A True Love of Mine

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A True Love of Mine Page 30

by Margaret Thornton


  ‘As if I would!’ said Frank. ‘You should know me better than that, sweetheart. Anyway, I didn’t exactly miss it. I was what you might call otherwise engaged.’ With his current woman of the week, in the town of Wakefield, Percy guessed, seeing the twinkle in Frank’s eye. ‘I caught the next one a couple of hours later, so no harm done.’

  ‘And may I ask who is going to have top billing?’ asked Barney. ‘I think I should point out that Benjy and I have been with the troupe a long time.’

  ‘Not as long as some of us,’ Pete reminded him. ‘Anyway, we’ve never bothered about things like that, have we? We’re a team and we all work together. As far as I’m concerned we’re all of equal importance, and I’m sure that Percy and Henry are of the same opinion.’

  ‘Quite so,’ agreed Percy. ‘We’ve never had arguments about who is top of the bill, and we’re not going to start now. We can take it in turns if you like as to whose name appears at the top. But the heading will be “Morgan’s Melody Makers”. So long as nobody objects to the use of our family name?’ He looked around at them all in turn; but no one objected.

  ‘Well then, that seems to be all the important matters dealt with. Has anyone anything further to say?’

  They all shook their heads. Percy had the knack of smoothing away difficulties in the nicest possible way. All the same, they were all well aware of who was the one in charge.

  The following Wednesday started off as a miserable grey sort of morning with even a drizzle of rain. Maddy, peering through her bedroom curtains at the dismal scene, felt quite let down. She had felt so sure that the day of the talent contest would be bright and sunny. She looked up anxiously into the sky but there was no break to be seen in the clouds. She knew, though, that the sun must be shining somewhere up there to give the light to the day.

  But there was nothing she could do about it except, perhaps, say a little prayer and ask God to send some sunshine. She was never sure, though, whether or not you should worry God with such trivial little requests. Could He really be bothered when He had all the other people in the world to look after?

  By lunchtime, however, it seemed as though He might have been listening because, sure enough, there was a patch of blue to be seen in the sky. ‘Big enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers,’ her mother used to say. And that meant that the rest of the day would be fine.

  She had practised her song for the very last time, giving herself the note on the piano and then singing it without any accompaniment, which was how Grandad said the song should be preformed. They were all coming to listen to her; Dad and Grandad and Patrick, because they had no important work to attend to that afternoon. Bella and Miss Phipps from the shop were coming as well, and Aunty Louisa; and, of course, her best friend Jessie and her family; Mrs Barraclough – Aunty Faith as she now called her – and Tommy and Tilly and Samuel… At least she hoped Samuel might be there, if he considered the talent contest to be more important than his fishing or his fossils.

  ‘Come on now, you must eat summat, Maddy love, to keep yer strength up,’ her grandad told her at lunchtime. She managed to eat half a bowl of soup and a ham sandwich, but then her tummy felt so full of butterflies dancing around that she couldn’t eat any more.

  ‘Ne’er mind; you’ve put a lining on yer stomach,’ said Grandfather, ‘and it’ll help to settle you down. Now then, you’ve nowt to worry about. You sing like you sang an hour ago and you’ll do champion. An’ we’ll all be there cheering you on.’

  ‘I know that, Grandad,’ said Maddy. And she knew, too, that her mother would be there with her in spirit. She was not sure if Mam would be watching her, but she would certainly be there in Maddy’s mind. She would be singing the song, partly, in memory of her mother. Her father had persuaded her to wear the black dress she had worn at the funeral, which Aunty Louisa had afterwards made less sombre by adding a large white lace collar and cuffs, and she was wearing a white satin ribbon in her hair. She wished everyone would leave her alone now, to be quiet and to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t expected to be nervous, but people telling her not to worry only made her feel worse.

