The Hidden Dance

by Susan Wooldridge

‘But, sir—’

  His voice was drowned by the headmaster’s. ‘I’ve asked Matron to pack you a small bag, Sutton.’

  There was nothing he could do but follow his mother across the large echoing hall, his world all in a muddle as the headmaster himself helped him into his grey school coat and handed him his cap. Matron stood to one side, all smiley, and with an abrupt little bob, gave his mother his small brown case. She looks like one of Sam’s hens laying an egg, he thought.

  On a swell, they all arrived outside at the top of the school steps. There in the middle of the gravel drive, besmattered with grimy snow, stood the Daimler and Sam himself.

  He was down the steps and up into Sam’s arms. ‘’Morning, young man. Oi, watch it! You’ve grown ten feet.’

  ‘I’ve hit a six, Sam, though it was only inside with a tennis-ball. I did it like you showed me – spring term I might get into the Third Eleven—’

  Packed into the car, they crunched away down the drive, none of them looking back at the waving matron and headmaster. And Nickie, tucked into the red-leather back seat, found himself torn between ten hundred million questions and a final look at Fawcett senior streaking towards the winter wicket, a black umbrella stuck into the frosty field. At the main gates, the school motto struggling through iron branches and furbelows, ‘Actions Not Words’, they left the school grounds. And turned right, not left.

  He scrambled forward. ‘Aren’t we going home?’

  ‘No, darling.’

  From the front, Mummy leant back towards him and, at last, he found himself all caught up as she hugged and hugged. He breathed in her special smell – lemons and raspberries – the perfume she kept for best in the little bottle on her dressing table. He just knew she’d put it on especially for him.

  But she was saying lots of things to him and all in a rush, ‘…and we’re going on a big, big adventure and it’s a huge secret, probably the biggest secret you’ll ever have to keep.’ She slowed down a bit. ‘Which is why I’ve just had to tell the headmaster a bit of a fib.’ Her eyes were all shiny.

  Sam drove fast.

  ‘But where are we going?’ She had to understand that he had very important things to do; he didn’t really have time to go on an adventure. ‘I’ve got practice tomorrow at three o’clock – and there’s “Fives” this afternoon—’

  ‘Sorry, darling. Not this afternoon or tomorrow.’

  Hopeless. ‘But why not?’

  ‘No more questions for now, Nickie.’ Not her laughing voice. He sat back in the seat. He saw Sam and Mummy look at each other. Grown-ups, huh.

  ‘How about a bit of grub then, young man?’ Sam asked as they entered a small village.

  In the teashop, he found some consolation in a plate of steaming steak-and-kidney pie followed by semolina apples. He knew something serious was up when Mummy let him have custard and ice-cream. And she wasn’t saying anything, just staring out of the window smoking cigarette after cigarette. Usually on Parent’s Day, she’d ask so many questions, he couldn’t eat a single mouthful.

  He eyed Sam’s plate; there was a bit of veal and ham pie on it. ‘On you go, Nickie me lad,’ and the pie followed the semolina apples. Neither Sam nor Mummy spoke. A stick-like waitress all in black put down two cups of very milky coffee and the bill. He watched as she crawled away with a funny pointy-toed walk; a milky-coffee spider.

  The church clock chimed one. Sam was on his feet. ‘Time to go.’

  Snuggled down, watching the wintry countryside flying by from his red-leather world, Mummy turned round to him and began, ‘We’re going on a big boat.’

  Plans for Indoor Nets vanished. But then, instantly, the worst thought: ‘Is Father coming?’

  ‘No, darling. Your father is staying in London. It’s just you, me—’ she paused. ‘And Johnnie.’

  Looking down at his knees, gently picking at an old scab, he said, ‘But I thought Father said I couldn’t see Johnnie anymore.’

  ‘No, all that’s changed now.’ The firmness in her voice brought his head up. ‘It’s part of the secret.’

  ‘Are Sam and Mary coming?’

  ‘Can’t, old chap,’ said Sam. ‘Got to stay here and keep an eye on things.’

  ‘But where’s Johnnie now?’

  ‘He’s meeting us at Southampton.’

  ‘Is that where the boat is?’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ smiled Mummy.

