The Angel Tree Read Online Free PDF Page A

brought her to where she was now – Greta swallowed hard –
about to stand virtually naked in front of hundreds of leering men.
    A few days ago, when Mr Van Damm had asked her to perform in the Windmill’s daring
tableaux vivants
– which meant standing stock-still in an elegant pose as the other
Windmill Girls walked around her – Greta had baulked at the thought of stripping off almost completely. A few sequins to cover each nipple and a tiny G-string were all she would have to
protect her modesty. But, egged on by Doris, who had been appearing in the
tableaux
for over a year, and the thought of her unpaid rent, she had reluctantly agreed.
    She shuddered at the thought of what Max – whom she had discovered was a Baptist from a devout family – would think of her career progression. But she desperately needed the extra
cash that appearing in the
tableaux
would bring.
    Glancing at the clock on the wall, Greta realised she’d better step on it. The show had already started and she was due to make her grand entrance in less than ten minutes. She opened the
drawer of the dressing table and took a hasty sip from the hip flask Doris kept secreted there, hoping that Dutch courage might help to see her through. There was another knock on the door.
    ‘I hate to rush you, but we’d better get going,’ Taffy called from behind it.
    Taking a last glance at her reflection in the mirror, Greta stepped out into the dim corridor, clutching her robe protectively around her.
    Seeing her apprehensive expression, Taffy walked forward and gently took her hands in his. ‘I know you must be nervous, Greta, but once you get out there you’ll be fine.’
    ‘Really? Do you promise?’
    ‘Yes, I promise. Just imagine that you’re an artist’s model in a studio in Paris, posing for a beautiful painting. I’ve heard they strip off at the drop of a hat over
there,’ he joked, trying to lift Greta’s spirits.
    ‘Thank you, Taffy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ She smiled gratefully and allowed him to lead her down the corridor towards the wings.
    Seven hours and three nerve-wracking performances later, Greta was back in the dressing room. Her
tableau vivant
had gone down a storm and, thanks to Taffy’s
advice, she’d managed to conquer her fears and stand under the bright lights with her head held high.
    ‘Well, that’s the worst over with – the first time’s always the hardest,’ said Doris with a wink as they sat next to each other, Greta removing her heavy stage
make-up whilst Doris retouched hers in readiness for the evening show. ‘Now, you just concentrate on looking gorgeous for tonight. What time are you meeting your American bloke?’
    ‘Eight o’clock, at the Dorchester.’
    ‘Ooo, get you, eh? Living the high life and no mistake.’ Doris grinned at Greta in the mirror, before standing up and reaching for her feathered headdress. ‘Well, I’m off
to tread the boards yet again, while you gallivant around the West End like Cinderella with your handsome prince.’ She gave Greta’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Enjoy yourself,
dear.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Greta called as Doris made her way out of the dressing room.
    Greta knew she’d been lucky to get the evening off. She’d had to promise Mr Van Damm that she’d work extra hours next week. In a state of heightened excitement, she slipped
into the new cocktail dress she’d bought with the extra shillings she knew her new-found promotion would earn her and carefully repainted her face before donning her beloved red coat and
dashing out of the theatre.
    Max was waiting for her in the lobby of the Dorchester. He took her hands and gazed at her. ‘You look so darned beautiful tonight, Greta. I must be the luckiest guy in
all of London. Shall we?’ He proffered his arm and the two of them walked slowly towards the restaurant.
    It wasn’t until they’d finished their desserts that he asked her the question she’d been longing to hear drop from