  She felt much better, however, when they arrived at the beach and Jessie immediately ran over to greet her. Jessie, to everyone’s surprise and despite her earlier protestations, had decided to enter the contest as well. She was going to recite a part of her favourite poem, ‘The Forsaken Merman’. Maddy guessed that, at the last minute, she had felt rather left out of things, and no one was more pleased than Maddy that Jessie was taking part.

  ‘Let’s go and look at the list of acts and see when we’re on,’ said Jessie. They discovered that Jessie would be the third one to perform and Maddy was number seven, right in the middle of the programme.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness for that,’ said Jessie. ‘I won’t have very long to wait. I’m feeling really nervous, aren’t you?’

  ‘I was earlier but I’m not so bad now,’ replied Maddy. ‘My family kept pestering me, but I feel better now I’m with you. Are your family all here?’ She glanced around looking for the familiar faces.

  She saw the twins sitting on the front bench and they waved excitedly to her. And Aunty Faith waved, too, from her deck chair a little further back. She noticed that her dad had sat down next to her with Grandad and Patrick further along the row. There was no sign of Samuel but she didn’t want to mention his absence to Jessie. But Jessie told her that Samuel would be coming later after he had been to the library in town.

  ‘He’d better hurry up then,’ said Maddy. ‘They’ll be starting in a few minutes. I hope he gets here in time to hear your poem.’

  ‘Oh, he says he’s not bothered about that,’ said Jessie. ‘He’s heard it dozens of times. He says he’s tired of listening to it. I keep reciting it for Mother, you see, to make sure I know it; although I learnt it ages ago. I’m frightened though, that it’ll all suddenly go out of my head.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,’ said Maddy. ‘Look, all the Pierrots are sitting in the audience. Don’t they look funny – well, different, sort of – in their ordinary clothes?’ They were all there, even Nancy’s dogs on leads, sitting obediently. The Pierrots had papers and pencils on their laps and Maddy guessed that they were all going to act as judges. All except Letty who was seated in her usual place at the piano at the side of the stage.

  Percy stood up, then took his place on the stage. He was nattily dressed in a light-coloured jacket and trousers with a striped tie, and a straw boater on his head. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,’ he said, ‘I think it’s time we made a start. And thank you for bringing the sunshine with you. It will make all the difference. Would all the competitors please come and sit on the seats at the front that we have reserved for them? And if you have brought any music give it to Letty at the piano. Now, when we are all ready…’ The children who were taking part sat down and the folk in the audience fidgeted a little and then settled themselves. ‘…we will have the first competitor. And he is Timothy Laycock from Leeds, and he is going to sing for us. Give him a big hand, everyone – Timothy Laycock.’

  Maddy felt sorry for the poor lad having to start the performance. She guessed he was about her age, possibly a bit younger. He sang ‘Early One Morning’ – a song she knew from school – in a piping little voice, but growing in confidence with each verse. He received a good round of applause, then he blushed furiously and ran off the stage.

  The next act was a lanky lad of thirteen or so who told jokes, waiting eagerly at the end of each one for the laughter. The audience did laugh, although they had heard most of the jokes before at the Pierrot shows.

  Then it was Jessie’s turn and Maddy felt her own heart give an extra beat in sympathy with her as she stood there on the stage. She was an appealing little figure in her apple-green taffeta dress with matching ribbons tied on the bunches of her bright ginger hair. Maddy glanced round anxiously and she saw, to her relief, that Samuel had arrived and was standing at the back of the audience.
He did not notice her, Maddy, but there was a pleased smile on his face as he looked at his sister. She guessed he was proud of her no matter how much he pretended not to be. She knew what brothers could be like.

  Jessie began to speak, quietly at first, but then, like the boy singer, she gained in confidence as she went on. Maddy thought, as she listened to her, that her friend’s education in the swanky school in York must be rather different from that of her own. She could not imagine any of the girls – or boys – that she knew being able to recite great long poems like Jessie was doing. And in such a posh voice too. When she had first met Jessie, Maddy had been conscious of the other girl’s lack of any Yorkshire accent, such as was common to her and her school mates. She did not notice it so much now, but it was clear from the way she was reciting the poem that Jessie and her fellow pupils were encouraged to speak ‘properly’. Not that Maddy had any reason to criticise her own education at the ‘Friarage’ school she attended. They were taught to read and write very well, to do all sorts of sums and problems and they knew all their times tables. And they learnt poems by heart – much shorter ones, though – and songs, and verses from the Bible in Scripture lessons.

