by Sue Welfare
Arthur nodded. ‘You know, you might be right. How about another doughnut?’
Helen looked down; she hadn’t realised she had eaten the one he’d bought her. ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ she said.
Arthur waved to the girl in the tea van. ‘Same again,’ he said, pulling out his wallet. ‘And have one for yourself.’
It was about ten minutes later when Helen went back inside, feeling much better. It wasn’t to last.
‘Where on earth have you been?’ snapped Charlotte, who was standing in the corridor that led backstage. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought you’d done a runner. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Harry’s just done an interview with the Billingsfield Times about us. The woman he was talking to thought we were really good, despite your cock-up. Harry said she’s doing a big feature on all the local acts in the show. I sent him off to look for you. She wants to talk to us and do a photo of us in our costumes before we go on.’ Charlotte sighed. ‘I can’t believe you just buggered off like that, Helen.’
‘I didn’t bugger off, I was only outside,’ protested Helen, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘You saw me go. I was talking to this guy who is –’
‘Never mind who you’ve been talking to. We need to go and get ready. And you’ll never guess who I’ve just seen?’
Helen waited; she was fairly certain Charlotte was going to tell her.
‘Well?’ demanded Charlotte after a second or two, ‘Aren’t you going to at least ask me who it was?’
‘Okay, who did you see?’
‘Leon Downey,’ Charlotte said triumphantly.
Helen pulled a face and shook her head. ‘Leon Downey? I don’t know who that is. Am I supposed to know him?’
‘Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him,’ said Charlotte, with frustration. ‘Vince, the assistant stage manager, you know, the one Tony said would take care of us and who set up the mikes? He pointed Leon out to me and told me all about him. Apparently he came in while we were singing and sat up near the back so he could watch us. He’s heard all about us apparently, isn’t that fantastic?’
Helen stared at her. ‘But I don’t understand. How could he have heard about us, Charlie? We’ve only ever sung at school concerts or at home. We didn’t even go to the audition.’
Charlotte dismissed her concerns with a flick of her hand. ‘I don’t know how he heard about us, do I? I’m just pleased that he has. Vince told me Leon’s got about four acts he really wants to take a look at while he is in town and we are one of them. Us, Helen, me and you. the Wild Birds. Isn’t that brilliant? He’s a top agent apparently, and really well connected. Vince said he’d put in a good word in for us, say how professional we were and everything. And then there’s the reporter Harry met, she was raving about us as well; it’s got to be good news.’
Helen stared at her. None of the things she was saying about Leon Downey rang true, but Helen didn’t dare say that to Charlotte.
‘Anyway,’ Charlotte continued. ‘As I was coming off stage just now Leon Downey was there waiting to talk to Vince and he smiled at me, like really smiled and then he sort of nodded his head.’ She paused. ‘What do you think? I mean this could be it, Helen,’ Charlotte giggled. ‘If someone like Leon Downey spots us and thinks we’re good it’s got to be a good sign. I knew signing up for tonight was a great idea. This could be our big break – bright lights, big bucks, fame and fortune here we come. I can hardly wait for the show –’ She paused. ‘What’s the matter, aren’t you excited?’
Helen stared at her. ‘Yes, of course I’m excited, but some man smiling and nodding at you isn’t exactly the same as being discovered, is it?’
Charlotte’s expression hardened. ‘Oh, that’s right, I might have known you’d say something like that. You always look on the black side of everything, don’t you, Helen? Being seen by Leon Downey is a lot better than anything you’ve come up with so far.’ She took a breath. ‘Anyway, I think to be honest it was me he was really interested in. Vince told me that he thought I’d got real stage presence.’
‘But we’re a duo, Charlie,’ said Helen.
