Forgotten Dreams (32 page)
The last performance of the pantomime was on a Saturday, and was followed by a party on stage before the company went their separate ways for their fortnight’s holiday. It was a grand occasion, with the band playing modern dance tunes and everyone talking at the tops of their voices. The ponies and their trainer had left after the last curtain call – and there had been many – but everyone else was present. There was a lot of kissing and cries of goodbye and plans to meet up, for though a good few of the artistes now lived locally most had family or friends in other parts of the country whom they would visit in the course of the next two weeks. Merle meant to visit her parents again, for the circus, too, was enjoying a rest from the constant touring which it undertook for most of the year. They were still in Blackpool, for that town was a popular resort even in midwinter, and the circus did not close.
‘Why don’t you take Baz with you?’ Lottie asked idly. The management had just declared the buffet open – it was set out in the green room – and she and Merle, plates in hand, were circling the long table which positively groaned with food, helping themselves. ‘He’s got the time off, you know . . . oh, not the whole fortnight, but at least a week of it.’
Merle looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose he might like to come with me, only it’s such ages since I saw my family that I’d feel a bit mean bringing someone else along,’ she said. ‘Of course I want them to meet Baz sometime, but it’s a bit soon, don’t you think?’
‘No I don’t,’ Lottie said bluntly. ‘And what’s more, it isn’t ages since you saw your family. You visited them not long before Christmas, and that was only just over three weeks ago.’
Merle giggled and clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Yes, of course, but that was just a flying visit,’ she said. ‘Well, I’ll think about it. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’
Baz, who had been working a late shift at the station, joined them at this point. He put a brotherly arm round Lottie, kissed Merle’s cheek, and then began to pile a plate with goodies. ‘What’ll you think about?’ he enquired. ‘If you’re doing any thinking, young lady, I want to hear about it. I say, wharra spread! Good thing you’re off for the next fortnight ’cos if you two tried to get into your costumes tomorrer I reckon Buttons’s buttons would be poppin’ off right left and centre, and Cinderella would need more’n a wave from her fairy godmother’s wand to get that there ball gown fastened at the back.’
The rest of the evening fairly sparkled with jollity and mirth. Jack Russell and Max, in their ordinary clothes, danced a languorous waltz together, making even the stagehands double up with laughter. And Louella, Merle and Lottie performed a version of their own act in which each girl only used one leg, causing almost as much hilarity as that which had greeted Jack and Max.
When they finally made their way to Victoria Court, they were worn out but extremely happy. Max had his arm round Louella, and Baz was cuddling Merle. This might have been awkward for Lottie save that Jack Russell, who lived further up the Scotland Road, walked back with them, telling Lottie how he meant to spend the next two weeks, and making her laugh so much that she got the hiccups and had to stop and hold her breath until they went away. This meant that she and Jack fell a good way behind the others, and presently Jack stopped teasing and asked Lottie seriously what she and her pal intended to do for the next two weeks. ‘I expect your mam will go around with Max; they’ll want to rehearse, of course, ’cos Louella’s a perfectionist. So if you want a bit of advice, young lady, I’d say you could do worse than go off and visit friends or relatives for a week or so. At least that way you’ll get some rest from the theatre.’
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ Lottie admitted. ‘Merle’s off to Blackpool to visit her parents. I think she’ll probably ask Baz to go along with her, and since I don’t mean to play gooseberry, I shan’t be accompanying them.’
‘What about relatives?’ Jack said. He peered into her face, looking so anxious and so comical that Lottie had to smile. ‘Everyone has relatives, chuck. Your dad was one of a large family, and then Louella must have relatives of her own – she didn’t just appear on this earth fully fashioned, so to speak; she was born, like the rest of us. So she must have a mam or a dad lurkin’ somewhere in her background. Don’t she talk about them from time to time?’
Loyalty forced Lottie to say that indeed her mother did sometimes talk about her parents, though in fact she had only done so once. ‘They were a Mr and Mrs Henning, only they’re both dead,’ she explained. ‘They farmed on the Wirral somewhere, and when they died they left what little they possessed to Louella. I think she must have been an only child – well, I’m sure she was – so I’ve no uncles or aunts, not on Louella’s side at any rate.’
‘Well, wharrabout your dad’s relatives?’ Jack persisted. ‘I know old Alf had brothers. Why don’t you tell your mam you’d like to visit ’em? I shouldn’t think she’d object; she might even go with you.’
