Silence fell as Queenie gave no reply to this demand.
Merryn gave her a kind smile. ‘Do listen to Cecily, as that would be an excellent idea. And bear in mind that there’ll be no gin or alcohol available, so you’ll thankfully escape this problem. One of the soldiers in the audience told me that the most popular teetotal drink for Tommies is a sweet fruity citron and tart grenadine. That’s the best you’ll get.’
Queenie took out a hanky to wipe the tears from her eyes, a flush of embarrassment still evident on her lovely face. ‘Very well, for the sake of my health and to restore my voice, I will accept what you suggest. And yes, I can offer you training and tips on how to sing well. I doubt you have the first idea what needs to be done.’
‘Thank you,’ Cecily coolly remarked. ‘It would be good to have you help us with the start of this project. Once you are well, I’m sure you’ll have new offers coming in and can then return to your own career.’
‘I’m not convinced that will ever happen,’ she mournfully remarked. ‘I agree there are moments when I fail to sing as well as I used to, probably due to pressure. I can act though, so we could look into the possibility of putting on small plays too if you wish.’
‘An excellent idea,’ Cecily said, and within seconds the three of them were discussing possible one-act plays to perform, which helped to lift her hopes. ‘We’ll also need to buy some equipment including lamps, candles, suitable costumes, sheet music and I’m not sure what else. We need to think this through, then start packing.’
‘I’ll ring Johnny and invite him to join us tomorrow,’ Queenie remarked. ‘Then he can help us arrange such details.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll do that,’ Merryn said. ‘Right now, I’ll put the kettle on and find some paper to start making a list.’
‘You need to have a strong voice, which I’m not convinced you have,’ Queenie said when Cecily’s training began. ‘Stand before me and sing. I need to check that you present yourself properly balanced.’
Straightening her back, Cecily did as she was told and sang ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’, the one she’d performed for the soldiers.
Clapping her hands, Queenie merely snorted with disdain and ordered her to stop. ‘Do not allow your jaw to close or narrow; pull it down to hold it in place while you learn to sing correctly. And keep the angle of your head held in the right position.’
As she continued working hard under her mother’s coaching, Cecily would often shake with apprehension and exhaustion, not finding it at all easy. Nevertheless, she was learning a great deal. Whenever she went wrong, she listened carefully to obey every instruction Queenie made, and could but hope that with plenty of practice she might improve her voice.
‘First take in a long breath, then exhale. It’s important to keep the right balance in your breathing. Breathe in and out. Breathe again. Now sing the scale, Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do. Hold on to each note for as long as possible with your chest raised to acquire the necessary power and muscle strength. Do not lift your chin too high. It’s also vital to make sure your jaw opens to the right position on your vowels or you’ll lose the control to sing well.’
As she slowly improved, Cecily became increasingly appreciative of Queenie’s support, even though Merryn was the one who received a kiss on her cheek from her mother when she played well, while Cecily would receive no more than a grim nod of approval.
‘Press on your chest to maintain control and ease the pressure. Don’t let your head bob up. Now relax, keep your jaw open and sing again. As you reach the end of a phrase, give it a little tremor, changing the pitch with some vibrato.’
Johnny had come to join them and, as instructed by Queenie, was required to help by ordering equipment as well as playing his drums. ‘It’s bloomin’ hard work. Came as something of a surprise to find that in addition to the performances in which I’m involved every evening, plus twice weekly matinees, I’m also engaged in countless rehearsals each and every day.’
‘Do say if we’re overworking you,’ Cecily said, noting a sign of alarm and exhaustion etched in his pale face. ‘If this is too much for you, then you’re free to leave and not come with us to France.’
‘I do have to keep a careful watch over my state of health, so I shouldn’t do too much work.’
‘You do look rather tired. Maybe you could find other musicians or actors to join our team? I’ve so far failed to find any. Most young male artists and actors joined up in the war, apart from the odd one too old to fight. Do you know of any?’
He frowned as if he resented her making more demands upon him. ‘I’ll ask around, just in case. I’m delighted to be a part of your team. I’d move heaven and earth for you lovely ladies. Anything that is within my grasp I’ll happily do for you,’ he remarked softly, his gaze holding hers for a long moment.
‘He’s not greatly helpful in spite of the compliments he offers us,’ Cecily later told her sister.
‘He’s doing fine,’ Merryn hastily assured her.
Cecily curbed herself into silence, not wishing to upset her sister who appeared to be highly captivated by this young man. Later, whenever she asked him what progress he was making, he’d simply blink and say he was still searching. He didn’t seem to be an easy person.
The day before they left for France, after Cecily had sung ‘Roses of Picardy’, Queenie this time clapped her hands in cheerful applause, giving a nod of approval and a loving smile. ‘Congratulations. You are singing so much better, dear girl.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mama. I greatly appreciate your help.’
Then to her astonishment, her mother put her arms around her in a warm hug. ‘You could well become a star too, given time and more practice.’ Her blue eyes were clouded with a flush of tears and Cecily felt filled with gratitude, a surge of emotion eminent within her over this sudden show of closeness.
