The Wartime Singers

by Lesley Eames

  He didn’t stay much longer. ‘Thank you for the tea, and thank you even more for agreeing to help my little venture. I hope to be in touch soon. In the meantime, let me give you my address in case you need to contact me.’

  He passed over a card.

  Goodbyes were said but, despite the wistful look he sent in her direction, Polly left it to Lizzie to show Jack to the door. Lizzie didn’t mind too much. If the show went ahead, there’d be plenty of chances for Polly and Jack to be together.

  *

  The Easter bonnets were a great success. Audiences began smiling as soon as they saw them and appeared thoroughly to enjoy the new springtime programme. One song was called ‘Piccadilly Promenade’. Lizzie and Polly sang it together and danced together too though, not wanting to shock Margaret, they kept the steps modest. The audience still clapped loudly. ‘The Gardens of England’ was just as successful and Lizzie had no problem persuading the audience to join in the chorus.

  ‘I wish we had a camera so I could take photographs of our bonnets to send to Harry and Matt,’ Lizzie said. Cameras were expensive, though. An idea struck her. ‘Polly, would you draw the bonnets for me?’

  Polly was a talented artist but lacked confidence in her talent as in so much else. ‘I don’t mind drawing things for you to see, Lizzie, but my sketches aren’t good enough for anyone else.’

  ‘Your sketches are wonderful, Poll. I’m sure they’d amuse Harry and Matt.’

  It was the right thing to say because Polly could never hold out against an appeal to her kindness. The sketches were as terrific as Lizzie hoped and both Harry and Matt wrote to say they thought so too.

  Polly smiled when Lizzie told her what they’d said but it was the sort of smile that implied she thought the men were simply being kind. Lizzie wished she knew how to make Polly value herself more.

  *

  Three weeks after his first visit Jack called again. Lizzie and Polly were practising dance steps while Margaret played piano. ‘I have a date!’ he said, grin in place. ‘Monday, 18th of June. I hope that’s convenient?’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to rearrange any lessons that clash with it,’ Lizzie assured him. ‘Have any other performers committed to the show?’

  ‘Happily, yes, so I’ve been working on a programme.’ He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. ‘It’s just a scribble at this stage, but tell me what you think.’

  The paper was handwritten in spiky black writing with many of the entries crossed out and rewritten elsewhere.

  ‘I’d like Miss Penrose to begin with a piano solo to settle everyone down, then move onto a lively piano duet with you, Lizzie, to start lifting the mood.’

  Jack proposed to sing a solo next. His name was down for another song later, this one to be sung with someone called Amy. ‘A friend,’ he said.

  Just a friend? Or something more? Lizzie hoped not.

  ‘As you can see, I’ve put you down for four songs – two in the first half and two after the interval. How does that sound?’

  Lizzie pulled her thoughts to attention. ‘It sounds fine. Doesn’t it, Polly?’

  Polly nodded but looked at the programme instead of at Jack.

  ‘You have ballet dancers coming?’ Lizzie asked, interpreting a line of scrawl as Galina and Alexei, ballet.

  ‘You don’t object to ballet, Miss Penrose?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Excellent. I also have a quartet of male singers, a violinist and a pair of opera singers.’

  ‘Opera singers?’ Polly looked concerned. ‘Won’t our singing seem a little frivolous in comparison?’

  ‘Trust me, Miss Meadows. Your singing will be different from opera but equally enjoyable. More enjoyable, I suspect.’ He glanced towards Margaret as though concerned she might rebuke him for slighting opera, then sent Polly a smile that combined humour with softness.

  Lizzie wouldn’t give up hope of him helping to restore Polly’s happiness just yet.

  ‘I believe I interrupted another practice,’ Jack said then. ‘I seem to be timing my visits badly.’

  ‘We’re running through a few songs for our concert on Saturday,’ Lizzie told him. ‘You could act as our audience if you don’t have to rush away?’

  ‘I’ll be honoured to be your audience.’

  They sang ‘The Gardens of England’ and ‘Piccadilly Promenade’. Jack applauded warmly. ‘Where are you performing on Saturday?’