Lottie stopped short and stared incredulously into Jack’s face. She had thought for a moment that he must be joking, but now she saw he was serious for once. ‘Jack, my dad died when I was a few days old, which means he’s been dead for fifteen years and never, in all that time, has Louella tried to get in touch with his family. I suppose they may live in Cornwall or Scotland, or somewhere far away, or maybe they blame Louella for Alf’s death, because it’s not just one way, you know. We get a heap of Christmas cards every year, but they’re always from theatre folk. To the best of my knowledge, we’ve never had so much as a line from the Denhams. When I was little – if you can call seven little – I asked Louella several times why my grandparents never sent me a card or a gift on my birthday or at Christmas. She said they had cast Alf off when he went on the stage and had no interest either in herself or in me. I thought that were pretty odd – everyone likes grandchildren – but Louella said they had plenty of grandchildren already and didn’t need another.’
‘I see,’ Jack said thoughtfully. By now they had reached Victoria Court and Lottie expected him to leave her and continue on his way, but instead he caught hold of her arm, drawing her to a halt. ‘Didn’t you make pals when you were in Yarmouth?’ he asked. ‘Well, I know you did; you were always going around with that girl from the Britannia. And there were other folk, I’m sure. Wharrabout visitin’ them, eh?’
Lottie thought of the tedious cross-country journey, and of Yarmouth out of season. The pleasure beach would be closed, the swing boats shrouded in canvas; the bright booths along Marine Parade would be barred and shuttered. From what local people had said, it would be freezing cold, with the wind coming straight from Siberia. And anyway, where would she stay? She did not have enough money for decent lodgings and now that she came to consider the matter, almost all the friends she had made had been theatre folk. Some of them, she knew, had hailed from Yarmouth, but most were from away.
She said as much to Jack, who pulled a rueful face but let go of her arm and pushed his cap to the back of his head. ‘Aye, you’re right,’ he said. ‘Well, if you’re lonely and need a bit of company, you know where I live.’
He was turning away when Lottie called him back. ‘Jack! I’ve just realised . . . you
knew
my father, didn’t you? You called him Alf and know he had brothers . . . but
when
did you know him? Was it before I was born? I’d love to know a bit more about him, only asking Louella is a bit awkward. She’s liable to burst into tears and rush out of the room, and of course if Max is there . . . well, I don’t like to say too much. It seems tactless, somehow.’
knew
my father, didn’t you? You called him Alf and know he had brothers . . . but
when
did you know him? Was it before I was born? I’d love to know a bit more about him, only asking Louella is a bit awkward. She’s liable to burst into tears and rush out of the room, and of course if Max is there . . . well, I don’t like to say too much. It seems tactless, somehow.’
Jack looked wary. ‘Aye, I knew your dad. Alf was a real friend and one of the best, and I’d have talked to you about him before only I wasn’t sure how much Louella wanted you to know. But you’re fifteen now, a young lady, and if you don’t care to ask your mam I reckon I could fill you in on a few details without upsetting either of you,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell you what, queen, if you come to Mrs Parrot’s place around noon tomorrer, I’ll take you out for a spot of lunch and we’ll have a good old crack. Alf and me were about the same age, which means I’m old enough to be your father, so no one won’t think it odd if we meet from time to time. Does tomorrer suit you, or have you other plans?’
‘Tomorrow suits me just fine, Jack,’ Lottie said recklessly. She knew her mother had planned to rehearse some changes in the Lacey Sisters’ act, knowing that Merle would be off to Blackpool in two or three days. But Louella will just have to lump it, Lottie thought rebelliously as she waved Jack off and turned in to the court. It’s about time I asserted myself. Louella’s always telling me I’m a young woman; well, now she’ll have to realise that I’m a young woman with a mind of my own.
She crossed the court rapidly and went into the kitchen. Everyone was sitting round the table drinking cocoa, though no one had helped themselves to the plate of shortbread biscuits, not even Baz, whom his father often accused of having hollow legs. Lottie, herself sated with party food, apologised to everyone for her lateness, explaining that she had been chatting to Jack. Then she made herself a mug of cocoa and sat down at the table, eyeing her mother challengingly as she did so. ‘I shan’t be rehearsing tomorrow, Louella,’ she said briskly, taking a sip of her cocoa and then standing the mug down with a thump. ‘I’ve some business to attend to, so I’ll be out most of the day.’
