Maddy Again

by Pamela Brown

  ‘I know,’ giggled Sunny. ‘I waited outside to see what she done look like, and when I seen her I says to myself, “I sure do hope that Miss Madeleine don’t have to stomach that old sour-puss.”’

  Maddy laughed delightedly.

  ‘I say, Sunny, please don’t call me Miss Madeleine. Call me Maddy, like everyone else does, and I’ll call you Sunny—if you don’t mind, that is.’

  Sunny frowned. ‘Well, I don’t know, Miss Maddy. It don’t seem quite proper somehow.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Maddy. ‘Didn’t you call the children you were looking after just by their Christian names?’

  ‘No, miss. Not after they were babies. They were Master Elmer, Master Glyn and Miss Kate as soon as they were knee high to a grasshopper, as you might say.’

  ‘Oh well, it’s quite different in television,’ said Maddy sweepingly. ‘Everybody calls everybody by their Christian names, so you’ll have to, too.’

  ‘Just like you say, Miss Maddy, honey,’ said Sunny doubtfully. ‘I’ll try to remember in front of other folks, but when we’re alone I guess you’ll just have to put up with being Miss Maddy.’

  Maddy laughed. ‘You are funny,’ she cried. ‘You’ll be the best chaperone anyone ever had, I’m sure.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing about television,’ said Sunny. ‘Is it very difficult? What will I have to do? Mrs Seymore didn’t explain very much.’

  ‘Well, yes, television is difficult,’ said Maddy. ‘But you won’t really have a lot to do, except see that I’m all right. And I’m pretty nearly always all right. But you have to go everywhere I go—into the studio, to meals, in the dressing-room, even to have a wash.’

  ‘What—even go to the bathroom with you?’ demanded Sunny in horror.

  ‘Yes,’ laughed Maddy. ‘Isn’t it ridiculous? Anyone would think I was still a child.’

  This time it was Sunny’s turn to laugh. She threw back her head.

  ‘You’re a caution, honey,’ she cried, and Maddy joined in her laughter.

  There was a peculiarly comforting quality about Sunny that Maddy had never met before. From feeling nervous and a little unsure of herself because it was to be a first rehearsal in a new medium, she began to feel confident and happy. It was so strange and new to have an attendant like Sunny, who adopted the role of servant yet without becoming servile. Maddy remembered some of her mother’s charwomen and maids, who had been determined not to be put upon in any way, and she could not help contrasting their attitude with Sunny’s pleasing manner.

  Just then they came in sight of a long low wooden building, standing on a bombed site.

  ‘This is the rehearsal room,’ said Maddy. And they turned in at the door.

  8

  MISS TIBBS

  Maddy did not quite know what she had expected to find on entering the building, but it was certainly not the scene that met their eyes when they stepped over the threshold. The amazing thing was that it looked just like a room at the Academy, set out for one of Mr Manyweather’s television rehearsals. It was almost completely bare, except for some upright wooden chairs arranged in strange patterns on the floor, following a design mapped out in chalks of various colours. In one corner a group of people stood talking and laughing, but they all stopped and turned towards the door when they heard it open.

  ‘Ah, good, it’s Madeleine,’ said Morgan Evans, advancing towards her. Then he saw Sunny, and stopped dead.

  ‘Er—yes, madam, can I help you?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Oh, it’s all right, she’s with me,’ said Maddy. ‘I must introduce you. Mr Evans, this is my chaperone, Miss Mackenzie—and she’s over twenty-one.’

  Mr Morgan Evans quickly came over his astonishment.

  ‘Oh well, that’s a good thing. I—er—I’m glad you could come, Miss Mackenzie. Now come along, Maddy, and meet everyone.’

  Maddy recognised one of the elderly men, who was beautifully dressed and most important-looking, as a member of the editorial board she had seen at the camera audition.

  ‘This is Mr Stanley,’ said Morgan Evans, ‘the editor of The World of Youth. He wants to say a few words before we start the rehearsal.’

  Mr Stanley was staring fixedly at Sunny, who grinned broadly back at him.

  ‘Oh, yes—yes,’ he said hurriedly and turned to survey the company.

