Remember Me (21 page)

‘Of course,’ he replied with the cheeriest grin he could muster. The loveliness of her face and her radiant smile brought a pang of sadness as he thought of what might have been. This Dan, whoever he was, was a damned lucky fellow, that’s all he could say. He only hoped he realised how lucky he was.

‘How did your date go?’ Susannah asked Maddy the next morning.

‘I enjoyed my meal with Freddie, if that’s what you mean,’ she replied. ‘You could hardly call it a date. Well, I suppose Freddie hoped that it might be, but I put him in the picture about Dan. I mean, it wasn’t fair to let him think that I might go on seeing him; just in case he was getting ideas, you know.’

‘And how did he take it?’

‘Oh, he was fine about it. I think he just saw me as a nice girl to take out for the evening, but when I said it couldn’t go any further, that I couldn’t go out with him again, he backed off straight away. He’ll soon forget about me and find somebody else. I really like him – just like him, you know, as a friend – and he’s a real asset to the troupe, isn’t he? Those magic tricks of his; he has the audience spellbound.’

‘Yes, he’s a grand lad,’ said Susannah, ‘and I’m sure he won’t stay unattached for long. A nice lass’ll come along and snap him up, you’ll see. Have you heard from your Dan lately, by the way?’

‘Yes, as a matter if fact I had a letter this morning,’ said Maddy, with just a hint of defiance.

‘He’s coming to see me in two weeks’ time. His boss, Mr Grundy, is back in the shop now, and provided he keeps as well as he is now – Mr Grundy, I mean – Dan should be able to get away.’

‘That’s good news then,’ said Susannah. ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.’

The fortnight in Manchester was followed by a week in Rochdale and then a week in the nearby town of Oldham, both of them being Lancashire cotton towns. The next week would see them back across the border with Yorkshire, in the town of Halifax, one of the smaller woollen mill towns. Both Susannah and Freddie were looking forward to that week, as Halifax was their home town. They
would not be staying in digs with the rest of the company, but at their own homes; Freddie with his parents and his younger brother and sister, and Susannah with her sister and brother-in-law, whose home she shared when she was not on tour.

‘And Frank will be staying there as well,’ she told Maddy. ‘My sister’s got used to the idea now, of me and Frank being together, so she says he can share my room. She’s pretty broad-minded, is our Flo. And she knows we’d get married if we were able to.’

‘So there’s no chance of that yet, for you and Frank?’ asked Maddy.

‘No, ’fraid not. Frank keeps trying to find a loophole in the law, but he can’t see any. Like I told you, he’s allowed to carry on with me and his wife can’t divorce him for it. If she was up to the same game, though, it’d be different, but she’s not, and Frank won’t spy on her. Your stepmother was divorced, wasn’t she, Maddy? Did they have any problems, do you know, when she and your father wanted to get married?’

‘I never knew the ins and outs of it all,’ said Maddy. ‘I was too young at the time for them to explain it to me, I suppose, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that was talked about. But I do know that Faith’s ex-husband, Edward, was quite an influential businessman, a banker, and I daresay he had friends who were lawyers and barristers and whatnot.’

‘I see…and money talks, doesn’t it?’ observed Susannah. ‘Well, ne’er mind, eh? Frank and me are quite content as we are. Things might change one of these days, you never know.’

Freddie was looking forward to seeing his family again and having them come to watch him on the stage at the little variety theatre in the town centre. He was even more relieved to be on home territory when he discovered it was the week that Maddy’s boyfriend was coming to visit her at long last. Her excitement was visible to everyone, in her extra pink cheeks and her bright eyes and the elation in her voice when she spoke of him.

It was good to be home again, to be fussed over by his mother and to enjoy her delicious home cooking and baking. And to bask in the admiration of his brother and sister who, unlike many siblings, did not scorn him but were delighted to have a brother who, they said, was a famous conjuror. He had entertained dreams, at one time, of taking Madeleine home with him to meet his family. What a fool he had been!

He realised how well he must have hidden his dismay at his dashed hopes, when Maddy invited her boyfriend backstage after the Saturday evening performance and introduced him to everyone. ‘And this is Freddie,’ she said. ‘We’ve become good friends, Dan, Freddie and me, because we knew one another from the talent contest years ago. Isn’t that amazing?’

