Skylark

by Jenny Pattrick

  ‘Don’t make me!’ she wailed. ‘I want to go home, I want Mother Mattie!’

  An unfortunate statement. Phoebe is mine, of course she is, but had always called Mattie ‘Mother’. Everyone was looking at me as if I was some evil abductor, forcing some other mother’s child to perform. I took Phoebe firmly by the hand and marched up to Mr Tom.

  ‘Would you allow me to go up on stage with my daughter?’ I asked. ‘She has a little touch of stage fright but is quite experienced and will soon gain control of herself.’

  Mr Pollard was very firm. No adults were allowed on stage. Oh, I was at my wits’ end, and would have argued had Teddy not appeared at that moment, all smiles again, as confident as his sister was not.

  ‘I’ll go up now, Mr Pollard,’ he said. ‘I’ll stand instead of my sister.’

  Mr Tom nodded his approval. You could see he was impressed by Teddy’s clear voice and general appearance. And up he hopped, leaping to the stage rather than making a more sedate journey up the steps, but never mind.

  I was worried about the accompaniment to Teddy’s solo, ‘Voi Che Sapete’. It is not easy. I offered to play myself, but again Mr Tom was firm. ‘Mr Jim will do his best,’ he said. ‘He’s not unfamiliar with the piece. A testing choice.’

  I was soon blushing at my presumption. Jim Pollard could play it far better than I, and far faster. Teddy stopped as soon as he realised he was lagging behind. That boy was not the least fazed by the problem.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling and walking over to the pianist. ‘My mother plays it more slowly. Can you give me the beat?’

  Mr Jim tapped out a rhythm on the lid of the piano. Teddy nodded and asked to start again. Away he went, enjoying the faster tempo, his beautiful voice rising to the trills and stroking the gentler passages as I’d never heard the like before. Where did he learn such confidence? From his mother, you will say, which is true enough, but on that morning I recognised something more: an artistry that I could never match, not even in my youth.

  Mr Fred now put Teddy though his paces and soon the two of them had us all laughing with their funny gestures and quick, tapping steps. My heart was bursting with pride. Phoebe’s tears had dried and she laughed with us, but there was no getting her up on stage. ‘Teddy can do it,’ she said. ‘Let Teddy go, but I’d rather be at home.’

  A sad waste of talent; perhaps a lost opportunity, but you cannot force a child when her head is set in another direction.

  Of course Teddy was offered not only a chorus part, but a chance to join the professional company, understudying that young Australian prodigy, Cornelius Osmond, who played Ralph Rackstraw.

  A week later the family set back up the coast without Theodore Lacey, Lilliputian. I stayed in Wellington for a short time. The Italian and English Opera Company were performing at the Theatre Royal — La Traviata, if I remember rightly — and I was determined to catch a performance.

  A SECTION PASTED IN AND WRITTEN IN THE HAND OF SAMUEL LACEY

  Lily oversteps the mark

  [Archivist’s Note: It appears that the old rivalry between Samuel and his mother reasserts itself at this stage. Or perhaps it is Jack who has demanded another version of the story be told. I leave the reader to choose which side to take. E. de M.]

  Jack Lacey is well pleased with his morning at the horse bazaar. The three horses — one general hack and two light-harness draughts — that he brought down in the steamer have all fetched good prices. With some of the proceeds he has purchased a small wagonette which will easily transport the whole family. For the return journey he will assemble the carriage and harness the two horses he has left in Whanganui in Doctor Ingram’s stables; the children and women will ride home in style. No one else in the valley possesses a wagonette. Jack imagines picnics down to the river, school outings, even trips to Whanganui where Lily may see her beloved theatre. He can’t wait to show her.

  As he leans on the rail of the horse yards, puffing on his pipe in the sun, young Frank comes running down the street.

  ‘Father, Father, Mother Lily says to come quickly!’ The nine-year-old’s eyes shine as brightly as his polished shoes and slicked hair. Frank will be a smart dresser like his father: already fussy, he is quick to grab the cleanest, newest shirts in the great dresser at home which holds all the children’s clothes.

  Jack smiles at the eager boy. ‘Well, son, you tell Mother Lily I still have business at the bazaar and will not be free for an hour or two.’

  Fred looks to his two older brothers who are lounging nearby.

