Hearing the shuffle of light footsteps, he glanced behind him. They were following him up the staircase to Susanna’s room in the attic. David thought that if he ignored them, they would go away, but they stalked him to the top of the stairs and made no secret that they wanted to see who he was visiting. Trying to be discreet is doomed in this place. He shooed them away with a wide sweep of his arm, then took a deep breath and knocked despite his misgivings that he was still being watched.
“I have a message from my father about tonight’s show,” David announced loudly, hoping it would put their inquisitive minds at rest.
“Well you’d better come in,” she said with a smile.
David stretched out on the chaise and patted the cushion.
“Come and sit with me.”
Suzanna nervously obliged. David gently pulled her toward him until she lay comfortably in his arms with her head resting on his chest. He felt her soft body against his broad torso and stroked her long hair. He studied her lovely face and admired her wild Gypsy looks, concluding that she was as exquisite as ever. Not only can she out-sing Monique de la Marre, but she is more beautiful too—inside and out.
She turned her face up to look at him, and he kissed her. It was clear to the pair that any thoughts of the sibling love they used to share was gone. She removed his tie and undid the first three buttons of his shirt and slid her soft hand under the crisp white fabric, caressing his bare skin with her fingertips. Instinctively, he slid his hand down towards her hips then stopped himself. Suzanna was surprised when he pulled his hand away.
He fidgeted as he fastened his shirt buttons and knotted his tie.
“I am sorry, Suzanna. I have gone too far.”
“Not against my will,” she replied. “I am not offended if that’s what’s worrying you?”
She sank back against his chest to show she was at ease in his company, and, with torn emotions, he pulled her towards him once more. David kissed her hair tenderly then sighed as he turned his head away.
“Something is weighing heavily on my mind, Suzanna.”
“What is it? You can tell me,” she reassured, softly tilting his face towards her with her hand.
David decided blurting out his worries was the best approach.
“Suzanna, what will you do if you are chosen for the Florence Opera?”
“I haven’t given it any thought,” she laughed. “I am not expecting to win the competition, let alone succeed at the audition stage.”
“There is always a possibility that you will. You don’t know what the judges are looking for. They might have a specific role in mind—a role you might be perfectly suited for.”
“I won’t lie. It would be a dream come true for me,” she confessed. “To be taught in Italy would be such a great honour. If I win the competition and turn down the opportunity to go to Florence, I will always regret it,” she said, echoing David’s opinion.
David lay quietly, enjoying the pleasure that he derived from her innocent touch. Deep down in his heart though, he suspected that there was no future for them. I must break this off before it goes too far.
Something in his marrow told him that Suzanna was going to win the contest and leave him behind to follow her dreams as she built a life for herself. Soon, I will be nothing but a fond memory. Perhaps when she achieves fame, she will come back to me? It can be lonely at the top, so they say?
As soon as he thought they might be together, he doubted it. Why would she leave a career in Florence for me? Minute by minute, he was losing his heart to somebody who would never be his, and there was nothing he could do about it. Despite the obvious mutual attraction, he was not selfish, and would not make her choose between him and her dreams. Suzanna is a strong woman. She doesn’t need to be in love. It is better for her career if she has no distractions and no guilt.
“I have to leave,” he whispered, reckoning this to be the last time that he would visit her room alone.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?” she said as she gazed fondly into his eyes.
With their faces mere inches apart, both unable to resist, David pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, then felt repentant. Why do I succumb so easily? This has to stop.
He snuck out of her room, hoping not to bump into the attendees of the newly formed Liebowitz kindergarten on the stairs.
10
Searching for Sid Payne
Thomas reached the slums of St. Giles later than he had hoped. His departure from The Songbird was delayed by a lively dispute that broke out between the Hindu and the Chinese families.
