Remember Me (22 page)

‘We can’t wait a month,’ said Queenie. ‘Like Carlo’s just said, we’re off to pastures new.’

‘Very well then; a week’s notice it is,’ agreed Percy. ‘Fortunately, we’ve got a new artiste, and I’m sure she will be able to fill in the space you’ll be leaving, for a little while.’

‘Oh, yes, I’m sure she will,’ said Queenie with a knowing glance at her husband. ‘That’s what we thought. I said to Carlo, we won’t be missed, especially now they’ve got another young lass on board. I can see she’ll be only too ready to step into my shoes as well as Barney’s. So it’ll be a case of off with the old and on with the new.’

‘Now, don’t say that…’ Percy knew that he must make some placatory noises. After all, Carlo and Queenie had been with the troupe for several years
and had played an important role at the start, if not now. ‘Of course you will be missed. You have been loyal members – real troupers – and we do appreciate all that you’ve done. Where are you going…may I ask?’

‘Oh, we’ve got a permanent position at a little theatre down south,’ replied Carlo, showing a little more grace than his wife had done. ‘It’s a friend of mine from way back that runs it. Part repertory and part vaudeville, week and week about, we understand. I expect Queenie and I will find a niche there. We’re both pretty adaptable. There might be some character parts, and that’s what I like doing most of all. And we’re both getting a bit long in the tooth for this Pierrot lark in the summer months; all that dressing up in fancy costumes. It’s all right for the youngsters, but not for us anymore.’

‘Yes, and we’re getting a bit weary of all the travelling,’ admitted Queenie. ‘It’s high time we put down our roots somewhere. And these Yorkshire winters are no good for me and my chest. It’ll be a good deal warmer down on the south coast, we hope.’

‘We’ll miss you,’ said Percy, ‘and I wish you well. So will the others when they hear about it.’

He knew he couldn’t let them go without some sort of a farewell, and he was glad they were not leaving under a cloud. Queenie had taken umbrage, he knew, at the curtailing of their act and his
criticism of her singing; and she had been vociferous in her complaints about all the youngsters who were joining the company. But by the time it came to the end of their week in Leeds she had become more amenable and kindly disposed to the artistes that she and her husband were leaving.

They all congregated at a public house near to City Square after the Saturday evening performance and the couple were given a rousing send-off. Queenie was presented with a bouquet of flowers and they were handed a cheque, which was the result of a whip-round amongst their fellow members.

‘Let’s raise our glasses to Carlo and Queenie,’ said Percy. ‘We wish them every success in their new venture.’

‘Carlo and Queenie…’

‘All the best…’

‘Break a leg…’ they all echoed.

And Queenie cried into her milk stout. ‘Oh dear! Oh, dearie me! I shall miss you all…so very much. I’ve never had such good friends as you lot. Carlo…why are we going?’

‘Because it’s time to move on,’ said her husband, putting his arm around her plump shoulders and drying her tears. ‘Come on, old girl; cheer up. I tell you what – how about a song? Just you and me, eh?’

‘Why not?’ said Queenie. She rose unsteadily to
her feet and together they sang, unaccompanied, about the ivy on the old garden wall. All the Melody Makers joined in the chorus.

Chapter Seventeen

T
he Sunday afternoon train rattled along the tracks, taking the Melody Makers from Leeds to York where they were to stay for not one, but two weeks.

‘How would you feel about doing a solo singing spot?’ Percy asked Dora Daventry, suddenly appearing in the compartment that she was sharing with Jeremy, Freddie and Maddy.

Dora looked startled. ‘Oh! Well…I’m not sure to be honest.’ She glanced apologetically at Maddy. ‘You already have two first-rate singers, haven’t you? Maddy here, and Susannah. I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes. You told me at the audition, didn’t you, Percy, that that was the reason you couldn’t take me on.’

‘Well, yes, so I did. But with Carlo and Queenie leaving so suddenly it’s put a different complexion on things. We’re an act short, aren’t we? I know I could give one or two of the others a longer spot, but I feel that everyone already has quite enough to do.’

‘And I haven’t?’ asked Dora with a grin. ‘I’m already partnering Benjy. I don’t want to be accused of stealing the limelight.’

‘You wouldn’t be,’ Percy told her. ‘The good thing about our little troupe is how we all muck in and help one another. I shall be roping these two lads in before long to take part in our sketches.’ He nodded towards Freddie and Jeremy.

‘Maddy’s already taking part, aren’t you, love? Although she took some persuading at first.’

‘Yes, that was because I saw myself as a singer and nothing else,’ said Maddy. ‘But it’s surprising what you can do when you try; and if you’re used to appearing on a stage then you usually find out that you’re pretty adaptable.’

‘Carlo and Queenie were a double act, though,’ Dora remarked, ‘with just the occasional solo. I don’t feel that I could carry the act on my own. Besides, as I’ve said, you already have Maddy and Susannah.’