  ‘Sam! Bert! Can’t you bring Father along? Mother Lily is in a great state. Father’s signature is needed.’

  Jack looks interested at this. If his signature is needed, business is usually in the air. ‘Well, young Fred, and what am I to sign?’ Jack imagines some large expenditure for the home.

  ‘Teddy is offered a place in the Lilliputians!’ Fred announces.

  Samuel and Bert forget they are trying to look like adults and crowd around Fred.

  ‘And Phoebe?’ asks Samuel.

  ‘Did Phoebe win a place too?’ asks Bert.

  Sweet-natured Phoebe is beloved of all the family. They love to hear her sing in the evenings; to watch her face, lit by firelight, as she recites one of the sad romantic poems Lily has taught her.

  Fred smooths back his neat, dark hair. ‘Phoebe bawled her eyes out and wanted to go home, but Teddy sang like an angel and made us all laugh and laugh.’ Fred dances a few steps himself, his boots tapping a smart military rhythm. ‘He’s to have a full place in the company and travel to far places, even Australia!’

  Jack takes the pipe from his mouth. ‘No.’ He says. He holds up a hand as Fred opens his mouth. ‘No. Tell Mother Lily my answer is no. Teddy can perform for a week or two here and in Whanganui. Then he comes home.’

  Bert, taken aback by Jack’s abrupt answer, and always ready to argue, weighs in. ‘But Father, you have apprenticed me to the blacksmith and I’m only a year older. You know how eager Teddy is. Surely it’s an honour to be chosen? He’ll be paid if he’s to join the main company.’

  ‘He’s too young,’ says Jack. ‘That’s my last word. Off you go,

  son.’ As Fred dodges back among the Saturday crowd, Jack turns to Bert and Samuel. ‘At any rate, I don’t fancy little children dressed as grown-ups. It’s not natural.’

  ‘It’s all the rage, natural or not,’ argues Bert. ‘I can’t see the harm. They look like little tricks on the poster. All those ribbons and flounces. And the little painted moustaches. I’d go and see them like a shot.’

  Samuel has read the rapturous reviews from the South Island; also the complaints about exploitation. ‘Mr Pollard says it’s an apprenticeship just like training to be a carpenter or miner or sailor. Young lads start early in those trades, why not young performers?’

  Jack frowns.

  Samuel coughs. ‘Well, that’s what Mr Pollard says.’

  ‘He can say what he likes, our Teddy is not travelling alone with those other little show-offs. Away from his family. He has not the stamina for it.’

  Samuel and Bert exchange glances. Their father is not usually so stubborn where Lily’s wishes are concerned. Perhaps here in the solid male world of the horse bazaar, he is more inclined to take a stand than at home.

  All three look up to hear Teddy’s high voice rising above the clatter and bustle of the bazaar. ‘Father! Father! Wait!’

  Here he comes, his bright hair flying about his face as he runs. Teddy’s cheeks are flushed, his dark, expressive eyes alight. Small as a ten-year-old, and thin as a whippet, he weaves in and out of the crowd, drawing smiles from the onlookers, as always. He arrives, panting, and plants his neat body in front of his father.

  ‘Please,’ he says, the words puffing out in excited bursts. ‘Please, Father, you must sign.’

  Jack can’t resist smiling back at his son’s eager face.

  ‘I’ll sign for the local shows, Teddy, and well done, son.’

&
nbsp; Teddy’s feet dance with impatience, his polished shoes sending up flurries of sawdust. ‘But the company tour! I am offered a place. I will understudy a main role!’

  Jack lays a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Teddy, you are too young to travel away alone.’

  ‘I’m almost thirteen!’ Teddy wails. ‘All the other Lilliputians are travelling away. Mr Pollard says I’ll be looked after by Mrs Pollard and some other ladies. Please, Father!’

  Jack sighs. ‘Maybe when you’re a bit older. Those other Lilliputians are different. You’re a country boy, used to being at home with your family.’

  ‘I’ll write! It’ll only be for a few months, maybe a year …’

  Jack smiles, but there is a growing impatience in his voice. ‘A year! We can’t be doing without you for a whole year, son. Now run off to your mother and tell her I’ll sign for the local shows or nothing.’

  Teddy turns to his brothers, hands spread wide. His naked plea embarrasses Samuel and Bert, who shrug and turn away.