  ‘A place called Brookville. It’s a small auxiliary hospital for injured seamen in Clapham.’

  ‘I wonder if I might come along? I’d love to see you perform again. But perhaps I can’t just walk into a hospital…’

  Lizzie thought for a moment. ‘There won’t be a problem if you’re a temporary member of our group.’

  ‘I could perform with you?’

  ‘If you like.’

  Jack expressed himself to be even more honoured and neither Margaret nor Polly objected. He stayed to practice with them then left, promising to see them on Saturday.

  They travelled down to Clapham together, arriving in time for a short rehearsal before the performance began. Lizzie and Polly performed ‘Piccadilly Promenade’ with Jack linking arms with both of them then gliding to the side with each of them in turn before spinning them together again. His voice made a rich addition to the singing and he danced well too, his movements light and fluid. Certainly, the audience appeared to appreciate him.

  Moving on to ‘The Gardens of England’, Jack helped to rouse the audience into joining in with the chorus. Loud applause followed then one man shouted out, ‘That’s lovely, mate, but it’s only about England. What about Scotland?’ His accent was strong.

  ‘I’m from Scotland too, as you can probably tell,’ Jack called back. ‘Though I’m from Edinburgh while I suspect you’re from Glasgow?’

  ‘Aye,’ the man confirmed. ‘How about, Speed Bonny Boat?’

  ‘Like a bird on the wing?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Jack looked at Lizzie who smiled encouragement. With that Jack launched into the ‘Skye Boat Song’ unaccompanied. His voice was rich and warm, and even Margaret joined in with the clapping when he’d finished.

  ‘I’m from Wales,’ another man called.

  ‘Then a Welsh song you shall have,’ Jack told him. ‘“Men of Harlech”?’

  ‘That’ll do nicely.’

  Again, Jack sang with gusto. ‘Men of Harlech, march to glory…’

  ‘Is anyone from Ireland?’ he asked at the end.

  A man at the back put his hand up. ‘“Danny Boy” would be grand, so it would.’

  Jack began to sing. ‘Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…’

  Men swayed along and a few joined in.

  ‘Enough of me,’ Jack declared then. ‘I’m going to step aside for these three wonderfully talented young ladies.’

  Margaret rolled her eyes but Lizzie thought she was secretly pleased.

  There was no doubt that the concert was enjoyed by its audience. ‘I hope you don’t feel I took over,’ Jack said afterwards.

  ‘Of course not,’ Lizzie told him. ‘The men loved what you did.’

  ‘You sang well, young man,’ Margaret added.

  Jack smiled. ‘High praise indeed.’

  He had an appointment elsewhere so couldn’t see them home. ‘Jack is fun, isn’t he?’ Lizzie commented to Polly as they settled on the train.

  ‘Yes,’ Polly agreed.

  Lizzie waited, but it seemed Polly had nothing more to say. Still, they’d see Jack again soon. He’d suggested a visit to the Merriment so they could familiarise themselves with the stage before finalising their song choices.

  Lizzie hadn’t given much thought to being inside a theatre, but now she found memories of the night she’d passed by the Lyceum theatre rushing in on her again, squeezing her with anxiety. But the Zeppelins hadn’t raided in months as the British had become better at shooting them down. Besides, the men who were s
erving their country faced death and danger daily but still fought on. Lizzie wouldn’t let what had happened that night hold her back either. At least… she hoped not.

  28

  They met at the Merriment early one Tuesday morning. Zeppelins didn’t raid during daylight hours so Lizzie felt safe. Jack let them in through a side door then led them along corridors to the front entrance so they could see the theatre as the audience would see it. ‘Rather lovely, isn’t it?’

  There was plush red carpet underfoot and above them an ornate ceiling decorated with gold plasterwork. Framed mirrors and theatre posters boasted gilding too while the dark wood of the box office and doors gleamed with care.

  Jack pushed through a pair of doors that opened into another large space which appeared to be where the audience would gather in the interval to meet friends and chat over drinks. There were graceful sofas and chairs upholstered in red, more gilding, and stairs sweeping up towards the dress circle and balcony.

  ‘This way.’ Jack opened a second set of doors into the auditorium itself where the theme of decorative red and gold continued.

