Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [76]
The only part of her old life she really missed was Molly.
That was a dull ache inside her which never went away. Yet at the same time she was very glad her little sister was safe in England for this was no place for a small child.
Beth turned away from the window and looked objectively at the room. It struck her that the decorative touches she’d added to it represented how things really were. The blue counterpane which acted as a curtain between hers and Sam’s beds was tied back for now with a red velvet ribbon to give it a semblance of elegance; the theatre posters hid the stained walls; the brightly coloured dresses she wore in Heaney’s were a decoration too, and every week she bought a bunch of flowers to make the room seem more homely.
But these were like the veneer in her letters home. They only masked the fact that the place was grim.
It struck her that Sam, with his sensitive nature, had probably been aware of this from the day they moved in. Maybe that was why he was so dead set on becoming rich, so that they wouldn’t have to pretend any more or be ashamed of anything.
Beth didn’t hanker after very much more than she had now, just a quieter place, a room of her own and a real bath. But then, she did want to go home one day to see Molly, and she certainly didn’t want to go back like a poor relation. So maybe she ought to start thinking ahead and planning, like Sam was doing.
That night she played better than she’d ever played before. Her whole body seemed to be overtaken by the music, and she danced around the stage, whipping up the crowd to a near frenzy. The applause was deafening, no one wanted her to stop, and Pat Heaney had to get up on the stage to bring it to an end.
‘Ain’t our little gypsy swell?’ he shouted out to the crowd. ‘She’ll be back on Monday night for you again, so make sure you don’t miss her.’
He came out into the back room to bring her money as she was mopping the sweat from her face and neck. ‘You were great tonight,’ he said with far more warmth than he usually displayed. ‘You’ve come on a treat since you started here.’
He held out her money and she saw that it was around seven dollars. But she had seen dozens of dollar bills fluttering into the hat.
‘I think then that’s it’s time you began paying me better,’ she said impulsively. ‘Or at least give me the hat to count up the money myself.’
His smile vanished and Beth felt a pang of fear.
‘Why, you ungrateful little bitch!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you saying I’m cheating you? I took you on when no one else would.’
Beth knew this was a decisive moment. She must either back down or fight back. She was very afraid; his cold eyes and that fearsome scar told her that he was too dangerous to take chances with. But she had played her heart out and something deep inside her told her she must stick up for herself or go under his heel.
‘You were the first person I approached to play,’ she said defiantly. ‘And right from the first night here there were plenty of others who’d take me on. As for cheating me, well, I know you’ve done that from the start. You never give me half of what’s in the hat.’
‘I did you a favour,’ he roared at her.
‘No you didn’t, you did yourself one,’ she said, sticking her chin out. ‘More people come in when I’m playing, and they stay and get drunk. It doesn’t cost you a dime to have me here, and the customers put that money in the hat for me because they have enjoyed my music. So you’re cheating them too by keeping it.’
‘Do you know what happens to people who cross me?’ he said, pushing his face right up to hers, so close she could smell his whisky breath.
‘I haven’t crossed you,’ she said. ‘But if you call leaving here and going to work in another saloon crossing you, then I shall do that unless I get what I’m due.’
She could see he was tempted