Remember Me (17 page)

‘For pity’s sake, Anna, he hasn’t turned his back on God!’ Thomas almost shouted. ‘He still goes to Mass, doesn’t he? Our son is a very devout young man – even if he has decided he doesn’t want to be a priest – and we should be very proud of him.’

‘But does he still go to Confession?’ asked Anna.

‘I really don’t know, but it’s his business, not ours. And what about you, Anna? Do you still go to Confession? I should imagine you have a great deal on your conscience right now, haven’t you? You certainly ought to have.’ He could not tell whether or not he had touched a raw nerve. Anna’s face was impassive as she answered.

‘That is between myself and the Lord. Anyway, the Father knows how I feel about everything.’ Thomas knew that she was not referring to the Almighty Father but to the parish priest. He, Thomas, was not at all sure that their priest would agree with Anna about the way she had tried to dominate their son. As for himself, he had never agreed with her about the matter of the priesthood, and he was not afraid of telling her so, yet again.

‘Daniel has made the right decision,’ he said, ‘in deciding not to become a priest. Whether you like it or not, Anna, it is his life and his choice. You can’t force someone into a way of life that is wrong for
them.’ Of the two of them, himself and Anna, his wife had always been the more zealous about her religion. When they had first met, Thomas had lapsed somewhat in his faith, but Anna had soon dragged him back on to the straight and narrow pathway. He was his own man, though, and had never been afraid to stand his ground with her.

‘Daniel will find his way back,’ Anna persisted now. All trace of tears had gone from her eyes and there was a look almost of exaltation on her face. ‘I feel sure of it. I don’t know how or when, but I know in my heart that my son is destined to become a priest. You will see that I am right, all of you.’

‘Aye, happen we will, happen we won’t,’ replied Thomas. ‘Now…are you going to get the visitors’ supper orders, or shall I do it?’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Anna, cheerily. ‘You go and put the kettle on.’ He could see that she was back to her normal self, bossy and determined to be right.

Chapter Fourteen

M
addy received a letter from Dan a few days after his return to Blackpool. She was a little concerned that he had done as he had threatened and left home. He was moving during the weekend to a flat above the shop where he worked. He did not say very much about his mother; Maddy admired him for being as loyal to her as he was able to be. She guessed, though, that they would have had quite a heated argument, resulting in his decision to leave. He assured her that he had no regrets. He was looking forward to having a little place of his own and intended to make it as comfortable as he could.

And, of course, he was longing for the time when he would see her, Madeleine, again. The following month, August, would no doubt be a busy time at the shop, but he hoped he would be able to manage a long weekend in the near future, especially as they now had a junior sales assistant at the gentlemen’s outfitters, a fourteen-year-old boy who had recently left school.

And so Maddy was well content. She wrote back to his new Church Street address on Sunday afternoon.
She, too, was longing for their next meeting, but for the moment she was pleased to receive his letters and to sustain herself with the memories of the happy time they had shared together.

Her thrice daily appearances with the Pierrots occupied much of her time and thoughts, increasingly so as the summer progressed. There were additional events at which all the members of the troupe helped: a sandcastle competition for the children, which brought back memories for her of the time when her team, with Samuel as the leader, had won the first prize; a fancy dress parade; and a talent contest. It was six years since she had won the event herself, although it seemed to her to be far longer. During that time she had grown from a little girl into a young woman…and she had fallen in love.

Other things were happening, too, during that summer of 1907, some of which would have a lasting effect on Uncle Percy’s Pierrots.

On the Tuesday morning of the first week in August a bouquet of flowers – roses, sweet williams and sweet peas – was left outside the tent where the male members of the cast dressed for the shows. Percy, who was the first to arrive, picked it up and grinned as he read the words on the card.

When Benjy arrived, with Barney close behind him, Percy thrust the bouquet into his hands. ‘Here you are, Benjy; you’ve got an admirer.’

‘Ooh, well, fancy that!’ said Benjy. He looked at the attached card and read it out loud. ‘“For Mr
Benjamin Carstairs, from an ardent admirer”.’ He grinned at his partner. ‘Not just an admirer, you see; an ardent one!’

A frown creased Barney’s forehead. ‘Are you sure that’s all it says? Doesn’t it say my name as well? You haven’t read it properly.’

‘Oh yes I have! You’re not mentioned,’ said Benjy. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Percy?’

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ smiled Percy. ‘But don’t fall out about it, there’s good chaps.’