‘But you could aim at something different,’ said Percy. ‘A little bird tells me that you are really a classical singer. You’ve taken exams, haven’t you, and sung in the church choir and amateur operatics?’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ smiled Dora. ‘And I can guess who the little bird is.’ She nodded reprovingly at Jeremy. ‘I suppose my repertoire does veer more towards the classical type of song. But when I did the audition I was giving you what I thought you would want.’

‘There’s nowt wrong wi’ a bit o’ class,’ said Percy with a laugh. ‘It’d be something different. I always
think of Susannah’s act as being a bit naughty and coquettish, and as for Maddy, she’s the girl next door, isn’t she, with her sweet plaintive songs. Think it over, Dora, there’s a love, and perhaps during our second week in York… As far as this next week is concerned, we’re putting in an extra sketch and two more songs in the finale, ones the audience can join in with.’

‘But what about you, Percy?’ said Maddy. She still felt a mite uncomfortable at addressing him by his Christian name; when she was a child he had always been ‘Uncle Percy’ to her and to all the other children. ‘When I first started watching the Pierrots, you used to sing solos, didn’t you? You had a very good voice – a baritone, weren’t you? – and I expect you can still sing very well.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ replied Percy. ‘I was quite a passable baritone; I could sing tenor, too, if it wasn’t too high. But I’ve not done much lately. I’ve been concentrating on the managing and producing side of things, and doing the funny men acts with Pete. He’s a singer too, of course, but he prefers the comedy routines. Why, what are you suggesting?’

‘That you could pair up with Dora,’ said Maddy. ‘You’d be a darned sight better that Carlo and Queenie…but I suppose I shouldn’t say that,’ she added with a guilty smile.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ said Percy with a frown of mock reproof. ‘Dear old Queenie. I do hope she settles down in the south of England. I suppose we
northerners were a mite too common for her at times.’

‘But she was a northerner, wasn’t she?’ asked Maddy. ‘I thought she came from Yorkshire.’

‘So she did: from Wakefield,’ said Percy, ‘But she tended to forget her working-class roots. Something of a social climber, was our Queenie. Anyway, I do hope she’ll be happy. And we have to fill the gap they’ve left behind. Aye, maybe that’s not a bad idea, for me and Dora to have a bash at singing duets. How about it then, Dora?’

‘I’d rather do that than have a solo spot,’ replied Dora.

‘Very well then; we’ll have a go, shall we?’ said Percy. ‘And thanks for the suggestion, Maddy. Happen it’s not such a bad idea to start using my vocal cords again; they’re getting a bit rusty. Pick out some of your favourite songs, Dora, and I’ll do the same. Then we’ll get Letty to have a run-through with us. It’ll be a weight off my mind if we can construct another act between us.’

They started rehearsals on the Monday morning, with Letty at the piano, and by the end of the week they had put together a performance that was rather more highbrow in content than were the other acts in the show. As Percy had remarked, there was nowt wrong wi’ a bit o’ class. They aimed to cater for the varying tastes of all the members of the audience, and there would be some, Percy guessed, who might enjoy music
that was a little more serious in content.

He and Dora decided to announce their act as ‘Percy and Dora, bringing you a touch of class’. He explained to the other members of the company that this description was not decrying in any way the more lowbrow acts that, until now, had been their mainstay; but he was aiming for greater variety in their programme. There was not one member who disagreed. They remembered how Carlo and Queenie had aimed at a similar type of act; but that of late it had become, albeit unintentionally, more of a comedy routine.

By the beginning of the second week in York the new act was ready for its debut. It consisted of two solos and three duets. Percy and Dora had discovered that their voices, baritone and soprano, blended well together. Dora had no problem in soaring up to the top Fs and Gs in ‘Cherry Ripe’, and Percy’s ‘Come into the Garden Maud’, suited the mellow quality of his voice. But it was their final duet, ‘On Wings of Song’, that earned the most applause and shouts of ‘Bravo!’ and ‘More, more!’ But there was never time for encores in a show that needed to keep to a strict timetable, especially when there were two houses a night.

Percy and Dora had reason to be well pleased with their first performance. Percy hugged her and kissed her on the cheek when they left the stage. ‘We’ve done it, lass,’ he said. ‘Thank you for helping me to find my voice again.’

Jeremy, whose act was next, had been standing in the wings watching the debut performance of the young woman who was beginning to mean so much to him. He, too, flung his arms around her. ‘Well done!’ he cried. ‘That was marvellous…and you too, Percy. The audience loved it, didn’t they?’

‘Aye, I think they did, lad,’ said Percy. He was more than satisfied with the way things were going. Taking on the two new lads, and then Dora, was proving to be a turning point in the fortunes of the Melody Makers. ‘I’ve a feeling we’re going from strength to strength,’ he said. ‘Off you go now, Jeremy, you and Tommy the Toff. It’s a good audience tonight and they’ll just lap it up.’