  They drove swiftly through the cold afternoon. As the frosty darkness crawled across the countryside, he slept. ‘Fives’ forgotten, scab forgotten, safely wrapped in an old tartan car-rug, the mumble of the two grown-up voices a lullaby.

  When he woke it was dark and the car was stopping, the wavering headlights picking out a small wood and brick cottage, and a running figure was calling out, ‘Where’s my Nickie?’ before the headlights were turned off and all was dark once more.

  He knew the voice instantly. ‘Mary!’

  ‘Whoa, slow down! Let’s stop the car first,’ grinned Sam.

  They all whirled into the cottage, away from the dark and the cold, and into the warmth of a tiny kitchen. ‘This is my big sister, Susan,’ said Mary. ‘Say “how-do”.’

  ‘Is this your house?’

  ‘It is,’ said Susan.

  ‘Are we staying here?’

  ‘Just stopping the one night.’

  He pulled Mary down to him and whispered in her ear. ‘Does she know about the big boat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But does she know it’s the biggest secret we ever have to keep?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Mary.

  In a little room at the top of a tiny staircase, Mummy tucked him into a big high bed. She climbed up beside him and lay on the faded floral counterpane; it was covered in swirly commas. There was the sound of crackling and scratching all along the eaves.

  ‘Birds are going to sleep. Snuggle down, darling.’ But he didn’t. In fact, he sat up again. ‘Mummy, are we running away?’

  He knew it was her very special wish to keep him safe. Safe from Father. He knew that’s why he’d had to go to Big School a year early. But if they ran away, what would happen to his place in the Third Eleven? She was looking at him, her face all wobbly and smiling. ‘Yes, darling, we’re running away.’ And then he knew it was something extra-secret she was going to tell him because her voice went all quiet and little. ‘You see, darling, I want to be with the two people I love most in all the world. You and Johnnie. And because I think you and I will be happier if we don’t live with your father, it means we must go away for a little while and hide.’

  He nodded, all that made sense. To complete the idea in his mind, he said, ‘So we must never let Father find us.’

  ‘That’s right, darling.’

  Satisfied that this seemed to be a most sensible plan, he snuggled down.

  There was the murmur of voices through the floorboards and when Mummy got back down to the kitchen, he heard her say, ‘I’ve told him. Thank God, he seems to approve.’ He fell asleep.

  Next morning, it was so freezing his breath kept huffing out in cloudy puffs. He had to bang his arms round him to keep warm.

  ‘Nickie, stop doing that and stand still,’ said Mary.

  ‘But I’m cold.’

  ‘I know you are but the sooner you’re dressed the sooner you’ll be warm.’ He was tired and fed-up at being pulled around and stuffed into strange scratchy clothes.

  ‘Now, come on, come and have a look in our Susan’s mirror.’ The women pushed and pulled him through to a looking-glass. He stopped and stared, he couldn’t believe it. There in the mirror, a small girl in a beret was staring back at him.

  But he wasn’t having it. He flung off the beret. ‘Why do I have to wear this?’ And he was dressed in some rotten old tartan skirt!

  ‘Now then,’ said Mary sternly. ‘We don’t want no one on this here boat to know who you are. And best way is for you to pretend to be a girl. Anyhow, you’re all changing clothes. Look at your mum in my hat a
nd coat.’

  It was too much. Even worse, Sam started to laugh the minute he saw Nickie. And though Mary said ‘Sam!’ in a voice that could’ve killed an ox, and Sam’s face went all serious, Nickie knew his friend was laughing at him.

  They all crowded round the kitchen table and Sam explained, ‘Here are the tickets. All in my name. So now you’re Miss Nickie Valley, aren’t you?’ He winked at Nicholas but Nickie turned away. He was disgusted at his friend ganging-up with the women.

  Chapter Nine

  SS Etoile. Evening

  Enid Timms was confused. She had been considering following Lady Sutton and the fat woman from the general room when they had re-appeared arm-in-arm and smiling, settling once more at their original table, still covered in laundry. Unable to hear a word of the conversation and baffled by all the comings and goings, Miss Timms made a decision that, for the moment, she would remain tucked behind her laden coat-stand. Her instinct informed her that Lady Sutton’s presence down here in steerage presaged a secret and, having hawkishly watched the conversation between m’lady and the fat woman, the two women’s heads tucked together in conspiratorial exchange, Miss Timms’ experienced eye told her that this might be a secret of some value. Whether it took coin or guile, Miss Timms was determined to possess it.

