Hettie of Hope Street (9 page)

‘First time he does it, he teks yer virginity,' she continued, ‘and that can 'urt a fair bit if he's a bit rough, like, but after that it can feel good like as well,' Mavis revealed fairly. ‘Specially if yer sweet on him, like. Anyway, it's his old man that gives yer what babies come from. So that's why if yer lets one of 'em have his way with yer, yer have to be careful to mek sure he doesn't leave it inside yer.'

Hettie had been nodding her head vigorously throughout this explanation but the truth was that she wasn't very much the wiser. What she did
know, however, was that the thought of any man, but most of all Mr Buchanan, attempting to put his ‘best friend' into her ‘privates' was one she found thoroughly disgusting.

Later on, when the other girls had returned, Mavis insisted on telling them all what had befallen Hettie.

‘Poor little kid,' Lizzie sympathised with her. ‘He wants it chopping off, he does. So what are yer going to do if they don't give yer yer wages, then, 'Ettie?'

‘I don't know,' Hettie admitted.

She had had time now to rethink her first frightened impulse to tell her mother what had happened. She knew that Ellie's reaction would be to insist she came home, and that wasn't really what she wanted to do. Besides, the other girls had laughed her out of her fear now and made the whole situation somehow seem so much less frightening. And, of course, she felt so very grown up having been admitted to that world where she knew all about the kind of things that young girls did not know about.

‘Well, if you do want to earn a bit extra money, Hettie, Jack at the chop house was saying that he was desperate for someone to help clear the tables and wash up,' Babs told her. ‘I'all have a word with him for you, if you like. It won't be much money and it will be hard work, mind,' she cautioned as Hettie's face immediately lit up.

‘I don't mind that,' Hettie assured her. In fact,
she wouldn't mind anything so long as it helped to made up her lost wages and meant that she didn't have to worry about the prospect of Mr Buchanan pushing his ‘best friend' into her.

‘I'll have a word with him for you, then,' Babs promised her, adding quietly so that only Hettie could hear, ‘And as for what Mavis has been telling you, later on when it's a bit quieter, you and me are going to have a proper talk about that, Hettie.'

‘So you're definitely going to take this job, then, John?' Gideon asked quietly as Ellie poured her younger brother a fresh cup of tea.

John had arrived unannounced at the house Gideon owned in the Lake District just over half an hour ago to tell them that he had been to see Alfred, and it had now been agreed that he would take over his new duties as the chief flying instructor at the club in just over a month's time.

‘Yes,' John confirmed tersely before adding, ‘I know you don't want to sell the land we bought, Gideon.'

‘There's no need for you to worry about that, John. I dare say we can lease it to a farmer for the time being.'

‘I'd like to have some kind of memorial plaque put on it once all the mess has been cleared away. It's the least I can do for Jim. He didn't deserve to die like that, and it's my fault that he did.'

Ellie made a small sound of distress and put
her hand on his arm. ‘John, you must not say that. There was nothing you could have done. The other students all confirmed that Alan Simms was a very headstrong and reckless young man who had made it plain that nothing was going to stop him from taking up a flying machine and making good his boast that he already knew everything there was to know about flying and didn't need to listen to either you or Jim. Didn't they? You said so yourself.'

‘But don't you see? If I'd been there, Alan wouldn't have been able to take the machine in the first place because I would have been using it for a lesson,' John protested in an anguished voice.

‘On that occasion maybe,' Gideon intervened firmly. ‘But by all accounts he was the kind of young fool who would have kept on until he got what he wanted. The pity of it is that he managed to persuade three other young idiots to go with him and, even worse, that the machine crashed onto the hangar and killed poor Jim. But none of that is your fault, John, and if you take my advice you must accept that.'

‘Hettie was very distressed that you weren't there at her debut as she had hoped,' Ellie told him.

‘You didn't tell her…what happened, or about Jim?' John immediately asked anxiously. ‘I know how much this singing business means to her and I didn't want to spoil it for her with bad news.'

‘No. We did as you had begged us to, John, and said nothing,' Gideon assured him.

‘There is a letter here for you from Hettie,' Ellie told him quietly.

Reluctantly John took the envelope she was holding out to him, and then opened it. Although the notepaper wasn't scented it seemed to John that somehow it carried a soft sweet fragrance that was in some way the essence of Hettie herself.

‘Dear John,' she had written. ‘I was very sorry that you could not come to hear me sing at the Adelphi. Mam and Da and Connie had all said that you would be there but then you didn't come. I hope that you are not still cross with me because of my frock and because I want to sing. Most sincerely, Hettie.'

‘She was very disappointed that you weren't there,' Ellie repeated as John folded up the letter and tucked it back in its envelope.