‘From the sublime to the ridiculous, eh?’ said Jeremy with a grin and a grimace, as he walked onto the stage with his big black box. And his act, too, with Tommy the Toff and his lady friend the buxom blonde Belinda, was a rip-roaring success.

On the whole it was a happy and profitable fortnight for most of the members of the company, in the city of York. But for Maddy, alas, there was a bitter disappointment.

It was not always easy to maintain contact with Dan because, quite often, she did not know the address of the digs for that particular week or fortnight until they actually arrived there. She wrote to him as soon as they arrived in York, telling him how much she was looking forward to seeing him, although that went without saying. He had
promised he would come to York at the end of the first week of their stay there, if it were at all possible.

A letter arrived, however, on the Friday morning, the very day on which he was expected, saying that he was dreadfully sorry – in fact, he scarcely knew how to find the words to tell her – but he could not come after all. The young lad, Cedric, who had been employed as a junior assistant, had been taken ill with a severe cough and cold, which had turned to bronchitis. Moreover, the affliction had been passed on to Mr Grundy, as Cedric had kept on working for several days before he finally succumbed to the illness. And Mrs Grundy had insisted on her husband staying in bed; she had taken extra care of him since his operation earlier that year. Dan, therefore, was in charge of the shop and there was no possibility of his being able to get away. He would be with her at Christmas, though, he assured her; not on Christmas Day but at some time during the Christmas period, when the company would be at Scarborough for a fortnight. He would move heaven and earth to be with her and nothing would keep him away. He loved her more than ever. He was longing to see her. And, after all, it was only a few weeks until Christmas. That was the time now on which they must focus their hopes and longings…

Maddy’s eyes had misted with tears as she read the letter at the breakfast table, but she had blinked
them away and made an excuse to leave the room as soon as possible. She knew she must not give way to a bout of weeping and wailing which was what she felt like doing. Crying only made your eyes red and puffy and everyone would notice. Travelling with the Melody Makers was teaching her to be more stoical and in control of herself, and always she tried to give heed to the familiar adage that the show must go on.

She did something, though, that she had never done before, something that she would never have dreamt she would do. She screwed up Dan’s letter and flung it into the empty firegrate in her room, because she was angry as well as disappointed. For the first time ever she was starting to wonder if their love could survive these long periods away from one another. It was not the first time that Dan had been unable to keep his promise to her, and she doubted that it would be the last.

Then the memory of him surfaced: his radiant green eyes, by no means a warm colour, but how they shone with tenderness and sincerity, and how his face lit up in a smile of sheer delight whenever they met. Yes, she loved him, and she trusted him. It was not his fault that he could not come. She would just have to try and forget her disappointment and look forward to the next time. As Dan said, it was not too far distant…

Freddie Nicholls was one person who noticed Maddy’s change of expression at the breakfast
table. Since she had told him that they could never be more than friends he had tried, not to forget her – that was impossible with them working so closely together – but to channel his thoughts into other directions. He worked on new tricks for his act and on perfecting his already remarkable sleight of hand, and on visiting, usually alone, the parts of the cities and towns that he had not seen before. In York there were many such places. He delighted in the narrow streets and alleyways, where the wooden framed houses leant towards one another, their rooftops almost touching; the vastness and solemnity of the Minster church; and the ancient walls that encompassed the city and along which one could walk for miles.

It was on one of those walks, on the Thursday afternoon of the second week of their stay in York, that he met Maddy, coming towards him from the opposite direction. He was always able to speak to her quite normally, just as he did to all the other members of the troupe. No one could tell from his ease of manner towards her that he still harboured feelings for her that were other than those of a casual friend. Maddy, herself, was convinced that her word to him had done the trick and that he now regarded her as just another fellow artiste. So she did not hesitate when he suggested that they should descend from the wall and spend some time together over a cup of tea.

They walked over the Lendal Bridge, which was
where they alighted the wall, and found a cosy tea shop near to the Minster. They chatted of this and that, and agreed how well the new act with Percy and Dora was being received by the audiences.

‘A very versatile young woman,’ remarked Freddie. ‘Singing as well as dancing. I hadn’t realised, until I actually joined the Melody Makers, how adaptable one has to be. Our show is not just a series of isolated acts, is it, like the usual variety shows? I didn’t know that I might be called upon to be an actor as well. Percy is determined to get Jeremy and me into the latest sketches.’

‘Oh, you’ll be fine,’ replied Maddy dismissively. ‘You don’t have to be Sir Henry Irving, you know. It’s only a bit of fun, and I’m sure that if I can do it, anybody can. You never know what you can do until you try. Percy runs the winter tours as a continuation of the Pierrot shows, more or less, with everybody “mucking in”, as he puts it. Apart from dressing up in our Pierrot costumes, of course.’

‘I suppose Jeremy and I will have to wear them too, when we’re in Scarborough next summer?’ queried Freddie.

‘Oh, I expect so,’ said Maddy. ‘Not for your individual acts, but certainly for the chorus numbers at the beginning and the end. Then you’ll feel that you really belong.’