Remember Me (13 page)

There was only one thing that Maddy wished for to make her happiness complete. She hugged to herself the thought that there would soon be a letter from Daniel.

After a week had gone by and she still had not
heard from him she was starting to feel worried. She had not yet told her parents about him; there was really no point in doing so until she received his letter, but she knew that she had to confide in Jessie.

‘Yes, I know,’ said her friend, looking concerned. ‘I know you haven’t had a letter from Dan yet; you would have told me if you had, but I didn’t want to mention it until you told me yourself.’ Jessie put an arm around her stepsister as they sat on one of the single beds in the room they shared when Maddy was at home. ‘Never mind. It’s only a week, isn’t it, and I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. Letters go astray sometimes, you know. I’m sure the Royal Mail isn’t always infallible.’

‘I think he’s changed his mind,’ said Maddy. She sighed and shook her head. ‘Probably his mother has been on at him again; I think she has a big influence on him. And we had only known one another for such a short time…’

‘But you seemed so sure,’ said Jessie. ‘And he doesn’t sound the sort of person who would give up so easily. Everything will be all right, you’ll see. Just wait another day or two.’

Maddy knew that all she could do was wait. One consolation was that she was busy and had little time during the day to worry about what might have gone wrong. And at night, in spite of herself, she usually managed to fall asleep straight away, tired out by giving her best – as she always tried to do – at three performances. It was an exacting life,
but one that she loved. Sometimes it seemed that her time with Daniel had been only a dream, a transitory thing; just a week out of her life which was meant to be enjoyed and then forgotten. But at other times she felt dejected, and she tortured herself with the thought that he had never really cared about her.

She pulled herself back from her meandering thoughts to give Jessie a hug. ‘You’re a great friend,’ she said. ‘D’you know, the worst thing about being away from home is not seeing you for so long? And I’m really pleased about your good news this week. You must be thrilled to bits. Aren’t the other students green with envy?’

Jessie had attended the interview on Wednesday at the furniture store on Castle Road, which would soon be ready to open, and she had been offered a position of shorthand typist there and then. There were six applicants, out of which two had been chosen: Jessie, and another young woman who was moving from her position at a less prestigious store in the town.

‘Not really,’ replied Jessie. ‘We all get along well together and are pleased at one another’s successes. Some of the students already have jobs to go to, at their own family firms, as I would have done if I had taken up your father’s offer.’

‘He didn’t mind, though, did he, when you told him about the interview?’

‘No; and he was just as pleased as Mother was
when I told him I’d been successful. I think he’s quite philosophical about it all. He says he’ll wait awhile and probably something will turn up.’

‘Like Mr Micawber,’ smiled Maddy. It was Jessie who had introduced her to the works of Charles Dickens and
David Copperfield
was one of her favourites.

‘Exactly,’ said Jessie. ‘And something will turn up for you in a day or two, I feel sure, so “keep yer pecker up!” That’s what Grandad would tell you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, if he knew about it,’ replied Maddy. ‘On the other hand he might well disapprove of Dan. They all might…’ she added gloomily. ‘Ohh…’ She gave a long shuddering sigh. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d never met him.’

No letter turned up, but something else did the very next day. Not something, though, but somebody; it was Henrietta Collier, William Moon’s elder daughter.

William had known of her existence but had never set eyes upon her until two years ago, when she had come to Scarborough to find him, following the death of both her adoptive parents and her real mother, Bella Randall. She had visited them occasionally since that time and had always fitted in well with the rest of the family. It was mainly due to Faith, William’s sympathetic and understanding wife, that the young woman had been so well received, because the circumstances of
her birth and subsequent adoption were regarded by William as shameful episodes in his life.

It was Sunday afternoon, midway between dinner and teatime, when Maddy, who had just been coming down the stairs, opened the door to find her half-sister standing there.

‘Hetty!’ she cried in surprise. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ Then, aware that that might have sounded rather impolite, she went on, ‘I mean, it’s lovely to see you, but we didn’t know you were coming…did we?’ She realised that her father might well have known, but the news had not been passed on to her.

It was always something of a shock to Maddy whenever she saw Hetty. She was the very image of her mother, Bella, the woman whom Maddy had disliked so much when she was a child and who had caused so much havoc in the family. But all that was in the past and best forgotten. Henrietta – who was usually called Hetty – was a very different person from her mother; she had a much kinder and gentler disposition. The two half-sisters, with nine years separating them, had formed a cautious friendship, but one that could develop if they were to see one another more often.

