Mr Starlight

by Laurie Graham

  But the ship’s whistle blew, so he could pretend he hadn’t heard me.

  We’d had a plan of campaign. Test the water with some booking agents, see a few sights, send postcards to Mam and Dilys. And we were going to watch what we spent.

  I said, ‘We should always have something put by for a rainy day.’

  ‘Yes, Cled,’ he said.

  I said, ‘And business before pleasure. We should do the agents first. You got your list?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I’m not settling for any old ten percenter. It’s got to be somebody who can bring in quality venues and a record contract. He’s out there now, Cled, shaving, sipping his coffee. No idea that this is going to be his lucky day.’

  He was only a few places ahead of me in the queue, but by the time I’d drawn my pay he’d disappeared.

  Somebody said they thought he’d gone ashore with Mother Carey. Somebody else said he’d left with a bunch of boiler room boys. He was gone, that was all I knew, and he hadn’t taken his good jacket with him.

  Two of the clarinettists were going off to get one of those big American breakfasts. I said, ‘I don’t know what to do. I suppose I should go looking for him.’

  ‘Save your shoe leather,’ they said. ‘You’ll never find him. He’ll be all right. You pal along with us.’

  Which I did and I had quite a nice time, considering how worried I was about Sel, on the loose in a great big foreign city.

  It isn’t just the look of a new place that can muddle you. It’s the smell of it and the noise. Steam leaking out of the ground and trains rumbling under your feet. Hot dogs and coffee and car horns tooting for the littlest thing. Even the girls were different: brighter and cheekier-looking, swinging along in their shiny nylons. The boys said they could point me in the direction of a bit of business if that was what I fancied, but I was contented just to look. Where the ladies are concerned I’ve never believed in paying for a thing when you might get offered it for free. I bought a little bottle of Evening in Paris scent in Macy’s department store. If Hazel was willing to play ball it was hers. If not, there’d be others. Scent never goes to waste.

  ‘The theatres,’ I said. ‘That’s what I want to see.’

  And I wasn’t disappointed. Mary Martin was appearing in South Pacific at the Majestic, Carol Channing was in Kiss Me Kate at the Mansfield and Brigadoon was playing at the Ziegfeld. But the biggest thrill was Radio City Music Hall with pictures outside of all those high-kicking lovelies and Sold Out stickers across the Frank Sinatra posters. It made me realise what a fall Sel was heading for. It was one thing to be the toast of the Nechells Non-Political, but something else to come to a place like New York and think he could ever be a match for the big boys. We finished up in a club on 52nd Street called the Three Deuces listening to the great Art Tatum. I hadn’t realised he was black till I saw him in person. When I look back on my first time in New York that’s what I think of: seeing black people. And the meatball sandwiches, so big you needed both hands and dripping with gravy. And the adverts that lit up in Times Square. There was one that made smoke rings from a cigarette, and one that looked just like a waterfall, only it was all done with light bulbs.

  I never did find out how Sel had passed his time. All I know is sign-on time was nearly up and he hadn’t appeared.

  I said to Massie, ‘I won’t be able to sail without my brother.’

  ‘Entirely up to you, Mr Boff,’ he said. ‘But you’ll be leaving without your papers.’

  Then he rolled in, with two days’ beard and a package under his arm.

  I said, ‘Dilys was right. You’re not safe on your own.’

  It struck me, seeing him unshaved, how much he looked like our dad.

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘What’s your grouse?’

  I said, ‘Try any agents?’

  ‘Fuck agents,’ he said.

  Two days in the company of E deck types and that was how he was talking.

  I said, ‘Well, you’d better buck up. If you go on tonight looking like you do now, you’ll be out of a job. You make Tex Lane look dew-fresh.’

  ‘Yeah?’ he said. ‘And fuck you too.’

  But Sel could always turn himself around for an audience. By seven o’clock he was shaved and shampooed, and ready to give them ‘They All Laughed’ in First Class cocktails. He was wearing his latest purchase: a white tuxedo with a black satin shawl collar.

  I said, ‘How much did that set you back?’

  ‘It’s an investment,’ he said. ‘Look like a star, you’re halfway to being a star.’