  While pondering these many sudden new possibilities, her attention was caught by a loud clattering. Peering from her hiding place, she saw two young ruffians dashing across the wide linoleum floor, and was shocked to observe the common-looking boys not only bounce down beside the fat woman but also, upon being introduced to Lady Sutton, be warmly greeted by her.

  In the next instant, one of the boys started to tell a tale of great interest, for the two women and the two boys all drew together eagerly. On closer observation, Miss Timms was astonished to realise that the boys were none other than the bellhop and the common little dog-walker whom she had encountered earlier that day. Unconsciously, she began to massage her tender stomach whilst pondering on the situation.

  Surely there was much here to unravel. She stood obelisk-like, frozen and silent, gazing from behind her coat-stand. Turning down her mistress’s bed would have to wait – this situation was of greater importance; she could feel it in her bones.

  She didn’t think she had ever been happier.

  ‘… And when the steward arrives,’ said Billy, ‘the nurse is pulled over. And she looks dead scared. But we all knows she’s innocent and that she never took no jewellery.’

  Having finished his day’s duties, the bellboy was spending the remainder of his evening with young Fred and his gran. He knew they liked his tales from up top, and this evening there was an extra audience. They had been joined by a posh lady called Mrs Valley. Billy was pleased. Sure as eggs was eggs, he knew tonight’s story was a right go-er.

  ‘Where’s the poor lass now?’ Fred’s gran wanted to know.

  ‘They dragged her off to the captain’s office.’

  ‘And who is this dreadful woman who made the accusation?’ asked the posh woman.

  ‘This dreadful woman, mum,’ Billy replied stoutly, ‘is one Lady Slocombe.’

  ‘Right old busybody an’ all,’ young Freddie piped up. ‘I walks her dog and she—’

  ‘Lady Lavinia Slocombe?’ The posh woman was staring hard at Billy.

  ‘Do you know this woman?’ Fred’s gran asked.

  ‘No, not really,’ the woman muttered quickly. ‘I may have met her once.’

  She’s fibbing, thought Billy, as the woman, jumping to her feet, quickly swept bits and pieces into her bag any old how. ‘Mrs Webb,’ she said, ‘I have to go but I wonder if you’d call by our cabin. Just for a quick word.’ Fred’s gran nodded, and without another word the posh woman crossed the room and was gone in a blink.

  ‘What’s got into her?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Seasickness,’ said Fred’s gran firmly.

  ‘Anyways,’ he said – the story had to be finished. ‘Once in the captain’s office, the nurse collapses. And everyone’s in a right old two and eight. The ship’s doctor’s called and says she’s suffering from shock and—’

  Freddie gave a great yawn.

  ‘It’s bed for you, young man,’ commanded Mrs Webb. ‘Come along. We’ll finish your story tomorrow, Billy.’

  The bellboy escorted them to the double doors. ‘Good night, mum. See yer tomorrow, Fred my boy.’ And, like the commissionaire he’d seen outside the pictures, he gave Mrs Webb a flourishing bow of farewell.

  Everywhere people were stretching and yawning, making their way to bunks and berths. Billy stood considering the day’s earnings and doings, his duties at an end. Suddenly on the other side of the room, his eye was caught by a dark figure slipping from behind a coat-stand. It’s that old biddy from the kennels, he thought, the Slocombe maid. What’s she slinking about for? At that moment, the tall thin woman gave a shifty look around and shot off through a pair of double doors. She’s up to something. Billy was across the room behind her.

  He emerged into the passage in time to see the woman look first to left and right then push through a door marked ‘Crew Only’. She was now on Scotland Road.

  How’s she know about this? thought Billy. It’s a shortcut for crew only.

  The long passageway flanked the port-side of the boiler uptakes and ran from the stern of the ship providing access to crew accommodation and the engineer’s mess further aft. At this time of night it was empty though hardly silent as, all around, the guts of the ship thundered and clanged.