  ‘Before you start work I just wanted to say to you that although The World of Youth is a commercial concern and has to pay its way just like any other publication, its proprietors have imbued it with a very high sense of purpose—that of friendship between the nations. And we know that it is with the young people of the world that our hope lies. Therefore, although we want this show to be lively, slick and full of fun, we also want from each and every one of you a feeling of sincerity and purpose.’

  He had obviously learned his speech by heart, but somehow the presence of Sunny seemed to put him off. His eyes kept straying back to her and he would ‘um’ and ‘ah’ uncertainly. When he had finished saying the same thing several times, but couched in different words, everyone nodded sagely and said, ‘M’m’ or ‘Yes’ very sincerely, but Sunny said loudly, ‘Too true, Mr Stanley, sir, too true.’

  Then Mr Stanley turned to Morgan Evans in puzzlement.

  ‘Morgan,’ he asked, ‘is this lady in the show?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Morgan Evans hastily. ‘She’s Madeleine’s chaperone, Miss Mackenzie.’

  ‘Well, she should take part in the show,’ said Mr Stanley. ‘Write her in. Goodbye, everyone.’

  And he left the hall abruptly. Morgan Evans flopped into a chair while there was a buzz of excitement from the rest of the cast.

  ‘Write her in,’ moaned Morgan Evans. ‘Just like that. Oh, preserve us.’ He said something in Welsh that did not sound at all polite.

  Maddy and Sunny looked at each other in a worried fashion, as they could not quite understand what was going on.

  ‘Miss Tibbs,’ cried Morgan Evans, ‘where are you?’

  Maddy now noticed an elderly woman, with cropped grey hair, who hurried forward to the producer saying, ‘Don’t worry—don’t worry—it’s the perfect answer. We wondered what we ought to do about the child’s parents—why they never appear in the script. This is the perfect answer—she’s attended by the faithful family retainer—our friend here.’

  ‘It’s an idea,’ said Morgan Evans slowly, appearing to recover a little. ‘But can she act?’

  Miss Tibbs turned to Sunny. ‘Can you act?’ she demanded sternly, seeming to dare her to say no.

  ‘Well, ma’am, I ain’t never tried,’ said Sunny equably.

  All the rest of the cast roared with laughter, and Sunny grinned in a friendly fashion, not taking the least offence.

  Morgan Evans looked at Sunny speculatively.

  ‘H’m, well, she’s got a good sense of timing,’ he observed, then suddenly he seemed to brighten. ‘Yes, it’s an excellent idea,’ he said. ‘It’ll make the show. You write her just a few lines, Miss Tibbs, but make them good. Can you do it by tomorrow?’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Miss Tibbs stoutly, nodding her head in determination.

  Nobody had actually asked Sunny whether she’d like to be in the show, and Maddy thought it was time they did.

  ‘Would you like it, Sunny?’ she asked. ‘Like to be actually in the show instead of just watching?’

  ‘Suits me fine, Miss Maddy,’ said Sunny happily. ‘Just whatever the folks want.’

  ‘Of course, she’ll be paid more than for chaperoning, won’t she, Mr Evans?’ said Maddy.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course you will, my dear Miss—er—Mackenzie, of course. And now we must have a read-through of the script, even though it will have to be amended by tomorrow.’

  At one end of the room some of the wooden-backed chairs had been drawn round a table and Morgan Evans settled himself between his secretary and Miss Tibbs. The cast arranged themselves on the chairs and the read-through began.

  ‘Try to ba
sh straight through,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘We want to get a rough idea of the timing, and in the interview I wonder if perhaps—er—Miss Mackenzie, would you mind answering the questions that Maddy asks you? We’re not quite sure yet what nationality we’re going to have for the dry run.’

  This didn’t mean a thing to Sunny, but she nodded happily.

  ‘Now, we start off with the interview after Maddy’s opening remarks. All set, everyone?’

  He looked questioningly at his secretary, who was holding a stopwatch poised.

  ‘Right,’ she said, and clicked a knob.

  ‘Off you go then.’

  Maddy had studied her script so well that she knew it nearly by heart, therefore she could read it perfectly, and she delivered her opening lines with great aplomb, but when it came to the interview Sunny’s replies were so quaint that she and everyone else was convulsed with laughter.