‘No, you’re right, I’m not expected,’ replied Hetty, stepping over the threshold as Maddy held the door open. ‘It was a spur of the moment decision. I do hope it’s not inconvenient.’ Maddy noticed she was carrying a holdall as well as a capacious handbag.

Faith and William appeared in the hallway on hearing voices and they greeted her warmly. ‘Hetty, my dear, how lovely to see you.’ Faith kissed her gently on one cheek then the other, then William, too, gave her a brief kiss. ‘Yes, good to see you, Hetty. What a surprise, eh?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, William,’ she said. It had never been considered appropriate to either of them, William or Hetty, for her to address him as Father. ‘I was just saying to Maddy that I should have let you know I was coming, but it was an impulse. I just knew that I had to come…’

Maddy noticed then that Hetty was not her usual bright and sparkling self. Her dark brown eyes had shadows beneath them and she looked apprehensively at William and then at Faith. ‘I would be very grateful if I could stay here tonight, and then…well, I’ll have to make up my mind about what would be the best thing to do.’

‘Come on in then, lass, and tell us all about it,’ said William, putting a protective arm round her and guiding her into the sitting room, where he, Faith and Isaac had been enjoying a relaxing afternoon.

Maddy decided she had better make herself scarce. It looked as though Hetty was in some sort of trouble and she did not want to appear nosey. Besides, there was something that she needed to do. She had decided to write another letter to Dan. It might well be, as Jessie had suggested, that the letter
had gone astray, but it couldn’t happen a second time. Anyway, what did she have to lose? If she hadn’t heard from him in another week or so in answer to a second letter, then she would know that he had had a change of heart and that she must try to forget about him.

Maddy discovered what was troubling her half-sister later that day when Hetty confided in both her and Jessie about the circumstances of her sudden arrival in Scarborough. They had had tea when Jessie returned from her afternoon jaunt with her cycling club, and then the three young women met together in the room that Maddy and Jessie shared.

Hetty had recovered a little by that time. She had been tired after the train journey and was clearly distressed about something, but the jollity around the tea table had cheered her up considerably. Patrick and his fiancée, Katy, had been there too; and Faith had remarked, as she often did, that the only member of the family who was missing was Samuel.

Maddy and Jessie perched on a bed and Hetty sat in a basket weave chair. ‘I’ve been jilted,’ said Hetty, with no preamble. She was trying to smile, but then her lip quivered and she stopped and took a deep breath before continuing, whilst the two girls looked at one another anxiously, not quite knowing what to say.

‘Oh dear! How…awful,’ said Maddy, and Jessie
nodded in agreement, but it seemed such a feeble response to something that was a serious issue once a ring had been given to cement the betrothal.

‘You knew I was engaged, didn’t you?’ asked Hetty, and the two girls nodded. She had told the family about her forthcoming engagement when she had visited some six months before, and soon afterwards she had started to wear a ring. ‘We were planning to get married sometime next year but…well, it’s all over.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s been seeing someone else, not only seeing her, but I’m afraid he’s “got her into trouble”, as they say.’ She managed a wry smile. ‘Obviously she was willing to…er…give him what he wanted, something I refused to do,’ she added. Jessie and Maddy exchanged startled glances at the bold admission. ‘So…he’s marrying her instead of me. Her parents have insisted on it. She’s only seventeen, the same age as you two; the baby’s due in four months’ time. So…that’s what’s going to happen.’ She shook her head dejectedly. ‘People are trying to tell me I’m better off without him.’

‘And so you are,’ said Jessie with a decided nod. ‘It’s a dreadful situation for you to be in, though, isn’t it?’

‘Who is she?’ asked Maddy. ‘Do you know?’ They knew who the fiancé was – or had been – although they had never met him. His name was Alec Tempest and he was one of the undermanagers
at the colliery in Ashington, where Hetty worked in the office.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ replied Hetty dismissively, in answer to Maddy’s question about the girl. ‘The less said about her the better. I don’t want to think about her if I can help it. And I won’t say her name. Actually, she’s the daughter of one of the other bosses; and he’s insisting that they get married, as I told you. If she’d been the daughter of a pit worker then maybe he’d have got away with it – Alec, I mean – with a suitable payment. As it is he’s got a noose round his neck whether he wants her or not. My guess is that he doesn’t, not really.’

‘It serves him right,’ said Maddy hotly. ‘Did you know, though, what was going on?’

‘I noticed a certain coolness, but I thought it was because I wouldn’t…you know. Then I heard rumours – everybody seemed to know except me, of course – and eventually he had to tell me. I gave him his ring back…’

‘Threw it at him, I hope!’ said Maddy.