  He looked like a Latin American bandleader to me.

  EIGHT

  I wished Uncle Teilo could have been there to see us, ‘chugging back and forth on some tub’ as he’d put it. The Queen Mary was no tub. She was a floating palace. You could go to the pictures, in a proper cinema with flip-up seats, or play ping-pong, or keep fit in the gymnasium, riding on a bicycle that was nailed to the floor. You could get a shave and have your nails buffed, send a telegram, get your trousers mended. There were even churches: a normal one and a Jewish one. And there was plenty of entertainment: a band, a string trio and two feature pianists, four showcase ballroom dancers, and Sel and Tex and Glorette. It must have been a headache if you were a passenger, deciding how to fill the days. I’d have been worried there wasn’t enough time to sample everything.

  It was different for us, of course. I enjoyed the work. Lionel Truman led a good band and I liked the camaraderie of it, but when you weren’t working you were very cooped up and five days at sea could seem longer than five days in Saltley. It was very gloomy below decks. The walls were painted dark-green up to the dado. You needed the lights on all the time and you could never get away from the vibration of the turbines and the smell of cooking and machine oil and men’s socks. Tempers were liable to get frayed, as they did between Sel and Mess Room Steward Carey.

  Carey was a man who got very attached to people and if he liked you he expected to monopolise you. So when Sel went down to G deck one afternoon, taking up the offer of being shown around by one of the firemen, Carey got overexcited and fetched a knife from the galley. ‘Guided tours, is it!’ he shouted. ‘I know their game!’

  Hazel was on her break. We were having a cup of tea.

  ‘I’ll kill him,’ Carey was shouting. ‘I’ll kill them both!’

  He’d been at the cooking brandy. You could smell it on him.

  I said, ‘God Almighty, Hazel, I’d better run and warn Sel.’

  But there were three hundred yards of boiler rooms and he could have been anywhere. I didn’t like it down there. I never liked the idea of all that steam being pent up.

  Hazel had fetched two big kitchen porters in case assistance was required, but Carey had shut himself in his cabin in the meanwhile and was promising to do himself an injury, and as everybody seemed to be ignoring him I surmised it wasn’t the first time this had occurred.

  I said, ‘I couldn’t find Sel.’

  ‘Shaft alley,’ somebody said. ‘That’s where he’ll be.’

  I said, ‘I don’t know where that is.’

  Everybody laughed.

  Hazel said, ‘Pay no attention, Cled. And don’t worry about Mother. You couldn’t cut hot butter with that knife he was brandishing.’

  I said, ‘I get the impression Carey isn’t a family man. I suppose things can get out of proportion when you don’t have a home life. It’s a shame he’s gone off the deep end, though. He’s been very fatherly to Sel.’

  Hazel said, ‘I don’t know about that. Ask me, half the crew belongs in the madhouse.’

  She’d put a saucer over my teacup, to keep it warm while I was searching for Sel. It’s funny the little things that make you fall for a girl.

  I said, ‘Are you going to let me take you dancing when we get to Southampton?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said.

  I knew one of the pastry chefs was keen on her. I’d seen her chuckling with him.
/>   Sel didn’t have a good trip sailing east that first time. There was the upset with Carey. Then one of the pianists complained about him improvising in the Midships Bar so he got a stripping down from Massie about doing what he was paid to do and not a note more. They started trying to needle him in the mess room too, calling him Sally instead of Sel.

  ‘Sally, Sally, don’t ever wander,’ they’d sing, hoping to aggravate Mother into grabbing a knife again.

  On Channel night I went looking for Hazel before we started the show in the Veranda Grill. She was working on a silk blouse with a piece of tissue paper, trying to get a water mark off it.

  I said, ‘Well, have you made your mind up? What’s it to be? Coming ashore with me or sleeping your life away?’

  ‘I don’t drink, mind,’ she said.

  I said, ‘That’s all right. You can have a port and lemonade.’

  ‘Cled,’ she said, ‘invite Sel to come with us. He seems very down in the dumps.’

