Joyce pulled the shirt together at the front. ‘Ooh, I wonder what he’ll bring?’
Philip beamed at her. ‘I don’t know, maybe some toy soldiers or a toy car. I like both of them.’
Joyce giggled at his excitement. ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see won’t we?’
‘There’s a lot of laughter coming from this room.’ Arthur wrinkled his nose as he stepped through the open doorway. ‘I thought I’d come and check everything was all right. You’re going to be late for work.’ He glanced down at his wristwatch. ‘Actually, let me correct that statement, you are late for work.’
Joyce sighed. ‘I know. I didn’t allow enough time this morning for everything. To be honest I didn’t realise…’ She glanced at Philip before quickly looking back at Arthur. ‘Anyway, I need to get up earlier in the mornings for anything unexpected that might happen.’ She lifted her hand and ruffled Philip’s dark hair. ‘At least, once we’ve done up these shirt buttons, Philip is ready for breakfast and then I only have to sort out these sheets and the bath.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Why don’t you leave Philip and everything else in here to me and the girls. Just get yourself off to work?’ He smiled at the small boy sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling where they couldn’t reach the floor. ‘We’ll have fun won’t we?’
Philip nodded.
‘We’ll go out for a walk because I want to post a letter to Dot, and then we’ll play some games.’
Joyce smiled. ‘Thank you, appreciate your help, and I’m pleased you and Dot are writing to each other. Make sure you tell her we all say hello and we miss her.’
*
Joyce pulled the collar up to cover her mouth against the sharp wind as she weaved through the street market on the way to the café. Her mind was full of Philip as she huddled inside her coat. His troubled night was probably to be expected. She was grateful Arthur had offered to look after him but she needed a proper plan. Joyce absently pushed hard on the café door but it stayed firmly shut. She frowned as she stared at the door wondering where Simon was. Her heart jumped in her chest. Opening her handbag she fumbled inside for the key he had given her many months ago but never used. Gripping the cold steel she quickly turned the key in the lock of the café door and pushed it open. The silence inside was broken by the bell above the door ringing out.
Simon should have been in by now. Was he not in at all today? Had he really left without saying goodbye? Had she seen him for the very last time? Is that what he meant when he said it would be their last chance to talk? Her throat tightened. If only she hadn’t dismissed his marriage proposal. She closed her eyes, her lips parted, and for a moment she could feel his mouth soft and caressing on hers. Her eyes snapped open as the love she felt for him overwhelmed her. She had been a fool, but would he live long enough for her to tell him and for him to forgive her?
The bell chimed as the café door slammed shut, hurtling Joyce back to the job in hand. She had promised to keep the café going for Simon and that was what she was going to do.
The café door burst open and Barbara Hitchin rushed in. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late. I got upset this morning, what with Simon leaving early. He wanted to come here to see you to say goodbye?’ She sniffed. ‘Did you see him?’
‘No.’ Joyce blushed. ‘I was late myself and didn’t realise he wasn’t coming to work this morning.’
Barbara scowled at Joyce. She opened her mouth to speak but Simon’s words about looking after Joyce and not giving her a hard time rang in her head. She closed her mouth again.
Joyce frowned. ‘Was he all right?’
‘He seemed distracted, but I expect that’s what going off to fight does for you.’ Barbara paused. ‘My mother and I put on a brave face until he had left and then we cried buckets, but there’s nothing we can do except pray he comes back safely.’
Joyce nodded; she couldn’t bring herself to think about it. ‘It’s going to be a tough day with only the two of us so we should start getting ready for the customers; we’re already late. Do you think you’ll be able to cope?’
Barbara glared at her before answering coldly, ‘I’m sure between us we’ll manage. My mother has offered to come in and help, even if it’s only doing the washing up.’
‘That’s good of her, and we might have to take her up on that offer but we’ll see how it goes.’ Joyce marched into the kitchen, lit the range and turned the tap on to fill the kettle. She jumped back, as water sprayed everywhere, soaking everything in its path. She quickly turned it off. The tears came quickly. How was she going to cope with the café and a five-year-old boy? Then there was Simon. Why had she been so stupid?