‘No…I managed to behave with decorum. But I gave my notice in the very next day. I couldn’t go on working there, seeing him every day as I would have had to. They’re getting married next weekend, so I heard on the grapevine.’

‘Oh…poor you!’ breathed Jessie.

‘But you’ve done the right thing coming here,’ said Maddy. ‘Good for you! Are you going to stay? I suppose you’ve not decided yet.’

‘I wasn’t sure at all what to do, as I told you,’ replied Hetty. ‘I just knew that I had to get right away from the area. I have no family in Ashington now, since my ma and da died, and Bella, of course. You are my family now, aren’t you?’ She smiled a little sadly, but wistfully too, at Maddy and Jessie.

‘Of course we are,’ said Maddy, in a show of loyalty to her half-sister to whom she already felt she was drawing closer.

‘Yes…’ agreed Jessie. ‘I know I’m not really your sister, like Maddy is, but we’re all part of the same family now, aren’t we?’ She smiled. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it, how we’ve all come to know each other?’

‘Indeed it is,’ said Hetty. ‘You two will be a great help to me, I’m sure, whilst I’m trying to sort myself out again. And William and Faith are being so kind and helpful. I’m staying here for a night or two, and then they’re going to help me to find a flat. And there’s the sale of my little cottage up north to see to… So many problems to sort out, but I’m feeling better about everything now.’ The light had returned to her eyes again and her sadness had disappeared, for the moment at least, as she leant forward eagerly. ‘And…guess what? William has asked me if I would consider working for him, in the office at Isaac Moon and Son. What do you think of that?’

‘It’s very…fortuitous,’ said Jessie, smiling knowingly at Maddy.

‘So it is,’ agreed Maddy. ‘He didn’t have to wait
long, did he, for something to turn up?’

‘Yes, a real Mr Micawber situation,’ said Hetty, who was following their train of thought exactly. ‘He told me, Jessie, that you were not very keen on the idea of working there. So it is, as you say, very fortuitous. And I jumped at the chance of finding an office job so quickly. Don’t worry; coffins and corpses hold no fears for me.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘It’s the living that you need to beware of!’

Chapter Eleven

W
hen another week had passed and Maddy had still not received a letter from Daniel, she was finding it increasingly hard to keep up her pretence of cheerfulness. She had to force herself to do so during the performances; it would never do to show the audience anything other than a happy smiling face.

She did, however, confide in Susannah, but her older friend, although she listened sympathetically enough, had problems of her own to contend with. She and Frank wanted to get married; but Frank was already married and it seemed as though there was little likelihood of him being able to free himself. He and his wife, Hilda, had lived apart for ages and Hilda appeared to be quite contented with the situation. Frank would be quite willing for her to divorce him; after all, he and Susannah were unashamedly ‘cohabiting’, as the official language termed it.

‘But she can’t do it,’ Susannah told Maddy, ‘and she probably wouldn’t want to, anyway. Divorce him, I mean. Frank’s been to see a solicitor, and apparently it is quite acceptable for a man to
commit adultery, but not a woman. An awful word, isn’t it, adultery? But I suppose it’s what we’re doing, Frank and me, although it doesn’t feel like it. So it looks as though we’ll have to go on as we are…

‘Frank could divorce her,’ she went on, ‘if he found out that she was…doing that, but it’s not very likely that she is. She’s not terribly interested in that sort of thing, from what Frank says. And he hates the idea of getting a private detective to spy on her to find out if she’s up to anything. And I admire him for that. It’s a funny how-d’you-do, isn’t it, when a man is allowed to have a lover and a woman isn’t…?

‘I’m sorry, Maddy, I’m going on about myself, aren’t I? I really am sorry that you’ve not heard from that nice young man, but I’m afraid you’ll have to try and forget about him. From what you’ve told me, it seems as though there would be quite a few problems; and it isn’t as if you’ve known him for ages, is it?’

‘No, I suppose you’re right,’ Maddy was forced to agree. There was a good deal of sense in what her friend was saying, but she still found it hard to accept that Dan had let her down. It was a Saturday afternoon during the second week in June, and the two of them were enjoying a walk on the promenade overlooking the North Bay. They had been to a meeting of all the members of the troupe, held at the digs where Percy and Letty and a few
more of the Pierrots were staying, in order to discuss future plans and to assess how the performances were going so far. They did not give a performance on a Saturday afternoon, because it was change-over day and the visitors were busy sorting themselves out after their arrival.

‘What we need is more variety in the acts,’ Percy had said. ‘At the moment it seems to me that we are rather overloaded with singers and dancers and…er…not much else.’

