The Songbird (7 page)

Albert was smarmily charming. To the customers who came to buy groceries, to the patrons of the coffee shop, to Joshua and to Poppy. But not to Tommy. Tommy had sized him up right from the beginning.

‘You'll regret it, Pa,' he said to his father, late one evening as they were locking up. Albert and Lena had gone home. ‘He's a braggart. I bet he's never worked in a shop before. I bet he's never even worked before!'

‘So what do you suggest?' his father bellowed. ‘You don't want to be here. Poppy wants to stay on at school. I've nobody else to help me now that your ma's gone. Just what am I supposed to do? Pack up 'shop? I can't manage it single-handed!'

Tommy was silent. His father was right, of course. They had to have help. ‘Nan,' he said. ‘She's helped out before. And Mattie. Mattie would be all right. She's very bright.' I might be happy to stay if Mattie was here, he thought.

‘We need Nan to keep 'place clean and Mattie's a mill girl; she'll get better pay in 'mill than I can afford to give her.'

‘So how come Lena and Albert can manage on what you pay them? And if he's so clever he could get a job anywhere!'

‘I'm not going to discuss it,' Joshua said stubbornly. ‘It's done. If he's not suitable, then he'll go. But I'm going to give him 'chance and that's 'end of 'matter.'

Lena increasingly took on more than was necessary. She moved tables and rearranged the stock on the shelves, ‘so that I can reach more easily', she simpered at Joshua. ‘You're so much taller than me,' she said playfully, and she left the dirty dishes and pans from the coffee shop for Poppy when she came home from school, saying that she hadn't had time to do them. Albert always appeared to be busy, checking stock or going out on deliveries and taking a long time over both.

Tommy became more and more sullen as he found himself always in the kitchen baking or preparing food, and when he came into the shop he barely spoke to either Lena or Albert, and not always to Poppy.

‘Josh!' Lena called out one evening and Poppy and Tommy both looked up in astonishment. No-one, not even their mother, had ever called their father Josh; it was always Joshua. But he didn't seem to notice, merely turned towards Lena enquiringly.

‘Someone called in for a penn'orth o' laudanum whilst you were out this afternoon,' Lena said. ‘And we couldn't give it to her because we hadn't the key to the cupboard.'

‘No.' Joshua fingered his waistcoat pocket. ‘I keep that.'

‘She said she needed it, so she went somewhere else.' Lena looked at him. ‘I said you wouldn't be long, but she wouldn't wait.'

‘Can't be helped,' he said abruptly.

‘I suppose not,' she agreed. ‘But not all grocers can be trusted to give the proper mix. Not like you,' she added.

Joshua was meticulous in mixing the laudanum which he sold in penny or sixpenny bottles, or if it was for a child in an elixir with a sweet syrup. He also kept opium grains in the cupboard for more severe illnesses. The cupboard was always kept locked and he had the only key.

Poppy worked in the shop during the school holidays and it was late one afternoon when Lena complained of a terrible headache. Joshua was out; he wanted to settle a grievance with one of his local suppliers, who he reckoned had sent a box of tea short in his order. He was going to send Albert, but it was a nice day and he fancied a walk, and he knew that if there was going to be any arguing, then he would get more satisfaction from the provender than his employee would.

‘I think I'll have to go home.' Lena put her hand to her forehead. ‘It's usually quiet at this time on a Monday, and I don't suppose Josh will be long. Do you think you can manage on your own, Albert?'

Poppy glared at her. Although she could sympathize with Lena over the headache, as she now knew what that meant, she was annoyed that she should ignore her and ask Albert if he could manage rather than her. She was also apprehensive about being left alone with Albert, for Tommy too had slipped out as soon as his father had left, and Albert sometimes came up too close to her, which made her uncomfortable.

‘He's not on his own, is he?' she retorted. ‘I'm here.'

‘Oh, so you are, dear.' Lena didn't smile as she answered her. ‘But we all know where you'd rather be, don't we? Tapping your toes or warbling your tonsils! Your father spoils you if you ask me!'

‘Well, no-one is asking you and it's nothing to do with you what I do,' Poppy replied angrily. Where Lena was concerned she'd got over her conforming rule of not answering back.

