Death in the Stars

by Frances Brody

  ‘My golden girl and my golden boy. Ahh! I’m old enough to call them both young.’

  ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Keep on keeping on. I shall be my usual self at the theatre tonight, and pull everyone together. I still have Selina to think about. People imagine she has reached the top of the tree, but just wait, just watch. She is on her way up in the world. This will be a terrible blow to her, but it will show her why she needs support such as yours, and not just when life is difficult.’

  ‘Really, I did very little. Anyone would have done the same.’

  ‘You are too modest. Now tell me, what did the doctor say?’

  ‘Nothing to me. Billy’s death was so very unexpected, and sudden.’

  I explained the way in which Billy had simply vanished by the time the light returned after the eclipse and how he was searched for and found by senior boys.

  ‘How extraordinary. And no one had any idea what might have come over him?’

  ‘I believe there was a suspicion that he may have taken something, for pain.’

  Brockett shook his head sadly. ‘That is a distinct possibility. He was badly wounded, poor chap. He told me once that a surgeon had said a good cure would be to lie in the sun on a Mediterranean beach for six months. He made a bit of a monologue of that, as you might expect.’

  I smiled. ‘That sounds right up his street.’

  ‘But you see, it could have happened if my plans for them had come to fruition. He could have spent months every year on the Isle of Capri.’

  ‘Such a loss.’

  ‘What else can you tell me, Mrs Shackleton?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry not to be more informative. The doctor wasn’t there when I left, but I believe there will be a post mortem.’ My hat felt suddenly tight. I adjusted the pin. ‘Selina asked me to give the hospital your details, which I did.’

  ‘I shall go in person, to see the doctor and poor Billy, for the last time. I’ll need to make arrangements, collect a death certificate and so on.’

  Mr Brockett picked up a biscuit. ‘I am very glad you were with Selina. Have you known her from her early days?’

  Not knowing what Selina may have said to him, I did not answer directly. ‘As you probably know, she came to me because I was able to arrange for two very good airmen to take us to Giggleswick.’ I shifted the topic, telling him how they had gone on to London with a photograph of the eclipse for today’s paper. This reminded me that I must buy a copy. ‘It was the first time Billy had flown. I believe he was quite nervous though tried not to show it.’

  Mr Brockett stared into his coffee. ‘I will miss him, not just professionally but personally. I loved Billy. He was a ray of sunshine on his good days and a dark cloud when the black dog stalked him down. I admired his courage. On the days when he hid away barely able to speak to people, he still came up trumps on stage and made everyone laugh.’

  ‘I didn’t realise he suffered in that way, or at least not to that extent.’

  ‘Like many comics, he was a sensitive soul. I pray that he has found peace.’

  When we had nothing left to say, Mr Brockett offered to call for a taxi to take me home. I thanked him for his offer but said that was not necessary.

  ‘Mrs Shackleton, as I hinted a moment ago, and since there are just the two of us, let me put a thought in your head. Selina’s star is on the rise. Between us, Beryl and I take good care of her. But Beryl can’t do everything. She makes costumes, extremely talented. Someone of Selina’s stature needs intelligent and practical support from someone like you, and so do I want that for her. There! I’ve put the idea in your head.’

  How had Selina explained me to him? It would be surprising if this very well-connected man had not made enquiries of his own regarding the person his star performer had recruited.

  Fourteen

  The Elusive Mr Brownlaw

  It was half past three when I arrived home. Mrs Sugden was in the corner of the front garden she gives over to dandelions for dandelion wine, which she loves and I loathe. She was stooped over, gathering leaves. ‘I’m making a nettle soup and I thought I’d add a touch of variety.’

  ‘Oh, good. My favourite.’ It was not my favourite but I like to humour her occasionally, especially when I have asked her to do something beyond the call of duty. ‘Did Miss Fellini send on my note?’

  ‘She did and I’ve done as you asked. Door’s open. I’ll come through and tell you.’

  My black cat Sookie lay on the path, sunning herself. I paused to stroke Sookie’s ears, noticing that the poor thing was expecting again.

  Inside, I hung up my coat and kicked off my shoes.

  Mrs Sugden followed. ‘Do you want to eat?’

  ‘No, thank you. What I really want is a bath, but first to know how you got on this morning.’

  ‘I’ll come to that, when I fish out my notes. I was out early on, in the wood at the appointed time for the eclipse. All we witnessed was the shadow. Young Thomas was out there with his pencil and paper to make a drawing, and record the exact time. But how did you get on? I saw from the stop press that Giggleswick was a success for the Astronomer Royal, and that he chose well.’

  ‘He did indeed, only it didn’t go well for everyone.’

  I told her about Billy’s collapse and death.

  ‘Good heavens. What happened? The world turned shocking cold in that brief time. It gave me a funny turn. You could feel the change in the air.’

  We gravitated towards the kitchen.

