Until We Meet Again (5 page)

‘You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee…’ sang Frank, whilst his wife pirouetted around him, her saucy blue eyes twinkling and winking at the audience.

Then Susannah sang on her own, ‘The boy I love is up in the gallery, the boy I love is looking down at me…’ and then Frank showed his proficiency on the banjo, concertina and mouth organ.

It was Freddie’s turn next and he made his family proud, astounding everyone with his faultless tricks: making spots disappear from playing cards, miles of silken scarves appear from nowhere, full containers miraculously become empty and a lop-eared white rabbit jump from a top hat to the accompaniment of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the audience.

There was a witty sketch about a courting couple and an irate father in which several members took part, then a recitation of ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ by the new man, Cedric Wotherspoon. But what Tilly was waiting for above all else was the moment when Maddy would take her place on the stage.

Her solo spot was the last item before the interval. Percy stepped onto the stage and announced, ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment I am sure you have all been waiting for. We have with us tonight Miss Madeleine Moon, “Yorkshire’s own songbird” and, of course, as many of you know, a lass from right here in Scarborough. So please give a hearty welcome to our guest artiste…Madeleine Moon.’

She ran onto the stage in her usual girlish way to a warm welcome from the audience. She stood there smiling until the applause had died down, then she nodded to the pianist, Letty, who played just one note on the piano. Then Maddy sang, unaccompanied, the song which over the years she had made her very own.

When she was younger Maddy had always worn a simple dress of cream or white which emphasised her youth and innocence. Tonight she wore a dress of lilac silken chiffon with a narrow skirt and a hemline cut into points, known as a ‘handkerchief’ hemline, which showed off her neat ankles. The cummerbund, in a darker shade of purple, was decorated by a silken posy at one side. It was simple yet elegant, the height of fashion without being ostentatious.

But it was her voice that people would remember even more than the loveliness of her face and her golden hair, worn loose now and waving gently almost to her shoulders. The silver-toned notes of the haunting melody rang out across the soft air of the summer night. There was a moment’s hush when she stopped singing, then rapturous applause to which Maddy bowed her head in her usual unassuming manner.

She sang two more songs, this time accompanied by the piano; ‘Silver Threads among the Gold’ and one which revealed the more frivolous side of her nature and with which the audience were invited to join in the chorus.

Then she curtsied to the audience, kissed and waved her hand, and ran into the dressing tent to the sound of clapping and cheering and even one or two whistles.

‘Well, that will have cheered everyone up, I’m sure,’ remarked Tilly. ‘She’s very good, my sister, isn’t she? I told you what a lovely voice she has.’

‘Yes, I’m very impressed,’ replied Dominic. ‘It’s the first time I’ve heard her sing. It seems that yours is a very talented family. Piano playing and singing, and your brother’s a wizard at Maths. Even better than me!’ he remarked with a sardonic grin.

Tilly hadn’t quite got the measure of him yet. She wasn’t sure whether he was conceited and self-opinionated, or if his remarks contained a touch of irony. Or if his facetiousness was, maybe, a cover for a lack of confidence. She just smiled in reply, unsure as to what to say.

Pete, the ‘bottler’, was coming round now with his bag on a stick. He was one of the funny men of the troupe and a good all-rounder who could turn his hand to anything. He had been with Percy’s company ever since it started, along with his wife, Nancy, who had the performing dogs. Most people had paid for their seats on arrival, but there were others standing at the back, and there were not many folk who did not dig deep
into their purses or pockets to drop another coin or two into the bag. Pete was skilled, after many years of experience, at extracting money from the crowds, ‘as skilled as a dentist extracting teeth,’ he sometimes quipped.

There was a buzz of conversation going on all around, about the marvellous show and the wonderful weather, and how good it was to see so-and-so again… Clearly everyone’s spirits had been raised and there was not a whisper of the war.

The second half of the show commenced with the Pierrots and the audience singing, ‘Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside…’ This was followed by the final acts of the night: another comedy sketch about a frustrated debt collector; Jeremy Jarvis, the ventriloquist, with his trio of wooden dolls – Tommy the Toff, Belinda the Belle of the Ball, and Desmond the Drunkard; Pete and Percy, the comedy duo, with jokes old and new; Percy again, singing romantic ballads with Dora Daventry; Cedric, dressed as a judge, singing comedy songs from Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘Iolanthe’; and Maddy, in her second spot of the evening.