  ‘It’s spectacular,’ Lizzie said.

  She was pleased to see Margaret looking equally impressed but Polly’s eyes had widened in dismay. ‘What is it, Poll?’

  She turned to Lizzie as though surfacing from a nightmare. ‘I can’t sing here. It’s too big. Too grand. And my voice is so small.’

  Momentarily distracted by the beauty of the place, Lizzie hadn’t yet thought about how it would feel to stand on the stage and perform in here. Now she too felt somewhat weak about the knees. She took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s natural to be nervous, but Mr Lomax wouldn’t have asked you to sing if he didn’t think you could do it. Would you, Mr Lomax?’

  ‘Please call me Jack. Trust me, Miss Meadows – Polly – I know you can make a success of this.’

  Polly shook her head.

  ‘And just think of how good you’ll feel knowing you’ve helped to raise much-needed funds for injured servicemen and their families,’ Jack continued.

  Poor Polly was no match against that sort of appeal. She was silent for a moment then nodded. ‘All right, I’ll try.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jack patted her arm though Lizzie suspected he really wanted to draw Polly into his arms and kiss her.

  They walked down the aisle and mounted side steps to the stage. Margaret looked to be struggling with nerves too as they stared out at all the seats. Lizzie forced herself to speak reassuringly. ‘We might not actually be able to see many people in the audience because the stage will be lit up and they’ll be in darkness.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Jack confirmed. ‘You can pretend no one’s there, if it helps.’

  He turned to Margaret. ‘I hope you feel able to begin the programme with your piano solo?’

  Margaret squared her bony shoulders. ‘I’ll do my duty, Mr Lomax. You can be sure of that.’

  Feeling another burst of pride in her godmother, Lizzie grinned.

  Jack treated them to a cup of tea in a tea room on the Strand after they left the theatre. ‘The show is called Midsummer Melodies and I’m arranging for leaflets to be printed to advertise it,’ he told them. ‘Selling tickets isn’t your job, but do let me know if you’d like any leaflets.’

  ‘Certainly we would,’ Margaret said. ‘We can give them to our pupils’ families and our women’s group.’

  ‘We can also take some along to our concerts in case any of the hospital staff are interested,’ Lizzie suggested.

  Jack looked pleased. ‘The Merriment will be promoting the show too and I’m hoping to get at least one of the London newspapers to advertise it for free. I’ve been touched by the generosity of people so far. Not just the performers like you, but also the Merriment staff. From booking clerks to cleaners, they’ll be working unpaid.’

  ‘None of it would be possible without your own generosity,’ Lizzie pointed out.

  Jack shrugged but the truth was that he’d done an immense amount of work. The thought reminded Lizzie that he’d once told them he had a living to earn. ‘Are you waiting until the show is over before resuming your own singing career?’ she asked.

  ‘Actually, no. I’ve secured a singing engagement for the next few weeks. It’s in an established show called Blossom Town.’

  ‘I’ve heard of it,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I’m replacing a man who’s developed a problem with his vocal cords, poor chap. His understudy was fired due to a scandal with a chorus girl so I’ve been engaged to finish the run. It isn’t the leading role, but I still have a solo and a duet.’

  They were delighted for him.

  *

  Jack organised the rehearsal for early in June. ‘I’m sorry it has to be on a Sunday,’ he said. ‘The theatre is busy on other days and we couldn’t fit an entire rehearsal into an early morning visit.’

  In addition to the performers who’d appear on stage Jack had recruited a small orchestra which was already hard at work practising. He gathered everyone else backstage and introduced them all.

  Lizzie was particularly curious about Amy, the girl who’d sing with Jack, so it was frustrating to be told a previous commitment had prevented her from rehearsing today. Lizzie still enjoyed meeting the other performers, all of whom were friendly, though one of them – Galina, the ballet dancer – seemed particularly highly-strung. ‘Artistic temperament,’ Jack told them, winking.

  He allocated dressing rooms. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to look after our own costumes and make-up. Not that make-up is essential,’ he added, after a look at Margaret’s face.

