Remember Me (26 page)

Faith was delighted to see her elder son again. Although he looked pale and had lost a few pounds in weight, he seemed to be quite fit again after his debilitating illness. She had worried endlessly about him, although she had not always told William of her deep concern. She knew that the two of them would never be the best of friends, but that was the only very slight thorn in her flesh. Otherwise, her marriage to William was very happy indeed, with all the other members of their two families relating to one another with friendship and real affection.

Samuel had asked if he could stay with them for about ten days. Maddy, once again, was off on her travels, and so, with a little judicious planning, they made room for him. He lost no time in resuming his friendship with Hetty Collier. He realised that he had, quite genuinely, missed her. And the first time he took her out he realised that she, too, had missed him very much. He knew that, if he were to ever think of getting married and settling down, then he could do far worse than to make Hetty his wife. She was a good-looking lass, fun to be with, and very intelligent. He could never consider anyone who was not almost on a par with him intellectually, not for longer than an evening’s dalliance, maybe. But marriage was something he did not intend to embark upon for ages.

He was surprised at how readily Hetty succumbed to his amorous advances. She had proved obdurate in the past, but he guessed, now,
that she had been starved of real love – physical love – and affection for a very long time, as he had been.

As they lay together in her bed, Samuel felt a tenderness towards her, verging on love, that he had never experienced before. Perhaps he really did love her… He was not sure, afterwards, what words of endearment he had uttered, but he knew that he had meant them, at the time. They spent a few such times together. They promised to write to one another and to meet as often as they could. Leeds was only a short distance away, by train, and they would be able to see one another at weekends. Or so they promised…

As the harsh winter gave way to a cold spring, Maddy realised that the old saying that ‘the show must go on’ was very true. She threw herself into her work with what appeared to others to be a gay abandon. Her act on stage blossomed; her plaintive songs were even sweeter, and she laughed and smiled her way through the more light-hearted numbers, enchanting each successive audience.

Word had got around amongst the members of the company that her friendship with the young man from Blackpool had come to an end. Most people believed it was the time they had been forced to spend apart that had killed the romance. Only Susannah and Freddie Nicholls knew the truth; that Dan had decided to obey the dictates of his conscience and his dogmatic religion rather than
follow his heart and his love for Madeleine. Freddie considered him to be no end of a fool. What a priceless chump he must be to turn his back on such a delightful girl. He was convinced that the fellow could never really have loved her, not as he, Freddie, would do if he were given half a chance. But Freddie knew that he must bide his time.

Maddy’s family, of course, knew the truth. She had written a matter-of-fact sort of letter to her father and Faith explaining that she and Dan, by mutual agreement, had decided that their friendship could never come to anything and so they had parted; and that Dan was returning eventually to his studies for the priesthood. In that way, by saying that the decision was mutual, she was saving face a little. Her pride was forcing her to do so, although she was sure that her Aunty Faith would guess how much she was hurting. And Jessie would understand. Maddy was longing to see her again, to pour out her heart and all her pent-up feelings to her dearest friend. She would be home again in May once again, for their summer season as Uncle Percy’s Pierrots. That had seemed a long way ahead during the bleakness of the dark winter days, but at long last spring, albeit a somewhat chilly one, had arrived.

For the last two weeks of their tour they were appearing in Leeds at a small theatre off the Headrow; the same one where, a year ago, Samuel had come to watch the show and had taken her out
to supper afterwards. Could it really be only a year? Maddy pondered. It seemed, in some ways, more like a lifetime, so very much had happened. Strangely enough, she knew that Samuel was now back in Leeds, lecturing at the university following the curtailing of his expedition. She found that she bore him no ill will. The more generous side of her nature felt sorry for him; she knew he had been very ambitious and eager to make a career for himself in foreign parts. She doubted that he would be coming to watch the show this time. It was probable that he didn’t even know that the Melody Makers were in the city, unless he had happened to see a poster advertising the show. Or maybe Hetty might have told him. Jessie had written in a letter that Hetty and Samuel had resumed their friendship during the time he had been in Scarborough, and that Hetty had looked like ‘the cat that had got the cream’. That had been Jessie’s way of describing it. Oh dear, oh dearie me! Maddy had thought to herself; but then she had decided, once again, that Hetty was quite old enough and sensible enough to take care of herself and that it was none of her, Maddy’s, business.