She was more animated than Freddie had ever seen her. He shook hands with the ginger-haired, green-eyed young man – a touch of the Blarney there, unless he was very much mistaken – and found it was impossible to dislike him. He was an amiable chap, friendly and unassuming, with a look of candour, innocence almost, in those Irish eyes.

‘How do you do, Freddie?’ he said. ‘Madeleine has mentioned you in her letters. I’m glad she has someone nearer her own age in the company now; you and…Jeremy, isn’t it? Look after her for me, won’t you? And I must congratulate you on your marvellous act. Very well done. You had us all mesmerised.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Freddie. ‘Just wait till you see my flight of doves. I hope they’ll be ready to perform with me by Christmas.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ said Dan. Then he and Maddy linked arms and made their way out of the theatre.

And Freddie returned home to his last evening with his family and his dole of docile doves. They lived in a large cage in the garden and he had spent a good deal of his time that week in perfecting his act with them. He hoped to include it as his finale when they returned to Scarborough for the Christmas week. He could see, now, that he must put aside all thoughts of Madeleine. That was what Dan had called her, and he guessed that it was only Dan who did so. That was why she had asked him,
Freddie, to call her Maddy, just as everyone else did. If ever there was a young woman in love, it was Madeleine Moon.

Maddy and the rest of the company, minus Freddie, Susannah and Frank, had digs near to the town centre, just off Hopwood Lane. She had managed to book a room for Dan in the next-door house, from Friday till Sunday morning. He would be returning home on the Sunday when the Melody Makers moved on to their next booking in the nearby town of Huddersfield.

Halifax was a bustling little town in the daytime, but almost deserted in the evenings when the mills had closed, especially during the winter months. Apart from the pubs, of course, and the occasional restaurant. Maddy had managed to find one that stayed open till quite late, and they dined there on the Saturday evening. Dan had attended both performances on the Friday, then there had been time only for a few hugs and kisses on the pavement before they returned to their separate rooms in the adjoining houses.

They had been able to spend Saturday morning together, wandering around the little town, enjoying the hubbub of the busy market and seeing the magnificent Piece Hall, where manufacturers met to display their pieces of cloth woven in the mills.

Dan clasped Maddy’s hands tightly inside his own, gazing at her across the tabletop in the tiny
restaurant. It could be more accurately described as a café, not a very salubrious place, but at least it was clean and the food, though commonplace, was well cooked. They were the only customers at that late hour and they were only too happy to be together.

‘I’ve missed you so much, my darling,’ he said. ‘It mustn’t be so long before I see you again, Madeleine. I wish I could see you all the time…’ His eyes clouded over with sadness, and she wanted so much to be able to say, So do I, Daniel… She wished she could tell him that she would leave the Melody Makers and join him in Blackpool, and find any sort of a job, just so that she could be with him. But it was not possible. She knew it and so did he.

And so she said, ‘Cheer up, Dan. Let’s enjoy the time we’ve got together. You’ll be able to come and see me again soon, won’t you?’

‘I hope so,’ he answered, ‘but weekends are difficult. Saturday’s a busy day in the shop. But I should be able to wangle another weekend before long, before we start getting busy for Christmas. Where are you off to next?’

‘Well, let me see… Huddersfield, then Bradford, Leeds, York, Malton, Bridlington,’ she counted on her fingers, ‘and then we’ll be back in Scarborough for the Christmas week. You could come and stay with us then; I’m sure it would be all right with my father and Faith.’

‘Oh dear! I can’t wait so long,’ said Dan. ‘I certainly will come to Scarborough, though. Perhaps not Christmas Day, but sometime that week…’ He paused. ‘I’m hoping to extend the olive branch to my mother before Christmas. It’s a family time, isn’t it? I ought to be with them. Surely, by then…’

‘How is your mother?’ asked Maddy tentatively. ‘I mean…how are things with her?’ He had scarcely mentioned his family all weekend.

‘Oh, she’s still being stubborn and unforgiving. She hasn’t been to my flat, although Joe and my father have both visited me there. And when I go…home, she keeps out of my way. But she’ll come round in time; I’m sure she will.’ Maddy could see, though, that this estrangement from his mother was affecting him deeply.

