever, but she was afraid where it might lead.
Amy had asked her once if she loved him, and Beth hadn’t known how to reply. She looked forward to seeing him and was always glad when he came to Heaney’s on Saturday night to watch her play. But she wasn’t sure that was what people called love. He didn’t make her heart beat any faster, nor had she gone off her food, the way it was in romantic books.
Jack was in the bar when Beth came out of the back room to play her final set on Saturday night. It was raining outside and he must have only just come in, for even across the big room she could see how wet his hair was. She waved before she jumped up on the stage to join the pianist.
She always enjoyed the last set on Saturday night. The crowd were mellow with drink, they hadn’t got to work the next day, and they showed their appreciation with loud clapping and stamping. She’d also come to love having Amos playing with her. He was a negro from Louisiana, and he could play the piano like no one else she’d ever heard. Once they got going they fed off each other and took the tunes to new realms.
That night was even better than usual. The audience cheered, clapped and hollered at every number, and Beth felt she had them eating out of her hand. She had difficulty ending it, for they kept calling for an encore. She did one, then another, before they finally let her go.
As she elbowed her way through the crowd towards the door to the back room where she’d left her coat, someone caught hold of her elbow.
To her astonishment it was the handsome man from the ship who had been with the married woman.
‘Miss Discretion didn’t tell me she was a fiddle player,’ he said.
In the first week or so after arriving in New York, Beth had wondered what happened between him and Clarissa, but she certainly hadn’t expected ever to see him again. But there he was, his English voice a reminder of home, and his appearance even more striking than it had been on their first meeting. He was wearing a sharply tailored dark green jacket and beneath it a fancy embroidered waistcoat.
‘What on earth’s brought you here?’ she asked.
‘I’m on business,’ he said, but the way he glanced towards the back room, where she knew Heaney held card games, suggested what his business was. ‘How did you come to be working for Heaney?’
‘My brother and I just came in here and asked for work,’ she replied, and pointed out Sam behind the bar. ‘We’ve been here for six months now.’
All at once Jack was pushing his way through the crowd. ‘Sam asked me to take you home tonight,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘He’s got to work late.’
‘Fine.’ Beth acknowledged him with a nod, but looked back at the man from the boat. ‘What happened with Clarissa?’
He shrugged. ‘It sort of fizzled out once we landed.’
Beth could see Jack was growing edgy and she really didn’t know why she wanted to hold this man’s attention a little longer anyway. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said. ‘Mr Heaney doesn’t like