  Billy nudged through the door and saw that the woman had already got some way ahead. Trying to keep a safe distance, he found he had to break into a trot as the woman pushed on very fast. Twice Scotland Road took a bend and twice he was nearly flung into her as he rounded the corner, only to find she’d stopped to take a breath. Both times, she rallied and sped off very fast.

  At what he knew was the third and final bend, he moved carefully forward and peered round, but there was no sign of her – only a swing door at the end barely moving. Running forward, he was just in time to see her long navy skirt disappearing up a stairway. She was now back on the passengers’ side of the fence. He bolted up the stairs after her.

  For four flights he followed as close as he dared until she finally disappeared through a doorway. It led, he knew, to the luxury suites in first-class accommodation. Billy let her get ahead before he followed.

  The carpeted first-class corridor was completely quiet. And empty. Had he lost her? He raced to the far end and caught sight of Miss Timms’ skirt once again disappearing round a corner. Carefully, he followed – to find her slowing to a more even pace, then, like a clockwork mouse, she slowed, slowed and eventually stopped, sinking onto a small settee set back from the corridor in the depths of a swagged alcove. Placing the basket she was carrying on the seat beside her, she gulped in breaths and began to massage what Billy knew, if she was anything like his gran, to be her corset. Closing her eyes, the thin woman started to rock until, after a few minutes, her breath seemed to come more evenly.

  Billy watched carefully. He prided himself on his instinct and he knew, just knew, this one was up to no good. Why had she been hanging around all suspicious-like in the general room? And why had she rushed down Scotland Road like a bullet from a gun?

  Quietly he crept towards her and was two alcoves away when she opened her eyes again. Billy jumped back behind a swagged curtain. He made himself count to ten and then very slowly peered out. The woman was checking a watch pinned to her jacket. She glanced quickly about then, peeling back the cotton covering on her basket, took out a small tin box. Even at a distance, Billy could see the word OXO written on the lid. Opening the tin, she withdrew a short length of white chalk and a piece of paper, which she consulted. Rising, she peered to left and right, checking the numbers of each suite until one particular door held her attention and she leant forward to put down the basket. At that moment, a roar of laughter heralded a party of people at the other end of the
passage. The woman leapt up as though shot and, without a backward glance, ran away down the corridor, turning a corner. Billy was after her.

  He arrived in time to see her hurriedly knock at a suite door and enter it at once. ‘It’s impossible, my lady,’ he caught her saying.

  ‘You stupid woman!’ the bellowed reply came whipping through the closing door. ‘Do I have to do everything myself?’ The door snapped shut.

  Billy turned away, only to find himself engulfed by the party of merry-makers.

  ‘Ah, just the chap. We seem to have had a bit of an accident.’

  Two young men and a girl locked arms around him and started to pull against each other. It was a harsh ring-a-roses. The girl laughed, rich and fruity. She had the face of an angel and a dress of glinting silver.

  ‘Go on, Milly, show him!’

  Billy, jostled, stared at the girl; her hair a dazzling swirl of blonde, her figure a picture in a magazine. She must be a Motion Picture star.

  Catching the young boy’s look, she waggled a silver sandal in front of his nose. A broken heel dangled. She laughed and laughed, the biggest joke in all the world.

  ‘Get it mended, there’s a good fellow.’ A young man pushed Billy away with a hard shove.

  ‘Suite 1004. And bring us a couple of bottles of fizz while you’re about it. Chop, chop.’

  The girl swayed dangerously, the two men strapped themselves to her side. They turned as a unit to unlock the door and, pushing and shoving, piled into the suite.

  Billy started to move off down the corridor when he heard the girl’s giggling suddenly stop, followed by what he thought was a whimper. He rushed back to the open door. It slammed shut in his face.

  The hush of the corridor returned.

  ‘There’s someone I know on the ship!’ Lily almost fell into the cabin in her rush to tell Johnnie. He looked up from his book and asked levelly, ‘Who?’

  ‘She’s a horrible woman called Slocombe. I can’t believe she’s here on board! She’s poison, Johnnie. If she were to discover—’ The thought unbearable, she stood shaking, her face silver-pale in the electric light.