‘Not at the moment it hasn't,' Lena said smoothly, putting on an extravagant black and cream plumed hat. ‘But just watch your step, my dear! And I don't mean dance step, which I would stop straight away if it were up to me. Wasting valuable money that could be better spent elsewhere!' She swept out of the door calling to Albert that she would see him later.

‘Don't take too much notice of our Lena.' Albert came up to Poppy and put his arm round her shoulder. ‘She gets these moods sometimes.'

Poppy didn't speak, but shrugged off his arm and moved away from him and smoothed out the tablecloths and rearranged the flowers on the tables. What did Lena mean, not at the moment? She wished someone would come in, but Lena was right, this was a quiet period. Although Monday mornings were busy with people buying groceries, in the afternoons they seemed to stay at home.

‘Of course,' Albert came towards her again, trapping her behind one of the tables close to the window, ‘if she and your da—'

‘What?' Poppy stared at him, her lips apart. ‘If she and my father what?'

‘Well, you know! Get together.' He gazed at her from his little piggy eyes and grinned. ‘They, erm, well, they seem to hit it off, don't they, and don't you think it's odd that they're both out at the same time? Lena hasn't really got a headache.' He sniggered. ‘I reckon they've arranged to meet.'

Poppy was horrified. It wasn't true! Couldn't be true! Her father would never – it was only eighteen months since her mother had died; but she remembered her mother had said that life must go on. She had said that to Poppy's father. But surely he would never look at someone like Lena? Lena was harsh and brash and mean, a complete opposite to her mother.

‘You're talking nonsense,' she said with a catch in her voice. ‘My father would never—'

Albert spoke softly. ‘He's a man. Of course he would,' he said. ‘A man can't live without a woman around him, to look after him, keep him warm in bed at night.' He came up close again. ‘And then you and me, Poppy – we'd see more of each other.' He reached out and drew her towards him. ‘Course you're only a little lass, but you'll soon grow up, and we'd all be living here together, all cosy and nice.'

She lashed out at him, catching him on his cheek with her nails. ‘Get your hands off me,' she said. ‘I'll tell my father!'

‘I'll tell him you misunderstood me,' he said, but nevertheless drew away from her and put his hand to his cheek. ‘I'll say I was only being friendly towards you and you took it the wrong way.' He stared at her. ‘I can make it worse for you, Poppy,' he said menacingly, ‘and for your brother.' He leered at her. ‘I know where he sneaks off to. He's always hanging round the ships. He goes on errands, but he comes home the long way round past the docks, to talk to the seamen.'

Poppy knew that Tommy did that, but she didn't think her father did. If Albert should tell him, he would be very angry.

‘It's nothing to do with you. You only work for my father, and please get out of my way,' she said, pushing past him. ‘I don't want to talk to you.'

But she was worried and lay sleepless at night, thinking of what life would be like if her father did marry Lena, who seemed to be insinuating herself into his life. She was bothered too about Tommy who was always morose and bad-tempered towards Albert, who in turn was affable and genial towards him, especially when their father was there, so that Tommy always seemed to be the instigator of any bad feeling.

Poppy told Tommy what Albert had said about his mother and their father and although Tommy scoffed, she saw that he was taken aback. ‘If that should happen, Poppy,' he said, ‘I'm off. I'll not stay where they are.'

‘But what about me?' she protested. ‘You can't leave me with those two!'

‘You'll be all right,' Tommy said. ‘You were always Pa's little darling, his sweet little girl!'

She wondered then if Tommy had been jealous of her. It was true that her father had spoiled her when she was little, but he didn't now, except for her dancing and singing lessons, and surely that wasn't spoiling? Shall I tell Tommy about Albert forever pawing at me, she pondered? But she didn't. She didn't know if he would believe her, but she was embarrassed and also felt a kind of shame.

‘Miss Eloise! May I ask you something?' she said at her next singing lesson, and at her tutor's nod she hesitatingly asked, ‘Would I make a singer? At concerts, I mean?'

‘Professionally?' Miss Eloise arched her eyebrows. She had a very mobile face, her large eyes able to express emotion or passion, and her mouth formed to voice perfect diction and clear articulation.