One of the Hindi children had slipped and fallen as a group of them were sliding down the bannisters. The Hindi lad accused a Chinese boy of pushing him and a nasty scuffle broke out. The matter escalated into a violent altercation, which in turn lead to the two fiercely protective grannies stepping in to protect their wards. Anarchy reigned. Fists flailed wildly to an accompaniment of screams and yelps. While the two older women fought to save their family honour, the two children had already made friends again and were back to having fun swinging on the ropes behind the stage.
Mrs Bowles had sent Thomas to separate the boisterous elders. The two women only called a truce when he threatened to put them out on the street. Granny Thakur went into her room, muttering something in Hindi as she slammed the door and Granny Chong yelled something in Mandarin and waved her fist above her head.
“Will you please try and calm down, all of you!” Max bellowed up the stairs, losing his relaxed demeanour for once. “Thomas, get down here—now!” he ordered.
The young man bounded down the stairs, looking perturbed. He was regretting peeking around the door to check on the Chinese workers. The vision within of them sitting around large piles of loose gunpowder as they scooped it carefully into tubes made his blood pressure leap sky-high.
“What is it now, Max?” snapped Thomas.
“I want you to get to St. Giles, pronto. Something urgent has been brought to my attention.”
“St. Giles! But why?”
“We are being proactive in our Christmas preparations.”
“We are?” said the aide, looking stunned.
“We’ve never been organised at Christmas ever! It’s always been done by the seat of our pants.”
“Look, I haven’t got time to argue, Thomas. I want you to find a man called Sergeant Payne. He’s a former soldier. Served in India in the artillery division. He’s an expert about all things to do with the sub-continent. We will need assistance keeping Sundatara under control,” the flustered old man explained.
“What is ‘Sundatara’?”
“Who, not what, Thomas. Pay attention. I told you about her already. Sundatara is the fully-grown female elephant who is under Mr Thakur’s guardianship.”
“Do you have an address for Sergeant Payne? Perhaps I should make enquiries at the local police station?”
“Have you got cloth ears today, Thomas? Payne is an army sergeant, not a bobby. Do keep up,” Max sighed. “He frequents ‘Sally’s Pub’.”
“That sounds rather like a brothel, Max!”
“Perhaps it is,” Max replied uneasily, “but you will find him there. He is a regular—when he’s not here. Oh, and you might need this for cab fares, or information.”
Max thrust some cash into Thomas’ hands. He swallowed hard as he looked down at the money. There was quite a lot of it and Thomas wondered what he was getting himself into.
“Right, then. I’ll be off, boss.”
Reluctantly, Thomas shoved the cash into his coat pocket then plodded off slowly towards the backstage door.
“And be quick about it! There are more errands to attend to when you get back!” badgered Max.
Thomas took the short cab ride into St. Giles. Along with Whitechapel, he thought it was the worst place to be stuck in after dark. He looked out of the window hoping his mission would be quick to complete. The thought of getting garrotted for his pocket watch as he trai
psed around looking for an amateur elephant handler he’d never met before made his nerves jangle.
After unpinning his watch-chain, he tucked his prized timepiece into his inside pocket, then did up the coat buttons to make sure it was well hidden.
His efforts were seemingly pointless. As soon as he hopped out of the cab, he would be a target. Only wealthy people could afford to travel in style. The poor had to make do with the bone-shaking omnibus. Worse still, Thomas had little practical experience navigating the challenges of the grimy thoroughfares of London on foot. His naivety was apparent as he paid the cab driver. He whipped out the wad of notes that Max had given him—in full view of everybody on the street.
A local scallywag called Danny was eagerly eyeing the newcomer from the street corner. He nodded to Paddy, his Irish sidekick, a ruthless rogue from Belfast, who was hidden in a dark, narrow alleyway opposite.
Danny sidled up to Thomas and smiled at him with all the charm he could muster.
“Do yer need some help there, mate?” the scoundrel enquired.
“Yes, please,” answered Thomas politely. “I am looking for Sally’s Bar. I have to meet a friend there.”
