Rhiannon

by Carole Llewellyn

  ‘Good luck, Rhi!’ Percy called from backstage.

  Rhiannon turned and smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  The SM raised his head from his desk situated in the wings at the end of the stage – out of view from the auditorium. ‘You’ve come highly recommended by the producer himself. So I’m sure you’ll do fine.’

  Rhiannon took her place next to Dave. Her job as prompter was to hold cue cards and be ready to prompt the artists if they forgot their lines – be it a joke, a conjuring trick or a song. She, rightly, felt pleased with herself at being trusted with such an important position. If she continued to work hard then maybe one day she would achieve her dream – to follow in her Aunt Florrie’s footsteps.

  On Dave’s signal, Rhiannon saw Percy head for the dressing-rooms to inform the cast that it was just five minutes to curtain up. On cue the orchestra in the pit in front of the stage began to play the overture. As the music played and the auditorium lights began to dim, the intensity of Rhiannon’s emotions caused her to catch her breath as goose bumps invaded her flesh.

  The Empire Belles were lined up in the wings, ready to open the show.

  ‘Percy, give the chairman another call, will you?’

  Within minutes Rhiannon watched Gus Davenport squeeze past the dancers. As he did so he gave each girl a token peck on the cheek.

  ‘It’s about bloody time. Must you always cut it so fine?’ Dave asked.

  ‘I’d have come a lot sooner if I’d known this young beauty was here with you.’ He stared down at Rhiannon, his gaze burning her large brown eyes. ‘Greetings, Majesty.’ He gave another of his elaborate bows.

  ‘My name’s Rhiannon!’ she snapped.

  ‘Temper temper, Princess Rhi,’ he mocked.

  ‘Rhi will do. And I’ll thank you to not to make fun of me.’

  Behind him one of the Empire Belles called out, ‘You seem to have met your match with that one, Gus.’ The rest of the troupe laughed.

  Gus moved closer to Rhiannon, his face almost touching hers. She could feel his warm breath. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you,’ he whispered. ‘When you get to know me better, you’ll realize I like to tease, it’s what I do. Friends?’ He took her hand in his and, raising it gently, kissed her palm.

  She caught her breath. Luckily at that precise moment she heard the music reach a climax and, as the curtain rose to rapturous applause, he released her hand. He walked on to the stage to take his position at the chairman’s table and proceeded to address the audience. ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen... .’

  Rhiannon looked on in awe. This man oozed so much confidence; he was so elegant and so ... handsome. She was overcome by the same feelings that had been stirred in her dreams. She felt her colour rise while at the same time, strangely, she broke out in a cold sweat.

  Mair, with only a few programmes left and her moneybag practically bursting with coins, made her way across the foyer to the pass door that led backstage.

  If Mair had to do a job, then she was quite happy selling programmes before the show. She liked being front of house, it gave her a chance to mingle with the audience, from hoi polloi in the stalls and dress circle to the ruffians in the gods. Most had a kind word for her and all were suitably impressed when she boasted that ‘The Great Florrie Grayson’ was her aunt, telling herself that there was no harm in a little white lie.

  Now that her job was done Mair eagerly made her way back to the chorus girls’ dressing-room. She enjoyed helping them with their costumes and make-up, especially when they dressed her up and painted her face. They were all a lot older than she was and their chitchat was always lively, if somewhat near the knuckle.

  ‘Mair, is that you?’

  Somewhat startled, Mair turned sharply. She stared at the woman dressed in all her finery, her face partly obscured by her stylish, large-brimmed hat. She watched as the woman threw back her head and, flicking her hair away from her shoulders, smiled.

  ‘Mair it’s me, you daft ha’peth.’

  Mair’s mouth gaped in astonishment. ‘Mam?’ She couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I could ask you the same bloody question.’

  ‘I’m here with Rhiannon. D-Dai’s d-dead,’ Mair stammered, still in shock at seeing her mother.

  ‘I know. Poor sod.’ Nellie glanced down at the theatre programmes in Mair’s hand. ‘That still don’t explain how you come to be working in Cardiff.’

  ‘I’m not working really. I’m just helping out, like,’ Mair offered.

  ‘Helping who? Some bloody fella, no doubt. Who’ve you picked up with?’ Nellie snapped.