They agreed that he would visit her when the troupe was in York, if that were at all possible. That would be the last week in November. It was harder than ever that night, kissing him, then leaving him at the front door. And even worse the next morning as they said goodbye at Halifax station, then boarded trains going in opposite directions.

Would it always be like this? Maddy began to wonder. It was the first time she had allowed such a negative thought to take root in her mind, but it remained there for the whole of the journey to Huddersfield.

Chapter Sixteen

M
addy was not the only member of the company who was thoughtful on the journey to Huddersfield. Barney had not turned up at the station and they had been obliged to board the train without him.

‘Where is he?’ Percy asked Benjy. ‘Really, this is too bad! He knows the time of the train and he might have to wait ages for the next one. Anyway, I thought he’d be with you.’

‘Don’t blame me,’ retorted Benjy, with a petulant shrug. ‘We’ve had a tiff, if you must know, and he stormed out in a huff. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t much care neither!’

It was common knowledge amongst the Melody Makers that relations had not been too good just lately between the dancing duo, ever since Benjy had received those mysterious gifts and messages. They had stopped abruptly with no one being any the wiser, at least, that was what most of them had been led to believe. But the friction between the two young men had continued. Percy had become anxious because their bickering was having an adverse effect on
their performances; and now he was furious.

‘He’d better damned well turn up!’ he stormed. ‘It’s high time you two sorted out your petty little quarrels. You’re not irreplaceable, you know; neither of you!’

‘Oh, he’ll turn up like a bad penny,’ said Benjy. ‘Don’t fret yourself. He’s a big boy and he can take care of himself. He’s got the address that we’re going to in Huddersfield. He’ll probably be on the next train.’

‘Whenever that is,’ said Percy. ‘Sunday travel’s pretty grim.’

‘Well, serves him right then,’ snapped Benjy. ‘See if I care!’

But Barney did not turn up that day, nor the following morning. In fact, by the time of the first-house performance he had still not shown up and Benjy was in a rare old panic.

‘Oh, whatever shall I do?’ he wailed. ‘I can’t go on without him. Whatever will the audience think? We’re a couple. I can’t manage without him.’

‘Yes, you can and you jolly well will!’ said Percy. ‘You get on that stage and you perform the numbers on your own. We’ll make an announcement that Mr Barnaby Dewhurst is indisposed, and nobody need be any the wiser.’ Then he added, more kindly, ‘Come along, Benjy. Nobody is blaming you, you know. And you’re a real trouper, aren’t you? Go on there and give them all you’ve got, there’s a good chap.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Benjy with a sniff. ‘The show must go on and all that.’

And of course the audience rose to the occasion and Benjy received tremendous applause and even cheers at both houses.

‘There you are, you see. You can do it,’ Percy told him. ‘Well done! I shall have a few harsh words, though, for Barney – well, more than a few – when he turns up.’

‘If he ever does,’ said Benjy glumly.

‘Oh, he will, when he comes to his senses,’ said Percy. ‘I know Barney, at least I thought I did. He’s a decent chap at heart, just like you are. He won’t leave us in the lurch without an explanation.’

The explanation, such as it was, came in the post the following morning. A letter arrived at the digs in Huddersfield addressed to Mr Benjamin Carstairs, and the landlady handed it to him at the breakfast table.

‘And about time too,’ he declared, almost snatching it from the lady, but remembering at the same time to say thank you. Benjy hardly ever forgot his manners. His eyes scanned the first page of the letter, then, to the consternation and embarrassment of the rest of the company seated around the table, he burst into tears.

‘He’s left me,’ he wailed. ‘He’s gone and left me! He’s gone back home to Rochdale. Oh, dearie me! Whatever am I going to do?’

‘You’re going to manage without him, that’s
what,’ said Frank Morrison, always one to speak his mind. ‘Come along, old chap. You did splendidly last night and we were all very proud of you.’

‘Yes, but it’s not just our act, is it?’ cried Benjy. ‘He says he doesn’t want to see me anymore. He says it’s time we parted company.’

‘Well then, perhaps it is,’ said Percy gently. ‘What else does he say…or is it private?’

‘No, why should it be?’ retorted Benjy. He thrust the letter across the table to Percy in a dramatic gesture. ‘Here, read it for yourself.’

