Remember Me (7 page)

‘See these good folks up to their rooms, would you, Sidney love? We’ve got four rooms ready, so just sort yourselves out; some of ’em are big enough for three or four. Make yourselves at home,’ Mrs Jolly repeated. ‘Our place is a real home from home; at least we hope it is, don’t we, Sid?’

‘Aye, we do that, Rosie love,’ agreed her husband. ‘Now, I’ll give you an ’and wi’ these cases.’ He picked up one in each hand as though they weighed only a couple of pounds, leading the way up the first flight of stairs.

‘There’ll be a cup of tea ready for you in the dining room when you’ve unpacked,’ Mrs Jolly called up to them. ‘And we’ll make you a spot of dinner an’ all – well, “high tea” I should say, round about five o’ clock. Will that suit you? Don’t suppose you’ve had much at dinner time, have you, and there’s nowt much open in town on a Sunday.’

‘No, just a sandwich,’ replied Percy. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Jolly. We’d all very much appreciate something to eat…

‘Looks as though we’ve landed on our feet, lass,’ he whispered to Maddy as they followed their host up the stairs.

Mr and Mrs Jolly – Sid and Rosie, as they all soon began to call them, at the couple’s request – looked a well-matched pair and it seemed as though they worked well together. Rosie Jolly was, indeed, a jolly person; shortish, plumpish, fiftyish, pink-cheeked and with greying hair, which was cut and curled to its best advantage. She was by no means the archetypal Blackpool landlady – except perhaps in stature – portrayed on the now popular comic postcards, reputed to be harridans with a permanently sour expression and a heaving bosom encased in a floral apron.

It was a common music hall joke, too, that the landladies’ husbands were henpecked little men who spent their lives in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and washing mounds of greasy pots. The members of Percy’s company soon discovered that this was not the case with Sidney, even though he had made his first appearance wearing one of his wife’s pinnies. He had a job with a firm of joiners throughout the week but was pleased to help his wife at weekends. Most of the time Rosie ran the boarding house on her own, apart from Peggy, the young chambermaid-cum-waitress, who came in to help for a few hours each day.

‘By heck, that was grand!’ exclaimed Henry Morgan when they had all eaten Mrs Jolly’s homecooked steak and kidney pie and chips, followed by cream trifle; and they all agreed with him.

‘Now then, how about a bit of fresh air?’ said
Percy. ‘Let’s go and see what Blackpool’s got to offer us, eh?’

They put on their hats and coats and mufflers too – they had already discovered that the Blackpool breeze could be chilly – and then set off en masse, with Nancy’s two little dogs trotting along beside her.

The Big Wheel loomed above them as they walked along Coronation Street and then made their way through the town. The streets were quite deserted at six-thirty on a Sunday evening and, of course, all the shops were closed. The town was quite familiar to most of them, but it was Maddy’s first visit and she stared around her in wonder. They had spread out a little now, walking in twos and threes, Maddy with Henry Morgan.

‘There’s the Winter Gardens, see…’ He pointed to the impressive entrance and the glass dome, 120 feet high, which topped the building.

‘And the Grand Theatre, see…’ as they walked along Church Street, heading for the promenade. That was a smallish theatre, tucked away in a corner. This theatre, also, had a domed roof, a green one, with ornate brickwork surrounding it.

They crossed the wide promenade and the tramtrack. ‘Look over yonder,’ said Henry, pointing to the right. ‘That’s the North Pier, see, and that’s the Eastern Pavilion where you’ll be performing for t’next two weeks.’

They walked up to the entrance and Maddy
stood in awe, looking at the poster advertising their very own show, Morgan’s Melody Makers. And there was her own name, ‘Madeleine Moon, Yorkshire’s own songbird’.

She stood a little away from the rest of them, leaning against the iron railings and watching the incoming waves lapping against the sea wall. She breathed in the fresh tang of the sea and the salty air for which Blackpool was renowned, experiencing a sense of deep contentment. She had a feeling that these two weeks in Blackpool would be memorable ones.