  The questions that Maddy had to ask were framed to suit a schoolchild, and when Maddy asked, ‘And tell me, what sort of school do you go to in America?’ Sunny answered, ‘I reckon I’m too big a girl for school, Miss Maddy.’

  Morgan Evans, with tears of laughter rolling down his face, kept urging them to keep on, and not to stop or the timing would be lost. When Maddy finished up with, ‘Well, thank you for coming to visit us on our programme today, and bon voyage,’ Sunny retaliated with, ‘I guess you ain’t getting rid of me easy as that, Miss Maddy.’

  Exhausted with laughter, Morgan Evans said, ‘Right, give us the announcement for the musical part of the show, Maddy, then we can hold it.’

  The next part of the show included a troupe of dancers from Spain and a French boy pianist who was in London to give a concert at the Albert Hall.

  ‘But we shan’t have them here until the day of the programme,’ explained Morgan Evans. ‘That interview was one of the funniest things I’ve heard for a long time,’ he went on. ‘Miss Tibbs, see you give Miss Mackenzie some good comedy lines in the sketch.’

  Miss Tibbs was scribbling away rapidly in a notebook.

  ‘Rather,’ she agreed. ‘She’s given me some ideas already.’

  ‘Now,’ said Morgan Evans, ‘we come to the sketch, which affects everyone. The idea is that Maddy, an English schoolgirl, is on a trip round the world, and each week she visits a different country. The first sketch, for the dry run, and the next few, will be done in the studio, but eventually—well, we have some rather different plans.’

  The first sketch was about South America, and Maddy now noticed that all the actors were dark-skinned and swarthy. Although they were English, several of them could speak Spanish, and had to do so for a few lines of the script. A girl of about seventeen or eighteen was playing the part of an Argentinian schoolgirl.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ cried Miss Tibbs suddenly, waving her notebook.

  ‘Yes, yes? What?’ demanded Morgan Evans.

  ‘Instead of having the child, Madeleine, just floating round the world for no apparent reason, why don’t we have her coming back from—oh—somewhere, where her parents are living—on her way to boarding school in England, and just stopping off at various countries on the way. What do you think?’

  ‘It’s an idea,’ said Morgan Evans, ‘and it accounts for Miss Mackenzie nicely too. We’ll have to see what Mr Stanley thinks about it. But what country?’

  ‘Mr Stanley will have to decide that,’ said Miss Tibbs firmly. ‘But I do think it is an angle.’

  Everybody listened interestedly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Rita, the seventeen-year-old girl. ‘I have thought it’s a trifle odd at present, the way the English child just sort of appears in the sketch—there should be some reason for her wandering round the world.’

  ‘P’raps I’ve got a magic carpet,’ said Maddy hopefully.

  ‘We toyed with that idea,’ said Miss Tibbs, ‘but came to the conclusion that The World of Youth is more down-to-earth and factual than that. No, I think we’ve hit it now. And I’ll rewrite the first transmission script to include some lines of dialogue between Madeleine and Miss Mackenzie to explain the whole situation.’

  ‘Now then, let’s read the sketch through as it stands,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘But don’t forget, it’ll be altered tomorrow.’

  Everybody laughed good-naturedly.

  They all read extremely well, and Maddy felt quite nervous because their standard was so high. The sketch was interesting, but completely without humour, and when they had finished reading they discovered it had taken a few minutes under the quarter of an hour it was supposed to last.

  ‘That’s all to the good, Miss Tibbs. It will be easier for you to write in Miss Mackenzie’s part. You won’t have to cut anything; you can just add.’

  ‘I’ll jolly well add some humour,’ said Miss Tibbs. ‘It’s as dull as ditchwater. Mind you, they’re well cast.’ She looked round at the actors appraisingly.

  ‘Madeleine,’ said Morgan Evans, ‘you sound a little too flippant at times. I don’t think Mr Stanley would like it. Remember, the magazine’s frightfully hands-across-the-sea, if you understand me. Just a little more empire building, if you can manage it. Don’t worry about it being too heavy. Miss Tibbs will see to that. Let’s read it again, shall we? I don’t think it’s any good walking through, if the script’s to be rewritten. Sorry, Moyra, about all that chalking-out.’