SEVEN
EMBARKING IN the early morning upon a naval vessel, it took nearly twenty hours to cross the channel to France from Southampton. Nan had remained in Plymouth to care for their house. She also agreed to protect Queenie’s diamond ring from the danger of war by locking it in the family safe. The sea clogged with submarines greatly troubled Cecily as it reminded her of how she’d lost Ewan, the love of her life. She battled valiantly against the grief that had once again thrown her into a dark pit, striving to move on. At least this decision to sing to the troops would honour his memory. When first she’d declared her intention to go to France and do her bit for the war effort, not for a moment had she imagined that her mother would wish to accompany them. It was most certainly the last thing she’d wanted and a part of her shivered with despair at this prospect, mixed with a sense of shame. Queenie had been most sympathetic over her loss, a fact Cecily felt she should appreciate.
These thoughts were interrupted by Johnny coming over to join her on deck. He drew a cigarette from a silver case and lit it. ‘It’s a pity I wasn’t allowed to bring my precious Ford car. That would have made it a much quicker and easier journey with me in charge,’ he said.
‘Except that as we don’t know the way, we might have got lost,’ Cecily drily pointed out.
‘That would be a typically female problem. Being a man and an excellent driver, you could have trusted in my ability, as I can easily follow a map.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake, Johnny, many women can drive and follow maps. I certainly can, having been involved with tram transport, both driving and conducting. A foreign land is not easy for either men or women. In any case, I think your motor car would have had problems crossing the Channel. I’m enjoying this sailing and quite happy with the transport arranged for us,’ Cecily brightly explained.
‘Absolutely, and happy to chat with you,’ he hastily remarked. ‘By the way, I did ask around to find other men to join the troupe we’ve created but it proved impossible. I asked one chap who’d been invalided out of the Army, but he made it clear that he had no wish to return to France or risk losing his current job i
n Blighty. So I’m afraid I got nowhere.’
She sighed, not entirely convinced that he’d made a good effort, but then she’d failed to find any either, so could hardly object. ‘Not to worry, we’re a small, smart troupe, as you implied.’
‘We are indeed. You are a most talented and attractive young woman. I’m an equally gifted chap and greatly appreciate that you approve of my drumming and allowed me to join you.’
‘We’re grateful to have you with us,’ Cecily blithely commented.
‘I must admit I do hope you’ll be the one in charge. Not Queenie, who seems to be growing more irascible and neurotic, perhaps for some health reason.’
Cecily turned away, keeping her gaze fixed upon the sea, not wishing to reveal her sense of irritation by the fact her mother was attempting to turn herself into the director. She was still a woman of talent and surprisingly willing to train them. But if she attempted to take over this project entirely, Cecily would again be in battle with her, having no wish for Queenie to control her. Coping with her obsessions was not going to be easy either.
‘I admit Mama is not easy to deal with because of her addiction, but my sister and I are working on resolving that. You may have noticed how we never allow her to sneak off in search of gin, and constantly check her cabin here on the ship to make sure she hasn’t hidden a bottle there.’
Johnny grinned. ‘Blimey, you girls are both so clever and intriguing. Do be aware that I greatly appreciate that and would happily offer to support and protect you.’
‘I assure you we are not in need of your protection, thanks all the same.’
‘Really? I think you will be, considering there’s a war on. Women cannot look after themselves. They obviously require a man’s advice and support.’
This comment, as well as his tone of voice, seemed to indicate that he was an arrogant male who believed women should do as men instructed, not an attitude she was ever willing to accept. Cecily smiled. ‘I’m sure we’ll all be looked after by the Army and will enjoy putting on our concerts. It could prove to be jolly hard work and maybe quite dangerous, so yes, we will have to be strong and brave, but can manage that perfectly well for ourselves.’
‘I do reckon we’ll have great fun together, although your sense of independence is a puzzle to me.’
Cecily gave a little chuckle. ‘Ah, we can’t have you understanding us women too well. That would never do.’
He then fell into a fit of coughing. ‘Sorry, I don’t often smoke but it does help to drive the tension out of me.’
Removing the cigarette from his hand, she tossed it into the sea. ‘You really shouldn’t smoke at all till that cough is better. And as I say, listen to my advice and take a rest before our main work begins. I certainly feel in need of one myself while it’s still possible,’ Cecily tactfully pointed out.
‘A chap is allowed to have a little comfort, a sensation we could share,’ he said, and with a grin slipped his hand around her waist to pull her close.
She was about to slap his hand away, turn on her heel and briskly return to her cabin when her mother appeared.
‘May I have a word with you, dear?’ Queenie sharply remarked, her expression irate.
‘Of course, Mama.’ To her relief, Johnny quickly departed. What an odd man he was. Hadn’t her mother told her about the dismissive attitude of men towards actresses, dancers and singers? Was he like that too?
‘What on earth possessed you to flirt with that young man? You should behave with more propriety,’ Queenie said.
Cecily’s mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘What are you implying? He was the one engaging himself in flirtation, not me! I was about to escape when you appeared, Mama, since I view him as something of a philanderer. Aren’t all men like that?’
Queenie frowned. ‘Nonsense! You were clearly encouraging him to take a fancy to you.’
