Keep on Dancing, page 16
‘I’m sure,’ she smiled slyly at him, ‘you’ll lock yourself in that room of yours if I’m not mistaken.’
‘You’re not mistaken.’ His hand suddenly shot up as he caught sight of a black cab. ‘Taxi!’
‘God. Once a loudmouth…’
‘If I hadn’t shouted, you would have missed him. Think yourself lucky he only lives round the corner and is just on his way out.’ He stepped up his pace and spoke to the cabbie through the window. ‘Look after this one for me, Ted; see she lets herself in with her key before you pull away.’
‘What you two whispering about?’ Harriet opened the back door and sank into the seat. ‘Wapping please, mate. Turner Street, just off—’
‘By the Prospect?’
‘That’s it, cabbie. Number seventeen.’ She gave Larry a wave, leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘Nudge me once we’re there, driver,’ she said, yawning. She wasn’t tired but she did want some quiet. She wanted to think about the old days when life was slower. She wanted to think about Mary Birchfield walking out in her long silk and satin dress and matching feathered bonnet, strolling along the Whitechapel Road, causing men from all walks of life to turn their heads and their women to burn with jealousy. She was a beautiful young woman who, to escape the poverty and the workhouse, had chosen the career to which she was best suited – high-class prostitution.
Smiling inwardly, Harriet remembered how it had not been a vocation without prospects. Mary hadn’t been in the profession for more than a couple of weeks before she was swept up and whisked away by her wealthy client, Sir Robert.
Meeting up with Larry again after several years, and then listening to Tilly who was obviously unhappy because her children had gone off to pastures new, Harriet realized just how much things were changing. The future of the East End of London had, as far she was concerned, a big question mark over it. If the building of tower blocks continued and all the old character houses were pulled down, the area could so easily become an extension of the City. The old East End was fast fading. The young were getting out and the old were hanging on for dear life. With that thought in mind, she became even more determined to help her Rosie who, in her own way, was going against the trend.
‘This do you, love?’ The cabbie’s soft voice broke into her reflective mood.
‘Yeah… this’ll do.’ She offered him the five-pound note and waited for the change.
‘Looks like you’ve got a visitor,’ he said, nodding towards her front door.
Peering through the cab window, Harriet sighed. ‘One of our Rosie’s admirers.’
‘Want me to see him off?’ The driver passed her the change through the open sliding-glass partition. ‘Looks ’armless enough, mind.’
‘He’s all right.’ She gave him a threepenny-bit tip. ‘That was a comfortable ride, cabbie. Lovely.’
* * *
Arriving at Richard Montague’s side, she eyed him cautiously, wondering whether to ask him in and draw from him his intentions with regard to her granddaughter. ‘Rosie won’t be back for hours yet.’
‘Ah. It hadn’t occurred to me that she worked on Saturdays,’ he said, trying to cover his embarrassment at being there. ‘I was passing—’
‘I’m sure.’ Harriet pushed her key into the lock. ‘Now that you’re ’ere you may as well come in for a cuppa. That’s if you don’t mind the company of an old woman?’ She had made a snap decision to take the opportunity of ten minutes alone with this young man.
‘Absolutely not. I mean… I’d be really happy to join you. Tea. Marvellous.’
She switched on the passage light and then looked him straight in the eye. ‘You can drop all that polite stuff. Talk to me the way you talk to your own family and mates.’
‘I, er… I… believe I was, Mrs Birchfield. Really.’ His sincerity touched Harriet, and the expression in his eyes reminded her of his grandmother, Mary. Her sister-in-law certainly had passed on her good looks to this young man, especially the dark-blue eyes.
‘Well if that’s ’ow you go on all the time, you must waste a lot on breath on words you don’t need.’ She nodded towards the fireside chair in the sitting room. ‘If you could stoke that fire up at bit for me… I’ll go and fill the kettle. I take it tea’s all right. We’ve got a drop of Camp coffee if you—’
‘Tea’s fine.’ He stopped himself from saying thank you and smiled instead.
