Big Dreams for the West End Girls

by Elaine Roberts

  Simon flopped his head against the back of the chair. Beads of perspiration ran down his face. He took several breaths before nodding. ‘Thank you, Doctor, I promise I shall try and do all the stretching movements and exercises that you suggested. I have no desire to end up in a wheelchair.’

  *

  Annie marched purposefully along the corridor, her heels clicking. She was hot and sticky but her excitement was growing with each step as she headed towards Kitty’s dressing room. She loved the theatre’s smell of make-up mingling with the paint the stage team used to patch up any knocks on the scenery as it came on and off stage. There was always something going on; it was a hive of excitement and activity, hammers banging on wood somewhere, instruments being tuned, and actors reading their lines or music playing.

  Walking past an open doorway, Annie thought she heard someone sniffing. Stopping for a moment to listen, she turned to walk back and peer around the doorway. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but are you all right? I couldn’t help but hear you crying from down the corridor.’

  The young girl looked up. Her eyes were red and blurry. ‘You can’t help me. From what I hear you’re the last person I’d want to help me.’

  Annie jerked her head back. Her face didn’t sting and yet she felt as though she’d been slapped. ‘Well, I’m not trying to intrude. I just wanted to help if I could. You know a problem shared is a problem halved and all that, but if you don’t need or want my help that’s fine.’

  The girl clenched her hands as she folded her arms. ‘What you mean is you want to tell the director, or worse Miss Hetherington, that I’m not fit to do the work.’

  Again Annie looked shocked. ‘I don’t know where this is coming from. I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Exactly.’ The girl wiped her hands over her face. ‘So why would you want to help me, if not to tell the people in charge that I’m no good as a seamstress because I’m too busy crying?’

  Annie shook her head. ‘I don’t understand why you think I would do that. I’ve never purposely got anyone into trouble.’

  The young girl glared at her.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? After all I might be able to help.’

  The girl dropped like a stone onto a chair. ‘No one can help me.’

  Annie shook her head. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so that sounds very dramatic; sometimes by working together you can solve these things but first I need to know what the problem is.’

  The girl sniffed. ‘You really don’t know who I am do you? Not that you should but you’ve been in the sewing room talking to Miss Spencer most afternoons and yet you just haven’t noticed me sitting in the corner.’

  Annie’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry you did say earlier about Miss Hetherington, I really should pay more attention. What’s your name?’

  The girl eyed her suspiciously.

  Annie sighed. ‘You do know it won’t be hard for me to find out who you are, don’t you?’

  The girl bit her lip for a moment before a sigh escaped. ‘It’s Lizzie Turnbull.’

  ‘Well, Lizzie, if I may call you by your first name, Rose isn’t a problem for you is she?’

  The young girl shook her head. ‘No, it’s Miss Hetherington; I don’t think she likes me very much. She says some awful things to me.’

  Annie couldn’t help laughing. ‘Miss Hetherington is horrible to everybody so don’t take it personally. She even tries to be horrible to Kitty and Mr Tyler so you’re in good company.’ She stepped further into the room. She tentatively reached out and put her arms around her. ‘Come on, let me take you back to Rose. She will look after you; she is one of the nicest people I know. If she saw how upset you are she would be upset herself. Miss Hetherington treats Rose terrible as well so she’ll know exactly what you are going through.’

  Lizzie looked taken aback. ‘Thank you, I wasn’t expecting you to be nice to me.’

  Annie sucked in her breath. ‘I don’t know what’s being said, and don’t really want to know, but no one here has ever spent any time with me – apart from my friend Rose and Kitty, but that’s because I’m her dresser – so how could they possibly know me at all?’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘I will make sure they know that you’re actually a very caring person.’