Quite a lot had been happening recently in the touring company. One very successful act had been that of Percy Morgan and Dora Daventry presenting ‘A Touch of Class’. They sang, together and individually, ballads of a romantic nature and some of the more popular arias from Grand Opera
as well as Gilbert and Sullivan numbers. The trouble was that after a couple of months Dora had started to feel the strain. Not only was she singing with Percy, she was also dancing with Benjy as part of the tap-dancing duo. This had been intended, at the start, to be a temporary arrangement until such time as another partner – preferably a male one – could be found for Benjy. A couple of men of the right age and experience had been auditioned during the winter, but Benjy, each time, had raised objections. And Percy had known that it was no use going against his wishes. Benjy, even at the best of times, could be temperamental, and all hell would break loose if he were forced to work with someone with whom he was not compatible.

And then, when Dora was almost on her knees and Percy was tearing his hair out with frustration, a letter had arrived from Barney Dewhurst, begging for another chance. The letter had come to Percy, not Benjy; a heart-rending letter saying how much he had missed them all and how he regretted his rash departure. Could Percy ever forgive him? And, more pertinently, would Benjy welcome him back, or had he in the meantime found another partner? There had been no contact between the two one-time friends; but Barney must have followed the route of the Melody Makers, from stage periodicals, through the north of England. The letter arrived at the theatre in Bolton, where they were appearing in early March.

The first thing Percy did was to approach Benjy with the news. He was a little discomfited to see tears well up in the younger man’s eyes, but the embarrassment was all on Percy’s side. Benjy seemed to be unashamed of his tears, but after a moment he brushed them away and gave a radiant smile.

‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘I always knew he’d come back to us. Barney likes to pretend he’s tough, but he’s as soft as a little kitten underneath it all.’ He pouted slightly. ‘I wish he’d written to me, though. I think he owes me that.’

‘I’m sure he will, very soon,’ replied Percy. ‘But first of all he wants to know if I will have him back. It’s a big decision, you know, Benjy. He let us all down and he’ll have to promise that there will be no more shenanigans.’

‘There won’t be,’ said Benjy. ‘I’ll make sure of that. Ooh! I’m so happy.’ He clasped his hands together in delight. ‘You’ll write and tell him he can come back, won’t you, Percy? I wonder what has made him change his mind?’

‘Well, he misses us all,’ said Percy. ‘And I’m sure he’s sorry that he quarrelled with you, Benjy. And I rather think, reading between the lines, that he hasn’t been able to find any work, stage work, I mean.’

‘Yes, it’s his life,’ said Benjy dramatically. ‘He’d be lost without his stage career. You’re a real pal, Percy. Thank you ever so much. I promise we will never let you down again.’

And the upshot of it all was that Barney rejoined the company a week later, to his own and everyone else’s delight. It had seemed strange without him. The two friends appeared a little distant with one another at first, as though it was difficult for them to resume their close friendship. Their dancing, though, was as dynamic and sparkling as it had ever been and it was this that would bring them together again. Percy realised that, good as Dora had been, the act worked better with two men. By the time a few weeks had gone by, Barney and Benjy were as compatible as they had ever been. Benjy had been decidedly less chirpy during his friend’s absence, but as the spring tour drew to its close he was once again his usual bright and breezy self.

Percy was pleased at the way the acts were progressing. Freddie Nicholls had quite a menagerie now: a real live rabbit that popped out of a top hat, and a flight of doves for the climax of his act. Percy had been afraid that the livestock might prove to be a problem during their travels, especially with certain of the landladies. But Freddie had everything under control. The doves were certainly docile, and Snowy, the white rabbit, was as tame and biddable as could be. She seemed contented in her special hutch, so long as she was kept well away from Nancy’s ‘westies’, Daisy and Dolly. The merest whiff of Snowy was enough to send them tearing around and yapping loudly.