  ‘Oh!’ shouts Teddy, stamping his foot. Then he runs away before his father can slap the insolence out of him.

  ‘There’ll be a scene,’ Bert whispers. ‘Bet you a tanner.’

  The scene is more serious than any the children have witnessed. Even tired Mattie cannot calm the storm.

  ‘What!’ roars Jack. His hand flings out, knocking over the oil-lamp and causing a flurry of action to damp the flames before the hotel manager should be called. ‘You signed against my wishes?’

  ‘I did,’ booms Lily. ‘What else could I do?’

  ‘Fred!’ barks Jack.

  ‘Yes, Father.’ Fred’s freckles stand out in his pale face.

  ‘Did you take my message?’

  Fred looks back and forth between the angry pair. ‘I did, I did! I swear!’

  Lily raises her arms. On stage this would be termed the action of supplication. ‘Jack, my darling, don’t blame Fred. He told me your suggestion. I decided not to follow it.’

  ‘Suggestion!’ Jack comes close to striking her. ‘It was an order. It was a refusal to sign. Lily, you have overstepped the mark and you must now un-sign whatever contract you have entered.’

  The children crowd back against the walls of the big dark room. Mattie suggests Jack lets Lily explain. Surely there is a strong reason for such a disobedient act?

  ‘Of course there’s a reason,’ says Lily, smiling hopefully at Jack. ‘How could I let Teddy down? He was so proud and happy, wasn’t he, children?’

  The little ones nod, their eyes round at the scene. Here in the city there’s nowhere to run. Mattie would have shooed them all outside if they were at home. Here they must witness it all. Oberon starts to cry. Mattie presses his face into her skirts. ‘Shh, shh, little man. It’s all right.’

  But it’s not all right. Jack is angrier than anyone has seen him. Lily can make no headway, for all her charms and wiles.

  ‘Lily, you simply cannot continue to rule the world the way you want it. These children are not playthings. As long as they sing and dance you think they are perfectly fitted for life. They are not!’

  ‘But Jack, you have always been so proud of their talents.’

  ‘Proud, yes; at home, yes. But I do not want them getting a taste for that false world which nearly destroyed you.’

  ‘False world!’ Now Lily abandons her pleas and postures. She is as angry as Jack. ‘How can you say such a thing? Did I not bring joy and pleasure and comfort to thousands?’

  ‘If I had not rescued you, where would you be now?’

  ‘I would be a famous performer, hailed by audiences the world over!’

  ‘You would be destitute and deserted, living in sin, and travelling from one dirty saloon to another.’

  Lily takes a breath, lowers her voice almost to a whisper. ‘And am I not living in sin now?’

  ‘Lily! Jack!’ says Mattie, her face red with distress, her voice cracking. ‘In the name of heaven, think of the children!’

  In the silence that follows Mattie’s outburst, Phoebe speaks. Tears are running down her cheeks. The day’s events have finally overcome her usual sunny nature. Her accusation is perhaps meant for one of the older children’s ears but all hear it clearly.

  ‘Mother said Teddy had no father.’

  Jack turns to look at Phoebe. Then back at Lily. He says nothing but his whole body asks the question. No one speaks but now all are staring at Lily. Can this possibly be true? Lily faces them all, pale, her shaking hands plucking at the ruffle on her bodice. This may be the first time the others have ever seen Lily cornered, lacking a credible reply.

  ‘Jack,’ she whispers, ‘Jack.’

  He says nothing, waiting for what she might say.

  Mattie frowns at Lily. She takes weeping Oberon and Phoebe by their hands. ‘I’ll take the children downstairs for their tea.’

  ‘No,’ says Jack. His eyes bore into Lily, never leaving her face. ‘Let them hear what Mother Lily has to say. Their brother Teddy has no father? Eh? Perhaps I am not father to any of these children?’

  Lily attempts to lay a hand on Jack’s sleeve but he shakes it off. She speaks quietly at first but her voice rises as the words tumble out, until she is almost shouting.

  ‘Teddy was so proud, so excited to be singled out. How could I deny him? How could you, Jack? I was so angry with you. Acting is a noble profession!’

  ‘For a woman? For a child? No, Lily.’