  The members of the audience were attentive as they listened to Jessie reciting the long poem, without faltering once.

  ‘We will gaze, from the sand-hills,

  At the white sleeping town;

  At the church on the hill-side –

  And then come back down;

  Singing, There dwells a loved one,

  But cruel is she;

  She left lonely for ever

  The kings of the sea.’

  When she had finished there were murmurs of ‘Ahhh…how lovely!’ and ‘Well done!’ from the audience, then they all clapped loudly. Jessie gave a wide grin, obviously glad it was over, bobbed a curtsey and quickly left the stage.

  ‘Jolly good,’ Maddy whispered. ‘See, you didn’t forget it, did you? It was great. I hope I do as well as that.’

  There followed a boy who tap-danced, quite accurately, but with not very much enthusiasm or confidence; another boy comedian, a slight improvement on the first one they had heard; and a boy from Bury who recited ‘You are old, Father William’ in a broad Lancashire accent.

  Then it was Maddy’s turn. Jessie squeezed her hand and smiled at her, whispering ‘Good luck’ as she went to take her place on the stage.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,’ said Percy. ‘Here is our next contestant, Miss Madeleine Moon from Scarborough. And she is going to sing for us.’

  Maddy smiled round at the audience, hearing the ripple of applause. She was pleased that Uncle Percy had announced her as Madeleine. It sounded much more grown up than Maddy. She caught sight of her family and grinned at them, noticing that Samuel had sat down now, next to her brother, Patrick. She still felt a little bit churned-up inside, but she was looking forward to giving a good performance, as she knew she could do if she tried.

  ‘I would like to sing for you an old folk song called “Scarborough Fair”,’ she said, speaking to the audience; and then to Letty at the piano, ‘Could you just give me a Middle C, please?’

  And as she began to sing all traces of her nervousness vanished.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

  Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;

  Remember me to one who lives there –

  For once he was a true love of mine…’

  All eyes were drawn towards the girl on the stage, a poignant little figure in her black dress with the large white collar, and her golden-blonde hair tied round with a white ribbon. She was a pretty child. ‘The image of her mother,’ some whispered to one another, those who knew she was little Maddy Moon who had lost her mother only quite recently. That was why she was in mourning, poor lass… Others who did not know her were struck by her charm and modesty, and yet there was a quiet self-confidence there, too, when she started to sing.

  She sang the whole song unaccompanied. Her voice was clear and vibrant and melodious, never once straying away from the accuracy of the simple tune. The audience fell silent, drinking in every tender phrase, every joyous note of the old melody, and thinking that never before had they heard it sung so movingly.

  That was what Percy Morgan thought as he listened in amazement. He had expected that she would do quite well, but he had been determined not to let sentiment get in the way of his judgement. But there was no doubt about it; the girl was excellent. And glancing at his fellow artistes he could see that they were all as enraptured as he was.

  ‘When you’ve done and finished your work,

  Parsley, sage rosemary and thyme;

  Then come to me for your cambric shirt,

  And you shall be a true love of mine.’

  When the song came to an end Maddy stood perfectly still, her hands folded in front of her, smiling gently at the audience. There was complete silence for several seconds; Percy knew that this happened on occasions when the listeners were completely overcome by what they had heard. Then there was an outburst of applause, loud and long, such as had not been heard before that afternoon, although all the contestants had been well received. Maddy looked startled for a moment, then she smiled more broadly, bobbed a curtsey, and went to sit down next to her friend.

  ‘There goes our winner,’ murmured Pete, who was sitting next to Percy.