  She let out her breath in a deep sigh. ‘I knew summat had gone amiss when I got your letter. He was a popular comic.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I saw him a couple of times, years ago. I was never that keen myself because he made his humour out of misery, but I’m sorry he’s dead.’

  ‘It was terrible.’

  She is quick on the uptake. ‘Collapsed you say?’

  I nodded. ‘Best not to say more just now. Miss Fellini had feared something might happen.’

  ‘I see. And that’s why you wanted to know about the other two deaths.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well I went to the newspaper offices, just as you asked. And I passed your letter on to Mr Sykes. He sent word that he’ll be at the Varieties for tonight’s performance. I’ll fetch my notes. They’re in the office.’

  There was a time when Mrs Sugden disliked the dining room being called an office. Now that she was more than just a housekeeper and helped with investigations, she was happy enough to change the name of the room as and when it suited her.

  She came back a moment later with a sheet of foolscap. ‘Mr Duffield is looking a lot smarter these days.’ She straightened the sheet of typing. ‘He had his young clerk tap this out for me. He says he’ll look into it more if you want him to.’

  I took the typed sheet from her. The typewriter ribbon was overused and the words pale on the page, but readable.

  York Gazette, 11 June 1926

  Death of a Fine Performer

  A tragic accident occurred on the Haxby Road tram route late yesterday evening. Douglas Dougan (53), better known by his stage name Dougie Doig, was knocked down and killed by a tramcar on St Leonards Place. Mr Dougan had been appearing at the Theatre Royal in impresario Mr Trotter Brockett’s touring show. Having completed his popular act, ‘Dougie Doig and his Daring Dogs’, the veteran entertainer left the theatre at the interval.

  The distraught tram driver stopped the vehicle as quickly as he could but too late. Police issued an appeal for witnesses to come forward.

  Silver Songbird Miss Selina Fellini, overcome with emotion, spared a few words for your reporter. ‘The company is heartbroken at the loss of Dougie.’

  Visibly shaken, impresario Mr Trotter Brockett said, ‘I am truly devastated. Variety theatre can ill afford the loss of such a talented performer. The public has lost a great favourite.’ Asked about the fate of the three performing ‘Daring Doig Dogs’, Mr Brockett assured this reporter th
at the clever canines are safe and well, but pining.

  The company continues its tour, opening at Bradford Hippodrome next Saturday.

  Sunderland Echo, 4 January 1927

  An enquiry is taking place into the circumstances surrounding the tragic death of much loved ventriloquist Mr Floyd Lloyd. Mr Lloyd, 72, appearing in Aladdin at the Sunderland Empire, was on stage alone rehearsing a new act when a sandbag fell from the flies striking him where he sat centre stage with his lifelike doll Manny Piccolo.

  The theatre management issued a statement saying that it is cooperating fully with the Sunderland Watch Committee. An inquest will be held on Tuesday.

  So these were the two deaths that Selina thought might not be accidental. That made three deaths, all fellow performers, all men, all close to her.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Sugden. Do we have anything on a coroner’s verdict for either death?’

  ‘We do. I followed up on that. Both deaths were put down as accidental. The tram driver afterwards said he thought he saw another person close to Douglas Dougan but no one came forward. The stage manager at the Sunderland Empire was exonerated. The Watch Committee ordered immediate closure and the ropes and everything were checked. There was no satisfactory explanation for the sandbag falling when it did.’

  ‘How extraordinary.’

  ‘So, what happens now?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did you get any sleep last night, Mrs Shackleton?’

  ‘Not a wink. We went straight from the party to Giggleswick.’

  ‘Think of yourself for a change. Have that bath, why don’t you? I’ll go run it now. You’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t have your rest.’

  ‘You’re right. I need to talk to Miss Fellini. Will you telephone her dresser, Beryl Lister, and say that I’ll come to the theatre tonight?’

  ‘Will you see the show?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘What will you wear?’

  ‘The green, I haven’t worn that for ages.’

  ‘You’ll freeze. There’s no back to it.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll attract some warm glances.’ I looked again at the typed sheet Mrs Sugden had presented me with. ‘I want to know why Miss Fellini suspects these deaths aren’t accidental. They appear to be and, as you say, the coroners thought so.’

  ‘Mr Duffield is seeing what else he can find out. I’m off to see him again. He came after me into the street and said I should speak to the paper’s theatre correspondent. He knows all there is to know about performers and their doings.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’ve arranged to call in at the paper again, before he sets off to see a show.’

  ‘Good.’ I took the new soap from my bag. ‘Take a sniff of this.’

  ‘Very nice. I’ll run that bath for you.’

  She called back as she reached the top of the stairs. ‘I’m not sure I’m all that keen on this Silver Songbird of yours. She left you to hold the poor man’s hand and see him into eternity, and from all accounts she’s told half a tale.’

  ‘How do you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘She should have told you before that people were dying like flies around her.’