She sang two plaintive Scottish ballads, ‘Robin Adair’ and ‘Comin’ thru’ the Rye’. Then a light-hearted song, ‘In the Twi-twi-twilight’. Once again
the audience sang along happily to the chorus.

It was perhaps inevitable that the finale of the show, with all the Pierrots and guest artistes on the stage, should contain a patriotic song. The last time many of them had sung it had been in Queen Victoria’s reign when the Boer War had been raging. ‘We’re the Soldiers of the Queen,’ they had sung then. Now it was the old queen’s grandson on the throne and the country was once again at war, but it was hoped it would not be for long.

The rousing cheer went on and on after Percy had bade everyone ‘Good night and God bless,’ and there were very few dry eyes as the members of the audience made their way across the sands and up the cliff path to the promenade.

Dominic hung around whilst Tilly spoke to the members of her family, then Maddy and Freddie
came out of the dressing tents to join the family group.

‘May I walk home with you?’ asked Dominic, beckoning Tilly to one side. ‘It’s a lovely evening. Far too nice to ride back in the car, isn’t it?’

‘All right then; I don’t mind,’ she replied. ‘Tommy…’ she called to her brother. ‘We’re going to walk home, Dominic and I. Are you coming with us?’

She did not see Dominic’s slight frown and shake of his head behind her back; but she did see Tommy’s grin and raised thumb as he replied, ‘No, I’ll ride, if it’s all the same to you. Anyway, two’s company, isn’t it?’ he added with a wink at his friend.

She felt herself blushing then, realising what he meant. She was still rather in awe of Dominic, but it would be a chance to get to know him a little better without her brother around.

Chapter Five

T
he shortest route to South Bay, where both Tilly and Dominic lived, was through the town and across one of the bridges, the Valley Bridge or the Spa Bridge, which linked the two bays. Dominic, however, had a different idea.

‘It’s a lovely evening,’ he said as they walked along the promenade, drawing near to the ruined castle perched high on the hill in front of them. ‘How do you fancy going round the Marine Drive? It’s a fair distance, I know, but we should manage it easily before it gets dark. Anyway, what is there to worry about? I’m here to protect you from ghosts and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night, aren’t I?’

He gently squeezed her elbow, and when she smiled back at him, a little unsurely, she could see that his blue eyes revealed warmth and friendship,
and nothing more. Tilly was a little wary of young men; she had not had much contact with many, except at church events or with school friends that Tommy brought home from time to time; like Dominic. She had already decided earlier that evening that she would like to get to know him a little better, and so she agreed that they would walk the mile or so round the headland to the south of the town.

The Marine Drive had been opened in 1908 and was considered a tremendous feat of engineering. It was used mainly by visitors to the town who enjoyed the leisurely stroll by the side of the sea, escaping for a while from the bustling harbour and the attractions of the South Bay, round to the still relatively undeveloped and quieter North Bay.

The sea was on their left-hand side, way below the strong wall which had been built to withstand the crashing waves and the fiercest storms. Oftentimes, though, hardy visitors could be drenched if they were bold enough or foolish enough to venture there when a storm was raging. Tonight, though, the sea was quite calm, gradually advancing across the stretch of golden sand and covering the place where the Pierrots had performed only a little while before. To their right, Castle Hill loomed above them, the strategic spot where King Henry the Second had built his castle in
the twelfth century. The cliff face was the nesting ground for thousands of seagulls. The side of the cliff was white with them as they settled down for the night, barely distinguishable from the boulders of rock. Many of them were still wheeling and diving high above, their raucous cries ringing out shrilly in the still of the evening.

‘It’s a long time since I did this walk,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ve cycled round once or twice for the exercise, but I’ve walked it only a couple of times.’

‘Me too,’ agreed Dominic. ‘I think residents are often too busy to make the effort to enjoy the resort’s attractions; or else too blasé about them. I must admit it’s simply ages since I went to watch a Pierrot show, not since I was a little lad.’

‘Ah well, I suppose it’s different for you,’ said Tilly. ‘You were born here, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ he replied.

‘Well, I first came here as a holidaymaker from York,’ she continued. ‘My mother used to bring us here for a month each summer. We rented a little house near to the castle. I remember our father used to visit us at weekends…sometimes. But even then things were not good between him and my mother. I only realised that later, of course. And then – well – Uncle William’s first wife died, and a few years later he married Mother and we all came to live here. I’d always loved coming
to Scarborough, and I couldn’t believe we were actually coming to live here, and that Maddy was going to be my big sister; I’d always admired her such a lot. I suppose that’s why I still enjoy everything so much. I see it though the eyes of a visitor, which is what I was at one time.’