The message was quite brief and to the point. Barney was returning to his home town of Rochdale to think things over. He and Benjy had come to a parting of the ways, he wrote, and would his partner please give his apologies to Percy for walking out on them so abruptly. He was sure that Benjy would manage perfectly well without him.

‘Hmm, I’m very annoyed with him,’ said Percy when he had read the letter. ‘Oh, come along, Benjy. Do stop snivelling. We’ve got to sort out what we’re going to do. As Frank said, you did very well last night, but some of your songs and dances – well, most of them really – are arranged for a duo, aren’t they? How would you feel about it if we were to advertise for another partner for you?’ Percy felt, however, that Benjy might not like that idea at all.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Benjy in a small voice. ‘It would take some getting used to. And we might not
get on in the same way as Barney and I did…if you see what I mean.’

‘Yes, I do see what you mean,’ said Percy, ‘but that is something you would have to sort out for yourselves, isn’t it?’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Jeremy Jarvis. ‘I’ve got a good idea. Well, you might not think it’s good but…how would you like a female partner for a change? Does it have to be another man?’

‘No, not necessarily,’ said Benjy in a sulky voice. ‘Sometimes men can be more trouble than they’re worth. Why? Have you got something up your sleeve, Jeremy?’

‘I might have,’ said Jeremy. He turned to Percy. ‘You remember Dora, don’t you? Dora Daventry, the young lady who auditioned at the same time as Freddie and me.’

‘Well, of course I remember her,’ said Percy. ‘And I believe you are still quite friendly with her, aren’t you?’

‘So I am,’ grinned Jeremy. ‘She lives here in Huddersfield and I shall be seeing her quite a lot this week. But what you may not know is that she is a dancer as well as a singer. She’s a very good tap dancer, apparently. She passed all her exams when she was younger, but then she decided to concentrate on her singing.’

‘Why didn’t she tell me then, at the audition, that she could dance?’ asked Percy.

‘Well, she’d seen Barney and Benjy perform and
she knew you wouldn’t want another tap dancer. And then it turned out that you didn’t want any singers either.’

‘It wasn’t that we didn’t want her,’ replied Percy, ‘as I explained to her at the time. I could see she was very talented but – yes, you’re right – I felt we didn’t need anymore singers…not at that time,’ he added meaningfully. Carlo and Queenie, sitting next to Percy, exchanged significant glances, of which he was well aware. ‘How would you feel about a lady partner, Benjy?’ Percy asked him. ‘Do you think that it might work, that you might…consider it?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Benjy. ‘I’m too upset at the moment to think straight, but I know you have to do whatever is best for the company. And I’m not a solo act, am I, not really?’

Percy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘You’re seeing Dora today, are you, Jeremy?’ The young man nodded and agreed that he was. ‘Well then, would you ask her if she would like to come and see me at the theatre this afternoon, if possible? Two-thirty, shall we say? And you too, Benjy. Would you agree to that?’

‘Yes,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘But you won’t mind, will you, if I’m not at my sparkling best? I promise I’ll be there, though.’ He sniffed audibly and turned his head away.

‘That’s good then,’ said Percy. ‘We’ll see what Dora thinks about it; she may not agree, of course. But I’ll keep my fingers crossed. I thought at the
time that she could be an asset to the troupe, so here’s her chance, if she wants it.’

Dora was delighted at the suggestion that she might join the Melody Makers, provided she and Benjy could adapt the act accordingly, and provided, of course, that they thought they could work together amicably.

With Letty at the piano and Percy watching and making suggestions, they ran through a few routines on the Tuesday afternoon. She was, indeed, a very competent tap dancer, and it was clear that after a few more practices she would be ready to become the second half of the dancing duo. It was agreed that she should wear a short black skirt to match Benjy’s black trousers, with a similar white shirt and red bow tie and she already had black patent leather tap shoes. She complemented Benjy in appearance, as his former partner, Barney had done. She was dark-haired and brown-eyed, and an inch or two shorter than Benjy.

When they had finished their rehearsal that day Benjy threw his arms around her and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Thank you, thank you, my darling girl,’ he enthused. ‘You have saved my life. I thought I would never be able to carry on without Barney, but now I know that I can manage perfectly well without him.’ The spasm of pain that showed on his face, however, after he had made this brave statement, revealed to the others that he was still hurting. There was little doubt that Dora would be
a satisfactory dancing partner, but it was not likely that Benjy would be able to forget Barney and their long-standing friendship so easily.