  ‘Hush!’ said Percy. ‘We mustn’t influence one another, remember? All the others have to have an equal chance… Superb, though, wasn’t she?’ he added in a whisper as he went forward to announce the next act.

  There followed a juggler of balls and hoops who got through his performance with not too many mishaps; two more singers; two reciters of poems, shorter ones than Jessie’s; a boy conjurer who did card tricks and produced miles of silken scarves from a tiny box, finishing off with a white rabbit in a hat; and a little girl, the youngest competitor, who was a ballet dancer and performed very daintily to the music from Swan Lake.

  Percy then announced that it was the end of the contest and that everyone had done very well. ‘Give them all a big hand, ladies and gentlemen; they deserve it… Now, if you will give us a few moments, my friends and I will add up the marks and then I will announce the winners. Exciting, isn’t it, folks? But not too long to wait now…’

  All the children who had been taking part ran to talk to their families and friends and to receive congratulations on their performances, but they all returned to their former seats in time to hear Percy announce the results.

  The Pierrots had found that their system of awarding marks to each contestant had worked well. They had decided, however, to adopt the first suggestion of marks out of ten rather than five, as it was felt that that would give a wider range to the results. They found that there was a clear winner, several marks ahead of any of the others, and a runner-up who was judged to be a performer who showed great promise. The rest of the marks were somewhat lower, although none of the judges had awarded very poor marks, remembering their own first appearances on a stage and how nerve-wracking it could be. There was only one mark separating the third and fourth places, so it was decided unanimously to award a ‘highly commended’ prize of two shillings to the child who had come fourth.

  There was a buzz of excitement as Percy took his place on the stage again. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,’ he began, ‘the moment you have all been waiting for. My fellow Pierrots all agree that it has been a very successful afternoon and I feel sure everyone has enjoyed it. And what a display of talent! I can see we’ll have to watch out because these young folk may well be starting their own Pierrot show!’

  After the laughter had died down he continued, ‘You have all done very well indeed, and there’s a little gift for all the contestants as a memento of the competition. Pete has some packets of postcards that you can collect from him afterwards. But there can only be three – no, sorry – four prizes, although you are all winners in a
way because you have been plucky enough to take part. So – are you all listening? Yes, I can see you are – so, here we go then…

  ‘We have decided to award a fourth prize – a “highly commended” – to a girl with an outstanding memory and a lovely speaking voice. Jessica Barraclough from York, for her recitation, “The Forsaken Merman”. Come along, Jessie…’

  The little ginger-haired girl blushed bright pink and the delight and surprise showed on her face as she went up to collect her prize money in an envelope, and a certificate from Uncle Percy. Her friend, Maddy, looked pleased, too, and was clapping like mad.

  ‘And in third place, Dora Featherstone from Beverley, our delightful little ballet dancer.’ Dora, at eight years of age, was the youngest competitor and received a big round of applause as she ran on to the stage, her ballet dress covered now with a bright red jumper.

  The second prize went to Frederick Nicholls from Halifax, a very competent conjurer whom Percy believed could have a future on the stage if he persevered. He was confident and self-assured – perhaps he had hoped he might win? – but he seemed well pleased with his runners-up prize.

  ‘And now…’ Percy paused dramatically, ‘…our first prize winner, a little girl – or maybe I shouldn’t say little – a charming girl who has thrilled us all this afternoon with her wonderful singing. Ladies and gentlemen – Madeleine Moon, from right here in Scarborough. Come along, Maddy love, and receive your award. Very well done!’

  Percy saw the two little friends hug one another joyfully before Maddy came up on to the stage. She looked pleased, but bewildered too. Surely she must have had some idea that she had done very well? She received her envelope and certificate and the little silver cup in open-mouthed surprise, and Percy could see a tear glistening in the corner of one eye. What a dear little lass, he thought. She was just the sort of child that he and Letty would have loved to have as a daughter, but it was not to be. He felt sure that the tear was for her mother, but he knew that her family and her little friend would soon cheer her up again. And Isaac and William would be so proud of her.

 

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