Follow Your Dream

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Heads up, for chrissakes! Knees higher, May. Higher! Lulu, stop dragging that foot. Tighten up that turn. Clap! Clap! Look happy!’

  Occasionally he would demonstrate what he wanted, and Lillian saw immediately that he was a very accomplished dancer himself.

  She had never worked harder in her life. The concentration together with the physical effort was relentless. But she was young and strong and enjoyed every minute. This was real show business, the sweat behind the applause. This was what it was all about.

  At midday there was a brief break for a snack.

  ‘Haven’t you brought a packed lunch?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘I didn’t know I’d be staying. My mum’s expecting me home for dinner,’ Lillian confessed.

  She was going to be in big trouble even before she confessed to getting a job as a dancer.

  ‘Have some of mine,’ Jenny said, offering a pile of chicken paste sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper. ‘You got to keep your strength up. We’ve got two shows to get through this afternoon.’

  Lillian found she was starving. She wolfed down the sandwiches, promising to give Jenny some of hers tomorrow. While she was eating them, an elderly lady with her hair tied up in a pink chiffon scarf pinned her and May into their costumes, ready to make some quick alterations. Those for the opening number were designed to be as bright as possible. The dancers all wore different coloured dresses with wide-brimmed matching hats. Lillian’s was orange with black trim. The closing number called for showgirl-style outfits with bodies cut like corsets, fishnet tights, long gloves and feathered headdresses, all in pink and purple. Lillian scarcely recognised herself in this. She looked like a different person altogether.

  The other three dancers, Val, Sue and Muriel, arrived, Lillian and May were slotted into their places in the line-up and the opening and closing numbers were rehearsed until they had it right.

  ‘At least we can start and finish with a flourish. You other girls will have to carry on with just the four of you for the rest of the show. Tomorrow we’ll get another couple of numbers in place,’ Artie said.

  Before Lillian had time to think about it, they were sent off to get ready while the first members of the public started coming in out of the rain. Sitting in the cramped little dressing room, putting on her greasepaint and listening to the other girls, stage fright set in with a vengeance. Her hands were trembling so much she could hardly get her lipstick on straight. What was she doing here? She felt a complete fraud amongst all these experienced performers. She was sure she was going to let everyone down and get thrown out of the theatre.

  ‘Wish you hadn’t done it now?’ May sneered, as she applied her eyeshadow with professional ease.

  ‘No,’ Lillian said.

  ‘Dunno why he chose you. You dunno your arse from your elbow, do you?’

  ‘Lay off, May,’ Jenny ordered. ‘She’s got the makings of a nice little dancer. Surprised me, how she picked up the numbers.’

  Lillian felt ever so slightly better.

  There was a rap on the door.

  ‘Five minutes!’

  The girls checked their hair, tied on their hats, straightened their dresses and warmed up their voices by running through some scales. Lillian wanted to go to the toilet, but didn’t dare at this late stage.

  ‘Overture and beginners!’

  Jenny hustled the dancers out of the dressing room. In the wings the chatter died and they lined up in order of entrance. Lillian was shaking as she stood next to last between Val and Sue. It had all happened so fast that she was still half expecting to wake up and find it was only a dream. But then the medley of tunes from the first half faded and the opening bars of I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside struck up as the curtains opened. Light flooded the stage, Muriel stepped forward and, before Lillian knew it, she was out in the full glare of the spotlights, giving it all she had.

  The hours of rehearsal had not been wasted. Nerves or no nerves, her body remembered what to do. The first part of the dance was quite easy as they sang the song, then came a more complicated section where they danced to the music, including a tricky little bit where Lillian had got the timing wrong several times in rehearsal. She concentrated extra hard as they led up to it, but still her turn was half a beat behind what it should have been. There was no time for embarrassment, she picked up the step and completed the movement, hoping desperately that the audience and, more importantly, Artie Craig, had not noticed. And then it was back into the song again. A scattering of people in the audience started to clap along with the happy beat. More joined in. Lillian’s heart lifted. They liked it. It was all right. The dancers took up the closing pose and applause broke out. Lillian smiled and smiled. She had done it! She had got right through her very first professional appearance without totally humiliating herself.