She was discovering how easy it was to talk to Dominic and what a good listener he was. That surprised her; she had thought him a bit of a ‘show-off’, but maybe that was when he was with Tommy. She sensed a certain amount of rivalry between them regarding their prowess at school, as well as friendship.

‘Mmm…I’ve never really understood about your family,’ said Dominic. ‘You’re a complicated lot, aren’t you? All those sisters and brothers, and stepsisters and whatnot.’

Tilly laughed. ‘Yes, it is rather confusing, isn’t it? Well, Tommy’s my twin brother, as you know.’

‘And there could be no doubt about that, could there?’ he teased, gently tweaking at a gingerish wisp of hair protruding from beneath her straw hat. ‘A couple of real ginger nuts, aren’t you? Although Tommy’s is a lot redder than yours.’

‘I’ve stopped worrying about my hair now,’ replied Tilly. ‘I used to hate having ginger hair when I was a little girl. Mother used to say I
couldn’t wear pink, and it was my favourite colour. Anyway, Jessie – she’s my real sister – she has really bright ginger hair. The three of us take after our mother. But Samuel – he’s my real brother – he’s dark, like our father.’

‘So there are four of you in your family?’

‘Yes, that’s right; two boys and two girls. We were called Barraclough, but we changed our name to Moon. All except Samuel, that is; he didn’t want to change. And Jessie’s married now, of course, so she’s changed her name again…

‘Then Uncle Will has two children, Patrick and Maddy; they’re my stepbrother and sister. And then there’s Henrietta, but everybody calls her Hetty – another stepsister to me.’ She wasn’t sure whether or not she should mention Hetty. It was one of those ‘skeletons in the cupboard’ which many families had, so perhaps it might be best to be open about it. ‘She’s Patrick and Maddy’s half-sister because they all have the same father.’

‘Your Uncle Will; William Moon?’

‘Yes…’ she nodded. ‘Actually, we didn’t know anything about Hetty for ages, neither did Uncle Will. Well, he knew, of course, that he had…er… fathered a child,’ she added, a little embarrassedly. ‘But he didn’t tell anyone, not even his first wife. From what I gather it was ages ago when he was just a young man…’ She hesitated. ‘This is just
what I’ve learnt over the years, putting two and two together, and Maddy has told me a bit about it. I was only a child, you see – about eight, I think – when Hetty appeared on the scene.’

‘That must have been quite a shock for everyone,’ Dominic observed with a grin.

‘Yes…so it was. Hetty’s mother, her real mother, I mean, was called Bella. I remember her vaguely from when I was a little girl. She used to work in the shop, and then suddenly she disappeared. Anyway, years before that she must have been friendly with Uncle Will…’

‘And Hetty was the result?’

‘Yes, that’s the story… To Uncle Will’s credit, he did tell my mother all about it before they were married. He decided he didn’t want there to be any secrets between them. Hetty had been adopted, you see, when she was a baby, up in Northumberland. She didn’t meet her real mother until she was grown up. So…when her adoptive parents died, and Bella as well, she came to Scarborough to find her father.’

‘Mmm…quite a story,’ observed Dominic. He had known from Tommy about the divorce, but had not been aware of this other bit of surprising news. How would his parents react to it all? he wondered. Especially his mother, to whom divorce was an unmentionable subject. He did so badly
want to be more friendly with Tilly, but he could see already that his mother might raise objections. None of it was Tilly’s fault, though, he told himself.

‘Yes, it’s quite a story,’ agreed Tilly. ‘We all like Hetty very much. She’s a lot older than me, of course. I think she must be thirty-two or three now. She still helps Uncle Will with the office work, from time to time, as she’s been doing ever since she arrived here.’

‘And she is married to Bertram Lucas, the photographer, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Bertram’s studio is near to Uncle Will’s premises on North Marine Road. That’s how Hetty met him, because she used to work full-time for William, doing the bookkeeping; and Bertram lived just down the road. They still live there, over the studio and shop, but I think they might move into a house before long. Bertram’s business is doing very well. He does a lot of weddings and portraits of children and family photographs; he’s becoming very well known in the town.’

‘And their little girl is called Angela? Is that right? She was there with them tonight, wasn’t she? I noticed how much like her mother she is.’

‘Yes…so she is,’ replied Tilly. ‘Dark hair and brown eyes, like Hetty.’