Once alone in the kitchen, Harriet’s brain raced. This was a perfect opportunity to see this young man off by way of the truth. If he were to learn that he and Rosie were related, he would likely disappear lickety-split. On the other hand, if she were to tell it another way, gently-gently rather than shock the life out of him, maybe he would reconcile himself to remaining good friends, and help her with this new venture she had set her heart on.
Wondering how he would take the news, she carried the tea tray into the sitting room and placed it on the table. ‘I didn’t fetch any biscuits ’cos it’s nearly your dinner time and I’m not gonna be responsible for spoiling your appetite.’ She offered him his tea and then sat down with hers. ‘I never eat much during the day. Make up for it at teatime with me dinner. One meal a day does me.’
‘I usually skip lunch too. Big breakfast, and then a good dinner… in the evening,’ Richard said, beginning to relax.
‘So what is it you want with my Rosie, then?’ Harriet spoke in her usual direct manner.
‘Confidentially?’ Richard raised his eyes to meet Harriet’s, and in that instant she knew what was coming.
‘You’re not gonna tell me you’re in love with ’er.’ She hoped her dismissive tone might put him off.
His cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled as he grinned like a lovesick schoolboy. ‘I’ve been bumping into lampposts ever since I first saw her. She’s… wonderful. Full of life; has a sense of humour; artistic… and… she’s just… lovely.’
‘Mmmm.’ Harriet sipped her tea and became thoughtful. ‘She’s already got a steady boyfriend, as you well know. All you could ever hope for is to be mates. Even then, I don’t know that that would go down too well with Georgie.’
‘I notice she doesn’t wear an engagement ring.’ Richard leaned back in the chair and smiled. ‘She’s not exactly promised to him.’
‘That kind of talk’ll get you a fat lip and broken ribs, my boy! She’s all right with George. You keep your meddling for them nurses down at the ’ospital. Not promised to ’im?’
‘I don’t intend to come between them, Mrs Birchfield—’
‘The name’s Harriet.’
‘I just meant that if it isn’t as serious between them as you think it is, then I may just stand a chance.’
‘Bollocks. That’s not what you meant. I may be old but I’m no fool. I’ve lived eight decades to your two and a bit, don’t forget. You can’t flannel me. You’re out to break them up and ’ave ’er for yerself. And then what? Once the contest’s been won? You’ll be away from ’ere like a bee who’s picked up smother scent.
‘Well… I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a jolt, cock,’ she drew breath and braced herself, checking his expression; the furrowed brow showed he had picked up the gravity in her voice.
‘You,’ she said, gently but firmly emphasizing the word, ‘may never bed our Rosie.’ She put up her hand to stop him interruping with his declaration of good intentions. ‘You and Rosie,’ she said, ‘are related. You’re cousins. Second cousins it’s true, but nevertheless… the same blood’s running through your veins.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘It ain’t just the name Birchfield that we share. My sister-in-law Mary Birchfield and your grandfather, Sir Robert Montague, spawned two babies… way back – when they were lovers.’
The room fell silent as Harriet waited for a response; welcomed one.
‘It fits…’ Richard murmured, looking earnestly into her face. ‘It all fits into place.’ He slowly shook his head. ‘I knew she was different from the rest.’
Bewildered by his reaction, Harriet gaped at him. The last thing she had expected was this instant acceptance of cold facts. ‘Won’t this alter things a bit…?’ she asked, bemused by the way he was behaving.
‘Oh no… no… it doesn’t alter anything… it just strengthens what I already feel deep down. Fate works in mysterious ways. This is why I find myself in your territory. I’ve been drawn here. This family… Rosie… my destiny.’
‘She’s your second cousin. Mary and Sir Robert’s illegitimate son… is your father.’ She watched as he gazed at the floor, shaking his head. ‘Destiny?’ She raised her eyebrows and sighed loudly. ‘Ain’t you even a tiny bit shocked, son?’
‘Cousins can marry,’ he murmured, speaking to himself more than to her. ‘I can’t wait to see her. Why didn’t she tell me? Why keep something like this to herself?’ He raised his glazed eyes to meet Harriet’s. ‘Where is Rosie? I must see her straight away.’