The kitchen door swung open. ‘Is everything all right?’ Barbara’s voice held an edge to it. ‘Shall I fetch my mother and tell her you can’t cope with it today?’
Joyce wiped her eyes before turning to face Simon’s sister. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you. Do we have customers?’ She looked around wondering how to protect her clothes from water, spitting fat and anything that might come her way. She reached out for Simon’s white kitchen coat and put it on. The smell of him clung to the material. She breathed in the woody fragrance and fought the urge to cuddle it.
Barbara scowled. ‘Not yet.’
‘Then why do you think I can’t cope? Or perhaps I should say we can’t cope?’ Joyce’s eyes narrowed. ‘If we’re going to keep this café going while Simon’s away then we need to work together as a team because your brother has made it very popular even if he isn’t getting rich on it, and I for one don’t wish to disappoint him.’
Barbara nodded slowly. ‘We can do that, but if it continues to be busy then we will probably need someone to help out.’
The bell chimed.
Joyce forced a smile. ‘So it begins.’
Barbara swiftly turned round, opening the kitchen door to greet the customers. ‘Good morning, how many would you like a table for?’
Joyce quickly washed her hands, using the carbolic soap Simon kept on the kitchen side.
Barbara’s voice rang out from the other side of the serving hatch. ‘Joyce, I need two fried breakfasts, one with no tomatoes please.’
Joyce dried her hands before grabbing two large frying pans; there was a clang as she placed them on top of the range. ‘Thank you, Barbara. Can you write the orders on tickets? Then put them on the hooks, this side of the hatch; otherwise I’ll forget them, or they’ll be done out of order when we’re busy.’
It wasn’t that long before the aroma of frying bacon and eggs filled the kitchen. A few hours later Joyce had found her rhythm, keeping an eye on the many pots and pans that were on a low heat. Joyce mopped away the perspiration from her brow on a clean cloth. Collecting a glass from the cupboard, she filled it with cold water. It was a lovely reprieve from the heat in the kitchen. She had never realised how hard it was working in there. Maybe the tariff needed thinking about.
A deep voice came from the other side of the serving hatch. ‘How are you doing?’
Joyce looked up and saw Arthur standing there. ‘It’s hot and I didn’t realise how hard Simon worked in here.’ She paused as panic gripped her. ‘Wait, where’s Philip?’
Arthur laughed. ‘Stop worrying, he’s here. I brought him here for some lunch and to show him where you worked.’ He peered over his shoulder where Philip was sitting on his own. ‘He’s a good lad, and older than his years would suggest.’
Joyce walked over to the hatch and watched the dark-haired boy drawing on some paper. His shoulders were hunched over. He looked up and gazed around him. There was sadness about him. ‘Are you all right looking after him? I mean with losing William?’
Arthur tightened his lips. ‘I didn’t think I would be but actually it’s a delight to have him around.’
Joyce smiled. ‘Well, that’s good. I need to come up with a plan for looking after him and keeping this place going.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Don’t forget he’ll be at school Monday to Frida
y.’
‘That’s true, once I’ve enrolled him, but then it’s about taking him and picking him up.’ Joyce shook her head. ‘I need to work it out. The trouble is everything has happened at once and I haven’t had chance to think about it all properly.’
Arthur leant his elbows on the serving hatch. ‘Don’t worry, I can at least help out for a little while and I’m sure the girls won’t mind taking him to school now and then for you.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we should all sit down and talk about it.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘It seems unfair to ask everyone to help when it’s my problem. I just need to think about it.’
Arthur eyed up the growing pile of washing up. ‘Look, why don’t I get Philip settled and then I’ll wash some of those dishes for you.’
The doorbell chiming brought a groan from Joyce. She looked over in time to see Frank walk through the open door. ‘Oh no, that’s all I need – Frank wanting to carry on with his interview today.’
Arthur frowned and followed Joyce’s gaze. ‘Frank?’