Chapter Six

D
aniel Murphy didn’t go to the theatre very often. In fact, he very rarely went to any of the places of entertainment in Blackpool, where the visitors and the local folk went to enjoy themselves. He worked as a part-time sales assistant in a gentlemen’s outfitters on Church Street, and also helped his mother in their boarding house on Adelaide Street. Daniel waited at the tables and saw to the visitors’ requirements in the evening, serving the late night cups of tea and biscuits. His younger brother, Joseph, was what might be called a general ‘dogsbody’. He lent a hand wherever it was needed, in addition to his work as a delivery lad at a nearby grocery store.

Daniel’s part-time occupations, however, were only a stop-gap. He was studying hard so that he might go to college sometime in the near future. His mother, Anna, made sure that he kept his nose to the grindstone. And Daniel knew, deep down, that it was more for her sake than his own that he continued with his studies. She had high aspirations for her elder son and he did not want to disappoint her. For his part, he would be quite content to work
full-time as a sales assistant, or to take up a training position in the office of a solicitor or estate agent. The opportunities in Blackpool were many and varied, but his destiny was secured, at least as far as Anna Murphy was concerned.

It had been so ever since she had set eyes on her first-born child, her first-born live child, that was, because she had already had two stillborn babies. He had been the very image of herself with the selfsame gingerish hair and green eyes. His eyes had been an indeterminate greyish bluey-green at first, but they had soon changed to the clear green that betrayed their Irish heritage, so Daniel’s mother had told him many times, along with her ambitions for his future. How could he ever think of disappointing her?

He knew, though, that he really should go out and about and enjoy himself a bit more; he was missing out on quite a lot of the things that young men of his age liked to do. And so he had agreed at once to accompany his brother to the show at the North Pier Pavilion. It would make a pleasant change, and Joe deserved a night out just as much as he did. Joseph was a rather shy lad, but his dealings with his grocery customers and the visitors at the boarding house had helped to bring him out of his shell. He had never been much of a scholar and had been glad to leave school at thirteen and find a job. They had been living in Liverpool at that time and he had worked as an odd-job lad in all sorts of places. Joe was a hard
worker; there was no doubt about that.

As for Daniel, he had a more outgoing disposition than his brother and had never found it difficult to make friends with either sex. He had subjugated his feelings, however, to a certain extent, knowing that years of study lay ahead of him; he knew he must develop the trait of single-mindedness and not allow himself to be sidetracked.

‘Good for you,’ he said to Joe, when his brother told him about the tickets he had obtained. He had come back in great excitement from his trip out with the handcart; it was empty, however, and he had not brought any visitors back with him. ‘Where did you get the tickets, though?’ Daniel asked. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve bought them?’

‘Don’t talk daft!’ replied Joe. ‘I got talking to this girl, see…’

‘What girl?’ asked Daniel, surprised. His brother did not usually bother with girls; he was covered with confusion whenever he met any. He, Daniel, could talk to them easily enough, but he never allowed himself to think any further about them; there would not be much point. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a girlfriend?’ he asked, laughing, but not unkindly. He thought the world of his young brother.

‘Don’t talk daft!’ said Joe again. ‘Course, I haven’t, but she was real nice and friendly. I was carting their cases for them, see, to their lodgings,
an’ she told me she’s a singer in the show. Then the boss man came up to me and asked if I’d take their props round to t’theatre, so I did. It’s real posh inside, Dan, the Eastern Pavilion. You should see it! Well, you will, won’t you, if you go with me. He gave me these tickets, see. They’re for Monday night. I asked if we could have second house; you know, with us having to see to t’visitors’ teas, and he said yes. And he gave me two for Mammy and Daddy as well. D’you think they’ll go?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ replied Dan. ‘Go and ask Mammy; she’s in the kitchen; well, they both are. I’ll go with you, Joe, on Monday. I’m ready for a night out.’