She looked round the table. Louella was staring at her, her mouth at half cock. Max looked equally surprised, and Merle’s expression was almost shocked. She would be thinking of her own imminent departure and wondering whether she would have to rehearse with Louella alone: a prospect which would not please her. Baz was the only one who was grinning, and when he caught her eye he gave a surreptitious thumbs-up sign. Louella, however, burst into speech. ‘And what business might you have, pray, that is more important than my rehearsal? I had to book the stage, you know, because others will need to rehearse new routines as well. After six weeks of pantomime we’re all a bit rusty and need to polish our acts.’
‘Yes, queen, and don’t forget I shall be leaving for Blackpool next Thursday or Friday,’ Merle put in. ‘I don’t mean to rehearse more than a couple of times before I leave because I shall have an awful lot to do. Couldn’t you put off your business, whatever it may be, until I’m gone?’
‘Of course she can’ and ‘No I can’t’ came simultaneously from Louella and Lottie, Louella adding: ‘Don’t be difficult, darling; there was a good deal of competition for stage time. A lot of the cast will be leaving Liverpool on Monday, so you see . . .’
‘If the rest of the cast are going off, then you’ll be able to book the stage for Monday or Tuesday with no bother,’ Lottie said sweetly. She stood up and gave a large and rather artificial yawn. ‘Golly, I’m tired. If you don’t mind I’ll be off to bed, because I’m having an early start in the morning.’
She left the room, ignoring the hubbub which broke out behind her, and took the stairs at a run, smiling to herself. She really had put the cat among the pigeons, but much she cared! And she had no intention of telling anyone, not even Merle, that the important business was merely having lunch with Jack, whilst he told her as much as he could remember about her father.
Jack reached Mrs Parrot’s house and let himself into the kitchen through the back door. His landlady was a widow in her late sixties, but as spry as many a much younger woman. She had three lodgers, all men, and treated them like sons. She cooked their favourite meals, washed and darned their socks, listened to their stories and encouraged them to confide in her when they had troubles. Two of her lodgers were from the theatre, Jack of course hailing from the Gaiety, Derek Danby from the Royal Court, whilst Mr Gluhowski was a retired seaman who had chosen Liverpool as his home rather than returning to his native shore.
When Jack entered the room the other lodgers and Mrs Parrot were sitting round the table, enjoying the late night supper which their landlady prepared and set out every day except Sunday, but Jack waved aside the offer of refreshment. ‘I’m full to burstin’, thank ’ee,’ he informed the company. ‘It were the last night party, you know, and the grub were grand. Management surpassed itself.’ He pointed an accusing finger at Derek. ‘You had a last night party too, I’ll be bound, yet here you are feeding your face. Well, be warned: you’ll look a lot more like Fatty Arbuckle than Errol Flynn by tomorrow morning.’
‘Shan’t,’ Derek responded rather thickly through a mouthful of sandwich. ‘Anyway, I’d rather be fat than a cradle snatcher.’
Jack grinned, and sat down on the only vacant chair. ‘I guess you saw me with young Lottie,’ he said genially. ‘Poor kid, it don’t seem to occur to the others that she’s a bit left out like. Louella walks with Max, puttin’ their heads together over the latest theatre gossip, Merle walks with Baz, billin’ an’ cooin’ like a couple o’ turtle doves, and Lottie trails after ’em, not likin’ to join either pair. I saw them as I left the theatre so I hurried a bit to catch Lottie up and we had a grand old chat.’
‘A likely story,’ Derek jeered. ‘You want to watch it, Jack. Older fellers what fall for pretty young girls are doomed to disappointment.’
Mr Gluhowski, tucking into a slice of rich fruitcake, swallowed, wiped his mouth, and then addressed the two younger men. ‘Vot nonsense you do talk, Mr Derek,’ he said. ‘Ve all know that Mr Jack is true to the voman he has alvays loved and that is Miss Louella, and not her little daughter.’
Jack flushed darkly, considered denying it, then changed his mind. ‘I admire Miss Louella greatly; she is a dedicated performer who puts her work before anything else,’ he said stiffly. ‘But as I’m sure you know, she’s in love with Mr Max and never so much as glances in my direction.’
Other books
Death Is in the Air by Kate Kingsbury
Devoted to Him by Cheryl Dragon
The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) by Cole Reid
The Curse: Touch of Eternity (The Curse series) by Bold, Emily
A Clue to the Exit: A Novel by Edward St. Aubyn
The Reef by Mark Charan Newton
Fraying at the Edge by Cindy Woodsmall
Gabriel's Redemption by Steve Umstead
Yours at Midnight by Robin Bielman
The Amaranth Enchantment by Julie Berry