‘Yes, he’s interviewing me for an article he’s writing for one of the papers but, if I’m honest, I don’t really have time for it, especially now.’
Arthur watched the young man push back his trilby and glance around the café. ‘Do you want me to talk to him for you?’
Joyce smiled. ‘I’d love to say yes but I think this is something I need to do.’ She unbuttoned the white coat and placed it on the peg. After patting her hair she pushed open the kitchen door and stepped through to the side she was more used to.
‘I’ll go and start on those dishes for you.’ Arthur took a step through to the kitchen, stopping midway to give Frank one last look as Joyce walked towards him.
‘Hello, Frank.’
‘Ah, Joyce, I was just looking for yer.’ Frank beamed at her. ‘You look different out of your waitress uniform.’
Joyce gave him a brief smile. ‘Of course, I’d forgotten I wasn’t wearing it.’ She paused to look over at Philip. ‘I’m afraid the situation has changed here and I’m now cooking so I won’t have time to sit and chat with you.’
Frank followed Joyce’s eyeline. ‘Is that yer little boy?’
Joyce snapped her gaze back to him. ‘Of course not. What type of girl do you think I am?’
Frank’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult yer. It’s just yer were watching him sitting there all alone.’ He looked back at the boy. ‘In fact he looks quite sad.’
Joyce looked back at Philip. ‘He is quite sad. I’m meant to be looking after him while also running this.’ She waved her arm around her. ‘My uncle is caring for him today but he’s currently washing up some dishes to help out.’
Barbara brushed against Joyce. ‘Sorry, Joyce, but we need a couple of breakfasts cooked.’
Joyce sighed. ‘I’m coming.’
Frank studied Joyce. ‘Look, why don’t yer introduce me to him and I’ll sit and chat with him until yer uncle comes out.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘I couldn’t do that. That would be a terrible imposition to make.’
‘I’m offering.’ Frank chuckled. ‘Yer can always give me a free cup of tea or something.’
Joyce couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face as he laughed.
Frank put his hand on Joyce’s elbow. ‘Come on, this is a gift, and yer got breakfasts to cook; ’ungry people get very angry.’ He guided Joyce towards Philip and waited for the introductions to be made.
*
‘Morning, Bert.’ Annie and Rose chorused as they ran through the stage door of The Lyceum theatre.
‘Morning, ladies, it’s lovely to see yer smiling faces every day. I missed yer when yer moved to The Lyric.’ Bert smiled. ‘It’s blooming freezing out there innit?’
Annie started to unravel her scarf. ‘It certainly is, Bert.’
Rose beamed at him. ‘It’s good to see you every day too. I’m sorry we can’t stop for a chat otherwise we’ll be late.’
Bert waved them on. ‘Get on wiv yer then. I don’t want yer getting into any trouble now.’
The girls smiled and waved as they rushed past him.
Rose dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I heard Kitty and Stan talking last night. I think they have concerns about the lack of male actors, due to them all going off to fight, so I don’t know what they will do about it.’
Annie stepped back to let someone pass them and stared at the back of Rose’s head. ‘I don’t want to think about anything to do with the war because then the worry takes over. Like you said I prefer to think David is still working on the farm.’
‘I know what you mean. If my brothers survive the war I might kill them myself for not writing to me.’ Rose clenched her hands by her sides.
Annie nodded. ‘That’s brothers for you.’
Rose peered over her shoulder at Annie. ‘I was only telling you about the actors because it might mean you’ll get a part instead of being an understudy.’
Annie took a deep breath. ‘I know, thank you. Changing the subject, but only because I can’t dwell on them fighting and risking their lives – it scares me – but we do need to think what we can do to help Joyce.’
Rose glanced back again. ‘I know but I’m not sure how.’
Annie upped her pace to walk alongside Rose. ‘No, it’s difficult. I wonder who he is and why her grandmother was looking after him?’
Rose shrugged. ‘I don’t know, must be a relation of some sort, don’t you think?’
‘But according to Joyce she hasn’t got any relations, apart from her grandmother that is.’
