Remember Me (18 page)

‘I can do all the usual ladylike things,’ smiled Emily. ‘Needlework and crocheting and knitting – I love knitting – and I can cook and bake – Mother made sure of that – and I play the piano a little. And I’m quite good with children, though I haven’t any of my own and I’m never likely to have.’

Susannah was tempted to ask her to come along and help with the children’s events that were organised by the Pierrots. There would be another sandcastle competition soon and an afternoon of games and races. But that would not be a good idea, as it would mean coming into closer contact with the artistes. And Emily might well discover that she, Susannah, had lied to her about Benjy’s marital status. No, it would not do.

But why am I involving myself? she wondered. It was really none of her business, but by her intervention – interference it was, really – she had inevitably made herself party to the woman’s problems. Besides, she had taken a liking to Emily and felt sorry for her. She was far too able a person to stagnate at home, turning into an old spinster and dreaming about what might have been.

‘I’ve even considered going out to work,’ said Emily. ‘Just a part-time occupation, I mean. Most of my friends had jobs when they left school, but we were rather more “‘well off”, you might say, than some of the others, and Mother insisted that I
should stay at home. So here I am, forty-two years old and I’ve never done a day’s work in my life; paid work, I mean; I’ve worked hard enough at home.’

Susannah knew that there were many such women in the same situation, and she rejoiced in her own independence. ‘It’s never too late,’ she said. ‘I think that would be a splendid idea, Emily, and you have such a lot to offer. Look…I’m very pleased to have met you, and I hope I’ve been able to help you a little. But hadn’t you better be going? Unless you intend to stay and watch the show?’

‘Do you know, I think I might,’ replied Emily, much to Susannah’s surprise. She put the book back into her bag. ‘I’m not going to skulk away as though I’ve done something wrong. I’ve just been foolish, that’s all. Yes, I’ll stay and watch. I love all the acts anyway: you and Frank, and the performing dogs, and that lovely girl called Madeleine. She has the voice of an angel, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes, and she is a lovely girl,’ said Susannah. ‘Now, she is one person who is just as she seems to be.’

Emily smiled. ‘I promise I won’t do anything silly. And…you won’t say anything, will you? Not to Benjy, or anybody?’

‘No, cross my heart and hope to die,’ said Susannah.

‘Thank you very much. I feel much better for talking to you. I’ll just take a stroll along the prom
until it’s time for the show to start. Goodbye, Susannah. I feel quite proud to know one of the artistes.’

Some of the other members were beginning to arrive as Emily made her way up to the promenade. Susannah caught sight of Percy going into the tent and she hurried to meet him.

‘It’s all sorted out,’ she said, ‘all that business with Benjy. Don’t ask me to tell you all about it,’ she touched her nose, ‘because I promised not to say anything. Just a lady – a very nice lady – who took a fancy to him. I told her he was happily married.’

‘Oh, that’ll be the day!’ laughed Percy. ‘Anyway, thank you, Susannah. Let’s hope that’ll end the friction between the boys.’

Percy noticed, though, that Benjy, on arriving, cast an expectant glance at the entrance to the tent, which did not go unnoticed by his partner.

‘Ha ha!’ exclaimed Barney. ‘Nothing there tonight, midear. Looks as though she’s deserted you. What a shame!’

‘D’you think I care?’ retorted Benjy. ‘At least I know that somebody appreciated me. She’s probably gone back home now. Well, I’m glad I brightened up her holiday, whoever she was.’

Percy was aware, though, that a little of the sparkle had gone from his performance, as it always did whenever he had words with his partner; and that, inevitably, affected Barney as well. He hoped
they would soon sort out their petty little quarrel.

Susannah didn’t consider that she would be breaking Emily’s confidence too much by telling Maddy what had happened. She took her to one side at the interval.

‘Well, I’ve sorted out Benjy’s little problem,’ she said. ‘We were right; it was a middle-aged lady – well, youngish really, I suppose. In her forties, that’s what she told me – who had developed quite a passion for him. She was actually bringing a book of love poems for him tonight. Would you believe it? I feel quite sorry for her, poor lady.’

‘You mean…you’ve talked to her?’

‘Yes; I waylaid her just as she was leaving her latest gift for him. She came early and there was nobody around but her and me. Anyway, I put her off him good and proper. I told her it was no use because he was married.’

