Songbird (17 page)

Ruth seemed to
be gone a long time.  We had just finished the last performance of
Il
Trovatore
and rehearsals would soon start for
Rigoletto
.  Diamond
and I watched the door as we applied the cold cream that would remove our
makeup.  We were the only ones left in the dressing room since everyone else
had escaped as soon as possible.

“Where
the blazes is she?” said Diamond.  “He never keeps us in the office for more
than five minutes and she’s been gone twenty.”

Suddenly
I had a terrible thought.  “Oh, Lord.  You don’t think he’s…” I couldn’t say
the rest.

“Propositioning
her?” suggested Diamond.  I nodded.  “Not Mr Perry.  He might holler at us but
he treats us with respect in that department.”

Our
gaze turned to the door, watching impatiently.

Ruth
appeared her eyes heavy with crying.  She was carrying a small box and without
saying a word, began throwing her possessions into it.  Diamond and I rose to
our feet and went across to her.

“What
happened?” asked Diamond, her round, beautiful face full of concern.

Ruth
didn’t answer and continued throwing objects into the box.

“He hasn’t
dismissed you, has he?”  I said, my pulse beating wildly in my throat.

I
felt furious.  This was intolerable and I wouldn’t put up with it.  I was just
about to say that I would speak to him myself if he had dismissed her, when she
lifted the box and held it against her breast.

“Goodbye
girls.  It’s been lovely working with you,” she sighed.

We
put our arms round her and I couldn’t hide my pain.  “Oh, Ruth.  What did he
say?  Tell us all about it?” I said softly.

“He
said…He just said,” she sobbed, but then her face broke into a grin.  “He
thinks I’m too good to be in the chorus.  I’m to play Gilda, the seduced
daughter of Rigoletto.  I have to move to a more private changing room away
from you riff-raff.”

But
then her tears became real and poured down her face in an endless stream.

We
hugged her, laughing.

“Why
are you crying?” said Diamond.

“Because
I’m so happy,” she wailed uncontrollably.

It
was unbelievable.  After four years, Ruth was finally going to get her chance. 
Our joy echoed round the large dressing room as we joined hands and did a
maniacal dance together.

Diamond
and I couldn’t stop hugging and kissing her.  I felt so happy, a genuine
happiness that came from my heart and soul.  She would make an excellent Gilda
and with it came the knowledge that she had started climbing the ladder of
success.

And she was a
success.  During the next six months, Ruth played more of the main roles and
Diamond and I felt so proud of her.  We saw her name creeping towards the top
of the bill and collected the programmes as souvenirs.  As Diamond said, they
might be worth a bob or two in ten or twenty years.

We
had mixed feelings when it was announced that Signora Zuchetti was ill and had
decided to return to Italy.  It was sad that she was unwell, although we
weren’t sure what her ailment was.  She did look pale and her ‘largeness’
seemed to be disappearing.  But when she finally left for her homeland, we gave
a collective sigh of relief.  Now we wouldn’t have missiles thrown at us or
abuse levelled at us every time we were in her vicinity.  But most important of
all, Miss Ruth Procter became Covent Garden’s prima donna.  And Diamond and I
remained her loyal friends even when she moved to the magnificent dressing room
with the green door.

In
fact, we would meet there after every performance, drinking wine and marvelling
at the luxury of the place.  She had her own dresser and earned the top wage. 
But after we had changed out of our costumes, we still went home together to
our house in Sampson Street, where Nan and Danny waited for us.  We were a
family and nothing was going to separate us.  Or so I thought.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

S
oon
it would be Christmas.  How quickly they seemed to come round.  It was now
seven years since Daniel and Papa had died, four years since Gwilym and I had
last seen each other.  Sometimes I wondered if I would ever see him again and
my heart ached with regret.  My only consolation was that he would always come
to see his nephew and that summer he, Nan and Danny had met regularly.  With
eyes sparkling in excitement, Danny told me how they had played cricket in the
park and all the older boys had gathered round to admire his new bat and ball. 
In the end, he added breathlessly, Uncle Gwilym had organised a match and it
had been great fun.

My
son’s education was now in the forefront of my mind and I intended to advertise
for a governess in the New Year.  He would be seven at the beginning of March
and I wanted him to have a thorough grounding in the basic subjects so that he
could attend Harrow.  I was still in the chorus at Covent Garden so my wages
were poor, but I saved my dividend from the
Anaconda Mining Company
and
I knew I could employ a teacher when the time came.

Danny didn’t
like the doctor looking down his throat and squealed in distress.  I sat on the
side of the bed and held his hand.

Doctor
Eyre felt his head and grunted.  “He certainly has a fever, Mrs Asquith and
diphtheria is always accompanied by fever.” My heart lurched in my chest.  “But
his tonsils are a quite swollen, so I would diagnose tonsillitis.”

I
breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thank goodness.  I’ve been up all through the
night with him.  I really thought it was diphtheria.”

