The Angel Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

Although she would miss him, it would be a relief to end the deceit about what she really did for a
living. She hated lying to him constantly, having to make up stories about working late at the office for her demanding boss.
    ‘Greta, darling! The curtain’s about to go up!’ Taffy broke into her daydream.
    ‘Keep your hair on, I’m coming!’ She smiled at him, and followed him along the dimly lit corridor towards the stage.
    ‘I was wondering, Greta, if you fancied a drink after the performance?’ he whispered as he stood behind her in the wings. ‘I’ve just spoken with Mr Van Damm, and
he’s giving me a regular slot. I feel like celebrating!’
    ‘Oh, Taffy, that’s wonderful news!’ Greta was genuinely thrilled for him. ‘You deserve it. You really are talented,’ she said, reaching up to give him a hug. At
over six feet tall, with unkempt sandy hair and merry green eyes, she’d always thought him attractive and she had an inkling he had a soft spot for her. They’d sometimes go out for a
bite to eat together and he would practise new jokes on her for his ‘Taffy’ routine. She felt guilty that she hadn’t yet told him about her engagement.
    ‘Thank you. So how about that drink?’
    ‘Sorry, Taffy. I can’t tonight.’
    ‘Perhaps next week, then?’
    ‘Yes, next week.’
    ‘Greta! We’re on!’ called Doris.
    ‘Sorry, got to go.’
    David watched Greta disappear onto the stage and sighed. The two of them had shared some lovely evenings together but just as he’d started to think she might reciprocate his feelings,
she’d begun to cancel their meetings. He knew why, as did the whole theatre. She had a rich American officer in tow. And how could a poorly-paid comedian, set on bringing his brand of
laughter into a world that had seen so little of it in the past few years, possibly compete with a handsome American in uniform? David shrugged to himself. Once this Yank had gone home . . . well,
he would bide his time.
    Max Landers sat down and glanced round uncomfortably at the noisy, all-male audience. He hadn’t been keen on coming here, but the guys from his Whitehall office, out to
celebrate their last night in London and already half-cut, had insisted the show at the Windmill was something they shouldn’t miss before they left town.
    Max didn’t listen to the comedians or the singers but instead sat counting the minutes until he could slip away and meet his darling girl, his Greta, later tonight. It was going to be
tough for her when he sailed tomorrow, and of course he’d have to pave the way with his parents, who wanted him to marry Anna-Mae, his high-school sweetheart back home. They’d have to
understand that he had changed. He’d been a boy when he’d left, but now he was a man, and a man in love. Besides, Greta was a real English lady and he was sure her charm would win them
over.
    Max hardly glanced up as applause rang around the theatre and the curtain fell on the opening act.
    ‘Hey!’ His friend Bart thumped him on the arm and he jumped. ‘You gotta check the next act out. This is what we came to see.’ Bart made the shape of a woman’s body
with his hands. ‘Apparently, it’s really hot, man,’ he said, grinning.
    Max nodded. ‘Yeah, Bart. Sure thing.’
    The curtain rose once more, to thunderous applause and the sound of shrill wolf whistles. Max looked up at the virtually naked girls on the stage in front of him.
What kind of woman could do
that?
he found himself asking. In his opinion, they were little better than whores.
    ‘Hey, aren’t they great?’ said Bart, his eyes shining with lust. ‘Look at that broad in the centre. Wow! Hardly a stitch on her, but what a cute smile.’
    Max gazed at the girl, who was standing so still she could almost be a statue. She looked a little like . . . He leant forward and did a double take.
    ‘Jesus H. Christ!’ He swore under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he studied the big blue eyes that