Barney and Benjy glanced meaningfully at one another, raising their eyebrows, and Queenie Colman tossed her head and looked most annoyed.

‘Please don’t think that I am singling out anyone in particular,’ Percy went on hastily. ‘I appreciate what you do, every one of you, and I have no intention of getting rid of anyone, if that is what you are thinking. But we all do need to look at ourselves and at our acts and see if there is any way in which we can introduce an element of originality, some sparkle and imagination, instead of going on in the same old routine.’

‘But tradition is good, isn’t it?’ said Carlo, after glancing sideways at his wife who was still looking exceedingly peeved. ‘It’s what Pierrot shows are all about, the old traditions. The audiences know what they like, and they expect it to follow the same pattern. There haven’t been any complaints, have there? I haven’t noticed anyone walking away, apart from those stingy beggars who won’t pay for a seat
and disappear when the bottler appears.’

‘Tradition, yes; we thrive on tradition,’ said Percy. ‘I agree with you, to a point. But just think about it; apart from singing, and dance numbers, and musical items – and we do have a good variety of instruments as well as the piano – and a few comedy routines, what else do we have? Nancy’s performing dogs, of course; I’m not forgetting them.’

‘And Carlo’s monologues,’ said Queenie, who was by now quite red in the face. ‘You were only too pleased to take us on when that other character man you had retired. And then you started mucking about with Carlo’s act. I know he was quite upset when you took his jolly policeman out of the programme, and his Chelsea pensioner.’

‘It was time for a change, Queenie, that’s all,’ sighed Percy. ‘We must all look to changing our routines, that’s what I’m trying to say. Anyway, you might as well know; I have put an advertisement in the
Stage
magazine inviting artistes – of any kind – to come for an audition.’

‘What sort of artistes?’ asked Frank Morrison, sounding a little dubious.

‘I’ve just said – any kind,’ replied Percy. ‘I’m hoping we might get some different sorts of acts.

‘Who knows? Ventriloquists, jugglers, magicians… It’s variety that we need.’

‘On the other hand you might just get the same old singers and dancers and funny men applying,’ said Frank.

‘And then some of us may well have to start thinking about ourselves,’ said Queenie. ‘Loyalty is all very well, but it does work both ways.’ She gave a self-satisfied nod.

‘Let’s just wait and see what happens, shall we?’ said Percy, a trifle wearily. ‘I’m saying no more about it at the moment, but I do like to keep everyone informed about my intentions…

‘Now, let’s move on to the money raising… We have to pay the rent for our pitch whilst we’re here in Scarborough, and that amounts to about four pounds a week at the moment. Very reasonable, I know, but it is rumoured that the Corporation might increase it soon, and quite drastically, too. So it may well be that the old tradition of “a bob a nob a day” will not be in force for very much longer.’ This quaint turn of phrase referred to the rent charged by the Corporation; one shilling a day, which amounted to six shillings a week per man (or woman) in the troupe.

‘We are doing well with the sale of programmes and songbooks, and the picture postcards, of course,’ Percy continued. ‘Now, how about some more activities for the children? Competitions with, perhaps, a more realistic entrance fee, say a shilling a head…?’

‘Aye, it’d make sense to charge a bit more than we’ve done in the past,’ agreed Pete, ‘or else we’ll end up giving it all away in prize money. We’ll have the usual sandcastle competition, I suppose, and the
talent show. And how about a Fancy Dress Parade? Kiddies love dressing up, don’t they?’

‘What a brilliant idea!’ exclaimed Susannah, clapping her hands like a little girl. ‘We could have three categories: the prettiest, and the funniest, and the most original. How about that?’

‘A very good idea.’ Percy nodded his approval. ‘Thank you, Susannah, and to you as well, Pete. Any more ideas…?’

It was decided that they should hold a slap-up Gala Performance one evening during their last week in the resort, that would be mid-September. All the artistes would perform in evening dress, rather than their usual Pierrot costumes, and everyone agreed that it would not be unreasonable to ask double the amount for seats on that evening. The show would be widely advertised on posters displayed around the town, which, hopefully, would attract the local people as well as the holidaymakers.

‘And perhaps a special souvenir programme,’ suggested Nancy Pritchard. ‘Folks love mementoes, don’t they? And I’m sure they’d be willing to pay – what should we say, sixpence, maybe? – for one that’s bright and colourful.’

Dates were decided upon for the various children’s events, with particular reference to the tide’s table for the sandcastle competition. Most of the troupe members seemed happy enough as the meeting ended, apart from Queenie, who had
hardly let her face slip all afternoon, and Carlo, whose expression as he looked at his wife was one of consternation.

