‘If anyone can make it work, you can,’ Lillian said.
James gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘Thanks, Lindy. It’s really good to have you on my side. Most of the time I’m confident it’ll be a success, but I do wake up at night sometimes worrying about it and there’s nobody I can really talk to about it, except for you. So thanks for listening.’
Lillian glowed with happiness. ‘It’s a pleasure,’ she said with complete honesty.
It was the crowning moment of a wonderful afternoon.
The days rushed by. Bob and Susan returned from their honeymoon and took up residence in their own little home. Wendy and Terry moved into the Thorpe Bay house. Lillian could hardly believe that three weeks of her break had gone already. The post brought an offer to renew her contract with the dance troupe, starting with pantomime in Leeds. Lillian dithered. If she stayed at home, she could carry on seeing James, and maybe, just maybe, something closer would grow out of it. A letter the next day from Diane enthused about the panto, saying what a big production it was, and how there might be scope for solo spots. Lillian didn’t know what to do. If she was going to accept the contract, she needed to reply right away. Her mother found her frowning over the letters but did not appear to even notice them, asking instead if the vegetables were done for dinner.
‘They’re all ready. You’ve only got to put them in water. Mum, they want me to go to Leeds for the panto season,’ Lillian told her.
‘Oh—!’
At last, she had her mother’s full attention. She sat down heavily in a chair across the table from Lillian and ran a thin hand over her head. ‘So soon? I thought…I don’t know how I’m going to manage when you’re gone, I really don’t.’
Guilt dragged at Lillian’s insides. She really ought to be more of a help to her mother.
‘The season’s over now, Mum, and when I’ve gone it’ll only be Frank and Dad and Gran to look after,’ she pointed out.
Her mother sighed. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right.’
It didn’t make her feel any better. She knew she was being selfish, going off and doing what she wanted.
‘I had a go at Gran and told her you ought to have a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner and a fridge. Other people have them.’
Her mother looked frightened. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t know how to work any of them.’
‘You’d soon learn.’
Not that it was worth arguing about it. It seemed very unlikely that Gran would ever agree to such expense.
She worried about her mother for the rest of the day, read through the chatty letter from Diane several times and finally went round to see James at his workshop. As luck would have it, he was just finishing a job.
‘Good timing,’ he said. ‘Stick the kettle on, Lindy, and I’ll be right with you.’
But, before Lillian could embark on her dilemma, James had something he wanted to talk about.
‘Have you been to see Wendy’s new place?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I took her a present yesterday. It was difficult to know what to give when she’s got everything anyway, so I bought a vase and some flowers. I did offer to help on moving day, but she said Terry had everything arranged.’
‘Seems to me that bastard’s got her right under his thumb—beg your pardon, Lindy—I mean, did you notice how she was at Suse and Bob’s wedding? She hardly opened her mouth.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Lillian agreed. ‘She doesn’t seem to be able to do anything without asking him. It’s like she’s some sort of robot, with him pushing the buttons.’
‘He calls her “doll.” I hate that. But then I hate the bastard anyway—sorry—he doesn’t deserve a lovely girl like your sister.’
‘No,’ Lillian said sadly.
‘And another thing—do you think your Frank’s been acting oddly?’
‘Frank?’ Lillian couldn’t quite follow the change of subject.
‘Yeah. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about him. He’s still got that motorbike of his, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
Frank’s motorbike was his pride and joy.
‘Well, quite a while ago—last year some time—he tried to touch me for a loan. He said he owed money on the bike and if he didn’t pay up it was going to be repossessed. I told him I couldn’t lend it to him but he could earn it working for me, but he didn’t like that. He said he was going to ask Dempsey and I told him he didn’t want to be owing a man like that any favours, but I think he might well have ignored me. I didn’t really think much more about it. Well, Frank’s a grown man, isn’t he? What he does is his business. But the other day I saw him hanging around with a couple of Dempsey’s heavies.’
‘Oh—’ Lillian felt she could do without adding Frank to her list of people to worry about. ‘I don’t know. He never says anything about what he’s doing. He does spend a lot of time down on the seafront, but that doesn’t mean he’s in with Terry’s lot.’
‘No, you’re right. Forget I mentioned it. Was this just a social call or did you want to tell me something?’
Lillian began to explain about the new contract and her dilemma, but she had hardly started when the phone rang. James held a long conversation with someone about rents and conditions.
‘My new premises,’ he explained. ‘Sorry about that. You were saying?’
‘Well, it is a good production, but my mum—’
‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’
They both looked up. A large man was standing in the entrance.
‘Wondered if you had a moment to look at my handbrake, Jamie-boy? Only it’s flaming useless and the wife wants to have the motor tonight.’
‘Right you are, Mr Jessop. Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. Come back in a quarter of an hour or so.’
James turned to Lillian. ‘I’m sorry, Lindy. Maybe this isn’t the right time to have a serious talk.’
‘It’s all right. I shouldn’t be bothering you at work. Perhaps we could meet up some time? This evening, perhaps?’
She longed to get him by himself for a heart-to-heart.