‘I wonder who it can be?’ said Benjy, his pink and white complexioned face turning a little pinker. ‘My eyes will be scanning the faces in the audience tonight.’

‘You watch your footwork,’ retorted Barney, ‘or you’ll find yourself falling arse over tip. And it’d serve you jolly well right, an’ all! Pride goes before a fall, you know.’

‘You’re only jealous!’ Benjy gave an exaggerated shrug and started to put on his costume.

Word soon got round to the ladies’ dressing tent that Benjy had an admirer who had sent him flowers.

‘Well, I suppose he’s quite handsome really, isn’t he?’ observed Maddy. ‘Of course it all depends on whether you like dark men or fair men.’ Benjy was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed one, whereas Barney was dark-haired and more swarthy looking.

‘Your young man is neither, is he?’ remarked Susannah. ‘He’s ginger-haired and green-eyed. A
real Oirish laddie, straight from Killarney’s lakes and fells.’

‘Not quite,’ laughed Maddy. ‘And I’m certainly not looking elsewhere. Benjy doesn’t appeal to me.’

‘It would make no difference if he did,’ replied Susannah. Maddy gave her an odd look.

‘There must be some lady who’s pining for him, though,’ said Maddy. ‘I wonder who it is?’

‘It might not be a lady. Haven’t you thought about that?’ said Susannah with a mischievous little gleam in her eye.

‘What? You mean…a man? Oh, don’t be silly, Susannah. It can’t be a man. Or perhaps you mean it might be a little girl, do you? No, it’ll be a middle-aged lady, you can bet.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ agreed Susannah. She knew that Maddy hadn’t understood her remark at all.

The next night a box of Cadbury’s chocolates was left outside the tent, again for Benjy, and this time the wording was rather bolder.

Benjy was amused, more than anything. He opened the chocolates and passed them around the tent.

‘No, thank you; it would choke me,’ said Barney.
He even went so far as to take a coffee cream and throw it onto the sand, stamping it underfoot.

‘Don’t be so childish!’ sneered Benjy. ‘Honestly! As if I cared!’

Percy could see, though, that it was causing discord between the two men and he didn’t want the situation to get any worse. He, like Susannah and Maddy, assumed that it was probably an unmarried lady who had fallen for the – undoubtedly – handsome young man. But if she were to reveal her identity, which he guessed might be the next step, the situation might prove rather awkward. All the members of the troupe knew about Barney’s and Benjy’s proclivities, but they kept the knowledge to themselves and it was never mentioned to outsiders. Percy confided in Susannah, the woman in the troupe most likely to know how to deal with such a delicate problem. She agreed to come to the beach early before each performance, and to watch and wait.

She did not have to wait long. On the following day, which was Thursday, as she waited a fair distance away, she saw a woman approaching, looking cautiously around her, although the sands were, in the early evening period, almost deserted. She looked, Susannah thought, about forty years of age, possibly more, and was reasonably attractive, at least she could have been if she had bothered to take more care with her appearance. She was of medium height and build and expensively, but not
stylishly, dressed. Her costume, of a drab serviceable dark grey, was not at all suitable for the summer weather. The only touch of lightness was in the pale mauve high-necked blouse, and the only concession to the warmth of the day was the large-brimmed straw hat, decorously trimmed with mauve ribbon. Mourning colours, thought Susannah, as she quickened her steps and walked towards the woman. She watched as the stranger opened a capacious black handbag and took out a book, a leather-bound one with gold edging.

‘Excuse me…’ Susannah stepped right up to her. ‘That book, would it be for Benjy, by any chance? Mr Benjamin Carstairs?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact it is,’ replied the woman. She pressed the book closely to her bosom and stared at Susannah. Her face was turning quite pink and her grey eyes were wary. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘No…wait a minute. I know who you are. You’re Susannah, aren’t you? The one who sings those amusing songs. And sometimes you’re with the one called Frank…’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Susannah. ‘I’m sorry to butt in like this, but…I’m here to try and stop you from making…well, rather a fool of yourself.’

‘Oh dear! Yes, I suppose I am,’ said the woman. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t really know what’s come over me, but I do so admire that young man. And I thought, perhaps, if I could meet him, if he would agree to meet me, that
is…that we might become…well, friends. I’m very shy, you see, and I guess that he might be, too, under all that jollity and the showing-off that he does. I’m a pretty good judge of character, you see…’

‘Well…yes,’ said Susannah, guardedly. ‘Benjy isn’t always as he seems to be on the stage. None of us are. A lot of it is an act; it has to be. But I had better tell you right away that…that Benjy is married.’ She crossed her fingers tightly behind her back, something she had done ever since she was a child whenever she was telling a lie. ‘Very happily married,’ she continued. ‘In fact, he and his wife have a three-year-old boy and I believe they are expecting another child very soon.’ Please God, forgive me, she pleaded inside her head. It was only a white lie to save this poor woman from even more unhappiness.

