Kay Brellend

The Windmill Girls


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       Copyright

      Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London, SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015

      Copyright © Kay Brellend 2015

      Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

      Photography by Henry Steadman; Background scene © Imperial War Museum (D 5597)

      Windmill Theatre photographs © Getty Images; three girls in their dressing room © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis

      Kay Brellend asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

      A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780007575282

      Ebook Edition © January 2015 ISBN: 9780007575299

      Version: 2014-11-22

       Dedication

      For Mum, who worked as a telephonist at Holborn Exchange during the height of the Blitz and went fire-fighting after shifts.

      For Dad, who served in the RAF as a Leading Aircraftman, keeping the planes flying.

      For all those people who didn’t see active service, but helped to win the war, working behind the scenes.

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Epilogue

       Keep Reading …

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Also by Kay Brellend

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘You shouldn’t risk going out on a night like this!’

      ‘I must … I want to see how my mum is.’

      Gertie Grimes blew a cautionary hiss through her teeth. ‘Take it from me, there’s going to be a bad raid tonight, I can feel it in me bones. And if that weren’t enough I’m getting a fright from that moon out there. It’s like a peeled melon.’ Gertie shook her head. ‘You know how Fritz likes to come over on a full moon. You should stay here, love, tucked up safe and sound.’

      That remark earned Gertie a dubious frown.

      ‘I’ll look after you, Dawn. Don’t you worry about that,’ Gertie chuckled slyly. ‘I can see off a randy sod for you with one hand tied behind me back.’

      Dawn Nightingale didn’t doubt the older woman’s promise to protect her virtue. Her wry expression was due to her understanding the reason behind Gertie’s mirth: the staff at the Windmill Theatre, where Dawn had just finished her shift as a showgirl, had been allowed to bed down on the premises since the start of the London Blitz. Some stagehands welcomed the arrangement as it provided opportunities for sexual shenanigans. The management insisted on segregated quarters and lights out after the theatre closed at eleven but a few men had been discovered creeping about to try their luck.

      But Dawn wasn’t interested in any nocturnal visits from fumbling Romeos. She had a boyfriend in the RAF and though she hadn’t seen Bill for months, she would never be mean enough to casually two-time him.

      ‘Best get off now; don’t want to miss my bus home.’ Dawn whipped her coat from the peg and slipped it on.

      ‘You take care of yourself.’ Gertie watched her colleague doing up her buttons. ‘Get yourself down the underground sharpish if the sirens go off.’

      ‘Will do …’ Dawn gave a wave as she set off along Great Windmill Street.

      She kept her head lowered as she walked, protecting her cheeks from the bitter late January night air, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her mother. She hoped Eliza was feeling better, yet doubted she