  We had a nice crowd in for Gala Night. Tex got in a bit of a tangle with ‘Fascinating Rhythm’ but nobody appeared to notice and Tex couldn’t have cared less. He knew Sel outshone him. I think he was just vamping until something else came along; a rich widow looking for companionship, or death from strong drink. It’s only when you’re on the up that you care how highly you’re rated. The downward slide is the downward slide wherever you are on it.

  I said to Sel, ‘Me and Hazel are going to the Imperial for afternoon tea after we’ve docked, but I don’t suppose you feel like coming with us?’

  ‘Yeah, all right then,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on you, you old goat.’

  The ladies always liked him, laughing at his silly jokes, telling him all their business. Not that he ever had a lot to show for it. I was the one who got results.

  ‘Hazel,’ he said, ‘I want to pick your brain. What’s the best thing for my patent leather shoes?’

  ‘Vaseline,’ she said.

  He said, ‘And what about the black satin on my revers?’

  ‘Potato water.’

  ‘This woman’, he said, ‘is a treasure.’

  He was holding her hand.

  ‘Now what about old Chufty Auchtermuchty? I was watching him during the cocktail hour. He looks like a man who doesn’t always know where his mouth is. You been removing stains for him?’

  ‘His name’s Lord Auchinloss,’ she said, ‘and I’m not telling.’

  He said, ‘All right, just tell me this, you know that furry thing he wears between his legs all the time?’

  She was laughing. ‘That’s called a sporran, Sel,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said. ‘But seriously, what would you do with that if he brought it to you and asked you to take care of it?’

  ‘Throw it a steak,’ she said.

  They were in a silly mood, the pair of them.

  I said, ‘Don’t let us keep you, Sel. I expect you’re keen to go and meet your pals.’

  It was seven o’clock before I got shot of him.

  Hazel said, ‘He’s lovely. I have enjoyed myself.’

  I said, ‘I hope you’re not using me to get to him because you’ll be in for a disappointment. That business holding your hand? It’s just acting. He’s got no time for romance. All he’s interested in is seeing his name in lights.’

  ‘He’s still lovely,’ she said. ‘He has a very happy attitude to life.’

  Of course, she didn’t know the half of it. She hadn’t seen him moving furniture half an inch till it was just so. She hadn’t seen him throw out a perfectly good egg cup because it had got a little chip on the rim.

  Still, after Sel’s patter and three port and lemons she did allow me to get more serious with her. One of the telephonists she shared with had stayed aboard and I daren’t risk R64 in case Wilkie rolled in drunk, so we ended up in the Ripening Room.

  Hazel had learned her trade at a high-class dry cleaner’s in Belgravia, and then joined the Queen Mary after her refit at the end of the war.

  I said, ‘Don’t you get tired of not having a place of your own?’

  ‘It’s economical,’ she said. ‘It means I can save up.’

  I said, ‘What for? Your own laundry?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d like a seaside guest house. Different people passing through, in a good mood because they’re on holiday. Nice bed linen and towels and a brass dinner gong.’

  We had Fred Astaire on our next passage to New York, a lovely, quietly spoken gent. I got him to autograph a First Class menu for Dilys. She was thrilled. Hazel came ashore with me that trip. I bought her a Pepsi at the Spanish Garden and took her to Radio City Music Hall to see Jerry Vale and the Rockettes. Where Sel got to I’ll never know, but for a boy who liked scented soap he kept some very low company.

  Every sailing day we’d go up to watch for celebrity arrivals. Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Constance Bennett, Gloria Vanderbildt, Vincent Price. Kings, princesses, millionaires, we entertained them all. But my greatest highlight was the time Gracie Fields was aboard. She was an old friend of our leader, Lionel Truman. ‘Come down to the Pig and Whistle, Gracie,’ he said. ‘Give the crew a treat.’ And she did. I played for her, ‘Sing As We Go’, ‘Orphan of the Storm’, ‘I Took My Harp to a Party’ and they were packed in like sardines, singing along with her. Her voice wasn’t properly trained but she was a real card. Sel turned up when the party was in full swing, pushed his way to the piano.

  I said, ‘Fetch Hazel.’

  ‘Fetch her yourself,’ he said.