‘Oh…oh dear!’ The woman let out a tremendous sigh. ‘What an absolute fool I am! Why didn’t I think of that? Do you know, I could have bet anything that he was not married. He looks so young and carefree. And so does his partner, Barney. I suppose…?’

Susannah answered her unspoken question. ‘Yes, Barney is married as well.’ She crossed her fingers even more tightly. ‘But please don’t worry about it. Benjy took it all in good part. In fact, he was very flattered, but I thought I’d better step in to prevent you any further embarrassment.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ said the woman. ‘I’m glad you did. Like I say, I don’t know what came over me. I used to come and watch the show on the sands ages ago, when I was a little girl. They were black-faced minstrels though, at that time; the Pierrots came later, didn’t they?’

‘You live in Scarborough, do you?’ asked Susannah.

‘Yes, I’ve always lived here; I was born here. We live near St Mary’s church. I say we, but there’s only me now. My father died last year, and I lost my mother, too, this spring, so I’m on my own now. I was rather lonely and feeling at a loose end. I’d been looking after them both for so long, and then…well, I found myself on the beach one day and there was a Pierrot show going on. I stayed and watched, and then I started coming down every day and…well, you know the rest. Oh dear! I feel such a fool now. You won’t tell him – Benjy – will you, about me?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Susannah. She was not quite sure what she was going to say to Benjy. It would be best, maybe, not to mention it at all, then he would think that his unknown admirer had got cold feet. ‘I don’t know who you are anyway, do I?’ But whoever she was, Susannah felt sorry for her. Poor lady, living in a dream world like that.

‘I’m Emily,’ she said. ‘Emily Stringer, not that it matters much who I am. I’m comfortably off, and I don’t need to go out to work. I suppose I’m very
lucky really, compared with some folk. But we all have our dreams, don’t we?’

‘Yes, maybe we do,’ replied Susannah.

Emily held out the book she was carrying. It was a small volume of love poetry, lettered in gold leaf. ‘I was loath to part with this really,’ she said. ‘It belonged to my mother, but I didn’t come across it until after she died. It is inscribed to her, “With all my love from Robert”, in the year of 1855…but Robert was not my father’s name.’ She smiled sadly. ‘It seems that she must have had another life that I knew nothing about. It’s hard to believe that now. I’m afraid she became a rather crabby and selfish old lady. I should hate that to happen to me.’

‘There’s no reason why it should,’ said Susannah. She realised she was getting quite involved in Emily Stringer’s affairs, although she had met her only a little while ago. She seemed a very gentle, unassuming person and Susannah guessed that, despite her foolish fantasies, she was intelligent and normally quite sensible. ‘But you must forget about Benjy right away,’ she told her. ‘There is no future in that at all, and besides, there are plenty more fish in the sea, as the saying goes. And you certainly must not think of parting with that precious little book.’

‘No…I suppose not. I was thinking I might get it back, that it would only be on loan…if I got to know him, that was. Oh! What a stupid fool I am! I had even picked out one of the poems.’
Emily opened the page at the silken ribbon marker, showing it to Susannah. The poem was ‘Love’s Philosophy’, by Shelley. Susannah’s eyes scanned the lines and some of the words leapt out at her.

‘Yes, but having a husband – or a lover – is not the be all and end all of everything,’ she said. ‘I hope you won’t mind me saying so, Emily…but I feel that you need something else in your life, instead of…well, indulging in dreams that are…just that. You might not even like Benjy Carstairs if you were to meet him. He’s not everybody’s cup of tea. As you said yourself, most of us are nothing like we appear to be on the stage. Don’t you do anything else? I’m sure you must have some friends?’

‘One or two. Two girls I was at school with, but they are both married. I’m godmother to some of their children. And I go to church, to St Mary’s.’ Susannah had guessed that she probably did. ‘The bottom dropped out of my world when I lost my parents,’ she went on. ‘I thought I might be glad of the freedom, but it’s hard picking up the pieces again.’

‘Yes, I can see that. But you need something –
other than Pierrot shows – to occupy your mind. I’m sure you’re talented, aren’t you?’