‘She is so very young,' John answered her seriously. ‘A child still in many ways, Ellie.' His own problems and feeling of guilt were weighing very heavily on his shoulders, and the laughter he had once shared with Hettie now seemed to belong to another life and another person.

‘How are you feeling?' he asked Ellie meaningfully. He didn't want to cause his sister anxiety when she was in a delicate condition. That would be even more guilt than he could bear.

She gave him an affectionate smile and assured him, ‘I am fine. Gideon fusses over me so much you'd think this was to be our first child and not our third. I am hoping that Iris will be able to
attend me during the confinement. She has promised that she will, but I know how busy the clinic is keeping her. But tell us some more about your friend Alfred and his flying club, John. I feel I hardly know anything about it,' Ellie pressed him.

‘The flying club does not belong to Alfred as such, but he has given the club the land. It is very well organised,' he explained ‘and they are soon to take delivery of two new machines. I am to live in an apartment, as they call it, in a building adjoining the flying club. I have half of the whole of the upper floor, and down below me is an office and the clubroom, over the flying club. The chap who does most of the bookwork has the other half, whilst the engineers and maintenance crew work in shifts and do not live on site so that there is always a maintenance crew there. It has all been very well thought out and organised,' John reiterated.

‘This is a new start for you, John,' Ellie told him lovingly. ‘I pray that you will be happy.'

He smiled weakly at her but inside he felt despair. He had no right to look for happiness. Not when five men were dead because of him. He had no right to want happiness, and no right either to yearn for the sound of Hettie's laughter.

Hettie hummed happily to herself as she washed the dishes piled up to one side of the sink.

Thanks to Babs she now not only properly understood the confusing facts Mavis had given her, she also had a job working in the kitchen of the chop house, where Sarah Baker, the wife of its owner, Jack, and mother of her youthful admirer, insisted on Hettie eating with them before the evening rush of customers began. She'd never devoured so much food in her life as these past few days!

‘We're lucky to be so close to the theatre, otherwise we'd probably be suffering too, what with so many men being out of work,' Sarah confided to Hettie as they shared the unending task of washing up.

It was true that Liverpool was becoming an increasingly subdued city as the lack of work bit deeper into the soul of its menfolk. Connie and Harry talked worriedly about it whenever Hettie
visited, fearing that the situation was going to grow even worse, and Sarah Baker kept a big basket into which she and Hettie put whatever leftovers could be salvaged, to be handed out to those poor souls who could not afford to buy food. It was her way of doing her bit, she explained to Hettie.

Hettie thought back to her enlightening talk with Babs. It was true that at first she had been shocked when Babs had matter of factly explained the mystery of the intimacies of married life to her, and the manner in which babies were conceived; and she had been very apprehensive going to her first practice after Mr Buchanan had tried to touch her. But as soon as he had put his hand on her arm she had done as the girls had told her and warned him that she would tell Mrs Buchanan of his behaviour.

Her threat had worked like a magic charm, and he had not tried to touch her since, much to her relief.

Of all the girls, Babs was her favourite and the one to whom she felt the closest, with Lizzie now a close second. Lizzie tended to mother her these days, and in return Hettie was happy to listen to Lizzie's anxieties about her own mother and the sister who would never, as Lizzie put it, ‘grow up proper, like'.

‘Ever so loving she is, Hettie, but she's that big now and she doesn't know her own strength. When she squeezes your hand it doesn't half hurt, but she doesn't mean any harm.'

Whenever she could, Lizzie went home, and when one day Hettie had returned from her singing practice to see Lizzie sitting on her bed, clutching a letter whilst tears rolled down her face, Hettie asked her immediately, ‘Oh Lizzie, what's wrong? Is it your sister?'

‘Yes, she's had a fall and she's been taken to hospital. She's been crying and asking for me. Mam wants to know if I can go and see her, but I haven't got any time off due to me. Three of the girls are off sick and we're that busy with rehearsals I daren't just go, even though it would only mean me missing the one day.'

‘You could go if I stood in for you,' Hettie told her. ‘It's my Saturday off this weekend, but I can't go home because my Mam and Da are up at the Lakes still, and that's too far to go.'

‘What? No, you couldn't do that. You're not tall enough for one thing,' Lizzie protested, but Hettie could see that she was tempted by the idea.

Lizzie had been kind to her and, to Hettie, this was an opportunity to repay her kindness. When the others came in, she told them what had happened and what she had offered to do.

‘You? Stand in for Lizzie?' Mavis laughed. ‘You aren't tall enough!'

‘That's what I told her,' Lizzie agreed.