‘You just slow yourself down a bit, young man. You slow down and tell me… how come you’re not thunderstruck at learning about your grandfather ’aving a mistress and your own father being a bastard?’
‘Oh, Harriet… we all knew he had a mistress… but I never dreamed, not in a million years, that his sins would be my gain. I’m already a part of your family.’ He slumped down on to a dining chair and covered his head with his hands. ‘I can hardly believe it. It’s wonderful.’
‘I don’t think that’s the way your father and aunt’ll see it,’ Harriet said, wondering if the young man who sat before her was all there. ‘In fact I know it’s not,’ she added, studying his eyes. ‘This seedy side of the family was meant to stay in the cupboard. They’re not gonna jump for joy.’
‘I shan’t tell them. It’ll be good to turn the tables. Keep something from them for a change. Rosie can be my secret.’
‘I think you’re jumping the gun a bit, lad. Our Rosie’s in love with George, not you. She only sees you as a mate.’ Harriet was beginning to feel sorry for him. ‘Mind you… she’s dead set on reopening a fleapit of a music hall… and she’s gonna need all friends on deck… perhaps you’d enjoy helping her with that? It’s where she is now, with an army of helpers, scrubbing the place from top to bottom. If you take my advice you’ll give her as much support with that venture as you can. Financial, if you’re up to it. Put all your loving into the show – help her with it. She’s gonna have a load on ’er plate once it gets under way. She’ll be in it herself, dancing. Our Rosie’s a smashing dancer. Always was. Takes after me.’
Harriet rose from her chair, still amazed by his lack of worldliness. ‘I shall tell ’er you called round. Drop a note through the letter box next time you’re thinking of popping in, though. Best she knows when you’re coming. You never know when George’ll be ’ere and you don’t wanna upset him.’
‘Right,’ Richard nodded thoughtfully, ‘I’ll do that. And you needn’t worry about my being too pushy… what will be, will be.’
His poetic display touched her. ‘A kiss and a cuddle’s not everything, cock. Settle for being good friends.
‘Now then, my boy… before you go, one last thing. See if you can manage to get Rosie a dancing part in My Fair Lady. She’s as good as any. And she won’t let you down.’
‘I doubt she’ll have time for that, Harriet, what with her own show on top of everything else.’
‘True… but if this crazy idea of hers falls flat, at least shell ’ave something else to chuck herself into – other than the river.’
Fastening his duffel coat, Richard told Harriet that he could see the sense in what she was saying and that he would have a word with his aunt who had the contacts in the theatre.
‘Best not tell ’er who the part’s for though, eh?’ said Harriet, showing him to the door.
‘Don’t worry – I intend to be as furtive as she’s been. Thank you very much for the tea. It was kind of you.’
‘It was a pleasure.’ Closing the door behind him, she began to laugh. Of all the people that Rosie could have brought home from the Prospect, it had to be Mary’s grandson… and the image of Tommy; but without his strong character and sense of humour. Her past had not simply flashed before her in this, her eightieth year – it had arrived at her front door.
Once she had stoked the fire and got it blazing again, she made herself comfortable, content with just the sound of the clock ticking on the mantelshelf. With her legs stretched out and resting on a footstool, she considered how many times in the past she had said ‘it’s a small world’. Now she really did know the meaning of the old saying.
Satisfied with her morning’s socializing, she was ready for a doze, and looked forward to telling Rosie that Richard now knew they were cousins and was actually pleased to be part of the family, and not horrified by the revelation, as they would have expected.
* * *
Meanwhile, back at the Star, everyone was tired after a hard day’s work. Dropping exhausted into one of the seats in a row behind her mother, Rosie closed her eyes, believing that Iris was asleep.
‘You’ve made a good job of the floor, Rosie. It’s come up a treat,’ said Iris, yawning. ‘These seats are not as good as they look, you know. I’ve not been on this one five minutes and my bum’s gone numb.’
‘What do you expect? You’ve bin kipping for over an hour. You’re bound to be stiff. That seat’s down for repair, anyway. They’re not all as bad.’