  The curtain fell and the girls hurried off stage. Lillian was euphoric. This morning she had been a shopgirl skiving off work; this afternoon she was a professional dancer. Her chosen career had begun. Look at me, Aunty Eileen, she said in her head. Look at me—I’m doing what you said, and I won’t let them stop me!

  Chapter Eleven

  JAMES cycled along the seafront towards the Parkers’ place. Strong gusts of rain-laden wind blew off the shore, making him swerve dangerously and he thought longingly of the nice little Hillman he had just been offered at a knock-down price. He knew he could get it running sweet as a nut with a bit of work and then he wouldn’t be out here in all sorts of weather, plus he would be able to offer Wendy a lift anywhere she wanted to go. But Wendy was now used to being chauffeured around in a limousine when on duty as part of the Carnival Queen’s court, and he had made a decision to save all he could towards equipment for his own repair works. So he stood up on the pedals and battled on along the Golden Mile.

  He almost rode straight past the slender figure hurrying along the pavement with her head down against the wind, until something familiar about her made him stop.

  ‘Lillian!’ He pulled into the side. ‘What are you doing here? This isn’t your way home, surely?’

  ‘Oh, James—! Am I glad to see you! I’ve got such wonderful news, you’ll never believe it, but right now I’m in so much trouble.’

  Intrigued, he got off the bike to walk along with her. ‘Come on, tell.’

  She looked at him with shining eyes, a big grin of delight lighting up her wet face. ‘I’ve got a job as a dancer in the end-of-the-pier show!’

  ‘Congratulations! That’s marvellous, Lillian. Clever old you; you’ve got what you wanted. Well done!’

  Genuinely pleased for her, he gave her a hug, just as he would have hugged Susan or his mother. ‘Tell me all about it,’ he urged.

  Out came the story of bunking off work, not telling the family, the audition process and the two shows she had been in that very afternoon. James immediately understood why Lillian was in deep trouble. This was not going to go down too well with Gran and the rest of the Parkers.

  ‘I’ll help you face the music,’ he offered.

  ‘Oh, would you? I’m scared stiff. But I’m not going to give it up. They can say what they like. They can throw me out and not speak to me again, but I’m not going to give it up. It’s everything I’ve always dreamed of.’

  ‘Good for you,’ James said.

  By now they were walking up the Parkers’ road towards Sunny View. It had actually been freshly painted in the spring, but in gloomy brown and cream so it still looked as forbidding as ever. James couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay there for a holiday, especially on a day like today, when they had to spend all day out in the rain and wind until Gran let them come back in at half past five. No wonder Lillian’s show had been well attended. Holidaymakers needed to get out of the rain.

  The whole family was sitting round the tea table as they came in. James found himself unnoticed in the outcry at Lillian.

  ‘Wherever have you been?’

  ‘I’ve been worried sick!’

  ‘Wha
t do you think you’re playing at? There’d better be a good explanation.’

  ‘Most irresponsible.’

  James stepped forward. ‘Lillian has some wonderful news to tell you,’ he announced. ‘Now you have two stars in the family. Wendy’s in the Carnival Queen’s court, and Lillian’s in the end-of-the-pier show.’

  If anything, the babble was even worse at this. James took a big chance, depending on his sister’s backing him up later.

  ‘I’m sure Susan will think Lillian’s really doing great things for the family name, Bob. She’ll be extra proud now to be a Parker.’

  Bob huffed and puffed at this, not knowing quite what to say, but it didn’t seem to cut a lot of ice with the others. Gran drew breath to speak and everyone else fell silent. She fixed Lillian with her remorseless stare.

  ‘Are you telling me, young lady, that you are making an exhibition of yourself to anyone who has the money to come and stare at you?’

  She made it sound like some smutty peep show at the fair.