‘What about our name?’ he went on. ‘Barney and Benjy had quite a nice ring to it, I always thought. But Benjy and Dora, the Dancing Duo doesn’t sound too bad, does it? We’ve got the alliteration with all the Ds, haven’t we? Unless you would like to change your name to Betty or Bella or…something?’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she replied.

‘No, of course not, no more than I would like to be Don or Dick or Dave!’ said Benjy. ‘Righty-ho then, Benjy and Dora it is.’

Percy thought that after a few more practices, Dora should be ready to make her debut with Benjy at the Friday performances, followed by the matinée and one evening performance on Saturday. Next week they were moving on to Bradford and Percy would make arrangements to have the names changed on the programmes and posters as soon as possible.

Word had got around the company about the possibility of a new member. It was hardly a secret because the idea had been mooted by Jeremy at the breakfast table. Percy made a formal announcement before the Wednesday matinée that Dora Daventry would be joining them before long and that he knew, of course, that they would all make her very welcome.

Everyone smiled their agreement and there followed a buzz of conversation about how fortunate they had been to find a replacement for Barney so quickly. Some of them had met Dora and they thought she would fit in with the rest of the company very well. Jeremy, naturally, was delighted that his suggestion had been acted upon and had proved successful.

‘You lucky old dog, Jeremy!’ said Frank Morrison, with a nudge and a wink. ‘A lady friend on tap all the time, eh? Just like me.’

‘Hey, steady on, Frank,’ said Jeremy. ‘We’re not at that stage yet.’

‘Or maybe it’s not so lucky then,’ teased Frank. ‘You’ll have to watch your step, won’t you, lad?’

‘Oh, I’m lucky all right,’ replied Jeremy. ‘Dora’s a grand girl, and I’m real pleased she’s joining us. I’m not going to rush things, though. And I’ve promised her mam and dad that I’ll take care of her.’

The only faces that were not smiling were those of Carlo and Queenie Colman. Percy knew that they saw Dora as a threat, as she was a singer as well as a dancer. Especially as Percy had had occasion to speak to Queenie after the Monday night performances, concerning the wobbliness of her top notes in her solo song.

‘Choose another song,’ he told her, ‘in a lower key. Or else ask Letty to transpose that one a tone lower, at least. I’m sorry, Queenie, but your voice doesn’t have the same timbre that it used to have to
reach those top Fs and Gs. It happens to all of us in time.’

‘Are you saying that I’m getting old, that I’m past it?’ she snapped.

‘No, not at all, but the quality of your voice is changing. Choose something that is more in keeping, that’s all I’m saying.’

Queenie had tossed her head in answer, but she had done as he requested and sang a different song the following night: ‘The Moon and I’, from
The Mikado
, instead of her usual ‘Poor Wandering One’ from
Pirates
. The audiences of late had winced or giggled at the tremulous, ‘Ah! Ah! Ahs…’ as the woman’s bosom heaved and her face turned red. Percy hated any of his troupe to be a laughing stock. With a less polite audience it might result in a deluge of rotten tomatoes. He had gone out of his way to compliment her on her new choice of song, but he knew that she and Carlo were still not happy.

The company moved on to Bradford the following week, and it was at the end of their time there that Carlo and Queenie announced to Percy that they were leaving.

‘We’re giving you a week’s notice,’ said Carlo, ‘and we will be going at the end of next week.’ The company was moving from Bradford to the nearby city of Leeds for their next booking. ‘We’ll do the week in Leeds, and then we’re off, Queenie and me…to pastures new.’

‘That’s very short notice,’ said Percy. ‘I thought it was usual to give a month’s notice if you intended leaving.’ Although he knew that there had never been a hard and fast rule in their troupe about how long the period should be. It was a very long time since anyone had wanted to leave, apart from Barney, of course, who hadn’t given any notice at all. Percy realised that he hadn’t a leg to stand on. Besides, he was growing increasingly weary of Queenie and her complaining, and there was no doubt that their singing was no longer of the quality he expected. He knew, in truth, that he would be glad to see the back of them.