James sighed. ‘Not this evening, I’m afraid. I promised Maggie I’d take her to the pictures and I’d better not blow her out. She’s been getting a bit restless lately. Says I’m seeing too much of you! Stupid, I know, but you girls do go getting the wrong end of the stick sometimes. I said to her that you and me have known each other for ever and you’re like my little sister, but she wasn’t having it. She seemed to think there was something to worry about. Daft, isn’t it?’
Lillian just gaped at him as the hope she had dared to nurture shrivelled and died. Her throat was so choked that she could hardly reply. ‘Yes,’ she managed to whisper. ‘I—I’ll leave you to it, then.’
‘OK. We’ll have a chat another time. ’Bye, Lindy—see you soon.’
She held the tears back until she had reached the corner, where they burst out in heaving sobs. Somehow, she stumbled blindly home with those damning words echoing round and round her head. Little sister—little sister—little sister.
When she had finally cried herself out, she found a pen and wrote accepting the new contract with the dance company.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘GOODBYE, good luck! Remember to invite me to the wedding!’
‘As if I’d forget you! You’ve been my best pal ever since Sheffield.’
‘Three years—it seems longer than that. All those horrible digs—’
‘All those greasy breakfasts—’
‘All those smelly dressing rooms—’
Lillian and Diane were standing on the platform at Crewe. The last passengers were climbing on board.
‘Oh, Lindy—I’m going to miss you!’
They threw their arms round each other and hugged. They had been through so much together.
‘And I’m going to miss you too. It won’t be the same without you.’
Diane gave her one last squeeze. ‘Remember, kiddo—you
’re going to be a star. I want to see your name up in lights.’
‘And you’re going to be a married woman. You’re a lucky girl, Di. He’s a smashing bloke. You mind you look after him.’
‘I will, don’t you worry.’
At the end of the train, the guard blew his whistle. Lillian released her friend and gave her a little push towards the open door of the carriage.
‘Go on, get in, it’s about to leave.’
Diane climbed up, pulled the door shut behind her, let down the window and leaned out.
‘’Bye, Lindy! Break a leg!’
The train started, snorting into the smoky air of the big station. Lillian stood waving as it drew away.
‘’Bye, Diane! Be happy!’
She watched till her friend was out of sight, then turned and walked slowly back down the platform. She felt quite hollow. It was going to be really strange without Diane. They had managed to get jobs and digs together through three years of pantos and variety tours and summer shows, until she could hardly imagine working without Diane there with her good sense and sunny temper and Yorkshire sense of humour. It didn’t help that she envied Diane the ease with which the next stage of her life had fallen into place. On her last ‘rest’ between engagements, she had met a new pal of her brother’s and they had fallen in love. Just like that. No problems, no hiccups, they had hit it off from the start and now, six months later, they were engaged.
Thinking about them as she left the platform, Lillian let out a great sigh. If only it could happen like that with her and James. Fat chance. She tried to shake herself out of her gloom. She had over an hour to wait for her train, so she went to the buffet and bought a cup of coffee and an iced bun and leafed through a magazine. But the stories and articles couldn’t hold her attention. In the end she sat pushing crumbs round the plate, thinking of Diane and her fiancé, and of James. He had been full of ideas when last she was home. He was running the repair business and While-U-Wait Exhausts and juggling two girlfriends. Lillian had told him off over this.
‘If you’re worried about one finding out about the other, don’t come to me for sympathy. You shouldn’t be two-timing in the first place.’
‘I know, but they will start getting too serious. You take a girl out for a couple of months and, before you know where you are, she starts dragging you over to look in jewellers’ windows. I’m not ready to settle down yet. I’ve got too much to do.’
Which was some sort of comfort. If he would persist in seeing her as a little sister, at least he hadn’t given his heart to anyone else.
It was a slow journey to Nottingham, giving Lillian plenty of time to make herself stop thinking about what might never happen and focus on the audition ahead of her the next day. She had been taking acting lessons and ballet classes for the last few months and had set her sights on being one of the good fairies in The Sleeping Beauty. If she got the job, it meant being in the chorus line for most of the time, but in the christening scene there would be a solo for each fairy and some lines to say. She really wanted this. It was a step up the career ladder.
When she arrived at the theatre, it was the usual chaos of people all hoping for a decent job to carry them as far through the winter as possible. It felt odd arriving on her own, but Lillian soon recognised actors and dancers she had worked with on other productions and joined in with the kissing and shrieking.
‘Lindy, darling! Lovely to see you. Didn’t know you were coming for this one.’
‘Cathy, you’re looking wonderful, what have you done to your hair?’
‘Oh, just look who’s here—where have you been since Leeds?’
It made her realise just how far she had come from that shy little girl who’d first turned up at the theatre in Sheffield, knowing nothing and nobody. She was a seasoned performer now, with years of experience. There was gallons of gossip to catch up on—who was with whom, who had broken up, who was on their way to stardom and who had fallen by the wayside. As she talked, Lillian tried to find out who else was auditioning for the three good fairies. Quite a crowd, as it turned out. Enough to fill the chorus line with unsuccessful applicants.
‘Anyone know anything about the producer—what’s-his-name? Paul Fuller?’ she asked.