‘Well, I reckon it's a good idea and that we could get away with it if one of us came forward and we put her at the back,' Babs argued. ‘We could always do sommat to make her taller. Give
her a headdress, put some blocks on her shoes or sommat.'

‘Oh yes, and how the 'ell is she going to do her high kicks wearing shoes wiv blocks on them?' Mavis demanded.

‘Course she can,' one of the twins joined in.

‘Yes, but what about Lizzie's solo?'

‘What about it? We can learn her the song easy enough, and if she gets it wrong then we'all just have to sing louder to drown her out. She'll be okay with the dancing, she knows most of the routines already from watching us. 'Ere, Hettie, come over here and watch this,' Sukey ordered, immediately striking a pose before launching into a song that had Hettie's toes tapping, even if some of the words seemed a little risqué.

‘Well, it's easy enough to see why you'll never make it out of the chorus, Sukey,' Mavis commented witheringly. ‘Call that singing? Sounds more like two tom cats having a fight.'

‘That's cos I'm a bleeding contralto and not a ruddy soprano like Lizzie here,' Sukey defended herself, clearly miffed.

Hettie could see that Lizzie's resolve was weakening.

‘I won't let you down,' she promised her fervently.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I shouldn't be agreeing to this and I wouldn't be if it weren't for the fact that Mam says our Rosie's that desperate to see me.'

‘Don't worry, Lizzie, we'll look after her,' Babs chipped in.

‘Never mind looking after her, we'd best start getting her trained up,' Mavis warned. ‘Come on, 'Ettie. Let's see how many of the words you can remember.'

Willingly, Hettie started to sing, prompted by Babs whenever she stumbled over one of the words, whilst the others clapped in tune and cheered her on.

To Hettie's relief, Connie made no objection when Hettie telephoned her to say she was not having a Saturday off now but would be working instead. It was, after all, the truth, even if was not quite the truth that Connie would assume it to be.

The other girls had rehearsed her rigorously, coaching her both in the chorus line dance steps and the solo song she would have to sing. Doing Lizzie's solo would be much easier than taking her place in the chorus line, Hettie suspected, as her ‘helpers' made her stand still in the middle of the attic floor whilst they bustled about fitting her into her costume.

Trying to walk with the headdress, with its towering pink feathers, balanced on her head was difficult enough without having to actually dance with it on, she decided.

‘Gawd, look at 'er,' one of the twins giggled. ‘'Er headdress is nearly as big as she is.'

‘Come on, Hettie, let's see yer walk in them
shoes. Hold yer head up, mind, and keep yer back straight.'

It was just as well that Lizzie had left early to catch her train, Hettie acknowledged as she struggled to obey the instructions she was being given.

‘Right, you two, Jenny and Jess, you'll have to stand either side of 'Ettie and support her. Ready? One, two three…'

‘Higher, Hettie, you've got to kick higher than that. And don't bend your head. Gawd, if Mary Jane catches sight of yer we'll all be out of a job.'

‘Who's Mary Jane?' Hettie whispered to Jenny.

‘He's the one who does the dance routines,' Jenny explained. ‘We call him Mary Jane because he's a right old Ethel and no mistake.'

‘'Ere, let's 'ave a look at yer then, 'Ettie?'

Obediently Hettie stood still whilst the formidable girl who she had been told was the most senior of all the chorus line dancers pursed her lips and warned Jenny, ‘One step out of line for her and there'll be trouble for all you lot.' Helen glared at her.

‘'Ere, Babs, put bit more rouge on her, she looks as white as a piece of steamed cod,' Jenny demanded.

Then Babs told her, ‘Now remember, Hettie. For the first half you're in the chorus, and then when we come off you change into your solo outfit, and at the beginning of the second half you do your solo.'

If John had thought the dress she wore to sing at the Adelphi was shocking she didn't want to think what he would have said if he could see her now, Hettie admitted as she tried not to feel self-conscious about her chorus line outfit with its miniscule skirt and spangles.

‘Come on, you lot, curtain's going up.'

A buzz of anticipation seemed to seethe through the grouped dancers, and then suddenly they were moving and Hettie was moving with them, her anxiety giving way to excitement as they stepped out on to the stage in perfect time, to a roar of applause from the waiting crowd.

To the right, to the left, back kick, forward kick, then double kick
. Hettie felt herself being swept along in the exhilaration of actually being able to keep time with the others. But that exhilaration was almost her downfall because suddenly she realised she had missed a step…She faltered and if it hadn't been for the quick thinking of Jenny and Jess on either side of her, who virtually picked her up and carried her with them, she suspected she would have fallen over her own feet.

‘Kick now, Hettie,' Jess muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘Now this way again,' whispered Jenny at her other side, and somehow she managed to pick up the rhythm again and get back in time. Her earlier panic now over, Hettie could clearly see the allure of the chorus line.

