Ellie (37 page)

‘But why wouldn’t he listen to me?’ Ellie retorted. ‘Surely he couldn’t really believe I’d be doing anything other than talking to Jimbo. He’s fifty at least and he’s a horrid little man!’

‘That ’orrid little man is rich and he’s got a big car,’ Marleen said wisely. ‘Poor Charley’s already smarting ’cos he didn’t do things right. ’E knows ’ow much you want to get on the stage. Can you blame ’im for thinking bad thoughts? I’d say ’e’d have to be a saint, or very stupid to think otherwise.’

‘You sound like you’re on his side,’ Ellie sobbed. ‘What about my feelings? What should I have done?’

‘’Ow can I advise you when I’ve made such a mess of my own life?’ Marleen grinned. Charley and Annie had visited her on occasions with Ellie, and she liked them both. ‘If I’d been in your shoes I’d have waited until Annie went out and pushed my way into ’is bed. That’s not what yer mum would’ve done, but she was always saintly. I doubt ’e’d have sent you packing and love-making’s a great ’ealer. But now you’ve left the ’ouse, that road is closed.’

‘All roads are closed,’ Ellie sniffed. ‘I’ve been round there several times. Charley wouldn’t open the door to talk to me and when I did see Annie she was frosty too. I’ve got nothing now.’

‘Tosh!’ Marleen snorted. ‘You’ve got your ’ealth and strength, you’ve got a pretty face and a job. Men are ten a penny.’

‘I don’t want another man,’ Ellie retorted. ‘I only want Charley.’

‘Well, then you’ll have to figure out for yourself what might bring him round.’

‘Nothing short of giving up my job,’ Ellie said in a small voice.

‘Is he worth that much?’

Ellie hesitated before replying. There had been many times in the past weeks where if Charley had appeared at her door she would have promised him anything just to rid herself of the misery inside her.

Marleen noted the hesitation. ‘That’s the crux of the matter, ain’t it?’ she said gently. ‘Charley knows deep down that ’e’ll always come second place to your career.’

‘He doesn’t,’ Ellie sniffed, not liking to think she was so selfish.

‘Oh yes ’e does.’ Marleen shook her head. ‘It was the same for me and your mother, ducks. We lived, breathed, ate and drank the theatre, that’s why neither of us settled down with a nice comfortable husband.’

‘Mum did,’ Ellie said.

When Marleen didn’t reply to this, Ellie looked hard at her aunt. Her face was half hidden by the dark glasses, but she was biting her lip and a blush was creeping up her neck. In the past Ellie had observed these as signs that Marleen had inadvertently let something slip.

‘Auntie Marleen!’ she said. ‘Is there something about Mum you haven’t told me?’

Marleen swallowed hard. She had kept Polly’s secret all these years because she’d promised to. But things were different now; she knew she hadn’t got much longer. A lifetime of drinking had taken its toll and her kidneys were on their way out. Was it right to deprive Ellie of the truth, especially when it might help her through this difficult patch?

‘Oh Ellie,’ she sighed, reaching out for the girl’s hand. ‘Polly never wanted you to know. But we’ve been talking about ’onesty and perhaps it’s time. In a way it might make things a bit clearer for you about Charley.’

‘Tell me, whatever it is,’ Ellie whispered. ‘Even if it’s bad.’

‘There was never ever anything bad about Polly,’ Marleen said fiercely. ‘She was a mug maybe, so soft that she preferred to starve rather than cause the man she loved any grief, but nothing bad.’

‘But Tom died.’ Ellie was puzzled now.

Marleen took a deep breath. She had to go on. ‘Yes, Tom Forester died, but he weren’t yer dad, Ellie.’

Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘But Mum had his picture and everything,’ she managed to croak out.

Marleen was always frustrated by her blindness, which she hated even more than her useless legs, but now, unable to see Ellie’s expression, she felt intensely angry, both at her disability and at her lack of thought in spilling out something so dramatic.

‘Oh darlin’, forgive me?’ she said, fumbling to find Ellie’s hand. ‘I should’ve thought this through before telling you. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’ Ellie grasped her aunt’s hand tightly. ‘I can take it, just explain it all to me.’

‘Your father was a man called Sir Miles Hamilton.’

Ellie gasped. The name meant nothing, but it brought back the memory of that intriguing overheard conversation between Polly and Marleen at the start of the war.

‘You know who ’e is?’ Marleen’s head jerked up.