‘I think fathers must feel rather left out sometimes,’ remarked Dominic, ‘when people say, “Ooh, isn’t she like her mummy?” I don’t mean just Angela; I’m thinking about babies in general. I’ve heard women cooing over prams, and I think to myself, Poor old dad! Doesn’t he deserve a mention?’

‘Ye…es,’ agreed Tilly, realising that his observation in this instance was right on the mark. It was true that little Angela was the image of her mother, although the child’s father, also, had dark hair…and so had Bertram, which was fortunate in the circumstances.

The facts concerning Angela’s birth had never been kept a secret in the Moon family. That would have been impossible anyway, given the unusual state of affairs. How many people outside the family circle were acquainted with the true facts, Tilly did not know, but rumours must have circulated, she felt sure. The marriage had been very quickly arranged and had taken a lot of people by surprise; surprise which had quickly changed to comprehension when the child had been born four months later. People soon forget, however, and there was no doubt that Bertram was a proud and devoted father.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Dominic, for Tilly had gone suddenly silent. ‘I haven’t said something to upset you, have I?’

‘Er…no, of course not,’ said Tilly. ‘I was wool gathering. Your remark started me thinking…’ She decided there could be no harm in telling Dominic the full story. He might already know anyway, as he and Tommy were close friends; although she did not think that lads chatted about such matters, as girls were inclined to do.

‘It was what you said about Angela looking like her mother,’ she continued. ‘You see…Bertram is not her father. Not her real father, that is, although he has adopted her legally and he thinks the world of her.’

‘Oh…I see,’ said Dominic, nodding sagely. ‘Scandal in the family, eh?’ He grinned. ‘And not for the first time either. You’ve already told me about your uncle Will and his little…er… indiscretion. And now Hetty as well! Goodness gracious me! Whatever next?’

A sideways glance at him told her that he was joking, in fact he was laughing quite openly. ‘I’m only teasing,’ he said, squeezing her arm and pulling her a little closer to him. ‘It happens in the best of families as well as the worst. I’d wager that there’s not a family in the land that doesn’t have one or two skeletons in its cupboard.’

‘Well, it’s certainly true in ours,’ smiled Tilly. ‘But you couldn’t find a happier family than Hetty and Bertram and little Angie. Bertram knew she
was…er…pregnant, but he had already fallen in love with her and he insisted that they should get married… But Hetty loved him, too,’ she added, ‘and she still does. Anyone can see that it’s a real love match.’

‘And…what about the child’s father? Didn’t he want to marry Hetty?’

‘No, he didn’t,’ said Tilly, indignantly. ‘But Hetty wouldn’t have married him anyway. She had realised by then that she had made a big mistake.’

‘So…who was the father? Although I don’t suppose it matters now, does it, seeing that Bertram has adopted the little girl?’

‘Actually, it does matter quite a lot,’ replied Tilly. She gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s all very complicated. You see… I might as well tell you… Angela’s real father is Samuel, my elder brother.’

Dominic could scarcely believe what he was hearing; in fact he was at a loss for words, an unusual state of affairs for him. He shook his head in a bewildered manner.

‘It caused quite a stir in the family, believe me,’ Tilly continued. ‘I’ve told you just a little about my brother, Samuel. He is…well, there’s a side to him that is not really honourable. He was abroad for a while on an expedition, and he didn’t meet Hetty until she had been here for quite a while.
And, from what I gather, they took a fancy to one another and started going out together; and Hetty imagined that she was in love with him… He does have quite a charming side to him as well…

‘I’ve learnt most of this from Maddy,’ she went on, ‘after Hetty and Bertram were married. I wasn’t really old enough to understand about it at the time. Samuel had let her down, of course – Maddy had seen him with someone else – but by that time Hetty had realised what he was like. Anyway, all’s well that ends well, I suppose.’

‘And what about Samuel? Does he see his daughter?’

‘As a matter of fact he does, occasionally. They are all very civilised about it. Bertram is a very decent and rational sort of man. He’s doing what he believes to be right in allowing Samuel to visit them. Angie calls him Uncle Sam; the rest of us have always called him Samuel. All Angie knows is that he is her grandmother’s son. Just another uncle in our complicated family.’

‘Yes…’ Dominic shook his head perplexedly. ‘You certainly are, aren’t you?’

‘The strange thing is that both my mother and Uncle Will are grandparents to Angela; my mother because she is Samuel’s mother, and Uncle Will because he is Hetty’s father.’ Tilly laughed. ‘I get confused myself sometimes.’