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I’m just a member of the chorus.’
    ‘Look, girlie, with your talent I don’t think you’ll stay in the chorus for very long. Rob Andrews has already realized what he has in you, otherwise why would he risk his own reputation? He hasn’t danced on stage in a show for some time. He’s just been the musical director, putting a performance together – but not this time. This time he’s a performer. Think about it.’
    But Bonny was content to be Ginger Rogers for two weeks; she didn’t want to think further than that. As long as she could dance and be paid, she was happy. This one number was a bonus, but she didn’t visualize it being a regular occurrence, so she’d make the most of the two weeks being in the spotlight.
     
    The following day, the local paper gave them a good spread, filled with compliments about the choreography, the costumes and Southampton’s own Astaire and Rogers. Sammy beamed as he read it. He had invited a personal friend to the Saturday evening show, knowing that he wrote a showbiz column for one of the nationals. The journalist owed Sammy a favour and had said he would come down and review the performance for him.
    Rob had heard from the talent scout, asking him to save a seat for him on the Saturday night and to keep it quiet. He wondered what would happen if Bonny was offered a part in a London show. It would be a great opportunity, but he would miss her, she was so good. He also wondered how she would cope with life in the metropolis. Here she was sheltered, living at home, whereas being in London was very different. The theatre was a cut-throat business, with so many people after too few jobs. At the moment, Bonny was unspoilt. She lived to dance and had absolutely no idea how good she was. He wouldn’t like to see her become hardened, as had so many of the people he knew.
     
    It was the final performance of the first week. The house was packed and the show was running well and it was time for the finale. Bonny stood in the wings with Rob, waiting for their musicto start. First of all, the entire chorus danced on to the stage from either side, canes whirling, to great applause.
    Bonny felt Rob’s arm around her waist. He gave her a squeeze and whispered in her ear, ‘Come on, Ginger. Let’s knock ’em dead.’ And they moved into the spotlights.
    Each night they danced together as one, but tonight there seemed to be a special magic between them as they used the stage seemingly without effort. And when the number finished, the audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation.
    Bonny was beside herself with glee. As they stepped forward to take their bow, Rob bowed and then, lifting her hand, he gazed into her eyes as he bent to kiss it. She felt herself flush with delight and surprise.
    When eventually the final curtain dropped, he lifted her off her feet, swung her round and said, ‘I am so very proud of you, Miss Bonny Burton. You seemed to fly tonight.’
    ‘Wasn’t it wonderful?’ She beamed at him. ‘A standing ovation – imagine! And we have another week to go.’
    ‘We do, so for goodness’ sake, rest up. Don’t go tearing around. I’ll see you on Monday.’ He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Well done.’
    As Rob walked away, Bonny put her hand to her mouth. How unexpected, but how nice.
    Rob went straight to his office before changing as Bernie Cohen, the talent scout, sent a message backstage that he wanted to see him. Whilst he waited he poured himself a scotch and water, sat in the chair behind his desk, sipped the drink and lit a cigarette. After a performance, even when he wasn’t dancing himself, it took him a while to unwind, and he was pleased to have this short time to himself.
    Ten minutes later there was a knock on his door and Cohen walked in, the aroma from his cigar wafting before him. ‘Congratulations, Rob. Great show. It was good to see you dancing once again. I always thought you should have continued to perform.’
    ‘Well, you know how