  ‘No. It’s nothing like that, Mam. I’m here with Rhi. Her aunt is Florrie Grayson, the star of the show.’

  Nellie pondered for a while. ‘Of course. Florrie was Dai’s first wife’s sister. Well I never. I can’t believe, having seen her name up in lights for nights, that I didn’t make the connection. Florrie Grayson, Dai’s sister-in-law. Well I never,’ she repeated.

  ‘How are you doing, Mam? Are you still with your fancy man?’

  ‘Less of your cheek! Though, if you must know, Harry Stone and me are still together and doing very well, thank you.’ It would seem, not as good as you, eh? Nellie whispered under her breath, as she considered the options open to her regarding Florrie Grayson.

  ‘Tell me, Mair. Where in Cardiff are you staying?’

  ‘Walter, Florrie, Rhiannon and me, are all staying at the Angel Hotel. Rhi and me have got this huge room all to ourselves. It’s lovely.’

  ‘The Angel is it... ?’ Nellie’s mind was working overtime. ‘Look, I’ve got to get a move on. I’ve arranged to meet some “friends” in the Theatre Bar.’

  ‘Will you come and see me again, Mam?’

  ‘I might, you never know. Then again I might not.’ With that she was gone.

  For a while Mair stood as if glued to the spot. Against all the odds she had come face to face with her mother. There had been no hugs, no tears, in fact no show of emotion at all. Although it saddened Mair to admit it, her mother obviously would rather be with her fancy man and his friends than with her own daughter. On the way backstage Mair struggled to hold back tears; she told herself she was better off without Nellie, but the hurt she felt just wouldn’t go away. She decided not to mention meeting up with Nellie to anyone, especially not Rhiannon. She could do without Miss Popular’s pity, thank you very much.

  She made her way to the girls’ dressing-room. She enjoyed being with them. They treated her as one of them and it was as good a place as any to keep out of the way of Rhiannon. The dressing-room was abuzz with activity. Fifteen girls shared the narrow room; along one side ran a mirrored wall complete with a fifteen-foot-long dressing-table and fifteen seats, thus allowing each girl her individual make-up area. On the opposite wall was fixed a long hanger rail to hold their costumes.

  ‘Hello, Mair, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. What’s up, duck?’ Sally Webber asked as she stepped out of her street-urchin costume and placed it on a hanger. She seemed unabashed to parade in her tight-fitting undergarments. Mair had never before seen such underwear. She felt her colour rise.

  ‘I reckon some young ruffian in the gods has been taking liberties with her ... the lucky cow!’ Clara Boxall, one of the older dancers teased.

  ‘What he do, shove his hand up your skirt or grab a feel of your tits?’ Bella, a dancer at the other end of the dressing-room called, causing shrieks of laughter.

  ‘Go on, you can tell us,’ Clara coaxed.

  Mair didn’t like being teased. ‘No! Shut up. Nothing’s happened and there’s nothing wrong with me, so there!’ she shouted.

  ‘We’ll believe you, tho’ thousands wouldn’t,’ Clara goaded.

  ‘On stage in three minutes,’ Percy called as he knocked on the door.

  ‘Three minutes! Christ, we’d better get a move on or the SM will have our guts for garters.’

  The mood had changed and for now Mair was off th
e hook.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was Sunday morning and, despite a sharp wind, had the making of a beautiful late-spring day. Nellie Parsons, having reverted to her maiden name, dressed in her new turquoise-blue dress and large straw hat quietly left the flat and, after closing the door, crept down the stairs and through the front door. She had left Harry sleeping off the effects of a late night down the pub. With a bit of luck she would be back before he woke up. If her idea went to plan, he was going to be so pleased with her.

  Nellie walked briskly up the length of Westgate Street and within minutes had arrived at the Angel Hotel. Aware of the doorman’s cursory glance, she immediately slid her gloved hands down to slightly raise her skirt before walking up the few steps to the grand entrance. With her head held high she waited for the doorman to open the large, heavy, brass-framed glass doors. She flashed the doorman a friendly smile. He nodded and, raising a hand, politely touched the brim of his red-and-gold top hat.

