Sing As We Go

by Margaret Dickinson

  He stepped up to the microphone and spread his arms wide. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome one and all . . .’

  Kathy smiled in the darkness and sat back to enjoy the show, pushing aside, just for a couple of hours, the sadness in her heart. But it was not quite what she had expected. Knowing Ron, she had anticipated a programme of choral works, but instead it was more like a music-hall revue. Then she remembered the plans that they’d had just before she’d left so hurriedly. This is exactly what they’d planned. She smiled in the darkness, thrilled that it had all come about just as they’d hoped.

  The young comedian, with a pencil-line moustache and a garish suit, shamelessly impersonated the great Max Miller, while the girl vocalist sang a medley of favourite songs of the thirties from ‘Roll out the Barrel’ to ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’. But throughout her performance, Kathy couldn’t help wincing. The girl, Melody Miles, though pretty and vivacious and attracting whistles and catcalls from the young men in the audience, could hardly sing in tune. The three dancers, with long shapely legs, were a definite hit with the audience and were seen in various guises in the comedy sketches, as too was Melody. And in two of the sketches, Kathy spotted Martin Montgomery. What a good actor he was, she thought in admiration. They all were, and Melody was a much better actress than she was a vocalist. Her comic timing was perfect and the audience’s laughter threatened to damage the roof far more than any bomb!

  The finale brought a medley of sentimental ballads and the whole show ended with a rousing rendition of ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ followed by the National Anthem, led, Kathy was thankful to see, by the male vocalist, who could sing in tune!

  As the curtain fell, Kathy stood up. As soon as the audience had filed out, she went backstage. There was a lot of chatter and laughter coming from the dressing rooms.

  ‘Do you know where Mr Spencer is?’ she asked a woman carrying an armful of dresses.

  ‘Star dressing room, love. Just ’cos he formed the party, he reckons he’s top billing. If you ask me that should go to the female vocalist – if we had a proper one, that is. Melody’s a lovely girl, but she can’t sing for toffee.’ She leant forward. ‘But don’t tell ’er I said so. Mind you, she’s a good little actress. I’ll give her that. Funny, too. What’s the word? Coquettish. That’s it. And sparkle! That girl sparkles more than all the sequins on these dresses.’

  Kathy smiled weakly. She said nothing, but she couldn’t help agreeing with the woman she presumed was the wardrobe mistress. The cameo parts the girl had played in the sketches had been brilliant, but like the woman said she couldn’t sing for toffee.

  Kathy knocked on the door and heard Ron’s familiar voice. ‘Come in.’

  He was sitting at the dressing table, removing his stage make-up. When he saw in the mirror who was standing behind him in the doorway, he sprang to his feet and turned with his arms outstretched all in one movement. ‘Kathy! My dear girl. How wonderful to see you? Whatever are you doing here?’

  ‘I work here. In this cinema.’

  ‘Oh, are you the resident singer?’

  ‘No – no, I’m an usherette and—’

  ‘An usherette! My dear girl, with your talent. An usherette! Oh dear me, we can’t have that! Here, sit down.’ He moved some clothes from a chair and dusted it. ‘We must talk about this.’

  His tone brooked no argument and, smiling self-consciously, Kathy did as he bade her.

  ‘It was a lovely show, Mr Spencer.’

  Ron chuckled. ‘Oh, it’s Ron now, to one and all. No standing on ceremony these days, love.’

  ‘So – it all worked then? All the plans you were making when I – I left.’

  Ron regarded her solemnly for a moment. He seemed about to question her, but then he changed his mind, smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, and we’re all having a great time.’ His smile faded briefly as he added, ‘Of course, we see some dreadful sights, when we go to hospitals especially. And it’s heartbreaking seeing all the bomb damage in the cities. And then, of course, when we go to the docks when the army lads are going abroad, that’s hard, Kathy, that’s really hard.’

  ‘You go all round the country then?’