  Lizzie, Polly and Margaret were in a small room together. ‘We’ll be quite comfortable here,’ Lizzie said.

  They gathered again in the wings of the stage. ‘I’ll try to arrange a dress rehearsal for next Sunday, but I can’t promise anything so let’s make the most of the time we have today,’ Jack said. ‘Would you begin, please, Miss Penrose?’

  She tilted her chin bravely and headed for the piano that had been wheeled onto the stage. Back ramrod straight, she launched into ‘Arabesque’ by Claude Debussy and gave a faultless performance which everyone cheered enthusiastically.

  Polly was obviously terrified when the time came for her to sing with Lizzie but Jack sent her the warmest smile and Lizzie whispered, ‘Remember to close your eyes if it helps. As long as you don’t fall off the stage.’

  Polly looked horror-struck at the thought of falling but she saw that Lizzie was joking and relaxed a little. As always when she was nervous, Polly’s voice began softly but grew with her confidence.

  ‘Beautiful!’ one of the Tierney Tenors declared.

  ‘You see?’ Jack asked Polly.

  If only it would occur to her that he could be more than just a friend.

  They all worked hard for the rest of the day. Lizzie was impressed by the talents of the others, though she supposed it was only to be expected as they were professionals. Jack produced a box of leaflets before they all went home. Margaret took a large stack of them. ‘There are hundreds of seats in this theatre and we need posteriors on all of them,’ she said, and Lizzie was pleased to see that all of the performers followed her lead.

  *

  ‘I certainly do want some leaflets,’ Cordelia told them a few days later. ‘I’ll be buying tickets for my own party of twelve – which includes my mother-in-law, who wouldn’t miss it for the world – and I’ll be urging others to buy tickets too.’

  Cordelia was an unstoppable force when it mattered, and this cause was dear to her heart. Not that she’d urge anyone who couldn’t afford a ticket to buy one. Cordelia was sensitive to such things.

  Lizzie was touched by the number of pupil’s families who wanted to buy tickets too. ‘Such a worthy venture,’ one mother said.

  Everyone appeared to know someone who’d lost a family member or friend to the war.

  ‘I’m fortunate that my husband left us well provided for,’ another pupil’s mother sa
id. Her husband had been killed after a German U-boat torpedoed his ship. ‘It must be dreadful for families in less comfortable circumstances. We owe it to their menfolk to help them.’

  Harry and Matt both wrote to say that they were proud of Lizzie and wished they could be there to see the show. Lizzie wished they could be there too, though she’d be happy to see them anywhere as she missed them so much. She wasn’t going to complain, though. The most important thing was that they were safe.

  Not that London was all that safe anymore. The Zeppelin attacks might have stopped but a new menace arrived a week before the show in the form of Gotha aeroplanes, faster and deadlier than the airships. Bombing raids were back and Lizzie had to work hard to keep memories of the bombing near the Lyceum at bay. She reminded herself that she’d visited Central London restaurants with Harry and been fine. And just because the Lyceum had been caught on the edge of a blast there was no reason to suspect that another theatre would be unlucky. Even so…

  The week before the show Jack called to confirm there was to be a dress rehearsal.

  ‘We’ll be there,’ Lizzie promised, hoping it might settle them because all three of them were jumpy with stage fright, even if they were trying to hide it. ‘Have many tickets been sold?’

  ‘Lots.’ Jack looked thrilled. ‘We might even sell-out.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! Is your singing engagement going well too?’

  ‘That’s partly why I’m here.’ He brought an envelope from his jacket pocket. ‘I’m sorry for the short notice, but I have three complimentary tickets for Tuesday’s performance if you can make it?’

  ‘How lovely!’

  ‘I’ve never been to the theatre before,’ Polly told him. ‘I can’t wait.’

  They both looked at Margaret, suspecting that Blossom Town wouldn’t be to her taste, but she looked gratified by the invitation. ‘How kind, Mr Lomax. I’ve been broadening my horizons all through this war and I’ll be glad to broaden them a little further.’

  Lizzie smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her godmother, and glad to have the chance to enter a theatre at night before their own show. Hopefully, it would help her to lay the worst of her anxieties over bombings to rest.