It seemed a lifetime before the first half was finally over, and Hettie was all too conscious of the chorus line leader's grim gaze on her as they danced off into the wings.

‘You were out of time in the first routine,' she told Hettie sharply.

‘Ah, come on, she only missed one step,' Jess defended her.

‘What's going on here?'

The whole troupe froze as a very dapper-looking middle-aged man suddenly appeared.

‘The comedian's really going to love you lot squawking like parrots and ruining his act.'

Hettie had never seen a man with dyed blond hair before and she couldn't take her eyes off him.

‘Helen, someone was out in the first routine.'

Horrified, Hettie tensed, waiting for Helen to denounce her but instead, to her astonishment, the other girl simply shrugged and said calmly, ‘You try keeping in step wearing these bloody headdresses.' At the same time she managed to move so that she was standing between Hettie and the choreographer.

‘Well, it better not happen again otherwise I'll be looking for new heads to fit them.'

‘She'd better not miss a step tonight,' Helen warned Jess and Jenny as soon as they were all in the dressing room. ‘Cos if she does, the whole lot of yer will be looking for work.'

‘Come on, 'Ettie, let's get you into this costume,' Babs was demanding, pulling a face at Helen's back.

For Lizzie's song in the second half Hettie had to go on stage wearing a milk maid's outfit, complete with a yoke and milk pails. Her song was a cheeky complaint about her work and her envy of the heroine of the piece with her rich father and handsome sweetheart.

Fortunately, the mob cap she had to wear came complete with its own improbably coloured blonde ringlets, and by the time Babs had finished making her up Hettie doubted that her own mother would have recognised her.

‘Remember, we go on, do our routine, and then you come on and go stand in front of Helen and –'

‘– and then I put the pails down and start to sing,' Hettie concluded.

There wasn't much room in the wings and Hettie had to stand sideways in order to watch for her cue. But when it eventually came she was ready, and to her own astonishment the moment she stepped out on to the stage, half dancing, half skipping as she had been instructed to do, it was as though somehow she really was Bo the Buxom Beauty who yearned to exchange her milk pails for the arms of a handsome lover.

With an extravagant sigh, Hettie put down her pails, bending from the waist as she did so and flouncing her full skirts so that the audience got a glimpse of her frilled undergarments. When her action earned a roar of male approval, she turned round and put her hands on her hips and shook
her head before launching into her saucy solo.

When she had finished, she went to pick up her pails and then almost froze with shock as suddenly the whole theatre seemed to be yelling and cheering.

‘Give 'em a curtsey, Hettie,' the nearest chorus girl muttered. ‘And smile at them, for gawd's sake…'

Obediently Hettie sank into a curtsey and then stood up.

‘Now get orf before the leading lady comes out and drags yer orf. Gawd, this is goin' ter make her as mad as fire.'

‘But what did I do wrong?' Hettie asked in bewilderment an hour later when she had been advised not to so much as put her nose outside of the dressing room.

‘What yer did wrong, 'Ettie, was ter sing better than Amy, the lead,' Babs explained patiently. ‘Gawd, I knew yer could sing, but I never realised yer could make such a noise…'

Hettie didn't understand. She had, of course, made sure her voice could be heard right at the back of the theatre because she had assumed this was what she was supposed to do, but now it seemed that she had been wrong.

‘Watch out, here comes Mary Jane,' one of the girls warned as the dressing room door was suddenly thrust open to reveal the choreographer.

Hettie could vaguely remember being told what it meant to call a man an ‘Ethel' but she was too
nervous to dwell on it right now as she tucked herself out of sight behind two of the taller girls.

‘Pray enlighten me, ladies. It seems a song thrush has flown into our little nest. A song thrush, moreover, who dances like a cart horse, and who appears to think she is a comedienne.'

Someone tittered nervously.

‘I trust this rare species will not be making a long stay with us, otherwise our own dear sweet lark may not be very happy. Indeed, I insist that our visiting song thrush takes flight herself, and by tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?'

He was gone before anyone could reply, leaving Hettie with a burning red face and anxiously churning stomach.

‘He don't miss much, our Mary Jane. Sharp as a box of knives, he is,' Mavis muttered.

‘And now we've got ter keep yer out of her ladyship's way otherwise she'll have yer guts for garters,' she warned Hettie. ‘We should have warned yer not to let her see that yer can sing better than wot she can. She's a jealous cat and no mistake. Course, she was only the understudy, but then the lead got sick – some say because Amy slipped her sommat – and Amy had to take over. 'Ere, when you bent down like that and showed the audience yer bum, I nearly bust out laughing meself. What made yer do it?'