  ‘Not exactly like flies.’ I was about to defend Selina, but the thought occurred to me, now that I looked back, that she had become anxious too quickly, almost as if she expected Billy to die. They had been in each other’s company since the previous evening, and she was ideally placed to have given him a cigar, or to have tampered with what was his very last injection.

  I looked at the telephone, willing Mr Ernest Brownlaw to ring with the results of his test.

  At the top of the stairs, Mrs Sugden emerged from the bathroom. ‘Them bubbles should float you to dreamland.’

  ‘Thank you. If Mr Brownlaw rings with the results of a test, would you say I’ll ring straight back? Or he might just say positive or negative.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t ring?’

  ‘Give it two hours and then you ring him, or I will if I’m still awake.’

  *

  Before changing for the theatre, I sat at the kitchen table, with a plate of ham salad and a slice of bread and butter. ‘Any news from Mr Brownlaw?’

  Mrs Sugden opened the bun tin. ‘He’d gone out. I left a message.’

  How annoying of him. I’d expected him to operate with the same speed as young Alex in the school laboratory. ‘I’ll try once more.’

  ‘Eat your tea or that dress’ll fall off you!’

  ‘It won’t take a minute. I need to know.’

  ‘Stay put. I’ll get the number for you.’

  I gave her a moment and then followed her into the hall. It might be best if I asked for him.

  She handed me the telephone. An assistant picked up and announced the name.

  ‘Brownlaws Chemist.’

  ‘Hello, it’s Mrs Shackleton here. Is Mr Brownlaw available?’

  ‘Who did you say is calling?’

  ‘Mrs Shackleton.’

  ‘I’m sorry but he’s not here. He said to tell you that he had an emergency.’

  ‘Did he leave any other message?’

  One word would do, positive or negative.

  ‘Only what I said, that he had an emergency.’

  Something was not right. I had known Ernest Brownlaw for a long time. Delay and prevarication were not his style. Unless something had gone seriously wrong for him, he would have been in touch. At the very least, he would have left me a proper message.

  Fifteen

  New Moon

  Jim Sykes and his wife Rosie dressed in their best for this unexpected trip to the City Varieties. Sykes wasn’t surprised that something else had arisen as a result of Mrs Shackleton arranging a flight to take Miss Selina Fellini and her friend to Giggleswick. Both he and Mrs Shackleton had a feeling there was more to Miss Fellini’s sudden visit than met the eye. In Sykes’s view, theatricals saw themselves as a race apart. He knew from experience that they referred to the rest of the world as ‘civilians’, as though every performer from the biggest star in the firmament to the lowliest warm-up man considered themselves enlisted in some exalted service. Well perhaps they were. If so, it was an exalted service with the first commandment Thou Shalt Dissemble.

  Sykes hadn’t told Rosie that this outing was connected with work. Nor did he mention that Mrs Sugden had made the telephone call to confirm tickets. It didn’t hurt to let Rosie believe that he had come up with the good idea of a night at the Varieties.

  Rosie brushed the felt navy cloche that she had retrimmed with a length of pale blue petersham. ‘What does this hat look like?’ She put it on for inspection.

  He was not sure how to compliment a hat. He calculated that it was probably not the hat that needed reassurance. ‘It suits you to a T. You look grand.’

  ‘Oh, give over. I look presentable.’

  He kissed her cheek. ‘Presentable to the king and queen, love. Now if we don’t put a spurt on we’ll be late.’

  She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘We’ve bags of time.’

  ‘There could be a crush and we’ve to pick up our tickets. We were lucky to get cancellations. That’s what happens, see, when you call from a telephone.’

  Rosie said nothing regarding the telephone. She knew very well that if one was installed they would be the calling point for everyone in the street who had an emergency, or a brother in Harehills that they needed to speak to as a matter of life and death.

  As it turned out, and as Rosie predicted, they arrived early. No sooner had Sykes announced his name to the woman at the box office counter than an effusive man with a halo of white hair and good nature appeared. He was short, with a sun-struck complexion and a theatrical moustache carefully curled at the ends. His eyes were the brightest blue, giving him the appearance of someone who had stepped into his blue shirt and linen suit to disguise the fact that here was no ordinary mortal but a man from the planet sunshine, arriving on earth to bring cheer t
o the world.

  ‘Mr Sykes, my great pleasure to meet you. Trotter Brockett at your service, Miss Fellini’s manager.’ He shook hands with Sykes. ‘Mrs Sykes, good evening and welcome. So glad you could come.’

  What on earth sort of yarn had Mrs Sugden spun when she rang for tickets? Or perhaps they had already been arranged through Mrs Shackleton. Sykes had hoped to be the anonymous observer and here he and Rosie were being treated as honoured guests. Who does he think we are? Sykes wondered. Rosie had cottoned on too. She gave Jim that look, having caught him out. This was work, and she knew it.