‘Oh, Susannah!’ cried Maddy. ‘Why ever did you say that? It’s not true!’

‘Well, I couldn’t very well tell her the truth, could I?’

‘The truth? What do you mean?’ Maddy looked bewildered and Susannah realised that she was still a rather naive and innocent girl. She had little idea of the ways of the world, and although it was a pity to disillusion her, Susannah knew that she would be bound to discover some of the more unusual facts of life during her travels with the Melody Makers. Better sooner rather than later, she decided.

‘Well, Barney and Benjy are very good friends, aren’t they?’ she began.

‘Yes, of course. I know that. But it doesn’t mean that they won’t meet somebody they might want to marry, does it? They are both quite handsome men, and very friendly. I’m surprised they haven’t met somebody already.’

‘And you thought, maybe, this lady might fit the bill, did you? And now I’ve gone and spoilt it?’

‘Well, you never know, do you?’

‘No, Maddy love. Barney and Benjy will not get married, not ever, because…well, they are partners, and I don’t mean just dancing partners. They’re…they’re very fond of one another, and I suppose they regard themselves as being married – sort of – to one another.’

Maddy’s eyes opened wide with shock and disbelief. ‘You mean…two men? Like…a man and a woman? As though they were married?’

‘Yes, that’s what I mean,’ replied Susannah. ‘Don’t ask me to explain it to you though, because I can’t. I remember talking to you about what goes on between a man and a woman, but this is something I can’t talk about because I don’t know. I can only guess and I find that I don’t want to think about it. Anyway, it’s their business, Barney’s and Benjy’s, and although we all know we never talk about it.’

‘But I’d no idea at all about that sort of thing,’ said Maddy. ‘I didn’t know it was possible… Yes, of
course, now I think about it, they are rather possessive and jealous of one another, aren’t they?’

‘I’m surprised that Emily – that’s the woman’s name – hadn’t realised that Barney and Benjy were that way inclined,’ said Susannah. ‘But I daresay she’s led a very sheltered life. Maybe it’s best she doesn’t know. That’s why I said they were married; both of them. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”, as they say; although I don’t think Emily would be vindictive.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Maddy, looking puzzled again.

‘Well, it’s a punishable offence, what those two get up to, if anybody was to find out and report them, that is. Did you never hear of Oscar Wilde?’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. He was a writer, wasn’t he? He wrote plays; “The Importance of Being Earnest”. And I know he went to prison.’

‘But you didn’t know why?’

‘No, actually I didn’t.’

‘Well, it was because of his friendship with a young man; Lord Alfred Douglas, he was called. One of the gentry, and his father was a very important man. And it was the father who accused Oscar Wilde of…well, something that has a dreadful name that I’d rather not say. Anyway, he was found guilty and sentenced to two years’ hard labour in prison.’

‘And can men still be put in prison for…that?’ asked Maddy.

‘Yes, I believe so, although I don’t suppose it often happens. People know to keep quiet about it.’

‘It seems rather drastic, doesn’t it,’ said Maddy, ‘just for being fond of someone? Although I must admit I find it…peculiar, to say the least.’

‘Mmm… It can be a very puzzling world at times,’ observed Susannah. ‘And a cruel one, too. Anyway, I don’t want you to worry your head about it, love. Try to put it out of your mind. But I thought it best you should know about these things.’

‘I’ve learnt a good deal since I got to know you, Susannah,’ smiled Maddy.

‘Yes, you can always rely on Aunty Susie to put you right,’ laughed her friend. What Susannah did not tell her young friend was that the same sort of thing could happen between two women as well, but this, for some odd reason, was not considered to be a punishable offence.

Maddy had other things on her mind, however, before very long. She had been looking forward to Dan’s next visit in mid-August, but a couple of days before he was due to arrive she received a letter from him saying that he would be unable to come. His employer, Mr Grundy, had been taken ill very suddenly with appendicitis and had undergone an emergency operation. He was now in hospital where he would have to stay for a week or more, and then he would recuperate at home. As he was elderly it would be several weeks before he was able
to return to the shop. Daniel had been put in charge and could not possibly take any time off until Mr Grundy was well again.