  He smiled at a large, freckled young woman in slacks, who had been crawling about on her knees, marking out patterns on the floor with the aid of a ruler and an impressive-looking plan.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Moyra. ‘It had to be done some time. Now, I only hope they don’t scrub the floor before tomorrow.’

  After they had read the sketch again and discussed various points, Morgan Evans said, ‘Maddy, you went too far that time. I expected you to wave a Union Jack at any moment.’

  Maddy giggled shamefacedly.

  ‘Still, it’s a relief to find a child who can overact,’ he observed. ‘Usually it’s a case of having to bully a girl of your age in order to get anything out of her at all. But remember, you don’t need to do as much for television.’

  ‘Mr Manyweather said I’d seem to be leaping out of the screen and biting people,’ said Maddy.

  ‘Yes,’ Morgan Evans agreed, ‘an apt description. You will have to tone it down a bit. Well, I don’t think there’s any sense in going further this morning. I’m sorry about the script situation, but you saw how it happened. And so—I’ll see you all tomorrow.’

  Morgan Evans, his secretary, and Moyra, the assistant floor manager, and a young man called Guy, who was the floor manager, all hurried back to the office, where they said there were a hundred and one things to do. The rest of the cast adjourned to a nearby cake shop and proceeded to get to know each other. Maddy found them very friendly and not so different from the seniors at the Academy. They told her how lucky she was to be going all the way through the series.

  ‘I know,’ said Maddy. ‘And it was only because another girl got appendicitis. She was much better than I am. More sort of—well—refined, I suppose. Mr Evans wouldn’t have had to tell her to be more empire building.’

  ‘She sounds revolting,’ laughed Rita, tossing her long dark hair. ‘I’m sure you’ll be much more amusing—you and Miss Mackenzie.’

  ‘Now, don’t call me Miss, miss,’ Sunny remonstrated. ‘I ain’t used to it. Sunny’s my name…’

  ‘And sunny your nature,’ quipped one of the actors. ‘I hope, Miss Tibbs, you’ll give her some good lines.’

  ‘Do I have to learn them all off by heart?’ Sunny frowned. ‘I ain’t learned anything by heart since Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be all right,’ said Miss Tibbs. ‘You’re a “natural” as they say. Which state do you hail from?’

  ‘From the South ma’am,’ said Sunny, putting on a deep Southern drawl. ‘But I’ve worked all over the wide world.’

  Soon Sunny and Miss Tibbs were off on a long travelogue of a
ll the places they had visited, while the others listened, exceedingly impressed.

  Suddenly Maddy noticed the time.

  ‘Goodness, I must fly if I’m going to get lunch and not be late for lessons this afternoon. You don’t know how lucky you are to be all grown up, and not have to go to school.’

  ‘I’d rather go to school than go home and clean up my flat—which is what I must do,’ yawned Rita.

  ‘Come on, Sunny,’ Maddy urged. ‘You’d better make a show of seeing me back to the Academy—then I’ll see you on to your bus.’

  They left the café amid shouts of laughter.

  ‘I’m having the nicest time I ever did have,’ said Sunny happily. ‘And to think that I’m going to act on that television. What my folks will say when they hear, I just don’t know.’

  Maddy realised that by her ‘folks’ she meant her employers and their family.

  ‘They’ll just about go mad; I guess the young ’uns ’ll never believe it.’

  ‘Until they see you,’ added Maddy. ‘Isn’t it exciting and terrible that thousands and thousands of people are going to see us.’

  When she got back to the Academy she could hardly eat her lunch in the canteen because so many people as well as Mrs Seymore wanted to hear what the first rehearsal had been like. She had to tell over and over again how it was that Sunny had become part of the show.

  She was so excited by her first day’s rehearsal that she talked about it to Mrs Bosham and Zillah all the evening, and then dreamt about it all night.

  She woke early, and wished it were time to get up and study her part, but knew that it was not really worthwhile, as the whole script would be changed by today.

  At last it was time to go to rehearsal. She felt that she had settled in well enough to be able to wear slacks today.

  Sunny joined her outside the Academy and they hurried through to Russell Square.

  Miss Tibbs was buzzing about in the rehearsal room with some loose bits of paper, showing people where these were to be inserted in the scripts.