  She entered the foyer and instantly caught her breath, overawed by its red-and-gold grandeur and the huge chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.

  ‘Excuse me, miss. I’m the hotel manager. Can I help you?’

  A smart middle-aged man, wearing a dark pinstriped suit, navy satin tie and a brilliant, crisply starched white shirt, stood in front of her.

  Nellie didn’t like the way he seemed to look down his nose at her.

  She stood tall. She had been practising her lines for days. ‘I’m here to see Miss Florrie Grayson,’ she said confidently.

  ‘May I ask if Miss Grayson is expecting you?’

  ‘What’s it to do with you?’ she snapped. Then, seeing how taken aback he seemed, she gave a wry smile. ‘If you would be kind enough to just let Miss Grayson know that Miss Nellie Parsons is here, then I’m sure she’ll want to see me.’ She threw him a look of defiance.

  ‘Very well. If you would like to take a seat I will ring her room and let her know that you are here.’ With that, he turned abruptly and strutted off towards the reception area, his back so stiff and upright Nellie could have sworn he had a broomhandle stuck up his arse.

  ‘First round to me I think, you pompous old bugger,’ Nellie mumbled under her breath as she sank into a deep dark-red leather chair situated in the lounge area.

  Nellie sat fidgeting with her handkerchief for what seemed ages. She felt uncomfortably out of place, wide-eyed at the clientele as they passed by – totally ignoring her.

  Eventually the manager returned. ‘Miss Parsons. Miss Grayson will be down to see you shortly.’

  Nellie threw him a look that said I told you so.

  He kept his composure. ‘Miss Parsons, if you would please follow me. Miss Grayson has requested the use of my office to assure your privacy.’

  After escorting her to his office the manager took a quick departure. Apart from a huge mahogany desk, the manager’s office was furnished and decorated in the same red and gold as the foyer and with similar leather chairs.

  Within minutes there was a light tap on the door. The door opened and Florrie Desmond entered the room. She was wearing a dark-blue day suit with a figure-hugging bolero jacket and a long skirt, her high-piled auburn hair coiffed to perfection.

  Nellie rose to her feet.

  ‘Please, be seated,’ Florrie instructed as she settled herself in the seat opposite Nellie.

  Nellie took a deep breath. ‘Miss Grayson, I’m Mair’s—’

  Florrie interrupted quickly, ‘Mair’s mother. I know. Would this be the same mother who walked out on her when she abandoned my dear brother-in-law and young niece?’

  Nellie was taken aback by the abruptness of Florrie’s manner. This was not the reception she had expected.

  ‘I had my reasons,’ Nellie said.

  ‘All of them selfish, no doubt. Tell me, Miss Parsons, why are you here?’

  Nellie decided it was time for a change of tactics. It was time to show this old music-hall star what a real performance was.

  ‘Miss Grayson, it’s true. I’ve not been the best mother in the world, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love my Mair something dreadful. When I bumped into her the other day at the theatre, I realized how much I missed her. You see, Miss Grayson, for years, before I ever went to work for Dai Hughes, it was just Mair and me against the world ... and now... .’ Nellie raised her handkerchief and pretended to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  ‘So, you want her back, is that it?’

  ‘In an ideal world, yes – oh yes. But no! Despite what you think, I couldn’t be that selfish. It wouldn’t be right for me to take her away from Rhiannon and you.’

  ‘Forgive me, I’m confused. If you don’t want her back then what do you want?’ Florrie sounded irritated.

  ‘I thought maybe ... some compensation? It’s only fair that I be compensated for the loss of my child. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘And what do you think a fair compensation would be?’

  Nellie found it hard to contain her excitement. She’d done it – She’d bloody well gone and done it! ‘I thought, say, two hundred pounds. Obviously, it would be a one-off payment. I’ll not bother you again.’

  ‘All you want is two hundred pounds? I find that unbelievable.’ Florrie shook her head.

  Nellie cursed herself – why hadn’t she asked for more?

  ‘Tell me, Miss Parsons, how low can you stoop? You would actually sell your daughter for a mere two hundred pounds?’

  Suddenly Nellie knew it was all going wrong. ‘You can afford it!’ she snapped.