  Ron nodded. ‘We were in Coventry in February.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘My, that’s a dreadful sight, Kathy. And London’s had it very bad, haven’t they? And even poor old Lincoln got a bit of a pasting last month.’

  ‘Yes, we had a couple of raids here too. What about our street? Is it okay?’

  ‘So far, love. Mabel writes regularly. I always let her know where we’re going to be. She keeps me up to date with all the news.’

  ‘I presume you’re here because of all the forces personnel in the area?’

  ‘That’s right. We have a list of all the theatres near to army camps, airfields and training centres. Lincolnshire’s becoming known for its airfields and, of course, there’s the naval training centre up the road and so – here we are.’ He spread his hands as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did. ‘Of course,’ he went on, ‘we have to travel a lot and it means staying away from home, sometimes for weeks at a time, but Mabel’s all for it. She says she’s lucky I haven’t got to go into the forces and she’s busy with her war work in the WVS. She and Miss Robinson do a lot of work together.’

  Suddenly, Kathy was overwhelmed by a wave of homesickness. Not for the farm and her parents, but for the tiny terraced house in Lincoln, Aunt Jemima and her cat.

  ‘How – how is Miss Robinson?’

  Ron eyed her keenly. ‘Missing you,’ he said as bluntly as Jemima herself would have answered. He leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘We were all sorry about what happened on your wedding day, but we’ve all missed you, Kathy. Don’t hide yourself away here forever, will you? Unless, of course, there’s someone here . . . ?’

  Kathy took a deep breath. Oh yes, there was someone here all right, and for a brief moment she was very tempted to tell Ron everything. What a relief it would be to spill it all out. Yet, still something held her back. Instead, she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak the lie aloud.

  ‘Then would you consider joining us?’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I expect you heard poor little Melody tonight. She’s a great little actress, but she’s not a singer. Now you . . .’ Again he spread his hands and then went on. ‘They’re a good crowd, very friendly and most of them are a similar age to you. You’d fit in very well. Kathy, dear girl . . .’ He grasped her hands and held them tightly. ‘Please say you’ll think about it.’

  Kathy smiled and said impulsively, ‘I don’t need time to think. The answer’s yes. I’d love to join you all.’

  Now he put his arms around her and held her close. ‘I’m so pleased. We’re in the area until next Saturday night. Can you leave with us first thing on Sunday morning? I’ll see the cinema manager if you have any problems leaving your job.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him. I’m sure he’ll be all right about it.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. Wonderful! I can’t wait to tell the others. They’ll be thrilled. We’ve really missed having a decent female vocalist with us.’

  ‘But what about Melody? Won’t she be hurt?’

  Ron laughed. ‘Heavens, no! The poor girl will be relieved. She’s been begging me to find someone to take her place. Oh, she’ll not leave us. Like I say, she’s brilliant in the sketches and she helps Martin write some of them too. No, no, you don’t need to worry about Melody. She’s very talented in all sorts of ways, but sadly not in singing.’

  For the first time since her disastrous wedding day, Kathy walked home feeling she had some hope for the future.

  The cinema manager was most understanding and released her from her job at once. He made up her pay packet until the end of the week and even gave her another week’s wages on top.

  ‘Just in case you need a few things,’ Larry said kindly. ‘But I do feel a little put out.’

  ‘I know – and I’m sorry if I’m letting you down . . .’ she began, but he interru
pted.

  ‘No, it’s not that. I just wish I’d known you could sing. I’d’ve had you on that stage myself before you could say “Jack Flash”, especially when we had one or two acts we’d booked for our Sunday shows let us down. We were booked to have an RAF band last night, you know, but there was some sort of flap on and they cancelled. This concert party was the only replacement I could get at short notice, but I wasn’t sure if we were doing the right thing having a variety show on a Sunday,’ Larry added worriedly. ‘Some people might think it a bit out of place.’

  ‘I think people are relaxing their attitude a bit these days,’ Kathy tried to reassure him. ‘I wouldn’t worry.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. It’s a difficult time for all of us, but “The show must go on” is a very good adage to cling to just now. There are a lot of people with cause for tears but they put a smile on their face and carry on, and if concert parties like the one you’re about to join can help folks to do that, then good luck to you.’

