Hettie of Hope Street (17 page)

‘His girlfriend? But I thought he was married?' Hettie said innocently.

Eddie gave a careless shrug. ‘He is. Perhaps I should have said that he has gone to London to see the mistress he keeps there,' he corrected himself. When he saw Hettie's expression he shook his head. ‘He's a very rich man, Hettie, and rich men live by different rules from the rest of us.'

‘Well, if that's what being rich means, then I'm glad that I'm not,' Hettie told him robustly. She had grown up amongst ordinary decent working folk, and she couldn't help contrasting the happy loving marriages of Ellie and Gideon, and Connie and Harry, with the kind of marriage Jay
Dalhousie and his wife obviously had, which in her opinion was no kind of marriage at all.

‘Rich men marry for sons to pass their riches on to,' Eddie told her bluntly. ‘And then they look for their pleasure outside their marriages. You'll find
that
out soon enough for yourself,' he warned her. ‘Once we get to London you'll be besieged by stage door Johnnies wanting to take you out to dinner.'

‘I shan't go with them if they are married.' She frowned as she saw Eddie trying to smother a yawn. ‘You look tired.'

‘Yes, I am,' he agreed. ‘Tommy Harding the stage manager told us this morning that he wanted a new set designing for the first act, so I've spent all day painting scenery.'

‘Is it always like this?' Hettie asked him. ‘Things going wrong, last-minute changes…'

Eddie laughed. ‘
This
is nothing,' he told her. ‘I worked on a new opera in Paris last year. It had eight different scenes and the director changed his mind about the stage sets for four of them two days before we opened.'

‘Paris,' Hettie exclaimed, impressed.

‘Yes.'

‘That must have been so exciting. When you were there did you…'

‘I don't want to talk about it,' Eddie told her abruptly, signalling to the waitress to bring them the bill, his manner suddenly curt and cold.

‘'Ere, 'Ettie. It looks like you've got an admirer,' Sukey Simmonds told her as they all huddled over the cups of tea she had just made them. ‘When we was out today, one of the boys said as how he'd noticed you at the theatre and was asking ever such a lot of questions about you, wasn't he, Mary?'

‘I'll say,' Mary agreed readily.

Hettie blushed and they all laughed, Jenny telling her teasingly that her ‘beau' was in the orchestra and played the trumpet.

‘You should see the lips on 'im, 'Ettie. Bet he can give a girl a real smacker with lips like them.'

‘Oh, give over, Jenny,' Babs protested amidst Hettie's fiery blushes and the other girls' gales of laughter.

‘Tek no notice, 'Ettie,' Babs comforted her. ‘Sukey is just teasing you. All the poor lad said was how he had noticed you, and thought as how pretty you are.'

‘The boys was saying as how we should all go out for a bicycle ride on our next half day,' Jessie put in.

‘A bicycle ride? Me legs ache enough with all them high kicks we're 'avin' to do, without doing any bicycle riding, ta ever so much,' Aggie protested.

‘It's Jenny and Jessie's birthday soon, so I reckon we should 'ave a bit of a party and invite the boys to join in,' Mary announced.

‘A party? And how are we going to do that,
Miss Clever Clogs?' Babs demanded. ‘We can't invite them back here. The minute the old battleaxe got word of anything like that, she'd turf us out and no mistake. And if you think I'm going to go round to their lodgings, you can think again. I've got me reputation to think about.'

‘Oh, hoighty toighty! It didn't look much like you was worrying about your reputation when you was sparkin' with that Stan this afternoon,' Mary sniffed.

‘We could ask Jack and Sarah if we could use that room off the chop house dining room, perhaps,' Aggie suggested, stepping in adroitly to avert a quarrel. ‘I remember as how Sarah was saying they was thinking of hiring it out for parties, like.'

‘'Ere, Aggie, that's a brilliant idea,' Sukey approved excitedly. ‘We could put on a bit o' supper and mebbe we could 'ave some music so that we could dance. I could buy mesef a new frock, one of them flapper frocks that are all the rage…You know, I was feeling really miserable on account of us not being able to go home at Christmas because we're in the panto, but now that we've met the boys, I reckon we're going to have a really good time.'