‘No,’ Ellie said quickly. ‘Just I once overheard you and Mum talking about “Sir” someone. I always meant to ask Mum about it, but I never did.’

‘’E weren’t “Sir” when Polly first met him,’ Marleen said. ‘’E was just another gent, a charming, ’andsome man in his thirties, the kinda man any girl’d fall for.’

‘Tell me how they met,’ Ellie asked, desperately anxious to have the whole story now.

‘We was together at a first night party. It was 1924, at the Hippodrome in Catford, south London. Polly ’ad her first solo number in that show and she was fantastic – everyone was talking about her, the producer claimed she’d be another Marie Lloyd. It was ’im who introduced Poll to Miles.’

‘Describe him?’ Shivers were running down Ellie’s spine and she didn’t know if this was excitement or dread.

‘I just remember him being a toff,’ Marleen said haltingly, as if trying to recall the night. ‘Tall, black ’air, you favour ’im Ellie, wiv the same dark brown eyes. But that night we knew nothing about ’im, ’e was just another geezer sniffing round yer ma. All us girls in the chorus were dead jealous of the attention she was getting. She didn’t say anything much about ’im, but I ’ad a feeling she was smitten straight away, and of course I egged her on a bit when ’e sent ’er some flowers the next day.’

‘He was married, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes.’ Marleen’s mouth pursed as if remembering something unpleasant. ‘If ’e’d told her straight off Poll would’ve bin more cautious, but she fell for ’im like a ton of bleedin’ bricks. She never liked just being ’is mistress, but that was all she could be.’

‘I can’t imagine Mum doing that!’ The word ‘mistress’ brought all sorts of sleazy pictures into her head that didn’t fit her memory of her mother.

‘Don’t you go getting the wrong idea,’ Marleen said sharply. ‘It weren’t nuffin seedy, they loved each other. When ’is father died in 1925 and he became Sir Miles Hamilton, Poll got real scared. She was getting well known and if it got out she was ’is mistress it would cause a real stink. Polly tried to pack ’im in again and again, but Miles just wouldn’t let ’er go and she loved ’im so much she just weakened each time she saw ’im.’

‘Poor Mum,’ Ellie said sorrowfully, imagining the pain of loving a married man.

‘Bleedin’ daft!’ Marleen retorted. ‘’E was prepared to buy her a little house, give ’er anything she wanted, but she wouldn’t take nothing. She were never a greedy cow like me, Ellie, too bleedin’ noble and lovin’.’

‘But you said they met in 1924,’ Ellie said, all at once realising this wasn’t a short-lived affair. ‘I wasn’t born until ’27. It went on all that time?’

‘Until she fell for you.’ Marleen squeezed Ellie’s hand tightly. ‘I guessed something was up, but she wouldn’t tell me. She just packed ’er bags and cleared off without a word to me.’

‘Why didn’t she tell you, Marleen?’ Ellie was puzzled by this.

‘I expect she thought I might persuade ’er to get rid of the baby, or tell Miles. ’E kept coming round to the theatre, you see. But eventually she sent me a letter for ’im. It said she’d fallen in love with someone else and she was marrying ’im.’

‘I don’t understand why.’ Ellie shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Miles would’ve helped her, surely?’

‘You do know why,’ Marleen retorted. ‘Yer mum was one of them women what puts others’ ’appiness before ’er own.’

‘But what about Tom Forester?’ Ellie asked. ‘Who was he and why did he marry her?’

‘Tom was just a dear old friend of hers. She didn’t marry ’im Ellie, although ’e would’ve. That was just a smoke screen. I wish she ’ad really married ’im. It would’ve spared ’er a few problems, especially as ’e was killed just before you was born.’

‘So this man never found out about me?’ Ellie asked. ‘Did he try and find Mum?’

‘Did he!’ Marleen’s mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘’E drove us all mad, turning up asking me questions, waylaying me outside the theatre. But I didn’t know where she was either. She never contacted me again until just before you was born. I was in a new show then, down in Bournemouth, and she made me promise I would never tell a soul, especially ’im.’

Ellie wasn’t entirely convinced by this story. It was a nice one, but perhaps time and drink had clouded Marleen’s memory and judgement. Remembering all the hard times they’d had in Alder Street, it seemed inconceivable that her mother wouldn’t have asked this man for help. Yet if it was true, it did throw a little light on so many things she had pondered about. Why her mother never married again, her desire for Ellie to get a decent education and speak properly, the way she always seemed to be directing her towards a more genteel way of life.

It grew dark while they sat talking.

