Jazz Baby by Tea Cooper

white shirt collar. ‘Dolly. Out now.’ He pointed to the door.
    â€˜You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, Dolly,’ Lawrence rasped. ‘It’s your choice. He won’t do anything in front of all these people.’
    Stunned, Dolly turned from one man to another. Once again she was the centre of everyone’s bemused curiosity. More than anything in the world she wanted to stay, keep singing. She’d never had such an exhilarating evening and nothing untoward had happened. Lawrence had been the perfect gentleman, a lifesaver in fact.
    She glanced up at Jack. She could barely distinguish the pupil from the iris of his dark eyes and she recognised the look on his face. She’d seen the same on her Pa. Given any more provocation Jack’s temper would erupt. ‘It’s all right, Lawrence. I’ll leave now before I cause an even bigger scene. Thank you so much for looking after me. I hope we can do it again.’
    Jack’s fingers snaked around the top of her arm as he propelled her to the door. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she hissed in a tight voice. ‘I’m only leaving because I don’t want to cause any more of a stir.’
    Dropping his grip he placed a proprietary hand on the small of her back and guided her to the door. She wriggled to no avail. Large and firm his palm pressed against her spine as he propelled her out of the room, oblivious to the open-mouthed stares of the onlookers. As the door closed behind them Lawrence hit the piano again. His music filled the void of their departure. How she wished she’d had the courage to refuse to leave.
    â€˜In here.’ Jack threw open the door to the Red Room and ushered Dolly inside, closing it firmly behind him.
    Tonight there was no fire in the grate and the curtains hung open to the street. The crypt-like stillness after the vivacity of the Blue Room chilled her blood and made her shiver.
    â€˜Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?’
    She shook her head. She wouldn’t take his jacket if she were stark naked. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest and scream at him for spoiling her evening, her first evening in Sydney experiencing all she had come in search of. The man was impossible. She was doing what Mrs Mack had asked her to do. Anyone would think Jack ran the place. Collapsing on the sofa she frowned up at him. ‘What’s the problem, Jack?’
    He glared at her and the silence lengthened. ‘You’ve cut your hair.’
    â€˜So? Are you telling me I can’t do that either? I can’t sing. I can’t cut my hair. What else?’
    â€˜That dress! It’s outrageous. Where did you get it?’
    â€˜And I can’t have a new frock. I have to spend my life drudging around looking like someone’s chuck-out.’ Blood rushed to Dolly’s face, her anger chasing away the coldness of the room, the unfairness of it strangling her. ‘I earnt the money. I worked bloody hard for it and besides, Mrs Mack asked me to sing. It wasn’t my idea.’ She clamped her lips, swallowing down the note of hysteria creeping into her voice, determined not to cry. ‘No one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. And Lawrence is a perfect gentleman. Unlike you.’
    â€˜It’s not good enough, Dolly. I gave Mrs Mack the extra money in case you needed something. Not to buy a frock that makes you look like…’ Jack shuddered as two spots of colour bloomed on his cheeks.
    If he was going to tell her she looked like a prostitute she’d tell him in no uncertain terms what he could do, and she’d go back to the Blue Room and sing until the early hours of the morning, all night in fact.
    â€˜A woman,’ he spluttered.
    â€˜A woman?’ Dolly burst out laughing, the tension leaching from her. ‘It’s meant to. I am a woman in case you hadn’t noticed.’
    â€˜I’d noticed.