‘Pauly-boy? He’s OK. Knows what he’s doing. Puts on a real good show.’
‘Does he like boys or girls?’ someone else asked. It always helped to know.
‘Oh, girls, darling,’ a girl called Dawn replied. She gave a knowing smile. ‘He adores girls. Blondes mostly, although he will go for brunettes occasionally.’ She patted her platinum curls.
Some of the dancers groaned. They could do without being groped while they were trying to rehearse.
‘I did say I’d only work for queens from now on. You know where you are with them. But I suppose I’ll give it a go now I’m here,’ somebody said.
Dawn gave her a disparaging look.
‘For God’s sake, darling, don’t be so stupid. If you’ve got what he wants, use it.’
The stars of the show had been cast weeks ago and were up on posters around the city already, and the supporting roles had been chosen the day before. Today was the turn of the small parts, the players who would be courtiers, villagers and huntsmen, along with the dancers and the good fairies. By late morning it was the turn of the fairies. Lillian changed into her dance gear, did her make-up and hair and warmed up. There were more than forty of them going for three parts. Lillian avoided Dawn, retreating to a corner to go over her audition poem in her head. It was the first time she had tried for a speaking part, and nerves were really getting to her. The dancing part didn’t bother her. She knew that however bad she felt beforehand, once the music started, she would be all right. But she had no idea whether her voice would behave itself when it came to the point.
Lillian was in the third batch to be sent to wait in the wings. The girls coming back from the first two lots had no idea whether they had been chosen or not.
‘He’s playing it close to the chest, waiting till he’s seen all of us.’
Which wasn’t much help for those following.
Dawn was in Lillian’s group, and the first of them to go on. She walked to the front of the stage, announced that she was to recite Wordsworth’s Daffodils and launched into what Lillian thought was a rather showy rendition. Was that what the producer was looking for? Then she danced to part of The Dying Swan. Lillian could see immediately that her technique wasn’t brilliant, and wasn’t that impressed with her interpretation either. No potential rival there, then. But she smiled and whispered congratulations as she came off because that was the thing to do. Next went another girl whom Lillian didn’t think was that wonderful, and then it was her turn. She walked out into the spotlight, exuding every bit of charm and confidence she could muster.
‘Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost,’ she announced.
She had liked the poem from the moment she’d read it and had worked hard on it with her acting teacher over the summer. Now she put all that she had learnt into practice. To her relief, she didn’t squeak or growl or forget any of the lines, but it was a relief to get it finished and perform her dance piece, the Sugar Plum Fairy.
‘Thank you, dear,’ came the producer’s voice from the stalls. ‘Next!’
She could deduce absolutely nothing from his tone of voice. It was very unnerving.
Back in the dressing room, a lot of the dancers felt the same.
‘He’s trying to keep us keen, the bastard,’ one commented.
When the last batch had done their stuff, a lunch break was announced. The prospective fairies groaned and howled in protest.
‘What, is he going to keep us waiting for another hour?’
‘Bleeding masochist.’
‘What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he just make his mind up?’
Some of the girls decided to go out and find a café. Lillian, as an old hand, had brought sandwiches and a flask with her. Dawn stayed in
the theatre as well, but Lillian steered clear of her and went to speak with a couple of the girls she hadn’t seen since her first summer in Blackpool. They were just sighing over poor Brenda when an assistant stage manager came and tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Miss Parker?’ he murmured, so low that the other girls couldn’t hear.
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Fuller would like to see you.’
‘Oh! Right—’ Lillian jumped up but, even as she did so, unease set in. ‘Did he say what for?’
‘No.’ The ASM looked distinctly sheepish. ‘Only to keep it quiet, like.’
‘Hmm, well—’ She turned to the other girls. ‘Got to see a man about a dog. Won’t be a sec.’
Paul Fuller had taken over one of the star dressing rooms. A florid man in his forties with longish hair beginning to thin on top, he was sitting at the dressing table surrounded by lists and notes. He smiled as Lillian entered.
‘Ah, Lindy-Lou. Come in, my sweetheart, come in. Shut the door.’
Lillian did so, but stayed standing next to it.
‘Was there something wrong with my audition?’ she asked.
‘No, darling. On the contrary, you’re a lovely little dancer, lovely. And a nice speaking voice too. Very clear and plenty of colour. This your first speaking part, is it?’
She felt that she had strayed into the wrong panto. She was Little Red Riding Hood and this, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, was the Big Bad Wolf.
‘No,’ she lied, since it never did to admit to being a tyro.
‘But stepping out of the chorus line and getting a solo is a big step forward, right?’
Lillian shrugged. ‘Not really.’
Paul Fuller grinned.
‘Come on, I know ambition when I see it. And I know talent when I see it too. You’ve got what it takes, Lindy. You could go far.’
Despite herself, Lillian lapped up this comment. ‘Thanks.’
‘But I have a little problem, you see. Only three roles. I’ve got definites for two of them, but the third—well—the third is more difficult. It’s the biggest one, you see, Lindy. The fairy who promises to soften the spell after the bad fairy’s cast hers. An important part, Lindy, one you could shine in.’
Follow Your Dream Page 25