He
gave a chuckle and placed his stethoscope back in his bag.  “I think you worry
too much.  And it’s not a good thing to go diagnosing your own child unless you
really need to.”

“Well,
I certainly do worry, but I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” I answered.  I
was his mother after all and I couldn’t understand why he brushed off my
concerns so lightly.

The
doctor gave a crooked smile and shook his head as if amused.  “Let him stay in
bed until he feels better but no doubt he’ll be wanting to get up very soon. 
Give him plenty of drinks and only broth to eat.  And a bit of calves foot
jelly. Anything else will hurt his throat.”

After
I had seen Doctor Eyre to the door, I ran back upstairs.

“Now,
you heard what he said, you must stay in bed for a while.”

“But
I want to get up now, Mama.  I feel better
now
.”

I
stroked his hair and soothed him.  “I’ll be here with you.  I’ll read you
Treasure
Island
later on if you like.”

He
grinned showing the gap where he had lost his two front baby teeth a month
before.

Doctor
Eyre was right and Danny improved over the next few days, his swollen tonsils
diminishing with each passing day.  He ate his soup and his calves foot jelly
without complaint, knowing that by doing so he would get better sooner.  He
might be six years old, but he was wise for his age.  I spent all the time I
could with him, running up and down stairs with food, books and sometimes just
to sing to him while he fell asleep.

It
was three days before Christmas and we had decorated the parlour.  The tree was
glittering with silver and gold stars, the customary gingerbread men and
candles and underneath the gifts were waiting to be opened.  I reached the
bottom of the stairs and turned to make my way along to the kitchen with the
luncheon tray.

“Mama,
please can I get up.  Ple…ease,” said the plaintive cry over the banister.

“No
Danny, go back to bed. You know what the doctor said, you can get up tomorrow.”

He
shuffled his feet sullenly and disappeared back to the bedroom.

Nan
suddenly appeared.  “I’ll see to that if you like. I’m going to the kitchen
now.”

I
smiled as she took the tray from me and hurried away.

In
the hallway there hung a large oval mirror and as I passed it, my eye caught my
reflection and I stopped to take in my appearance.  I had celebrated my
twenty-fifth birthday the previous summer and the fourteen months we had lived
in Sampson Street had been contented.  It was amazing how well the four of us
got along and Danny seemed to enjoy a house full of women.  Ruth’s beautiful
soprano was famous all over London and I was happy for her.  But every night,
Diamond and I took our places in the chorus and dreamed our own dreams.

I
studied my reflection and tucked a strand of loose hair back under a pin. 

“I
see you’re still wearing a corset.”

I
didn’t dare turn round.  “That’s not a polite thing for a gentleman to say to a
lady.”  I tried to pretend nonchalance although my heart quickened.

“But
I’m not saying it as a gentleman, but as a doctor.”

“Ah,
but you’re not my doctor.”

“That’s
quite true.  All right, I’m saying it as an interested doctor.”

I
sighed.  “I daren’t take it off in case my figure starts doing things against
my will.”

“Your
figure will be perfectly fine without it.  I’ve seen young girls squeezing
their bodies into the wretched things, to get waists of twenty inches. Your
insides are not meant to take that kind of punishment.”

I
turned to face the man framed in the doorway of the parlour.  Behind him I
could see Ruth and Diamond sitting on the couch, exchanging mischievous
glances.  I realised with shock that his dark brown hair had a hint of grey
round his ears, but his hazel eyes were as I remembered them, enhanced by the
small lines that crinkled pleasantly with his smile.  His tanned skin made him
look healthy and full of vitality.

“Hello,
Gwilym,” I gulped.  “How are you?”  I scanned his appearance.  “I’ve never seen
you in uniform before.”

He
looked down.  “It saves wear and tear on my civilian clothes.”

“You
look so smart and handsome.”

Suddenly
he held out his arms to me and I ran into them, trying to choke back tears.

“I
heard about Danny and I thought I’d drop by and see how he is.  And I thought
we could have a little chat?”

I
nodded as tears trickled down my cheeks.  “I’d like that,” I whispered.

And
we did talk, for the next two hours.

“I’ve
seen a lot of the world, Issy and a lot of life.  I’ve learnt more about human
emotions on my voyages than I ever did at St Bart’s.”

We
were sitting alone in the dining room and I reached across to take his hand. 
“I’ve missed you so much.  I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’ve
missed you too, but my stubborn pride held me back.  I should have answered
your letters.”  He glanced towards the window.  “They say that you can take the
man out of the small town, but you can’t take the small town out of the man. 
Well, I’ve proved to myself and everyone else what a bigoted idiot I can be. 
It makes me feel ashamed that I’ve treated my sister so abominably and if you
don’t want to have anything to do with me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

I
shook my head.  “I’ve always wanted to make amends.  Perhaps we can put this
all behind us.”

“Yes,
I’d like that,” he smiled.  He studied me for a moment.  “When I thought you
had a…lover, I really believed you had entered a life of decadence and shame.”