Jeremy Jarvis had a new character in addition to
Tommy the Toff and his lady friend, the buxom Belinda. This was Desmond the Drunkard, who drank – very convincingly – from a beer bottle and sang ‘Show Me the Way to Go Home’, whilst carousing unsteadily on Jeremy’s arm. He went down a treat with the audiences, although Percy had warned Jeremy not to ‘overstep the mark’. He was always anxious to ensure that the members of his company observed all the proprieties. They had a reputation for being a most respectable show, one that would appeal to children as well as to adult audiences. No parent need fear bringing their offspring to watch a performance by the Melody Makers.

Pete had found some new gags, to Percy’s relief; he had not liked to tell his friend that some of his jokes were so old they were sprouting whiskers. And now that Percy was concentrating more on his singing than his ‘funny business’, one of the other men – Freddie, Frank or Jeremy – was called upon in turn to act as the ‘stooge’ or straight man to Pete. Jeremy and Freddie were proving to be adaptable and they both now took part in the sketches from time to time. Barney and Benjy were the only ones who did not ‘muck in’ wholeheartedly, but Percy was only too relieved to have them back together again.

By the time they arrived in Leeds, the last venue of their tour, Percy felt he had good reason to be proud of his company. He was, however, looking
forward to a brief respite before they all met up again for their summer season in Scarborough.

Freddie had been waiting patiently ‘in the wings’ until he felt that the time was ripe for him to ask Maddy to go out with him again. She had spent a good deal of time in his company, but usually in a crowd or as part of a foursome with Jeremy and Dora. He had been pleased when she had confided in him about her break-up with Dan. He had listened sympathetically, making all the right responses, but trying hard to curb the elation he was feeling. He must have been convincing, because he was sure that Maddy believed he had put aside his desire to know her as more than just a friend. He had not betrayed in any way how he still felt about her, knowing that he must give her time to recover from her lost love.

When they arrived in Leeds he felt he could not wait any longer to make the first step. And so he asked her if she would go out for supper with him on the Wednesday evening, when they had only one performance. ‘To celebrate the end of the tour’ was what he said to her, and to his delight she agreed at once.

Maddy was glad that Freddie had realised the two of them could be friends without any romantic involvement. She found she was thinking of Dan less and less as the weeks went by, although on the occasions when she allowed herself to dwell on it, it still hurt badly. She was determined not to lose her
heart again, at least not for a long time. But it would be good to go out with Freddie – she assumed it would be just the two of them this time – because she enjoyed his company and they always found plenty to talk about.

She hoped he would not have booked a table at the restaurant on Briggate where Samuel had taken her a year ago. To her relief he had not chosen that place, but a smaller venue, though just as posh, a little further from the town centre. She smiled at him over the large menu, and together they chose the simpler dishes that they both enjoyed; cream of mushroom soup, spring lamb with an assortment of potatoes and vegetables, and a medium-dry white wine – Freddie’s choice – as an accompaniment. They would decide on a pudding later if they required one.

‘This is lovely, Freddie,’ said Maddy. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me. It’s a very stylish place, isn’t it? Homely and comfortable as well, though.’ She glanced round appreciatively at their surroundings; at the oak-panelled walls hung with pictures of Leeds in the Victorian era; the spring flowers in the centre of each table; the lights from the wall sconces casting a golden glow over the heads of the diners.

And then she saw him – Samuel…with a lady companion! She gave an involuntary gasp, hiding her face behind her large menu card.

‘What’s the matter, Maddy?’ asked Freddie.

‘Nothing much really…’ she replied, trying to regain her composure. ‘But would you mind changing places with me, Freddie…please? There’s somebody over there that I know, and I don’t want him to see me.’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Freddie, looking puzzled. ‘If that’s what you want, we’ll swap over.’ She slipped cautiously into Freddie’s chair and he into hers, but the other couple were right at the back of the restaurant and did not glance in their direction.