‘You speak for yourself, Sukey Simmonds,' Lizzie told her sharply. ‘But I'll thank you to remember that we aren't all boy mad.'

‘What's up wi' her?' Sukey demanded, red-faced, as Lizzie slammed down her cup and stalked off
to the other side of the room to stand with her back to them as she stared out of the window.

‘Lizzie's got her ma and her sister to think of, Sukey,' Babs reminded her.

‘Oh aye, I were forgetting about them,' Sukey acknowledged immediately. ‘'Ere, Lizzie, don't go off in a sulk like that,' she called out. ‘I'm sorry if I put me foot in it. Be a good sport and come back.'

‘I can't do it.'

‘Come on, 'Ettie, don't let that old besom get you down,' Babs coaxed her.

‘It's no good. I just can't do that solo dance,' Hettie repeated wretchedly.

They were in the dressing room getting ready for the first full dress rehearsal.

‘Five minutes, chorus girls,' Tommy the stage manager called out, banging on the door.

‘Don't think about it, just concentrate on your singing instead,' Babs advised her.

‘I can't even get
that
right,' Hettie told her miserably. ‘Not since Mr Carlyle changed my songs to another key.'

‘Chorus on stage, please…'

‘Oh, Hettie,' Babs sympathised, hugging her fiercely before turning to join the other girls as they hurried out of the room.

At least Faye wouldn't be here to witness her humiliation, Hettie reflected thankfully. The other
girl had a streaming cold and had been instructed to stay away from the theatre for a few days, in case she passed it on to anyone else. There was another bang on the dressing room door.

‘Princess Mimi, five minutes.'

This was it. Hettie felt sick with the knowledge that she was going to let everyone down. No matter how hard she tried to master the complicated ballet steps, every time she performed them for Madame Cecile it seemed she had forgotten something or done something wrong.

‘Eet ees impossible to choreograph a ballet for someone with so little skill. Thees is not a ballet any more.'

‘And I am not a ballerina,' Hettie had struck back, overwhelmed by exhaustion and despair.

‘You theenk I do not know that?' Madame Cecile had snapped, her small black eyes sharp with contempt. ‘You thump around like a sack of ze coals, ze audience will leave their seats in disgust when zey see you…'

‘Princess Mimi.'

Hettie opened the door and hurried up the stairs towards the wings, to wait for her cue.

The male lead was a famous singer who, rumour had it, their backer was paying a fortune to take the part. He had not deigned to attend previous rehearsals, so his understudy had had to stand in for him instead.

When Hettie heard her cue, she had to hurry on to the stage where she had to make herself
visible to the audience whilst the hero was not supposed to be aware of her presence as he sang of his desire to find true love with a girl who was not interested in his wealth or position. As soon as he had finished his solo, Hettie had to appear from the shadows so that he could see her, whereupon they were to share a duet.

Hurrying now across the stage, Hettie realised that the male lead was not standing where he was supposed to be, so she had to change direction in order that she could end up facing him, which almost caused her to trip up on the hem of her over-long skirt.

Their duet took the form of a question and answer dialogue, and Hettie's heart bumped against her ribs the moment she heard the opening bars of her own part.

She started to sing and then realised in shock that she was out of tune with the music, which suddenly seemed much faster than it should have been. She could see the male lead frowning at her as she hesitated and missed a note completely.

Somehow she managed to get through the duet, although her face was burning with shame by the time she reached its end. And then, as if that hadn't been bad enough, in her rush to leave the stage she caught her foot in the hem of her costume and almost stumbled.

As soon as they were in the wings, the male lead began demanding loudly to see the director,
and Hettie knew that he must be complaining about her performance.

Her ballet solo was in the second half and, although she did her best to struggle through it, once again the music seemed different and she was out of time so badly that she could hear the whispers rustling from the wings where the chorus was watching her.

She was less than halfway through it when Madame Cecile herself burst onto the stage in a fury, sceaming at Hettie, ‘You are useless, useless!'

‘What the devil is going on?'

Everyone, including Madame Cecile, froze as Jay Dalhousie's voice rang out from the darkness of the stalls.

‘Stay where you are all of you,' he commanded as he strode towards them, past the orchestra and then leaping nimbly on to the stage, followed by an awkward-looking young man whom Hettie didn't recognise.