‘Yes! I just thought that – well, that I'd like to sing for a living. Or dance,' she added. ‘My father wouldn't want me to go into music hall, but perhaps he wouldn't mind if I sang on 'concert stage.'

‘On
the
concert stage, Poppy! Do not be sloppy in your speech. I realize that the Hull dialect leaves out the definite article and in general use it can be –
interesting
; but someone like you must know when to say
the
and when not to, depending on the company you are in!'

‘Yes, Miss Eloise,' Poppy said. She had had this homily from her tutor several times and usually she did remember. ‘So could I, do you think?'

‘No, I think not,' Miss Eloise stated. ‘You would have the stamina, I do not doubt, but I'm afraid you are too young and do not have the voice for the concert platform. I am not saying that you never will, but it would take years of practice to become proficient and to be perfectly candid with you, Poppy, I cannot think that your father would agree to it.'

She could not tell of the hatching and planning that she and Miss Davina had contrived for Poppy, but she consoled her by saying: ‘Do not be downhearted. You would be perfect for the music hall or theatre stage as a ballad and descriptive vocalist. I understand you are also a very fine dancer, which would be to your advantage. All we have to do is convince your father.'

Poppy was very heartened by the compliment. Miss Davina and Miss Eloise must have been discussing me, she thought. She felt thrilled and excited and decided that she would talk to her father again on the subject of performing.

‘Pa!' she said that night after they had locked up and there were only the two of them at home. Tommy had gone out to meet Charlie for a game of billiards.

‘Why is that when you say
Pa
like that, I think you're going to wheedle something out of me?' Her father smiled indulgently. ‘You're not a little bairn able to twist me round your finger any more!'

‘I know that.' Poppy put the kettle over the fire to make a pot of cocoa, her father's bedtime drink. ‘I wanted to ask you something.'

‘A new skirt? A pair of dancing pumps?'

‘No.' She smiled. ‘I want you to take me to the Theatre Royal. It's ages since we went out to 'theatre or music hall,' she coaxed. ‘And I saw a poster when I was coming back from my singing lesson, and I thought how nice it would be if we could go. Just you and me,' she added, as she stirred his drink and added milk. ‘Lena and Tommy could run things if we went on a quiet night.' She avoided mentioning Albert's name whenever possible.

He sighed. ‘I've not wanted to go since your ma died,' he said. ‘It's not seemed right somehow to be enjoying myself when she's not beside me.'

Poppy sat opposite him and cradled her cup between her hands. ‘I've felt the same,' she said softly. ‘But I think that now we can. I don't think she'd mind.'

He glanced across at her. ‘Oh, she wouldn't mind. It's me that does. I keep thinking of 'times when I was too busy to go with her. And now it's too late.'

‘So, would you go with me, Pa? Ma would like it if you did.'

He gazed meditatively into the fire and didn't answer for a moment. Then he took a breath. ‘She would, wouldn't she? Aye, all right. Theatre Royal? It would make a change from 'Mechanics. What's on there?'

There were theatres, concert halls and public rooms for entertainment and music all over the town, catering for every taste. The Assembly and Public Rooms put on lectures and vocal concerts, and there were lantern lectures at the Royal Institution. The Mechanics Music Hall was probably the Mazzinis favourite, with the Alhambra in Porter Street and the Theatre Royal in Paragon Street running a close second. A new theatre for performances of opera and drama, the Grand Theatre and Opera House, was due to open in George Street fairly soon, such was the appetite of Hull residents for all things musical, entertaining or edifying.

‘Next week there's Will Vane, the Banjo King,' Poppy said, knowing that he would enjoy that. ‘There's a comedian, a baritone singer – you'd like him – and a ballad and descriptive vocalist,' she added last of all. ‘Miss Agnes Cotton.'

‘Mm,' he said. ‘I wouldn't mind seeing Will Vane again, he's very good. Saw him a few years back; I thought he'd retired. All right. Next Monday, then. It'll be fairly quiet in 'shop. Tommy can look after things and we should be home by half past nine.'

Poppy jumped up and planted a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Oh, thank you, Pa! Oh, I just can't wait!'