“I bet you do,” sneered Danny greedily as he thought about the rich pickings on offer before he remembered he needed to earn Thomas’s trust to get to the cash. “Danny Ripley at your service, Sir!” he said, transforming his demeanour in a flash.
Thomas was delighted he had found someone so helpful so quickly.
“Now, let me think,” chirped Danny cheerfully. “Yeah, now I remember. Take that narrow street across the way there, squire. Keep going, then make a left when you see the foundry. At the end of that road, a sharp right will get you to Sally’s.”
“Is it far?” asked Thomas.
“No, mate. Just a couple of minutes, that’s all.”
“Thank you kindly.”
The newcomer doffed his cap, impressed that the ragged-looking man had been so helpful. Everyone warned me about the area, but I cannot complain about my treatment so far. Danny made a show of shaking Thomas’s hand and waving him off.
Max’s aide walked towards the narrow alleyway and confidently turned left when he got to the foundry. As he turned the next corner, someone hit him.
Thomas presumed he must have lost consciousness at some stage because when he came to, he had mysteriously developed a black eye, a nasty bump on the bridge of his nose and his ribs felt as if they had shattered and were piercing his chest when he breathed in. Hardly able to move, he had to crawl down to the end of the narrow alley to get his bearings.
Even in his injured state, he could not believe his eyes when he looked to the right. A few yards away from him was a small pub. He squinted at it with his good eye. The sign read, ‘Sally’s’. That thug Danny pointed me in the right direction, at least—even if it was via his violent accomplice. How kind! From then on, Thomas was on guard. Standing unaided was still out of the question, so he hid in the alley, leaning against the brick wall until he regained his strength.
There was a constant stream of people coming and going from Sally’s establishment who walked past him as if he was invisible. Eventually, luck was on his side when a beautiful young woman noticed his bruised face, stopped and asked if she could be of assistance.
It was unlikely that he would be granted admission to Sally’s in his current bloodied state, so he was relieved that she had taken an interest. Perhaps she can look for Payne on my behalf.
“Hello, sweetheart. My word, aren’t you worse for wear? Been through the wars a bit, ain'tcha?”
Thomas nodded, feeling very sorry for himself. All he wanted was for her to pull him to her ample bosom and offer him shelter.
“How can I help you, fella?”
“I am looking for Sergeant Payne,” Thomas replied, his chest burning like fire when he breathed in to speak. “Do you know him?”
“Of course I do, me angel!” she said with a great big smile. “Who can I say you are, sweetheart?”
“Tell him my name is Thomas. I am a friend of Max Liebowitz.”
“You just stay right there now,” she cooed reassuringly, “I will bring him over.”
Thomas must have lost consciousness again because when he came to this time the woman had gone and a huge man was bending over him. The army chap was completely bald, yet he had a spectacular handlebar moustache that was waxed into position so robustly that the points almost reached his eyes. He was the most gigantic human that Thomas had ever encountered.
“Ouch,” winced Sergeant Payne, when he saw the state of Thomas. “You are in a sorry state. That posh coat tells me you’re not from round here, are ya lad? What has brought you to Sally’s?”
“Sergeant Payne, I presume?” asked a bleary-eyed Thomas.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Max Liebowitz at The Songbird has sent me to fetch you. We have an Indian elephant—Sundatara—that we need help with.”
“A-ha,” he exclaimed excitably, “So, where is the beauty?”
“She is on a ship at the docks. Max needs to move her to the theatre.”
“Do the authorities know about this? There is a possibility that Sundatara will be a difficult woman if she gets startled. She might inflict an injury upon someone—which may be a bit tricky to explain away. Elephants can be quite temperamental, especially when they find themselves in unfamiliar surroundings.”
“Max is convinced that you are the only person who can help him.”
“Tell Mr Liebowitz that I will help him with pleasure. We’re like brothers. Go back a long way, we do.”