Eddie had told Hettie that Jay wasn't expected to return to Liverpool until after Christmas and it was obvious that both the director and Madame were shocked by his presence.

‘I'm afraid that Miss Walker is not quite perfect in her role as yet, Jay,' Hettie heard Mr Carlyle explaining unctuously. ‘You see, she has no ballet training, unfortunately…'

‘Why would she damn well need any?'

There was a sharp, expectant pause.

‘The part she is playing includes a solo ballet spot,' the director said smoothly.

‘Since when? I don't remember any solo ballet spot.'

Hettie watched as Madame and the director exchanged brief glances.

‘Well, no, but we did agree that we wanted to emulate the success of Broadway, and…'

‘My pupil Faye is an excellent ballet dancer,' Madame joined in fiercely. ‘But zees…nothing…she cannot dance at all.'

‘I want to see both of you in my office right now,' Jay told them curtly, pausing as the young man said something to him. ‘Get the conductor up here,' he instructed Eddie who was standing a few feet away.

The orchestra conductor was a fierce-looking Italian with a fiery temper, and Hettie shrank back a little as he hurried on to the stage, baton in hand.

‘Our composer wants to know how come you've messed up his score?' Jay asked him bluntly, indicating the young man at his side.

‘I change the key and the pace of the music because I am told to do so, by the director,' the conductor explained immediately. ‘I tell him that it will not work and that the girl has a perfect voice for the score as it is written, but he will not listen. He insists the composer has instructed him to change the tempo and the key.'

‘Is that right, Archie?' Jay asked the composer.

Hettie could see the young man's Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he cleared it and said nervously, ‘No, it is not.'

The whole theatre was agog with what had happened. No one had ever seen or heard of anything like it before.

‘Never seen a dress rehearsal stopped right in the middle and the director hauled off to explain himself,' Eddie confirmed later, shaking his head.

The boys had urged Babs and the girls to join them for tea whilst they waited to see what was going to happen, and now they were all speculating excitedly about what had taken place.

‘You know what I think, 'Ettie,' Lizzie declared importantly. ‘I think that his nibs and Madame were trying to make you look bad so that they could get your part off you to give back to Faye.'

‘Lizzie, you're right,' Aggie agreed, nodding her head vehemently.

‘I don't know,' Hettie protested.

‘Well I do. Mean conniving so and so's,' Babs declared forthrightly. ‘I just hope they get a taste of their own medicine.'

‘Aye, well if they do, we are going to be left without a choreographer and a director,' Mary pointed out.

‘Which means that we could be left without a show,' Eddie added.

They all looked at one another worriedly.

‘But we're supposed to be leaving for London after Christmas.'

The gossip and speculation of the previous half hour gave way to anxiety and gloom. Maybe they would all be out of a job in a few hours' time.

‘I'm sorry to have to drag you out here and away from your work, John, but as what I wanted to talk to you about concerns Polly and is rather personal, I felt it would be more appropriate for us to discuss it here.'

As he listened to Alfred, John was guiltily aware that he had not said anything to his friend about Polly's illicit flying lesson. He had thought long and hard about how to break the news to Alfred but kept drawing a blank as to how to do so and avoid getting Polly – and himself – into hot water.

They were in the library at Moreton Place, a shabbily comfortable, book-filled room that smelled of old books, tweed and tobacco. In short, a man's room.

‘Polly has owned up to me about the way she tricked you into giving her a flying lesson, and I apologise to you on her behalf for putting you in such a difficult position.'

‘I had intended to tell you…' John admitted readily. ‘But the opportunity hadn't arisen.'

‘Polly is inclined to be recklessly headstrong, I'm afraid. My father doted on her and spoiled her dreadfully, and I dare say I have done the
same. It is very hard not to do so,' Alfred confessed ruefully. ‘She is inclined to be a trifle wild at times, but she has the warmest heart and she means no harm. I do confess, though, that I wish she would be little less modern and outspoken in her views.'

He was beginning to look and sound awkward and John wondered what he was leading up to.

‘Polly had also confessed to me that she conducted herself most improperly towards you,' Alfred told him uncomfortably.