  Kathy nodded. She could not speak for the tears that welled in her throat, but she took the kindly man’s words to heart. Though her own heart felt as if it was breaking, she would put on a brave smile and sing to bring a little joy into the lives of others. Maybe it would help ease her own heartache, even if only for a little while.

  Kathy’s landlady was not so understanding. ‘I need a week’s notice. That’s what you agreed to, so if you’re leaving on Sunday, you’ll ’ave to pay me for next week, an’ all.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Kathy said, silently blessing the manager’s generosity.

  ‘Oh, flush are we?’ the woman said sarcastically. ‘I’ve a good mind to demand another week.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get it. Here, this is what I owe you and that’s all you’re getting.’

  Kathy pushed the money into the greedy woman’s hand and headed for the stairs, thankful she’d some packing to do. With a bit of luck, she’d never be back here again.

  But once in her room, as she closed the door behind her and leant against it for a moment, she realized that of course she would come back. Perhaps not to this dingy room, if she could avoid it, but she would come back to the town. Oh yes, she’d be back, if only to try to catch a fleeting glimpse of her son.

  Thirty-One

  On the Saturday afternoon Kathy walked along the road running parallel to the beach to the white house at the end. As she neared the entrance she could see that the wrought-iron gates had disappeared, taken, no doubt, for the war effort. Hungrily she gazed at the house, wondering which of the windows was her son’s nursery. She ached to see him. He’d be five months old by now. Was he trying to sit up yet? Was he smiling and laughing? Oh, how she wished she could hear his baby laughter.

  She saw a face at one of the upstairs windows and saw that the woman was standing there with a child in her arms. Her heart skipped a beat and she held her breath, gazing up at the window, squinting to see the child more clearly. Mrs Wainwright stared down at her for a few moments and then moved away. Kathy waited but she did not come back to the window. With a sigh, Kathy was about to turn away when she saw the front door open and Mrs Wainwright hurried down the steps and came towards her.

  Kathy made to turn away, but the woman called out, ‘Wait!’

  Kathy bit her lip and her heart beat a little faster. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. She just wanted to . . .

  ‘Hello again,’ Mrs Wainwright greeted her pleasantly. ‘I thought it was you. In fact I think I’ve see you once or twice.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I just walk along to the end here and – and back again. It – it makes a pleasant walk along here. With the sea just over the sandhills. In fact, I think I’ll go back along the beach.’

  Mrs Wainwright smiled and nodded. ‘If you go down that little path there through the bushes, you’ll come to the beach.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Kathy smiled. ‘Nice to see you again. I – I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ve joined a concert party touring round to entertain troops and war workers.’

  ‘How wonderful. I would’ve liked to have done something like that, but now I have the baby . . .’ She smiled, not in the least unhappy that she could no longer do any such thing.

  ‘Of course. How – how is he?’

  ‘He’s fine. Growing fast. Would you like to see him?’

  ‘I – I’d love to, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course I don’t. I’m such a doting mother, I must be boring all my friends with my constant baby chatter. Come along in. Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea before you walk back into town.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be nice,’ Kathy said mechanically, but her heart was skipping madly. She was going to see her son.

  She followed the woman into the house, through the vast high hall and into a room on the right-hand side.

  Mrs Wainwright opened the door quietly, ‘Here he is, my little darling,’ she said as she approached the sofa where the child was lying, surrounded by cushions.

  Mrs Wainwright laughed. ‘I have to put these here when I leave him for a few moments. He can nearly roll over now and I’m so frightened he might fall off the settee.’ She picked him up and rocked him for a moment, looking down into the little face with such love that Kathy felt a lump in her throat. The child reached out and touched the woman’s face with his tiny fingers. And then he smiled and Kathy’s heart melted.