‘An hour? Never! I dozed off for a few seconds, that’s all.’
‘No you didn’t. Ask the others. At least we know the acoustics are good.’
Iris sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. ‘I wasn’t snoring, was I?’
‘Not much you wasn’t. Anyway, it’s time to pack up. George’ll be ’ere in ten minutes, time. I can’t wait for ’im to see the inside of this place.’
‘Where ’ave the girls got to?’ yawned Iris ‘Look around yer. They’re dotted around, worn out and waiting to go.’
Iris studied Rosie’s face. ‘You look all in as well.’
‘I’ll be all right, after a long soak in the bath. Look at the lino now – looks a bit different, don’t it?’
‘Amazing… it really is red. Who would ’ave believed it?’ She gazed around and nodded thoughtfully. ‘This place’ll look a picture by the time we’ve done, Rosie. When’s the next cleaning blitz gonna take place?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Sunday? Give us a rest, Rose, for God’s sake.’
‘You’ve got all night to sleep, ain’t yer? What more do you want?’
‘A lie-in tomorrow… a leisurely day…’
‘You’ll be lucky.’
Sighing, Iris gave her daughter a half-hearted look of reproach. ‘This had better be worth all our trouble.’
‘It will – you’ll see. Between us we’ll bring a bit of life to this old place. That’s gotta be worth giving up a couple of weekends, ain’ it?’
‘A couple? Half a dozen more like.’
Rosie gave her a cheeky wink. ‘I knew you’d come round.’
Chapter 10
From as far back as Rosie could remember, waking up in the morning had not been something she relished. Although it had been a very long time since she had ended her bedtime prayer with, ‘and please let me sleep for ever…’ waking moments had been veiled with despondency, until she realized that she was no longer a small child with nothing to look forward to. This morning signalled a very important change: Rosie had awoken without that fleeting sense of dread. It seemed as if the sun were radiating right through her, even though it was the beginning of a grey and dismal dawn. With a smile on her face, she closed her eyes and cherished the moment. Not only was she in love with George and he with her but since her chance meeting with Larry, life had taken on a new meaning.
Picturing the auditorium, the way it looked after just two weekends of the team giving it a good scrub, spit and polish, she felt sure that even better things were to come. She allowed her imagination to work overtime, visualizing freshly painted walls and ceilings, brass fittings gleaming bright, blue velvet drapes, deep-red floors and glass-shaded lights. She could almost smell the beeswax polish on the doors and wood panelling.
Going into Charrington’s to work on a conveyor belt was something she now looked forward to. The girls were genuinely interested in her project, eager to know the latest developments and ever ready to be involved in some way. If she had let herself be carried away by their enthusiasm, she may well have found that there were too many Indians for the chief to instruct. Renovating the interior of the theatre could easily turn into a farce.
Gently, gently, Rosie, she told herself, throwing back the bedclothes and swinging her legs off the bed. There was much to do and a very long way to go before she could slacken the reins. With just two days to go before she and her workforce went into the Star for the third scrubbing session, she reasoned that it was now time for Iris to cough up some of Tommy’s savings for paint, rollers and brushes. The men were on call, and a stack of old bed sheets for protecting the recently cleaned carpets was piled up in the passage, courtesy of Harriet, Iris and several neighbours. According to Harriet, one old girl along the turning had given her old laying-out sheets. Whether it was true or just her gran’s strange sense of humour, she didn’t care. Dust sheets were dust sheets, and they were going to need quite a few.
Glancing at her alarm clock, Rosie was surprised to see that it was only six-thirty. She felt as if she had slept round the clock instead of six hours. Wearing her warm candlewick dressing gown she crept downstairs to make herself a cup of tea, pleased that the radio had not been switched on and the house was quiet. It wasn’t often that she was up before Iris and Harriet.
‘If that’s you, Iris, creeping about like Jesus, you can make that tea for two!’ Harriet’s voice drifted through the slightly open doorway. ‘Now you’ve woke me up to the sound of creaking floorboards, you can wait on me.’