  Lillian straightened her shoulders.

  ‘It’s a perfectly respectable show, Gran. Most of the people there this afternoon were families and OAPs. They were there to see some pretty dancing and hear some nice songs and enjoy themselves. There’s nothing wrong in that, surely?’

  ‘Plenty, if you ask me,’ Gran countered.

  If James hadn’t known the Parkers so well he wouldn’t have believed it. This was 1956, but Lillian’s gran and dad still seemed to be living in Victorian times. Lindy might still harbour fond memories of her Aunty Eileen, but he suspected that she had her aunt to thank for the short rein she was kept on. They were terrified of her turning into another Eileen.

  ‘And what about your job, might I ask? What happens about that? I can’t see that shoe shop taking you back in the autumn if you throw up your place there now.’

  Lillian didn’t have an immediate answer to that but, before Gran could pounce on her again, Wendy spoke up.

  ‘Why would she want a boring job in a shop back again? I’m sure I wouldn’t. What’s the money like, Lill?’

  ‘More than I’m getting at the shop, and that’s for two shows a day and three on Fridays and Saturdays,’ Lillian told them.

  There was a stunned silence.

  ‘Blooming ridiculous, paying a young girl that much for so little,’ Mr Parker growled.

  James looked at him in disgust. How could a man be jealous of his daughter’s success? He ought to be proud.

  ‘Nice work if you can get it,’ Wendy commented. ‘Good for you, kid. Now, just in case you’ve all forgotten, I do have two engagements this evening. If I don’t go and get ready now, the car will be at the door before I get my hair done.’

  Her hair looked perfect already. In fact, she looked perfect altogether. James still couldn’t make out why she hadn’t been made Queen. And what a good sister she was, too. She had done a splendid job in defending Lillian and deflecting some of the interest onto herself. Lillian was often quite sharp and sarcastic when talking about Wendy, but James guessed that it was just jealousy.

  Mrs Parker asked to be reminded where her famous daughter was going that evening. Wendy went on at some length about hotels and dinners and dances and bigwigs. She was sailing way beyond his reach, James realised. There was no way he could take her to places like that yet. One day he would be able to, but not now.

  Lillian took the opportunity to slip into her seat at the table.

  ‘Is there any tea left in the pot, Mum? I’m starving.’

  The inquisition had not finished with her yet but, though Mr Parker and Gran were still outraged, Frank said he didn’t see what all the fuss was about, and Bob, after prevaricating a bit, said he didn’t think that there was any harm in it.

  Through it all, Lillian devoured every scrap of bread, jam and cake left on the table, washed down with four cups of stewed tea.

  ‘Of course, you’d have to put the extra money in the housekeeping,’ Gran insisted.

  It was the first crack. James tried to widen it.

  ‘There’s one easy way of settling whether or not this show is suitable for Lillian to be appearing in. Why not go and see it for yourselves?’

  Mr Parker flushed and turned on him. ‘What makes you think it’s any business of yours? What are you doing here anyway? This is family business.’

  James longed to hit him square on the nose. ‘I came to fix a dripping tap in the scullery,’ he told him.

  ‘Oh, yes, he is, Doug. I asked him to,’ Mrs Parker confirmed. ‘It’s been getting worse and worse and it’s driving me mad—’

  The doorbell rang and Wendy came downstairs ready for her evening of official appearances. She was dressed in her white lady-in-waiting gown and crystal tiara with a velvet cloak round her shoulders. The fuss around her departure gave Lillian a break as the family gathered in the hall to wave her off. James watched with the others, envying whoever was going to talk to Wendy and dance with her that evening. She really did look like a film star, stepping into the big black car. One day, he would dress up in a tuxedo and take her out to a dinner dance. Then every man in the room would envy him.

  The car drove off and the front door was closed. James was so engrossed with his daydream that at first he didn’t realise that Gran was speaking to him.

  ‘—a lot of sense, young man.’

  ‘Oh—right—’ he said.