Thomas couldn’t remember Max mentioning Payne before, but was in too much pain to care about the conundrum. He started to slide back down the wall as his knees buckled. Some gritty footsteps crunched over towards him.
“Let’s get you on your feet, sweetheart,” purred the beautiful woman in a surprisingly deep voice.
“He’s in a dreadful mess, Lily,” warned Payne. “He’s in no shape to go anywhere. Looks like he’s cracked a few ribs.”
“Let’s take him inside, get him patched up a bit, and make him comfortable, shall we, Sid?”
Sergeant Payne picked Thomas up effortlessly, carefully carried him up the stairs and lay him on a tatty-looking bed. Within seconds, six women were bending over the new arrival, discussing him as if he was not there.
“Yeah, they did a good number on him, Sarge,” said one.
“Where’s he from, Sid?” asked another.
“He works at The Songbird? You heard of it?”
“Aye. It’s the theatre, in the West End. Posh, eh?” said a husky female voice.
Thomas heard Sergeant Payne's voice again.
“Ladies, can you patch him up and keep him here for the night? I will find him a cab in the morning and send him back to the theatre,” advised Sid. “I doubt he will live to tell the tale of his adventures if we leave him to find his own way home tonight,” he added with a laugh.
“Of course, Sarge. I presume there must be some reward in it for us?” asked Lily. “Playing nursemaid won’t earn us a penny tonight.”
“What do you want?” asked Thomas. “All the money I had with me has been stolen.”
“Well, I heard something about a Christmas show.”
Thomas nodded with a wince.
“I can get you tickets. How many do you need?”
“We don’t want tickets, flower, we want a part in it!” proclaimed Lily, smiling broadly and revealing several toothless gaps.
The dazed man nodded his agreement, not really caring about the artistic or practical consequences of his decision. Since they’ve gone out of their way to help me, Max would want it no other way, I’m sure of it. Sid made his excuses and sloped off. The women offered to leave their patient to rest quietly for an hour mainly because it was a handy cover story for heading off downstairs for a few celebratory gins.
Thomas shuffled the lumpy pillows about with a pitiful groan then lay back on his side.
No matter how he positioned himself something hurt. Two hours later, he heard loud cackling as the drunken women trooped back upstairs to resume their bedside vigil. It was going to be a long night.
11
‘Tis the season to be jolly
It was late morning, and David noted he had still not seen Thomas, a man known for his punctual reliability, and he began to worry. The kitchen was the backstage hub for the theatre staff. Thomas had not been in to get a cuppa and no one remembered seeing him wandering about the courtyard either. By lunchtime, David was gravely concerned and went to ask if anybody had seen his right-hand man.
The place was overflowing with cooks and their underlings. The air was filled with the unmistakable smell of Christmas fayre, in particular, the rich spicy aroma of fruit mince steeped in brandy. The bakers were rolling out dough and creating tempting little pies that David could never resist.
Max was standing in the courtyard, eagerly accepting his huge consignment of Christmas trees. A poor labourer sweated profusely as he unloaded the delivery from his wooden wagon. As David approached his father, he heard Max order another two dozen from the chap.
“Papa, we don’t need any more trees—we are awash with them! What are you thinking?”
“Ah, David, here you are. Yes, I have ordered more. There can never be too many trees. They are such a cost-effective way to brighten up the whole theatre, don’t you think? I thought you would approve?” fibbed Max, knowing full well the bulk of them would become meals for Sundatara.
David looked around the courtyard. It resembled a dense Scandinavian forest. Even if Thomas only used half of them to decorate The Songbird, there would still be far too many. My old man’s up to something again. The question is what?
“We won’t be able to move for the damned things!” bellowed David in frustration. “No more, Papa. We need to keep the courtyard free for accepting all the other goods deliveries you’ve ordered.”
“Of course, my boy. You’re right,” said Max, trying to flatter his son to calm him down.
The Christmas Songbird Page 9