  ‘I’ll just make some tea,’ Mrs Wainwright said. ‘Would you like to hold him while I fetch it?’

  Kathy sat down on the sofa and held out her arms. Trembling a little, she took the warm little body into her arms and looked down at him with eyes that were blurred with tears. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she said huskily. Then she whispered, ‘Hello, James. Hello, my darling boy.’

  The tea forgotten, Mrs Wainwright sat down in the armchair. ‘You’re – you’re his real mother, aren’t you?’ she said.

  Kathy looked up and met her steady gaze. She couldn’t read the expression in the woman’s eyes, but she was relieved to see there was no fear or panic.

  She looked down again at the little boy in her arms as, trying to keep her voice calm and level, she said, ‘I believe I am his natural mother, yes. But you are the one he is going to know as his mother. And please, don’t think I’m going to cause trouble for you, because I’m not. I – we’re not supposed to know who the adoptive parents are, but I found out.’

  ‘I see. Yes, we were assured that you would not be given our name and certainly not our address.’ Still Mrs Wainwright spoke calmly.

  ‘But you see, I signed the papers when I went into Willow House thinking they were just admission papers. I never dreamed I was signing away all rights to my baby even then. And after he was born – I had a difficult time – they took him away. They never even showed him to me, never let me hold him. I didn’t even know it was a boy until one of the other girls told me.’

  Now Mrs Wainwright gasped. ‘That’s dreadful. We were told that his mother had been given every chance to keep him herself but that she was adamant that she wanted him adopted.’

  ‘That’s certainly not the case,’ Kathy said, ‘More than anything I wanted him. But since then I’ve realized that you can give him a far better life than ever I can now.’ She took a deep breath. ‘James’s father and I were to be married. Five minutes more and we would have been.’

  ‘Five minutes?’ Mrs Wainwright’s smooth brow puckered. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Tony’s mother was taken ill during the service, just before – just before we were to make our vows.’ She smiled with wry sadness. ‘You know the part in the service where they vicar asks the congregation whether they know of any just cause . . . ?’ Wordlessly, Mrs Wainwright nodded. ‘That’s when Mrs Kendall – very conveniently – had a heart attack.’

  There was a pause before Mrs Wainwright asked hesitantly, ‘Do you – do you mean his mother was against the marriage?’

  Yes,’ Kathy said bitterly. ‘She told me to my face that she’d
never let it happen. And she kept her word.’

  ‘But – but what happened later? I mean – didn’t your fiancé arrange another date?’

  Kathy shook her head. All the time they had been talking, Katy’s gaze had been on her baby. She was drinking in the sight of him, not knowing when she would see him again. If ever. ‘Tony had been called up. The wedding was on the Saturday and then he was at the hospital until the Sunday evening and then – and then he had to report on the Monday morning. That’s why the wedding had been arranged so hastily. Not because I was pregnant – because I wasn’t. Not then.’ She blushed at the memory of their lovemaking, but not for one moment did she regret it. The result of it lay in her arms. How could she regret bringing such a perfect little being into the world, even though it was breaking her heart to part with him?

  ‘But couldn’t you have been married later? When he came on leave? I’m sure if the authorities had known they would have granted your fiancé – Tony, is it? – ’ Kathy nodded – ‘compassionate leave.’

  ‘He – he doesn’t know about the baby.’

  ‘Doesn’t know?’ Now Mrs Wainwright was shocked. ‘But – but why?’

  ‘He went away. He wrote to me once. But he wrote to his mother every other day.’ She spoke flatly, without emotion, but the pain and disappointment – the betrayal almost – was plain to see on her face. ‘It was never going to stop, was it? She was always going to be there between us. He would always put her first. And then . . .’ Her eyes softened as she gazed at the child. ‘I didn’t want anyone to think he’d been forced to marry me.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, my dear, I think you should have fought a bit harder. My goodness!’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. ‘What am I saying? If you had, I wouldn’t have my adorable boy.’ Now there was fear in her eyes as she added, ‘You – you won’t take him away from me, will you?’