  Annie smiled. ‘I’m sorry for not noticing you in the sewing room. I’ve had a lot on my mind and always seem to be in a hurry but that’s no excuse.’ She paused for a moment and, looking at Lizzie, decided she didn’t look much older than fifteen or sixteen. ‘You know I come from a small village; Rose and I came down here together. I wanted to be on the stage and Rose supported me. I don’t know what I would do without her. I’ve learnt since being here that there are some lovely people who are prepared to give you a chance but there are also some who want to take advantage of a trusting and innocent young girl. Someone tried to take advantage of my need to learn and improve my singing. I was warned but didn’t want to listen. Anyway, the upshot of it is I got into a terrible situation, and was fortunate Kitty was there for me. I’m lucky to have found a family here and would never throw that away. If you ever need anything you just need to ask because I know what it’s like to be somewhere strange.’

  Lizzie looked at her wide-eyed. ‘Was that Matthew? He was the pianist here wasn’t he?’

  Annie raised her eyebrows. ‘My! Gossips have been talking. Let me just say it was a very unpleasant time. I am curious though as to how you know so much when you haven’t been here very long?’

  Lizzie squirmed on her chair. She lowered her eyelashes. ‘I haven’t been here very long but my friend has worked here for years and she used to come home and tell me all the gossip. I’m sorry I listened to it now and made judgements based around it.’

  Annie shook her head. ‘You’re no different to anybody else so don’t be hard on yourself.’ She put her arm through Lizzie’s. ‘Come on, let’s get you back to Rose before Miss Hetherington does sack you.’

  Lizzie smiled at Annie and followed her lead out into the corridor.

  Rose stepped out of a side room looking pensive. She looked up and down the corridor. Her face immediately broke into a smile as she walked towards them. ‘Ahh, I’ve been wondering where you were. Is everything all right?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  Annie looked from one to the other. ‘I think Miss Hetherington has been at it again.’ Her lips tightened. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’

  Rose smiled at her friend. ‘Trust me you don’t need to say anything else.’ Frowning, she looked towards Lizzie. ‘Are you all right?’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve known better.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘It happens to the best of us so don’t worry about it; however, you do need to talk to me about these things because I’ve been there as well.’

  ‘I promise I will in future.’

  ‘Well, you should. You’re excellent with a needle and I don’t want to lose you as a seamstress.’ Rose smiled as Lizzie’s face lit up. She turned to Annie. ‘Thanks for looking after Lizzie.’

  Annie smiled. ‘Any time, it was quite enlightening actually. I hope you have a good day, Lizzie, and don’t listen to the gossip.’ She turned to walk away, before stopping to peer over her shoulder. ‘I’ll catch up with you for a break in about an hour, Rose. That’s if you get a chance.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Most definitely.’

  The hour soon passed and Annie strolled into the sewing room to see Rose on her own but tugging a drawer from its runners and turning it upside down to empty it on to the large sewing table. She watched her fervently move threads and pieces of material out the way. Her hand moving swiftly between the items that had been inside before scooping them up and dropping them back in to the drawer. ‘What on earth is going on? What have you lost, Rose? I’m assuming you’ve lost something from the way you’re frantically tipping up the drawers.’

  Rose didn’t look up; she carried on pulling out drawers and banging them shut.

&nbs
p; ‘Rose.’ Annie walked over and rested her hand on her arm. ‘What on earth is the matter? Talk to me.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Annie stared at her friend, with disbelief running across her face. ‘What do you mean I wouldn’t understand? You’re my friend; if something is bothering you then it bothers me, so tell me what the problem is.’

  Rose stood up straight. Her eyes were red as they darted around the room. She sighed. ‘It’s my sketchpad; I have a few of them. Most of them are at home, but the one I’m looking for is meant to be here.’

  Annie waited, remembering the number of times she saw Rose hide a pad under her pillow when Annie had walked into her bedroom. ‘I always thought the ones at home were diaries you were keeping. That’s why I never asked about them; I didn’t want to pry.’

  ‘This particular one had Kitty’s wedding dress in it; it’s what I was using to make sure the dress was made as we both talked about.’

  Annie tried to hide her dismay from her friend. Wondering what she could do to help, she glanced around the room, which had already been turned upside down. ‘It must be here somewhere, or else it’s at home. There’s nowhere else it can be.’