It took several seconds for John to grasp what he was trying to say, and that he was referring to Polly's impulsive embrace. But why? Because he feared that he might have got the wrong impression and be getting ideas above his station, and because of that felt he needed to warn him off? But John already knew the ‘rules'. It might be perfectly permissible for Alfred to befriend him, despite John's much lower social status, but there could be no question of John befriending Alfred's sister.

‘It was nothing,' John told Alfred immediately. ‘Lady Polly has a natural warmth and spontaneity, and I did not for one minute imagine…'

‘You are a good chap, Pride,' Alfred stopped him gruffly. ‘Must admit I felt a bit shocked when Polly admitted what she had done. Not the done thing at all, and I told her that. Thought I'd better have a word with you about it. Well, I know you understand the situation. Had hoped to have seen
Polly suitable settled by now, but she claims she won't marry anyone if she can't have Oliver. Damned shame him being killed like that, right at the end of the war. Don't think she's ever really got over it. Oh, she puts on a a good show most of the time, but…I dare say that's part of the reason I'm over-lenient with her. Anyway, no need to say any more about the matter, eh?'

John nodded wordlessly, relieved but not a little disappointed that a line had been drawn underneath the whole Polly matter.

‘Bravo, Hettie. That was first rate!'

Hettie gave Archie, the composer, a relieved smile as she hurried into the wings, almost bumping into Jay as she did so.

‘Everything all right now, Hettie?' he asked her in a kind voice as he caught hold of her to steady her.

Hettie nodded her head and tried not to look self-conscious. He was even more handsome than Rudolph Valentino, she thought dizzily.

‘Is it true that we're to go to London straight after Christmas now instead of later in January?' she burst out and then blushed as Jay looked quizzingly at her and started laughing.

‘You've heard about that already, have you? Yes, we are.' He released her and reached into the inside pocket of his tweed jacket to withdraw a monogrammed silver cigarette case, opening it and offering her a cigarette.

A little awkwardly, she took one. She didn't smoke as a rule, although nearly all of the other girls did, but she had no wish to look gauche and immature.

Taking one himself, he produced his lighter, shielding the flame for Hettie as he leaned towards her, just like she had seen actors do in films. She could smell the clean fresh scent of his cologne and suddenly her heart began to beat far too fast.

‘The theatre has become available now so we might as well use it.'

Was he moving them down there so soon because he was missing his ‘girlfriend'? Hettie wondered, and then chided herself guiltily for her thoughts.

‘I've engaged a new director and a new choreographer to work with the cast once we get to London. I'm sorry you had such a rotten time of it, Hettie.'

Her heart was beating even faster. There was no one else in the corridor but that hadn't stopped Jay from moving closer to her. ‘I was afraid that I would lose the part,' she admitted shyly.

‘That's certainly what that Machiavellian pair were aiming for,' Jay told her. ‘I've been asking a few questions about them and it seems this isn't the first time they've altered scores and scripts to suit their own ends. I guess they thought they'd got a real greenhorn in me, but any gambling man worth his salt knows how to recognise a sharp from a flat.'

Hettie could hear the clatter of feet on the staircase above them. As she looked upwards, Jay looked at his watch and told her, ‘I must go but I want you to know that you're doing fine, Hettie, and that Archie agrees with me that your voice is perfect for Princess Mimi.'

He had gone before she could thank him, leaving her to be swallowed up in the gaggle of chorus girls hurrying towards the stage door.

This was far from the first time he had visited Moreton Place, John had reminded himself stalwartly as he'd parked the sturdy little Morris he had just bought for himself out of sight of the main entrance. Maybe not, his inner critic had conceded, but this was the first time his visit would be purely social; the first time be would be mingling with people he knew belonged to a social class far above his own; the first time he would be a ‘house guest'. He was desperately afraid that he wouldn't fit in, or that he would say or do something to show himself up. Not that he thought money and position made other people better than he was himself.

He didn't, but if he had been able to get out of accepting the invitation he knew that he would have done so. But like any other man, he had his pride and he wasn't about to admit that he was afraid of being humiliated because he didn't talk ‘posh' and had had to call upon the expertise of Messrs Moss Bros in order to equip himself with the right clothes.