Charlotte smiled thinly. ‘At the moment we are but things can change,’ she said. ‘Anyway I need to ring my dad and get changed into my costume. The photographer said he wants to take some shots before we go on stage. And Vince said I could use the phone in the main office as long as I didn’t take too long. I’ll see you upstairs.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Helen, pulling out the flyer that Arthur had given her. ‘A man gave me this just now while I was outside. There’s a film company making a film on Castle Hill. They’re looking for extras. If we turn up on the set tomorrow morning then maybe they’ll take us on. It’s all day. And it says on here that there might be more work for them. The money’s good, and it’s for a proper film company. I thought maybe we could give it a go.’
Charlotte took the leaflet from her, quickly scanned the text, and then screwed up her nose. ‘Have you actually read this?’ she asked.
Helen nodded. ‘Yes. It sounds all right to me and it’s cash in hand at the end of the day.’
Charlotte stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’ she said. ‘They want people on set at six o’clock tomorrow morning.’ She shook her head. ‘Six on a Sunday morning? You have got to be mad. There is no way I’m getting up that early on a Sunday morning for anyone. This isn’t for people like me, this is for cattle, Helen. People who can’t do any better for themselves. You just don’t get it, do you? They don’t want people with talent turning up for this kind of thing, they want window dressing, cannon fodder. Go here, stand there, look happy, look sad, look oppressed; I don’t think so. No, this is where I should be, in a proper theatre, up on the stage – out in the spotlight, on TV. I want to be a star, Helen, not herded around dressed up as a peasant. They probably want you to go barefoot, you know – so no, I really don’t think I’ll be doing that, thank you. Here, you go if you want to.’ She slapped the flyer back into Helen’s hand. ‘I’m going upstairs to ring my dad.’
‘But it’s a proper film, and it’ll be extra money,’ said Helen in a tiny voice, as Charlotte walked away.
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. ‘That’s just the point, Helen, I don’t want extra money,’ she said, turning back. ‘That’s the real difference between you and me, isn’t it? What I want is for someone like Leon Downey to sign us up and save me from Billingsfield and teacher training college and a life with playground duty and times tables and my dad looking over one shoulder telling me what he thinks I ought to do, while he cops off with someone barely older than I am. I want to be famous, Helen, and to have serious money, that’s what I want, not chicken feed. Not extra money but big money – do you understand?’
Helen nodded. What else could she do?
‘So you do what you like with your flyers and your crowd scenes in crap films. I’m going to phone my dad. I’ll see you upstairs,’ said Charlotte.
‘What about Harry?’ Helen called after her.
‘What about him?’
‘Shouldn’t we wait for him?’
Charlotte pulled a face.’ Harry is a big boy, you know. I’m sure he can take care of himself. You just want to concentrate on getting ready, getting down here for the photograph and most of all getting out on that stage and getting the song right. You know I could have died with shame out there when you screwed it up. How many times have we rehearsed that one? It must be hundreds. What on earth were you playing at?’
Helen felt the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Nothing. It was just nerves, that’s all.’
‘It was embarrassing and it was stupid, that’s what it was. Thank God Leon Downey didn’t see that. We want to come across as professionals, Helen, not rank amateurs. Now I’m off. I’ll see you upstairs.’
Helen watched her go. There were still lots of people milling around going in and out of the theatre and up and down to the dressing rooms. She couldn’t see Harry anywhere.
Just
as Helen was about to give up and head upstairs to get changed, Ed, the man who had played keyboards for them, wandered in from the theatre, sipping from a can of lemonade. As their eyes met he smiled, waved, and headed over towards her.
‘You okay, petal?’ he asked. ‘Can I help? You’re looking a bit lost.’
‘No, I’m fine, really. I’m just going to go upstairs and get ready.’
‘You know, you did okay in there.’ His comment stopped her from walking away. ‘And you’ve got a good sound and a nice look –’
‘Thank you,’ Helen said, feeling self-conscious. ‘I felt awful because I messed up the introduction.’
‘You don’t want to worry about that,’ he laughed. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. No one died, did they? It happens all the time. You don’t want to make a habit of it, but nine times out of ten if you do it during a show as long as you just keep on going and don’t panic or let on something’s gone wrong, then most people in the audience won’t even notice. And at least you and your mate can sing. A lot of the big names we get coming here can only mime. And they don’t always do that well.’ He paused and looked her up and down. ‘You’re all right now though, aren’t you?’
