‘Yes?’
‘About these photographs. . I know your paper has a reputation for rather. . frank pictures. I hope that wasn’t the sort of thing you had in mind. I mean, they’re lovely girls and that, but the appeal of the group has to be universal. Family audience stuff, they’ve been booked for kids’ telly shows, that sort of thing. Don’t want the image let down. They’re not your topless go-go dancers, it’s a more artistic thing altogether.’
‘Of course,’ Charles soothed. ‘No, this isn’t a Page Three feature. Sort of light-weight serious piece on how groups start and get formed and so on.’
‘Ah, if you’re going to ask them that sort of thing, perhaps I ought to be there.’
Boobed again. ‘No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Very straight-forward stuff, not trying to get any angle.’
‘I see. Oh, that should be all right. When’s it likely to be in the paper?’
‘Can’t say exactly, I’m afraid, chum. As I say, just a mock-up we’re working on at the moment — Editor’s bound to give the go-ahead, though — next couple of weeks, I should think.’
‘OK.’ Mr. Green gave the address of the rehearsal room, a police gymnasium in Heme Hill. ‘I’ll give them a buzz to say you’re coming.’
‘Oh, you needn’t,’ said Charles hastily, seeing himself committed to continuing his inquiries in the same identity.
But there was no escape. ‘Yes, I’d better. Then there’ll be no problem about their letting you in. Get some funny types hanging round the girls, you know. Bob. . Cherry did you say the name was?’
Charles confirmed it, blushing on two counts. First for the choice of name and second for the reference to funny types hanging round the girls. ‘Right. Well, thank you very much for the help, Mr. Green.’
‘My pleasure. . By the way, if you ever are looking for, girls for the more. . adult sort of feature you do, I might be able to put you in touch with a very useful agency, for the. . less, inhibited sort of mode.’
Touting for more work for brother Joe’s end of the business, Charles reflected, as he rang off.
He was a bit worried about approaching the group in his new identity (particularly on police premises) but his fears were unfounded. Mr. Green’s call had prepared the ground well and the dancers’ vanity that someone from the Press was interested in them precluded any doubts about his authenticity.
They gathered round at one end of the gymnasium, the girls sitting on low benches with their legs stretched out on the floor and the boys in sculptured poses with hands on hips.
The girls were a great disappointment in rehearsal clothes. Onstage in Hunstanton, even in the publicity photographs he’d seen, he wouldn’t have kicked any of them out of bed, but seeing them here, he felt that his feet might be more actively employed. Their leotards and bulky leg-warmers did not do a lot for their figures, creating the impression of a randomly-lagged water system in the loft of an old house. Their faces were testimonials to the skill of modern makeup and hair-dressing. With the paint scoured off and hair swept back into rubber bands, they looked like peeled grapes. In spite of his long experience of the Jekyll and Hyde propensities of actresses, Charles still found it a shock.
Interviewing them was not difficult. Like most performers, they needed little prompting to talk about themselves. The difficulty Charles found was in pretending to be interested in their anecdotes of early promise and not rushing on to the questions he really wanted to ask.
But after eight histories of stage school, ballet lessons, studio dance training and unsuccessful attempts at acting in musicals, he managed to ask how long they had all been together.
The tallest boy, who posed like a pampas grass in a fireplace and acted as spokesman, replied, ‘Ooh, about eighteen months now. Leonie and I came from The Best Thing, Wayne and Darryl were with the Black and White Minstrels, Polly, Boots and Cookie were from a little set-up called The Tootsies, and. . er, Barbie is straight out of Italia Conti.’
The last-named looked less like a poulterer’s wares than the other girls. She was probably only seventeen, but the dark circles under her eyes bespoke more than a nodding acquaintance with the endless round of rehearsals and performances. She was the one unfamiliar face in the group, obviously Janine Bentley’s replacement.
‘Have you had your hair done differently?’ Bob Cherry asked ingenuously. ‘I’ve seen publicity photos of the group and I’m sure you used to look different.’
‘Wasn’t me, I’ve only just joined last week.’
‘What happened to the other girl?’ Bob Cherry asked casually.
‘She left for personal reasons,’ supplied the tallest boy.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Just what it says. Nothing to do with the group. No quarrel or anything.’
‘I think she’d been having boy-friend trouble,’ supplied the girl called Cookie. ‘Been having a rough time for a few months. I think she left because she wanted a bit of time to get her head together.’
‘Ah.’ Charles wouldn’t liked to have defined exactly what that meant, but he thought he got the gist of it. ‘Any idea how I can contact her?’
‘She’s left the group. Not much point in contacting her, really,’ the tallest boy insisted, seeing the available publicity about to be divided nine ways instead of eight.
‘Sure, but as I say this article’s about how groups are made up. It would be a great help if I could find her and have a chat.’
‘She won’t tell you anything shocking or awful. As I say, there wasn’t any quarrel.’
‘No, no, it’s not a muck-raking article. I’m not after that sort of thing. When did she leave you?’
‘Just after we finished our summer season in Hunstanton, couple of weeks back.’
‘Be a pity if I couldn’t contact her. Talking to an ex-member of the group would add that little something to the article, sort of extra dimension the Editor always wants. Without something different, who knows, he might not give the go-ahead for the series.’
The threat of withdrawal of publicity had the desired effect. Or rather one desired effect, in that the tallest boy gave Janine’s address. Since it was the old one, the effect was also undesired.
And left Charles no further forward. He puzzled as to how he could continue his questioning about Janine and remain in character.
But he was saved by the intervention of the girl called Polly. ‘No, that’s no good. Mike said she had moved from there.’
‘Any idea where she might have gone?’
They all shook their heads blankly.
‘You mentioned a boy-friend. Maybe I could trace her through him.’
‘None of us ever met him. She kept herself to herself. I think it must’ve been one of those very tight neurotic sort of relationships. Just the two of them in the flat, they never seemed to go out together.’
‘Hmm. So you have no other possible contact for her?’
They all shook their heads again. Then the girl called Cookie said, ‘I did once meet her mother. We were doing a date down in Croydon and had a free afternoon, so Janine suggested we went and had a cup of tea with her Mum.’
‘Do you remember the address?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think she’d have gone there now. I got the impression they’ve had a row of some sort. I think it was about the boy-friend. Janine only once mentioned him to me. Said her mother didn’t like him and, if it came to a choice between her mother and her man, it’d have to be the man.’
‘She didn’t say his name?’
‘No.’
‘Well, could you give me her mother’s address? It might be a great help.’
‘I don’t think she’d be there if they didn’t get on.’
‘If she’s broken off with the boy-friend, they might be friends again, she and her Mum.’
‘Possible.’ Cookie gave the address.
The tallest boy and the others were getting restless. ‘Look, what is all this about Janine? I thought your article was meant to be about the group as it is now.’