  ‘That’s as maybe. I’ve got news for you. I’ll not pay you a penny! In fact if, as you say, you miss Mair so much, I, for one, am all in favour of your being reunited with your daughter.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No! It’s all arranged. As soon as I knew you were here, I assumed you had come to – rightly – claim your daughter. With this in mind, I arranged for my agent to inform Mair of the good news, and to ask Rhiannon to help pack her things.’

  At that precise moment there was a knock on the door.

  Florrie stood up. ‘I’ll wager that’ll be her now.’ She faced Nellie and, sliding her hand into her jacket pocket, she produced a handful of crisp five-pound notes. ‘There’s fifty pounds.’

  Nellie’s eyes lit up as she made a grab for the money.

  Florrie pulled her hand and the money to her chest. ‘Not so fast. You should know you get nothing for nothing.’

  ‘I thought there’d be a catch,’ Nellie spat.

  ‘All I want you to do is continue your act – you know, the one where in an ideal world you’d love to have Mair back, and the money is yours. It’s what Mair needs to believe.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘I’m sure the police would be very interested in your plan to sell your daughter.’

  Nellie’s head dropped.

  ‘Is it a deal?’ This time Florrie edged closer and placed the notes in Nellie’s hand.

  Nellie nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘Good. But remember this is a one-off payment; there’ll be no more where that came from.’

  There was another tap on the door, this one more urgent. Florrie opened the door to reveal Mair and Rhiannon, both red-eyed from crying, escorted by a solemn-looking Walter, Mair’s small suitcase at his side.

  They entered the office and Rhiannon’s eyes instantly pleaded with Florrie’s but she was having none of it. The last thing she needed at this moment was an emotional scene.

  ‘Walter, would you kindly escort Rhiannon back to her room.’

  ‘But Aunt Florrie, I don’t understand ... why are you sending Mair away?’ Rhiannon pleaded.

  ‘Rhiannon, don’t be a silly girl, I’m not sending Mair away. Her mother has simply come for her. It is her right, after all. Miss Parsons desperately wants to be reunited with her daughter. And who are we to stand in her way?’ Florrie threw Nellie a look, daring her to contradict her.

  Nellie raised her handkerchi
ef to her eyes and, once again, pretended to dab her tears. ‘Mair, love. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ Rhiannon shouted. ‘If you missed her so much how come you’ve never tried to get in touch?’

  ‘Rhiannon, that’s enough! Please do as I bid and go with Walter. I promise I’ll come to see you soon to explain everything.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Rhiannon, I mean it!’

  Rhiannon put an arm around Mair. ‘Mair, please, don’t cry. I promise this is not the end of it.’

  ‘It’s – all right, Rhi! I always – knew that – your – aunt – didn’t want me,’ Mair sobbed. ‘I’ll go with my mam – it’s for the best, eh?’

  Walter gently pulled Rhiannon away from Mair. ‘Come on, Rhi. I’m sure you’ll see each other soon.’

  A reluctant Rhiannon did as she was bid. As she left the room she looked across at Florrie and Nellie and shouted, ‘I hate you for this.’

  Neither woman knew which one of them the outburst was directed at – maybe it was at both of them.

  Florrie accompanied Nellie and Mair from the manager’s office to the foyer in silence.

  ‘Is everything all right, Miss Grayson?’ the manager asked.

  ‘Yes, everything is fine. Thank you for the use of your office. I’m pleased to say that our business has been satisfactorily completed and my guests are ready to leave.’ Florrie turned to Nellie. ‘I’ll bid you goodbye now, Miss Parsons ... Mair,’ she gave a false smile. ‘The hotel manager will show you out.’

  Mair glared at Florrie. Florrie dismissed it. She had always thought of Mair as a moody, petulant child. And one who needed strong parental control. As she watched Mair and her mother leave the Angel Hotel she congratulated herself on a good morning’s work. It was now time to face Rhiannon.

  Rhiannon paced the room. She was angry and upset. Not just with Nellie but also her Aunt Florrie. She totally blamed her Aunt Florrie for allowing this to happen. And when, as promised, Florrie came to her room, Rhiannon couldn’t wait to vent her feelings.

  ‘How could you have let this happen? Why did you just stand by and let Nellie take Mair away, away to God knows where?’ Rhiannon was almost hysterical.