Helen nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Still a bit nervous. I don’t usually mess things up,’ she began.
Ed waved the words away. ‘You just need to forget about it. It was no big thing, honestly. So, where’s your friend got to?’ He glanced around.
‘Charlotte? She’s gone upstairs, do you want me to go and get her?’
He shook his head. ‘No, actually it was you I wanted to see. You know, you’ve got a really good voice. Have you had any formal training, like lessons or anything?’
‘No, I just really like singing.’ Helen shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the compliment. ‘But thank you,’ she muttered.
‘I’m not being kind. You should have lessons,’ he said. ‘You’re the one with the voice; it sticks out a mile –’ He grinned. ‘Although I suppose you probably already know that, don’t you? Your friend’s got more front, and that’s the trouble. These days, trust me, having talent isn’t anywhere near enough. Here –’ he dipped into his pocket and pulled out a business card. ‘This is a friend of mine; she’s really good. She gives singing lessons. She could help you.’
Helen glanced down at the card. It was thick and heavily embossed, and the name had a string of letters after it. The quality of the card spoke volumes, and what it said was that whoever this woman was, she spoke very nicely and charged the earth.
‘That’s really kind, thank you, but I don’t think – I mean, I can’t really afford lessons at the moment,’ Helen said, handing the card back to him.
‘No, you keep it,’ said Ed, waving her away. ‘And you ring her; if you can’t afford the fees then she’ll work something out. I know she will. I know that she’s got a couple of bursary schemes running at the moment and she is extremely well connected. She’ll get you in front of the right people if she thinks you’re worth it. Call her, tell her that Ed from the theatre told you to ring …’
Helen stared at him. ‘But we’re a duo,’ she said lamely. ‘Me and Charlotte.’
Ed nodded. ‘I know, but your mate is going to get what she wants just by elbowing her way to the front of the queue. She’s that sort and there’s no doubt she’s got the look, but you, you need to learn how – and if you ask me, you’ve really got what it takes. Trust me. I’ve seen a lot of kids coming through here over the years.’
‘I wouldn’t trust a word he was saying if I were you,’ said another man on his way out of the auditorium.
Ed swung round. ‘Vince –’ he said. ‘I might have guessed.’
Vince grinned at Helen. She recognised him as the man on stage earlier, the one who had been sorting out their microphones. The one who had told Charlotte about Leon Downey.
‘Well if it isn’t the missing Wild Bird. Flew the coop, did you?’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘I’d stay well away from Eddie here if I were you, sweetie. Trying to get you some free singing lessons, was he? Same old Eddie. You want to watch him.’
‘Stop it,’ snapped Ed.
Helen looked from face to face, unsure which of them to trust. Vince grinning like a Cheshire cat or Eddie, sweating and portly, busy dabbing his face with his huge paisley handkerchief. Feeling deeply uncomfortable she said, ‘I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry but I need to get changed for the show.’
‘You heard what I said, just ring her,’ said Ed, nodding towards the card Helen was holding. ‘She’s really good,’ he said, heading off towards the exit, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
‘You want to be careful around him,’ said Vince in a low voice as Ed vanished through the double doors. ‘A bit of a funny one, is Eddie. You know what I’m saying?’ he continued, tapping the side of his nose.
Helen nodded mutely. Every instinct she had told her she needed to be careful around both of them. She turned to head upstairs, but Vince was too quick for her, and grabbed hold of her elbow.
‘Whoa there, hang on a minute, sweetheart. What’s the rush?’ he said. ‘Don’t run away. I don’t bite, you know, and besides I wanted to talk to you. We were just wondering if you and your friend might like to come out for a drink with us after the show? Only just round the corner, at the Anchor. I told your mate I’d have a quick word with Leon about the pair of you. And he’s very keen to meet up –’
Comprehension dawned. ‘Oh, right, you mean Leon Downey? Charlotte told me about him. He’s the agent?’ Helen said.