‘I certainly was not! Please do not accuse me of such a thing. I have no wish to seek new love right now, if ever. I was simply disagreeing with his poor opinion of women. I also find his flamboyant and attention-seeking attitude most irritating, constantly attempting to prove how useful and gifted he is.’
‘Johnny is a resilient man, quite respectable and caring. He means no harm, merely feeling the need to improve his status, coming from a poor family. Do not assume that you are more talented and clever than him, or me either, girl.’
There was something about what Queenie was saying that made Cecily wonder if she could be making a valid point. Her dispute with Johnny had possibly been a little shameful. Caring about one’s class and abilities was surely the right of everyone? He could simply have been trying to be friendly and his flirtation just a joke. Maybe she’d viewed him wrongly because of her loss. If that was the case, she’d done herself no favours by treating him with such contempt. ‘You’re possibly right, Mama. I’m not a patient soul who tolerates people as well as I used to. I’m afraid I have little trust in anyone because of my grief.’
A mixture of sympathy and disapproval flickered in her mother’s face. ‘If only you’d made an effort to find yourself a good husband, we would not be here putting ourselves in danger.’ And turning on her heel, she marched away.
Cecily felt herself sink into that familiar dark pit of despair. Why would her mother blame her for everything and never believe a word she said, or agree with what she wanted out of life?
However rare it might be to find an attractive and respectable young man in this dreadful world, let alone one who showed a genuine interest in her, a relationship was not what she longed for any more. And she must keep a careful watch on this Johnny Wilcox. There was something about his attitude that she didn’t at all approve of or comprehend. He did seem to be a self-opinionated idiot. Admittedly he was a talented drummer and Merryn was quite fond of him. Not a fact she should share with their mother as Queenie would be sure to disapprove of a possible relationship between them since he was not at all rich. Firmly setting this issue to one side with a sigh, Cecily returned to her cabin, pulled out her song sheets and began learning the words of the next one.
When they finally reached Le Havre, Cecily looked excitedly out over the flat wide estuary, seeing how it stretched for miles. It was engulfed in mists, the wind whipping the waves, with pools of seawater filling hollows in the sand. There was a great beauty to it, and it appeared so peaceful. If only that were true of the rest of France.
On arrival, they were checked for passports and cartes de séjour, obliged to go through an endless interrogation by French sentries. They were required to answer a number of questions about themselves, their journey, and the reason they’d come to France. It took some time before they were finally allowed in, then taken by boat along the River Seine to Rouen. It was not an easy journey, as the craft was constantly tossed about by the strong tide and currents. It took even more hours, gradually becoming calmer as they sailed further inland. Cecily enjoyed viewing the green woodland that surrounded the river, pretty villages tucked amongst them here and there, and felt most relaxed.
In Rouen they were transported in a scrubby old wagon through the town, passing rows of beautiful black and white houses. To their surprise, they spotted a theatre that looked very like the Theatre Royal near Covent Garden, generally known as Drury Lane, where their mother had performed in the past. ‘We could ask to perform there,’ Merryn said with a grin.
‘The soldiers prefer to visit Folies Bergères,’ the driver told them.
‘To watch the women dance?’
‘Indeed,’ he smirked. ‘And there’s the memorial of Joan of Arc behind those iron railings.’
‘So that’s where she was held?’ Cecily asked.
‘Aye, and faced trial and execution here in 1431.’
She shivered, hoping and praying nothing of the sort would happen to them, and their singing would appeal to these soldiers. Possible danger and their ability to perform were both of concern to her.
Once they reached the camp on top of a hill, they
saw a wonderful view of the town below, more hills in the distance and forests all around. The camp itself was a mess of mud with only a few duckboards to walk on, hundreds of bell tents all around and a few Nissen huts. The stench was appalling, mainly of smoke and injured men with putrid limbs, and other smells she preferred not to contemplate.
Stars were lighting the dusky skies as the ladies were shown into their tent. It was not particularly clean and they saw a number of beetles scuttling across the ground. Merryn screamed then started to stamp on them. Cecily did too. Having largely swept them all away, at least for now, they settled in their beds. She closed her ears, not wishing to hear her mother ranting on about the dreadful state of their accommodation, too exhausted after this long journey to deal with Queenie’s moans and groans or to start unpacking and tidying. ‘We’ll give this tent a good clean up when we unpack tomorrow,’ she said with a weary yawn.
Merryn agreed, and making up her own bed quickly lay down, anxious too for a proper rest. It was then that the bugler sounded ‘Lights Out’.
‘Goodness, I’m not ready for bed,’ Queenie declared, peering in her small mirror by candlelight as she smoothed cream upon her face.
There came a pounding on the sides of the tent. ‘Put that light out!’
‘I reckon that’s the sergeant checking we’re doing as we’re told, Mama,’ Cecily whispered as she quickly blew the candle out.
Merryn and Cecily stifled their giggles beneath the brown blankets in their cold uncomfortable camp beds, listening to the sergeant stamping around outside, banging his cane on other tents while Queenie continued with her grumbles.
‘Well, really . . . What a fusspot that fellow is. We haven’t even had dinner.’
Girls of the Great War Page 6