Rose’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Not even on her mother’s side?’
Joyce shook her head. ‘I don’t know but you’d assume not; otherwise why did her father leave her with Arthur?’
‘That’s true.’ Rose’s lips tightened. ‘Arthur might be able to help out with him?’
‘Maybe, but that might bring back painful memories for him.’ Annie sighed.
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Rose paused. ‘I don’t know, perhaps we need to come up with some sort of system to help out.’
Annie glanced over at her friend. ‘I could probably look after him in the mornings because I don’t very often have to be here before the early afternoon.’
Rose nodded. ‘I could ask old Hetherington if he could come and sit in the sewing room with me, but I don’t think she’d say yes, mainly because it’s me asking.’
‘I don’t understand what her problem is. It’s not as though you are not good at your job.’ Annie’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe that’s it, perhaps she feels threatened by you because you are so good with a needle.’
Rose laughed. ‘I shouldn’t think so; she didn’t treat Dot the way she treats me. Anyway, I’ve got to get on. I’m probably going to be here late into the evening.’
‘I’ll pop in when I’m ready to go and see where you’re at.’ Annie peered into the empty sewing room. ‘I’ve got to go and listen to the rehearsal.’
Rose nodded. ‘I hope it goes well. I’ll see you later.’
A couple of minutes later Annie stood hidden in the wings listening to Kitty and the cast reciting their lines. She loved listening to them and smiled as Kitty’s voice carried in the theatre as Josephine. Silence suddenly hung in the air. Annie couldn’t remember there being such a long gap between lines.
Stan’s voice boomed out. ‘Come on, come on, haven’t you learnt your lines yet? For goodness’ sake we’re never going to be ready for opening night at this rate.’
Annie followed his line of vision. It was the girl she had almost shut the door on.
The cast began murmuring among themselves.
Stan glanced towards the side of the stage. ‘Annie, I know you’re waiting in the wings somewhere, listening to this nonsense, so give me the next line.’
Annie stayed silent and didn’t move a muscle.
Stan bellowed. ‘Come on out and give me the next line.’
Colour rus
hed into Annie’s cheeks as she took a small step on to the edge of the stage. She cleared her throat but avoided looking at the cast, who she felt sure were staring at her. She walked further on to the stage as though she was carrying a tea tray and mimed placing it on a table. ‘Tea, ma’am. Shall I pour?’
Stan grinned at Annie before turning his anger on the young actress. ‘And she’s not even in the play.’ He pointed to Kitty. ‘Give me the next line.’
‘Yes, of course: then I must rise and write to my love, Napoleon.’
Stan turned to another actress and pointed. ‘And the next one.’
Panic ran across the actress’s face as she nodded. ‘I shall make sure there is ink in the well on the desk, ma’am.’
Stan turned his steel-like gaze to the young actress. ‘All of them know every line in this play and you do not even appear to know your own, let alone anyone else’s! This is a warning to you: I cannot afford to take a risk on an opening night so you had better know them by tomorrow’s rehearsal.’ He glanced around the rest of the cast on stage and sighed. ‘Let’s have a ten-minute break.’
Flushed with colour, Annie disappeared into the wings and rushed back to Kitty’s dressing room. She felt sorry for the girl and wondered what she could do to help her. She turned as footsteps came running towards her. The girl was sobbing as she ran past Annie along the corridor. ‘Wait, please wait.’
The girl stopped in her tracks and turned slightly. Her tears glistened on her face. She sniffed.
Annie intertwined her hands together in front of her. ‘I want to help.’
‘Why? From what I hear you’re everyone’s favourite around here. You can do no wrong. They say everything has been handed to you on a plate because you have Kitty Smythe’s ear.’
Bewilderment crashed down on Annie. ‘I don’t know where this has come from – my guess is from someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. I’m a dresser who happens to love the theatre and there’s no denying I’ve always wanted to be on the stage but never at someone else’s expense.’
The girl stared at Annie.
Annie shook her head. ‘Let me help you. I don’t even know your name.’
Big Dreams for the West End Girls Page 13