‘Aye, our mam’s a slave-driver, isn’t she?’ said Joe. ‘Making sure you study all t’time.’

‘You could say that,’ smiled Dan. ‘But I don’t mind…most of the time. Her heart’s in the right place.’

Joe was relieved that his parents seemed pleased about the tickets as well.

‘Well done, lad,’ said Thomas Murphy. ‘What a nice surprise. It’s ages since we had a night out, isn’t it, Anna? We’ll look forward to that.’

‘That’s all very well,’ said his wife, ‘but what about the visitors you were supposed to be finding for us, Joe? A couple of tickets for a theatre won’t put any money in our pockets.’ Joe could see just a glint of annoyance in her green eyes.

‘Aw, leave the lad alone,’ said Thomas. ‘I’m sure
he’s done his best, haven’t you, son? Sunday’s not a good day; most of ’em arrive on a Saturday.’

‘That’s true,’ said Anna, relenting a little. ‘And maybe four couples are as many as we can manage this week. It’ll break us in gently before the Easter weekend. We’re pretty nearly full up then.’

‘And I keep telling you, Anna, you’ve got to learn to walk before you can run,’ said her husband. ‘I think we’re doing jolly well, considering we only took over here last back-end.’

‘You’re right, so you are.’ Anna managed a grudging smile. ‘Sure, the Lord’s been good to us and I mustn’t forget it. And thank you for the tickets, Joe,’ she added, to his surprise. ‘Yes, I expect we’ll enjoy a night out, your Daddy and me. So long as you and Dan hold the fort for us.’

‘Now, don’t they always?’ said Thomas. ‘We couldn’t have two better sons.’

‘You’re right,’ said Anna again. ‘Two grand lads, so they are.’ Just so long as we toe the line, thought Joe, listening to the exchange of words between his parents. His father was always ready to stick up for them, but his mother was not quite so fulsome in her praise of himself and Dan. He shuddered to think of her reaction should one of them try to oppose her.

‘That’s her,’ said Joe, nudging his brother as Madeleine Moon came onto the stage. ‘That girl I was talking to; Maddy, she’s called. She’s pretty, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, very…’ replied Daniel. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Some flibbertigibbet – as his mother might say – with brassy blonde hair and a cheeky grin. But this girl was not of that ilk at all. He leant forward in his seat to get a better view, although the seats were very good ones; five rows from the front and in the centre.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ she began. ‘I would like to sing for you an old Irish song…’ She nodded to the pianist at the side of the stage who played just one note. Then the girl began to sing, unaccompanied.

Was she Irish? Daniel wondered. Her voice had a lovely lilting quality with just the trace of an accent that could be of Celtic origin; but maybe it was just her interpretation of the song. She was billed as ‘Yorkshire’s own songbird’, and that was certainly true. There was not a murmur in the house as the audience listened, enraptured, to the sweet-toned lyrical melody ringing out across the rows of seats. She stood motionless, her hands clasped gently in front of her, a charming picture in her simple dress of cream-coloured silk and lace, which fell to her ankles, her golden hair,
worn loose, waving softly almost to her shoulders.

There was a silence for a few seconds when she stopped singing, and then tumultuous applause. Dan and Joe clapped as loudly and enthusiastically as anyone.

‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ Joe nudged his brother again. ‘It might’ve been better with the piano though, don’t you think?’

‘No, I don’t.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘Not at all. Hush now…’ He knew that this type of song, a traditional air, was meant for the voice alone, especially for such a thrilling voice as he had just heard. Now the girl, Madeleine, was going to sing again.

‘And now for a complete contrast…’ She smiled at the audience, and this time the pianist struck up with the strains of a song that they all knew.

‘In the twi-twi-twilight,

Out in the beautiful twilight…’
she began to sing.