The man grinned. ‘Yeah, that’s right – Leon Downey the agent. He was wondering if you’d like to come out with us afterwards for a drink, the two of you.’
‘Her name’s Kate. Kate Monroe.’
‘What?’
‘My friend. Her name is Kate Monroe.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, Kate,’ purred Vince. ‘She said. Nice name. And how about you, what’s your name, sweetheart?’
‘I’m Helen.’
‘Helen,’ he repeated. She didn’t like the way he lingered over her name, it make her uncomfortable
‘So he liked us?’ asked Helen, trying to move him on. ‘Kate said that he watched us singing.’
The man’s smile widened. ‘He most certainly did. And he really liked what he saw. So about this drink? You reckon your mate Kate’ll be up for it?’
‘I’ll ask her – she’s just gone to use the phone and get changed, but I’m sure she’ll say yes.’
The man nodded. ‘Fair enough, good.’ He paused. ‘See you later then, sweetheart; what did you say your name was again?’
‘Helen,’ she said. ‘Helen Redford.’
‘Well then, Helen, we’ll pick you up by the stage door when the show’s over. You don’t want to let a chance like this slip through your fingers, do you? A talented duo like you and Kate; top agent like our Leon …’ He winked and then made his way towards one of the maze of corridors behind the stage.
Helen watched him go. Everything about Vince made her feel uneasy – it felt like he was making a joke at her expense – but at the very least she knew that Charlotte would be pleased about Leon Downey. It looked like he really was interested in them after all.
EIGHT
A little knot of people had gathered on the pavement outside the Carlton Rooms to watch the crew filming Helen parading up and down the steps outside the main doors of the theatre. She had to have done it at least half a dozen times now while Felix got the shot he wanted.
One or two of the bystanders asked for her autograph between takes, while some were filming the whole thing on their phones. Cars slowed down to see what the fuss was about. After fifteen minutes or so Felix made an executive decision that they wouldn’t actually go into the theatre until Helen was ready to go back for the sound checks the following day, so that they could film the whole sequence at the same time, which meant that Helen didn’t get past the plate glass doors. Instead she stood outside peering in at t
he box office and the crush bar, like a child pressed to the glass outside a sweetshop. Not being allowed in almost felt as if she had been robbed of something.
Natalia caught her mood.
‘Are you all right? Don’t worry,’ she said, sheep-dogging Helen back towards the limousine. ‘There will be plenty of time for you to go in tomorrow. We’ve just got a couple more stops and we don’t want to rush those. Okay?’
‘Sure,’ Helen said. ‘And presumably we’ll film me going around the back then?’
Natalia pulled a face. ‘Sorry?’
‘I’m working there, I’m not in the audience,’ said Helen.
‘Oh, I see what you mean, no, I think the plan is that you’ll be going in through the front – those posters and things are just too good to miss.’
It had just started to rain again, and the passers-by, sensing that the show was over, began to wander away back towards the town centre and the car parks.
As the limousine pulled away from the kerb and slipped into the afternoon traffic Helen glanced back over her shoulder at the posters and the banner. How things had changed.
‘Right,’ said Natalia to the driver, glancing down at her checklist. ‘If we go down here and turn left I think we’ll come back around the one-way system.’
Helen settled into her seat to watch the familiar and the unfamiliar rolling slowly by. Once past the theatre they drove down by Billingsfield town hall and museum, and a great row of fine four-storey townhouses with stone facades and ornate porticos, that now housed solicitors and accountants, but once were the homes of the great and good of Billingsfield. At the end of the road, the car made its way into the Crescent, historically home to merchants and traders who had made their fortunes from the docks, and at the end they swung left down past the municipal park and the tree-lined avenue that took them by her old high school.
Helen leaned forward. The memories came flooding back. This was the nicer part of town away from the smells of the shoe factory and the tannery. Older children in uniform were trailing out through the school gates and across the tarmac heading for home.