  He wanted to get into the limelight with Gracie and the mess room crowd were egging him on. ‘Go on, Sally!’ they were shouting. ‘Give us “Sally from Our Alley”. You and Gracie together.’

  She said, ‘And who’s this when he’s at home?’

  I said, ‘This is my brother Sel. On his way to stardom.’

  ‘Not with my audience, he’s not,’ she said. And although they did sing it together and she pretended to be amused, I could see she didn’t like it. They were two of a kind, Gracie and my brother. Very ‘hail fellow well met’ provided you remembered who was the great star.

  Still, it had been a big moment for me, playing for a singing legend, and Hazel missed the whole ruddy thing.

  I said, ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Working, Cled,’ she said. ‘I sometimes think they sit in their staterooms doing nothing but throw food and spill ink.’

  I said, ‘Well, I had a great triumph last night.’

  ‘So did I,’ she said. ‘I got a big mayonnaise stain off an organdie skirt and four hours’ sleep.’

  She could be testy, even then.

  Sel was riding pretty high by the time we reached Southampton too. He’d had a couple of billets-doux passed to him, and presents, at the Au Revoir Gala. A tiepin from a lady in First Class and an alligator photo frame from an old gentleman in Cabin Class.

  ‘First stop the Imperial?’ he said.

  I said, ‘I don’t know. Hazel’s tired.’

  He said, ‘Then you and me can go drinking.’

  I said, ‘How is it when we get to New York I don’t see you for dust and yet you’re hanging around me like a bad smell when we get to Southampton? What about all your pals?’

  ‘Going home to see their mams,’ he said.

  I said, ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘Not worth it,’ he said. ‘We’d only be there five minutes. Let’s go to the Yard Arm and plan worldwide fame.’

  NINE

  The thing about working on the Queen Mary was you didn’t really get to see the world. You got to see galleys and corridors and Wilkie’s scabby foot dangling down from the top bunk.

  Sel said, ‘I’m not sticking this much longer. There’s no scope.’

  I said, ‘Then do something about getting an agent. Next leg, when we get to New York, don’t run off like a dizzy kid.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Definitely next time. I’m not getting due recognition with this lot.’


  I said, ‘We’ll put our suits on. Decide on a couple of songs.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘“Some Enchanted Evening”. I see that becoming my signature tune.’

  I said, ‘And I think we should go back to being the Boff Brothers. Sel Boff, accompanied by Cled Boff, it sounds too complicated.’

  He said, ‘I don’t know. I might start being just “Selwyn”, you know? Like Hildegarde?’

  I said, ‘Then what would I be? I’m not being “Cledwyn”.’ I hated ‘Cledwyn’.

  ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘It sounds like a boarding house. This Hazel? Are you two getting serious?’

  I didn’t have an answer to that. Sometimes, in the fruit store, I thought we were. Then I’d catch her chuckling with that pastry chef. ‘I’m a single woman,’ she’d say. ‘I can chuckle with anybody I choose.’

  I said, ‘Why? You interested?’

  ‘She’s nice,’ he said. ‘And it strikes me, if you’re serious about her you’ll probably want to stay put. There doesn’t seem much point in you trying out for agents if you’re contented where you are. See what I mean?’

  I said, ‘And who’s going to play for you if I don’t?’

  ‘I’ll find somebody,’ he said. ‘Don’t feel you have to throw up your chances with Hazel just to play for me. Accompanists are ten a penny, Cled.’

  The ruddy nerve of it. But it did make me wonder how I stood vis-à-vis Hazel. I said, ‘If I got a chance in America, would you come with me?’

  She said, ‘What kind of a chance?’

  I said, ‘With Sel. I’m a class instrumentalist, Hazel, as you’d know if you’d seen me in action with Gracie Fields. I don’t have to play in a ship’s band for ever more.’

  She said, ‘You only just started. And what would I do?’

  I said, ‘You’d find something. You could work in a dry cleaner’s.’

  She said, ‘But I’m happy here. Where? What dry cleaner’s?’

  I said, ‘We could get married.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Cled,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I saw what my mam had to put up with all those years. Anyway, who’s going to give you this big chance in America? I’ll think about it if something happens and not before.’