‘The saddest thing of all is that Polly gave up the stage,’ Marleen said sorrowfully. ‘She weren’t just an ordinary dancer like me, love, she had a ’uge talent and she threw it away.’

‘Because of me?’ Ellie’s eyes filled with tears.

‘No, not because of you,’ Marleen said quickly. ‘because of ’
im
. If she’d appeared on a stage ’e’d ’ave found ’er. She never, ever regretted ’aving you, you was everything in the world to Poll. But can you imagine ’ow cruel it was for her to spend night after night dressing performers, when she knew she was better’an most of them? And to know that if she dared use ’er talent she could get you to a posh school and live in a nice ’ouse.’

‘But she never let on to me.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘The only time she sang was when she’d had a few drinks. I didn’t know she was anything more than a dancer.’

‘When she made ’er choice, she slammed the door and threw away the key,’ Marleen said simply. ‘She never wanted you to feel guilty about her lost chances because you was ’er life. But when she saw you ’ad inherited ’er talent she was ’appy. She used to say to me, “Marleen, our Ellie’s got what it takes, if I’m not around, make sure you give her a big push in the right direction and put her wise if anyone tries to stop her.”’

Ellie felt the sharpness of this last remark. ‘Do you think that’s what Charley’s trying to do?’ she said in a small voice.

‘I’m not saying that.’ Marleen’s voice was husky with emotion; talking about Polly had brought back so many bitter-sweet memories. ‘All I’m saying is that I don’t think you can sacrifice your own dreams to make someone else ’appy. It might ’ave worked for your mum, but I don’t think it will for you. She wouldn’t’ve wanted that.’

The train back to London was packed solid, nearly all with mothers and children who seemed to be returning home, convinced the bombing was finally over. Ellie privately thought their jubilation a little premature. On 3rd March over seventy German planes had ventured into British airspace and dropped a dozen or so bombs. Another V-2 had dropped on Smithfield Market just days before, killing a hundred and ten people. But it was good to see so many children, and their rosy cheeks, bright smiles and chatter were soothing evidence that peacetime would soon be here.

One little girl was hunched in a corner reading a comic. She was plump, with dark hair, around eleven or twelve and wearing a shabby, too-small raincoat. It gave Ellie a jolt to think that just five and a half years ago she was like this kid, only being packed off to Suffolk instead of going home.

Since then so much had happened. She’d endured Miss Gilbert, lost her mother and grown into an adult without really noticing the years slipping past.

What did she really want? Was this burning for a career on the stage so important? Would it make up for the desperate loneliness inside her? Suppose she was chasing a dream that could never come true?

As the train chugged into Waterloo station she thought about Sir Miles Hamilton. She wanted to know all about him, where and how he lived, what kind of man he was. She had no intention of making herself known to him. But maybe finding out about him would help fill the hole Charley had left inside her.

It was just after eight when she let herself into the tiny attic room in Stacey Passage. Alice, one of the waitresses at the club, lived downstairs. After Annie’s comfortable and welcoming home it was grim, with room for nothing more than a single iron bed and a chest of drawers. The walls were a dingy yellow, marked by dozens of previous tenants, and the view from the draughty window was only of roofs and chimney pots. A grisly bathroom downstairs was shared by everyone in the house, and the only cooking facilities were an ancient cooker out on the landing. But once she’d lit the spluttering gas fire and drawn the curtains, it was cosy, and its cheapness and convenience for the club almost made up for the squalid staircase leading to it.

Ellie made herself a small pot of tea, stirred in some condensed milk and sat down to toast some bread on the fire.

As she stared into its orange glow she was reminded of making toast like this with her mother. It had been a coal fire then, Polly leaning forward holding the long toasting fork, her hair like burnished copper in the firelight, falling forward around her small face. They had been talking about Sadie Howard from further down Alder Street who was expecting a baby and wasn’t married. Edna downstairs had made some damning remarks about her ‘carrying on with a married man’.

‘Don’t you judge people like Edna does when you’re grown up,’ Polly had said. ‘No one knows what love will do to them until it hits them. It turns you inside out, stops you from thinking clearly.’

‘Were you like that with my daddy?’ Ellie had asked, a little puzzled by the sad look in her mother’s eyes.

‘Yes I was.’ Polly put one hand on Ellie’s head and stroked her hair. ‘When I look back I sometimes wish I hadn’t been so rash.’

‘Do you mean you wish you hadn’t had me?’ Ellie remembered asking.