  Rose jerked her head round and stared at her friend before snapping, ‘Don’t you think I know that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rose; I’m just trying to help. Where do you want me to look?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s here.’ She flopped down onto the wooden chair; her shoulders slumped as the tears started to roll down her face. ‘I don’t understand. I don’t let it out of my sight.’

  Annie put a hand on her friend’s shoulders. ‘Maybe somebody’s picked it up by mistake. Has anybody been in here today? Or perhaps we should start with where did you last see it and when? Perhaps Lizzie picked it up to have a look at? Maybe we can retrace your steps.’

  Rose shrugged. She put her head in her hands.

  ‘Come on, Rose, think because we have to start somewhere.’

  Rose let her hands fall, banging down on to the desk. She let out a sigh. ‘I am almost certain I had it this morning.’

  ‘Well, have you left the room at all? You know, did you go and talk to Bert or Kitty or even go to the ladies room? Has there been any time when you and the sketchpad have been parted?’

  Rose glanced around the room before standing up and picking up rolls of material that had been left on the table and looking underneath them. ‘I’ve been in here the whole morning, apart from when I met you and Lizzie in the hall, which is why I’ve turned the place upside down looking for it.’ Rose’s eyes widened. ‘What am I going to tell Kitty? I shouldn’t have started this dress; it was always above me, and my capabilities. And now I have to tell Kitty she won’t have it. She’s going to love me doing this so late in the day. A bride without a wedding dress.’

  Annie stared at her friend, wanting to help but not knowing where to start. She put her arm around her shoulders. ‘No, we just have to think and if we can’t find it then we’ll have to do it from memory. After all you’ve already done so much of it.’

  Rose sighed. ‘I know but it’s not just about Kitty’s dress; I have lots of thoughts in there, ideas for future outfits, all my dreams are in that pad.’

  Annie squeezed her friend tight. ‘We’ll find it. I promise we’ll keep looking until it’s found.’

  *

  Joyce stood upright and stretched her aching back. She ran her forearm across her face as she turned to see Barbara sweeping the floor and Philip filling up the salt cellars. He shook the paper funnel she had made earlier to avoid the salt granules going all over the table, and was twisting round the salt cellar, admiring his handiwork.

  Philip smiled; he sat back down on the wooden chair waiting for Joyce to finish work.

  Joyce sighed and moved the condiments to one side of the café table, wiping the available space vigorously with a damp cloth.

  Philip called out, ‘Is there anything else I can do?’

  Joyce smiled at the young lad she had become quite attached to. ‘I don’t think so, we’re nearly finished now, so we shouldn’t be long.’ She went back to cleaning the tables ready for the morning.

  The bell chimed above the café door as it swung open. Joyce didn’t look up. ‘Sorry, we’re closed.’

  Barbara stopped sweeping and looked up. The grey-haired man looked familiar to her.

  ‘I know.’

  Philip’s excited voice suddenly rang out in the café. ‘Pa!’ His chair scraped over the tiled floor as he pushed it back. His footsteps were hardly noticeable as he ran across to his father.

  Barbara smiled as she watched the boy’s excitement.

  Joyce stopped dead. She knew that voice, but was sure she had misheard. She looked up, intrigued to see who Philip’s father was. Her eyes widened while her mouth dropped open in surprise. Philip had already wrapped his arms around his father’s legs. She was stunned as she took in the scene in front of her. There was no mistake.

  ‘Hello, Philip, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you for a little while.’ Ted scooped him up into his arms and held the boy tight.

  Philip threw his arms around his father’s neck and squeezed him tight. ‘That’s all right, Pa, I expect you’ve been busy working.’

  Ted tickled him. ‘That I have, that I have.’

  Philip giggled.

  Barbara started to laugh. She glanced over at Joyce but there was no happiness in her face; she looked ashen.