  ‘Yes. I might go to this place at the end of the pier. I haven’t been up the pier since before the war.’

  James was flabbergasted. He’d never expected Gran to take up his suggestion.

  ‘Right, well, I’m sure you’ll like it,’ he said.

  Gran disappeared into her room, effectively shelving the argument. The rest of the family dispersed around the house, while Lillian followed James into the scullery.

  ‘Thanks ever so much for sticking up for me,’ she said. ‘You were wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

  ‘Well, you’ve followed your dream all right today, haven’t you? You got what you wanted and you held out against the family to keep it. I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Are you?’ Lillian said, her voice full of hope. ‘Are you really?’

  James busied himself with the dripping tap. ‘’Course I am,’ he said. ‘You’re my little sister, remember? You believe in me and I believe in you. We’re both going to make good.’

  Wendy stood with the rest of the Carnival court, smiling and shaking hands and accepting compliments. A parade of middle aged people were lined up to meet them. The women were generally condescending and the men ogled her. Wendy did her bit and was charming to them, but all the while she was on the lookout for something better. She wanted a rich man, but she didn’t want an old man. A bit older than her was fine, ten years or so was all right, but beyond that she wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t imagine kissing a man with a paunch or a bald head, however rich he might be.

  This was the most important dance of the evening so the Carnival Queen and her court were due to stay until midnight, which left plenty of scope for assessing the talent. Before the girls were free to take to the floor, however, there were the usual speeches. The Mayor, with his gold chain of office over his dress suit, went on about what a great place Southend was and how wonderful its people were, then the chairman of the Carnival committee said what a success it was this year despite the dreadful weather. The amount raised so far that evening at the dance was announced and everyone clapped and cheered.

  Then the Carnival Queen stood up and thanked everyone for coming and encouraged them to spend some more. Wendy stood there with a smile on her face and rage in her heart. It was all right for her. She had a nice accent and a confident manner. She knew how to talk at do’s like this. She came from a family that was used to going to swish places and talking to posh people. That was what had clinched her crown. It wasn’t fair.

  Wendy caught a whiff of cigar smoke behind her.

  ‘Is that hair natural?�
�� a gravelly voice asked. Its owner was so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.

  She glanced round, getting a brief impression of a man in his thirties with hard eyes and a sensuous mouth. She turned back, a shiver of arousal stirring.

  ‘Of course,’ she answered.

  ‘That’s good. I don’t like bottle blondes,’ the man said, for her ears alone. He had a London accent with a hint of menace in it.

  ‘I’m the real thing,’ Wendy told him, without taking her eyes off the Carnival Queen.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ the man said.

  Wendy wasn’t sure whether it was more of a promise or a threat. She made the slightest of shrugs and felt his presence disappear, along with his cigar smoke. She felt slightly exposed, as if he had taken a layer of her clothing with him.

  The speeches finished and the band struck up. The Mayor lead the Carnival Queen onto the floor; other dignitaries stepped forward to dance with members of the court. A portly gentleman who Wendy had danced with at one of the previous evening’s events was making a beeline for her but, before he could reach her, a short man with powerful shoulders stepped in front of him.

  ‘You going to introduce me?’ he asked. It was the one who had been standing behind her.

  The portly man looked put out, but did the honours all the same.

  ‘Miss Parker, allow me to introduce Mr Terry Dempsey. Dempsey, this is Miss Wendy Parker. A very nice young lady,’ he added, with undue emphasis.

  Wendy found herself shaking a large hand and looking into a predator’s face. Not a handsome face, but a commanding one, heavy about the jowls. Unlike the men around him, he did not have a severe short-back-and-sides. His thick dark hair was blow dried into a fashionable quiff and curled over his collar, with sideburns on his cheeks. Beneath his slickly tailored dinner jacket was a well muscled body.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Wendy said, searching in her mind for where she had heard his name before. Terry Dempsey—Terry Dempsey—of course! He owned a hefty slice of the Golden Mile.