‘Methinks that our Queenie is decidedly put out,’ Susannah remarked as she and Maddy, after their walk along the promenade, had turned round and were heading back towards the castle. ‘And poor old Carlo daren’t do anything other than agree with her.’

‘So I’ve noticed,’ said Maddy. ‘You don’t think they’ll leave, do you?’

‘I doubt it,’ replied Susannah. ‘They wouldn’t get treated any better anywhere else. Percy has been very fair with them, considering…’ She didn’t say what the consideration was, but Maddy knew that she was referring obliquely to the older woman’s dodgy top Fs. ‘Queenie likes to have her say and to make sure they’re both appreciated, but I think they know on which side their bread’s buttered.’

‘And Barney and Benjy as well,’ said Maddy. ‘I noticed them exchanging glances when Percy remarked that we had a surfeit of singers and dancers. But that could apply to all of us, couldn’t it, not just to them?’

‘Quite so,’ agreed Susannah. ‘But I’m sure you don’t need to worry, and nor do Frank and I. The two boys put on a bit of an act now and again, hinting that they might have had a better offer elsewhere. But it’s just a game to try and get Percy worried, and he knows it only too well. I can’t see
them ever leaving. We just have to accept that they both have more than a touch of artistic temperament. Because of the way they are, of course,’ she added. ‘You know…’

‘Yes,’ replied Maddy, although she didn’t really understand what her friend meant about Barney and Benjy.

They walked up the slope towards the castle, turning left when they reached Blenheim Terrace. Maddy recalled that that was where the Barraclough family had used to stay during their summer holidays; Faith and the four children, with Edward, even then, being very much an absentee husband and father. The undertaker’s premises, Isaac Moon and Son had been – and still was – situated on North Marine Road, only a few minutes’ walk away. And so Maddy and Jessie, during that summer of 1900, had cemented their friendship, which had lasted to that day.

She said goodbye, for the moment, to Susannah – they would be meeting again that evening for the performance – at the junction of Castle Road where Susannah and several of the other members of the troupe were lodging. Maddy decided to walk home a rather longer way round, passing St Mary’s church and graveyard. It was not a church that was familiar to her as a place of worship. The Methodist chapel where the Moon family had worshipped when they lived in the North Bay area was not very far away. Even now, Isaac and William still made the journey
across from their South Bay home, most Sunday mornings, to the place that was so dear to them. But Maddy loved the tranquillity and the feeling of holiness that she always experienced in the vicinity of St Mary’s church. The old graveyard was full and was used no longer, but it was as though the spirits of the men and women – and many children, too – who had been buried there had imbued the place with an aura of sanctity and peacefulness.

And it was there, in a quiet corner in an annexe just off the main graveyard, that Anne Brontë was buried. Anne had loved Scarborough and it was the place she had chosen to visit for her last outing from Haworth. She had come there with her sister, Charlotte, in the final stages of her fatal illness, tuberculosis. They had stayed in lodgings on St Nicholas Cliff, on the site where the Grand Hotel now stood. And it was there, on the 28
^th
of May, 1849, that Anne had died at the age of twenty-nine. Her age had been wrongly recorded as twenty-eight on the gravestone, and had never been rectified. No matter though, thought Maddy, as she stood there in contemplation. It was tragic that the talented young woman should have died so young. Maddy confessed to herself that she had not read
Agnes Grey
nor
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
, although she had read some of the works by the other two sisters,
Jane Eyre
and
Wuthering Heights’
. But as she stood there she made a pledge to herself and to the ill-fated Anne
that she would, one day, make good her omission.

She stood awhile, taking in the view of which she never tired, one of her favourite views of the town. St Mary’s church stood on the headland between the two bays, and looking down through the trees one could see the whole sweep of the South Bay: the stretch of golden sand and the sparkling sea, the fishing boats in the harbour and the lighthouse on the quay, the Grand Hotel, and the Spa Bridge leading across the ravine to the hotels on the clifftop. She made her way then down the steps to Church Stair Street, and thence to the main street of the town. It was still a fair walk to the family home, but one that she was getting used to, having to take the route two or three times each day. Sometimes, if she felt inclined, she rode to the entertainment place on her bicycle, and sometimes she took sandwiches with her to eat between the morning and afternoon performances, or, alternatively, the afternoon and evening ones. But it was worth the inconvenience of the long walk to be staying with her family for the whole of the season. It was only to Maddy that the place was home; to the rest of the troupe it was just the resort where they were performing for the summer season. She had not heard any of them, however, complain about coming back to Scarborough year after year.