“Decadence
and shame?  Sounds like an eighteenth century novel or a painting by Hogarth.”

He
gave a wry smile.  “What I mean, is that you’d have been spurned by society if
you’d gone down that path.”

“I’m
not sure I’m part of society.”

He
gave a snort of contempt.  “Not the social set, perhaps.  But I doubt you’d
have been accepted by the academy or Covent Garden if you’d disgraced yourself
in that way.  Reputation matters no matter where you are.”

I
didn’t answer him.  My mind raced with the thought of what Mr Perry would say
if he found out I had borne a child and then sold it.  I shuddered at the idea
and realised that a factory girl could be dismissed if she had a child out of
wedlock, never mind an opera singer.

“So,
do you forgive me?” I asked quietly.

“I’m
not sure what I’m supposed to forgive you for.  I could see you had money to
spend and…” he gave me a sheepish smile,  “I checked the papers and no banks
had been robbed.”  He stood up abruptly.  “Howsoever you got that money is your
business not mine.”

The
matter was at an end and I rose to my feet also.

“I’m
glad we’re friends.”  I went to him and we hugged each other.  “And I promise
I’ll never let anything come between us again.”

“That’s
what Ruth said,” he murmured.

I was
startled at the mention of her name.  “Ruth?”

“She
said it’s silly to let things get out of hand.  Deal with it there and then she
said and she’s right.”  He held me at arm’s length.  “She’s the one that
brought us together, Issy.  Remember the cricket in the park last summer?”  I
nodded.  “She came with Nan and Danny.  She plays terrific cricket.  Anyway,
she begged me to speak to you and sort it out.  Yes, she’s a fantastic
batswoman and a beautiful, caring woman as well.”

I
couldn’t hide my smile.  “You’ve become friends with her, then?”

“I
have indeed.”

“Do
you know she’s acclaimed all over London?  She has standing ovations lasting
thirty or forty minutes every evening that she performs.”

“Yes,
I do know.  I saw her in
Don Giovanni
in September.  She was
unbelievable.”

“You
were there?”

“I
saw you too.  And Diamond.  But to be honest, my eyes were on Ruth.”

“Let’s
join the others in the parlour,” I said.

Taking
his arm I tried to suppress the grin.  My brother was in love and it was
wonderful.

Miss Jean Rupp
was a tall, rather skinny woman in her late twenties and she came to see me
through the strangest of circumstances.  I had placed an advertisement in
The
Times
and had received a reply from none other than Mrs Holland.  It came
as a great surprise to me when she wrote that she knew a young woman who would
be highly suitable for the position of governess to Daniel Barri and would I be
so kind as to interview her.  I wrote back immediately telling her that I
certainly would.  I almost added a postscript asking if she kept in touch with
Karl and was he well, but my courage failed me.

And
so Miss Rupp appeared in my parlour and since I had stipulated that the
successful applicant would not be able to  ‘live in’, I was pleased that she
lived with her mother only two miles away.  As well as being phenomenally tall
and skinny, she was also rather plain looking, with mousy brown hair tied back
in a tight bun, small pale blue eyes and spectacles perched on a long nose.  At
first I thought her quite unsuitable to teach my son and couldn’t understand
why Mrs Holland had recommended her.  Even so, her references were excellent
and after thirty minutes of conversation, I discovered she had a very
progressive approach to teaching.  I told her that Danny was a good reader and
could write fairly well.

“Excellent,
that means we can move on to the more interesting stuff.  We can do arithmetic,
history, geography and natural sciences,” she said briskly.

“That’s
a fairly extensive programme,” I said, wondering if that was rather advanced
for my seven-year-old child.

“Mrs
Asquith, I believe that practical teaching is the best.  In order to learn how
to calculate money, I’ll take him on the tram and into shops.  He’ll have to
purchase goods and decide on the change he should be given.  I’ll take him to
the zoo so that we can discuss the animals from different countries and also
he’ll learn to sketch them.”  She was in full flow and I knew it would be
impossible to stop her.  “The Thames is an ideal location to discuss the
shipping and what produce they’re importing and exporting.  I’d also like to
take him to historical places where he can get a taste of history, for example
the Tower of London.”

“Please
remember he’s only seven,” I said, feeling alarmed.

She
narrowed her eyes at me.  “A child of seven can learn much if it’s presented
right.”  After putting me in my place she continued.  “I would like to take him
to the museums, so we can study natural sciences and geography and how the
ships navigate the world.”

I was
impressed but slightly concerned.  “What about schoolroom work?”

“Oh,
there’s plenty of work done in the schoolroom, ma’am.  That’s where we
consolidate all the information we’ve collected.”

Yes,
I was impressed but I worried about a stranger taking my son on excursions.

“You
must have my permission before you take him anywhere.”

“Of
course, ma’am.”

“And
if I want to accompany you, then I must.”

She
nodded.  “Certainly, ma’am.”  Her face broke into a smile that transformed and
softened her features.  “They do say that when a subject is interesting,
knowledge creeps in unnoticed.”