  ‘Oh you are so wrong! Teddy is blessed. Blessed. But Mr Pollard would not accept Teddy without the father’s signature on the contract. It was dishonest, yes, but I had no choice. I signed as his only parent. Even so, Mr Pollard was doubtful. But Teddy won him over. Teddy assured him, in such a winning manner, that if his father were alive, he surely would be proud to sign. You should be ashamed, Jack, to deny your son.’

  Jack snorts. ‘It seems I have no son called Theodore.’

  ‘Of course you do. You won’t regret this when you see him on stage. I know you won’t.’

  Jack makes for the door. ‘Where is this man? This Pollard?’

  Lily grabs his hand. ‘You can do nothing, Jack. Mr Pollard and Teddy have sailed south this afternoon. He is to start his training in Christchurch. Please, my dear, understand.’

  Mattie has had enough. Her face is grey. Lily notices with a start that her friend is limping. Why has she never noticed this? Mattie orders the children downstairs and moves to follow them. She turns at the door. ‘Sort this out before I am back. Can’t you see that I …’ She gasps as if in pain. ‘That the children … can take no more. No more scenes.’

  Tears ooze from Mattie’s eyes. She lets them drip. Her head droops as if she has lost the strength to hold it up. Oberon clasps one hand, Phoebe the other. The rest of the children stand silent, appalled to see their rock so diminished.

  ‘This trip,’ gasps Mattie through her tears, ‘which we have all looked forward to, is ruined. Jack, why are you so angry when you knew Teddy would audition? Why?’ She turns slowly, slowly to Lily. ‘Lily, you made a grave mistake. But in heaven’s name it’s done. You must find a way to forgive each other.’

  Mattie waits, breathing heavily, for some response. But for once she can’t save the situation. She stumbles out. Jack and Lily remain in the room.

  Later Jack comes down to tea, stony faced. Lily would not be down, he says. In fact, she will stay in Wellington when the family returns home.

  Mattie cries out at the news. She limps from the table, napkin held to her mouth. The children and Jack stare to see their reliable mother so distressed.

  Teddy the Lilliputian

  [Archivist’s Note: This section is written in the hand of Lily Alouette. One might question the fact that Lily has such detailed knowledge of Pollard’s Lilliputian Opera Company. My editor is one such. My theory is that in the time Lily spent banished from her family, she performed in a theatrical company in Wellington and perhaps also entered the employ of James Pollard as a tutor. Surely that entre
preneur had need of extra tutors for his little stars, many of whom were his own progeny? Be that as it may, it might be prudent to read this chapter with a grain of scepticism: Lily, in trying to exonerate herself from guilt, may be casting Teddy’s time with the company in a rather rosy light. E. de M.]

  Theodore Valentin Lacey was the sort of boy who always stood out in a crowd. You might see twenty young fellows sitting in a classroom, all dressed alike, all more or less the same size, and your eyes would go straight to Teddy. A small twitch of the head, a quick grin, a wink and he had his audience. Mr Tom Pollard (who was not really a Pollard, it turned out, but an Irish O’Sullivan, who took his employer’s name) saw that quality in Teddy Lacey at that first audition in Wellington.

  ‘That boy will go far; we must have him,’ he muttered to Jim Pollard (born Pollard and the eldest of all the sons). Jim nodded. He had been impressed at how quickly the lad had responded to his own fast tempo when he’d accompanied the boy’s ambitious solo piece. Both Pollards had noticed the way the other aspiring performers had applauded despite themselves. When Fred Derbyshire had shown the lad a few steps, Teddy had imitated them flawlessly. To be a good mimic was essential in any Lilliputian. No doubt about it: young Theodore must be signed to the company.

  ‘I’ll take him down to Christchurch with me,’ said Jim. ‘I’m not sure the boy’s mother was quite truthful with us. Perhaps there’s an angry father in the wings after all.’

  So while Tom Pollard stayed in Wellington to train the local children in chorus parts, Jim Pollard and Teddy (signed to the company by his mother as Theodore Larkendale) sailed back to Christchurch where the company would perform for the rest of the season. It was a rough trip, the swell through Cook’s Strait causing the steamer to heave and roll as if the ship itself were in agony, not the just the passengers aboard. Teddy, who was not used to sea travel, became green, then threw up, again and again, until they reached the calm waters of Lyttelton Harbour. Not the best start for a stage career.