  Joyce stood rooted to the spot. She stared at them both, unable to take in what she was seeing. She hadn’t misheard Philip. He was her half-brother. How was that even possible? How did she not know? Her mind immediately jumped back to 1910. Her brother was born before the Titanic sunk, before her father disappeared and yet he hadn’t told her. Why not? She shook her head. Her mother had passed away many years ago so there was no shame in it, or maybe there was, if Philip’s mother was a streetwalker?

  Philip turned to Joyce. His smile lit up his face. ‘Look, Joyce, my pa is here. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  Heat swamped Joyce. She held on to the edge of the table, closed her eyes for a moment while she took a couple of deep breaths. She opened her eyes again, hoping the scene in front of her might be different but it wasn’t. ‘Yes it is, Philip, yes it is.’ Joyce took a breath before turning to Ted. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Why do you look so sad? This is a good day. Pa is here; it’s a good day.’ Philip stroked his father’s cheek. He looked very serious when he spoke. ‘Your face is all prickly and hot. If grandma was here she’d tell you off for not shaving.’

  Joyce couldn’t take her eyes off them both. It suddenly hit her that her grandma was also Philip’s. All this time she thought he’d called her that because he didn’t know what else to call her. Her legs felt like jelly as they tried to support her.

  ‘I know, I promise I’ll shave as soon as I get a minute.’ Ted looked over Joyce before looking back at Philip; who wrapped his arms around his neck again and gave him another squeeze.

  ‘Are you going to stay for a while?’

  Ted nodded. ‘Yes I am, son, and I’ll definitely be making more time for you in the future, I promise. I just have a few things to sort out.’ He held Philip close, squeezing him tight. Their love for each other was there for all to see. ‘Philip, I need you to give me a minute with Joyce. Can you do that for me?’

  Philip studied his father, holding his prickly face in his small hands. ‘You’re not going now are you?’

  Ted shook his head. ‘No, my little man, I’m not going anywhere.’ He lowered Philip to the floor. ‘Maybe we’ll go out and have some tea and cake, or in your case a cold drink and cake.’ He laughed. ‘If Joyce doesn’t mind that is.’

  Philip grinned. ‘You can have that here. Joyce makes wonderful cakes and it’s not just me who says so, everybody does. Look, she’s even got something on the wall that says so too. Frank read it
to me and said I should be proud living with someone so clever.’

  Ted’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened at the sound of Slips’s name. He stepped forward and glanced at the certificate. So Slips had made friends with his family. He suddenly knew what he had to do. He turned and smiled at his son. ‘So she has, well, I clearly need to try some of her cake. It’s a good job I came to see her.’

  Philip nodded. ‘You could come home with us and have dinner. Joyce won’t mind, will you, Joyce?’

  Joyce was suddenly aware that Philip was staring at her. What could she say? Did she break this little boy’s heart because she couldn’t forgive her father? She forced a smile to her lips. ‘Of course he can, if he wants to.’ She paused, looking at her father. ‘Although, I’m sure he has other things to do.’

  ‘Oh no, it would be lovely to come home with you both.’

  Joyce stared at her father, her anger simmering and only just being held in check. She wondered what his game was. The doorbell chimed, as it swung open again. ‘We’re closed.’

  The bell sounded again as the door clicked shut. ‘Nothing is ever closed to me.’

  Ted turned quickly, and pushed Philip behind him. ‘Go and sit down for a minute, Philip. Sit over in the far corner.’

  Joyce swivelled on the heels of her shoes and stared at Frank. ‘This is not a good time, Frank.’

  Philip didn’t move. ‘Hello, Frank.’

  Ted scowled at Philip. ‘Please do as I say.’

  ‘Hello, Philip.’ Frank smiled before turning to Joyce and shaking his head. ‘Actually, I don’t think there could be a better time than a long-awaited family reunion, do you? It’s all quite touching.’ He took a step forward and sniffed the air. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been cooking today but it smells delicious.’

  Joyce scowled at him. ‘What do you want, Frank? You’re clearly not writing any article because you haven’t mentioned it for a while, not even when we were in Hyde Park. So what is it you want?’

  Ted gave Philip a little nudge. Philip gazed up at his father. ‘Go and sit down.’