‘I am so disappointed,’ he wrote, ‘and I know you will be, too. But I hope and pray I will be able to see you in Scarborough before you set off on your autumn and winter tour. If not, then I will travel to Halifax or York or wherever you happen to be. Just let me know your itinerary and we will sort out when I can come to see you. Remember that I love you, and I always will, my darling Madeleine.’

And with that she had to be content, although she began to feel that Fate – or something – was against them. Their last performance in Scarborough would be in mid-September when the last of the visitors were departing. Then they were to have two weeks’ break before starting off on their travels again at the beginning of October.

It was during the second week in August, round about the time that Dan should have been visiting, that Percy auditioned three hopeful artistes who had answered his advertisement in the
Stage
magazine. The audition took place on Saturday afternoon at Percy’s digs in Castle Road, where he and his wife and some other members of the troupe had stayed for many years. Mrs Ada Armstrong made the house a real home from home for them and was pleased to allow Percy the use of her parlour, where there was a piano.

One of the would-be artistes was a singer, by the name of Dora Daventry, and Letty accompanied her as she sang, very sweetly, ‘The Old Rustic Bridge by the Mill’, and then more coquettishly, ‘Daddy Wouldn’t Buy Me a Bow-wow’. She was good, there was no doubt about that, but possibly her act would be too much like Susannah’s, and they were trying to add more variety to the shows. Then there was a young man in his twenties. He introduced himself as Jeremy Jarvis but he did not say whether that was his real name or a stage name. He produced a gaudily painted dummy figure from a large wooden box. It could not be called lifelike, but then it was not meant to be. It had wide staring eyes and ruddy painted cheeks and lips and was dressed in a tailcoat and black trousers, complete with bow tie and top hat.

‘I’m Tommy the Toff, the toast of the town,’ declared the ventriloquist’s dummy on Jeremy’s arm, and Percy, watching him carefully throughout his act, could scarcely see the young man’s lips moving. He was even more impressed when Tommy the Toff said, ‘I’ve brought my lady friend along. Would you like to meet her?’

And out of the box came Belinda, the belle of the ball, with dazzling blue eyes, long golden tresses, and a low-necked evening dress of vivid scarlet. The two of them, one on each arm, sang a duet about, ‘The Man who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo’. Percy and Letty decided, there and then, that they
must sign Jeremy Jarvis up right away for the autumn tour.

The last young man to perform was a conjuror called Freddie Nicholls. Percy looked at him keenly.

‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’ he said.

‘Yes, you have, Mr Morgan,’ replied the young man. ‘I took part in your talent contest six years ago when I was thirteen. Actually, I won second prize.’

‘Yes, of course; so you did,’ said Percy. ‘I remember you now. Well then, let’s see how much you’ve improved, shall we?’

His sleight of hand was truly impressive as he produced yards and yards of silken scarves, as it were from nowhere, and made cascading fountains of playing cards, as well as doing ingenious tricks with them. He performed tricks with ropes and with seemingly empty boxes, and the usual white rabbit – although not a real one! – that popped out of a top hat.

‘And I’m working on a sequence with white doves,’ he told Percy. ‘But I haven’t perfected it yet. Do you think that would be permissible?’

‘I think it would be wonderful, lad,’ replied Percy. ‘Yes, you’ve certainly come on by leaps and bounds. How old are you now? Nineteen? Yes, I could see when you performed six years ago that you had great potential. So…are you performing now?’

‘When I can,’ replied Freddie. ‘As an amateur, of
course. I work in a bank, actually, in Halifax – that’s my home town – and I perform at clubs in the evening, or local church halls and that sort of thing. But I’d like to do it professionally, if I can.’

‘Well, we’ll certainly give you a try,’ said Percy. ‘Won’t we, Letty?’ He turned to his wife, who nodded enthusiastically. ‘Could you be ready to start a tour with us at the beginning of October?’

‘I’ll say I could,’ answered Freddie. ‘You mean to say…you’re willing to give me a try? That’s wonderful; thank you ever so much.’

‘It’ll be hard work, lad,’ Percy told him. ‘Make no mistake about that. And I can’t promise you riches untold. But we don’t do too badly. We get some pretty full houses in the inland towns. Our little company is getting to be quite well-known now, and we get asked back year after year. We’ve been on the road for six years now. We started touring soon after that contest you mentioned. And we’re always back here in the summer… God willing,’ he added. ‘Our rents are going up, but it’s the same for all the other troupes. I expect we’ll manage.’