As she said, it was a complete contrast to the previous song, but just as well received by the audience. She revealed in this number that she was not only a sweet and demure young girl, but that she had vitality and more than a spot of gaiety and humour. And Dan decided that she was not Irish; she most probably hailed from Yorkshire. She raised her hands, inviting the audience to join in with the second chorus.

They sang with gusto, applauding wildly as the girl curtsied and tripped off the stage, then reappeared to take a final bow.

‘That was good,’ said Joe. ‘I liked that song better than the first one. That was what she was like when she was talking to me, all happy and friendly.’

‘Yes, she certainly does seem to be a…very nice sort of girl,’ replied Dan. In point of fact he felt quite overwhelmed by his immediate attraction to her. He did not know her, of course. She was a stranger to him, an unknown girl who sang on the stage. But the moment he saw her, and especially when she started to sing, Daniel knew that he wanted to meet her and talk with her. Some quality in her had reached out to him in a way no young woman had ever done before. Indeed, he had never before allowed himself to be affected in this way.

‘Fancy me knowing a girl like that,’ Joe was saying. ‘A real proper singer on t’stage. And them two funny fellers that were on before – you know, them that did “There’s an ’ole in my bucket” – well, they were the ones that asked me to move their props.’

‘Well, fancy that,’ said Dan. ‘Hush now; the next act’s starting.’

It was a dancing duo, billed as Barney and Benjy; two men dressed in tight black trousers and red and
white striped shirts, with flashing feet and wide grins revealing pearly-white teeth. He did not know which was which, Barney or Benjy, but one of them, the blonde one, he termed to himself as a ‘pretty boy’, whilst the other one was dark and more suave in appearance. Dan could not help but admire their expertise as their shiny patent-leather shoes darted in and out like lightning to the music of a fast staccato tune. Then came a slower dance to the strains of ‘Lily of Laguna’, which the men sang along to, inviting the audience to join in.

There was a lot of audience participation in the show, and Dan found he was joining in and enjoying himself as much as anyone. He and Joe agreed at the short interval that it was a first-class show, much better than he had expected as far as Daniel was concerned. Dan enjoyed all kinds of music and was saving up to buy a gramophone.

There had been some good singing: a baritone – ‘That’s the boss man, Percy Morgan,’ Joe had whispered to him – singing ‘Silver Threads among the Gold’; and Carlo and Queenie, the duettists singing ‘The Old Rustic Bridge by the Mill’, followed by ‘None Shall Part Us From Each Other’, a song from Gilbert and Sullivan’s
Iolanthe
; quite expertly sung, although it was difficult to imagine them as a shepherd and shepherdess.

Susannah – now, there was a coquette if ever there was one – and her partner, Frank, sang a song about the honeysuckle and the bee, with flirtatious
overtones; and Frank proved to be a good turn on the banjo and the concertina. Dan was surprised at how versatile they all seemed to be.

In the second half a woman called Nancy did an act with performing dogs. It was not entirely to Dan’s taste as he did not like to see animals being exploited. On the other hand, the little dogs seemed contented enough, wagging their tails and appearing to grin, and he could not imagine anyone in this happy little troupe being anything other than kind and considerate; that was certainly the impression they gave.

When Madeleine Moon sang again, this time ‘The Lark in the Clear Air’, another Irish song, he was just as captivated as before. He could feel his brother’s eyes upon him, and when he glanced at him there was a knowing grin on Joe’s face. When she appeared at the finale with the rest of the troupe, Dan scarcely noticed anyone but Madeleine.

He was quiet at first as they walked home, along the promenade and then through the streets of the town, just saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in answer to his brother’s chatter.

Joe gave a chuckle. ‘You were quite smitten, weren’t you, with that girl?’

‘Which girl?’ said Dan, putting on a show of innocence.

‘You know very well which girl. Maddy – Madeleine Moon. She’s what our daddy would call a bobby-dazzler, isn’t she?’