Songbird (21 page)

“Not
too far!  I don’t want you swept away.”

“There’s
a shop over there that sells flags and things,” he said, pointing in the
direction of the pier. 

“Shall
we buy some and build a sandcastle?”

He
didn’t need a second invitation and soon we were pushing our feet into our
boots and racing to the shop.  We bought four flags of different nations, three
shiny windmills and two small spades.  Soon we were back on the beach and
piling the sand into a huge mound and carving it into turrets, towers and
battlements.

As I
watched my son placing the flags I leaned back against a large boulder and
looked out to sea.  I hadn’t seen Ruth and Gwilym for fifteen months, not since
their wedding.  I missed them and hoped that there would be a letter from them
when I arrived home.  Perhaps they would be back in England for Christmas.  It
would be so wonderful to be together for the festive season.

That
evening after dinner, I asked Mrs Turpin about the pleasure steamer.  With her
round face flushed with willingness to make her guests happy, she told me that
there were two vessels owned by that particular company.  They departed just
along from the pier and sailed between Brighton, Eastbourne and Hastings.  Once
a passenger had bought a ticket they could travel on either of them all day,
embarking and disembarking at will.

When
I mentioned the excursion to Danny, he was eager to try it the following day,
so after breakfast we set off for the pier.

I
could see on the notice-board that the steamer came into Eastbourne at
ten-thirty so we made ourselves comfortable on a bench and waited.  We had
decided to catch the first one that came in, no matter what its destination,
but I was more than pleased to see that the next steamer was heading for
Brighton.  We can visit the Royal Pavilion, I thought, if Danny doesn’t mind
looking around a large and rather ornate residence that would not have been out
of place in India. 

At
ten-thirty prompt, Danny let out a squeal of delight and jumped up and down at
the sight of the steamer sailing towards the pier.

I
stood and watched as the vessel manoeuvred into the side and a gangway was
lowered.  A few people disembarked and we finally made our way on board and
bought our tickets.  Danny rushed straight to the rail and looked over the
side.  The crew waited a few minutes to make sure that no one else wanted to
come aboard and then the gangway was pulled up.  We started to move away from
the pier and as the breeze grabbed at my coat and forced me to hold on to my
hat, I laughed with glee.  This holiday had been a very good idea and I
couldn’t understand why I hadn’t taken one before now.

Eventually,
I persuaded Danny to go under the covered seating area, to get out of the
strong breeze.  He agreed reluctantly, even though his cheeks were red with the
biting wind and his fingers were turning blue.

“Little
boys can be so enthusiastic about boat trips,” said a pleasant voice to my
left.  I turned in my seat and saw a lady in her middle years, with strong
features in a thin face, blue-grey eyes and greying hair peeping from under a
large hat.  “I’m sorry, I should introduce myself.” She held out a lace-gloved
hand.  “Mrs Eloise Babbington.  I’m staying at the Dorchester in Eastbourne.”

I
introduced myself and Danny, who promptly ran back out on deck.

I
frowned.  “Be careful,” I called after him.

“He’ll
be all right, my dear.  He wants to explore.”

I
resisted the urge to go after him and turned to my new companion.  “Are you on
your own?”

“I am
indeed.  My husband died three years ago.”  She sighed.  “Put a garden fork
through his foot, would you believe.  Died from blood poisoning.”

I
felt horrified.  “How awful for him.”

“Typical
of my Bill, is that.  Always clumsy.”  Her gaze swept over me.  “I take it that
you’re on your own too?  Or is your husband too busy to accompany you?” 

I
smiled and briefly told her how I had lost Daniel.

“You
were so young.  And to leave your place of birth and travel with a small
baby.”  She let out a long breath.  “That takes some courage.”

I
shrugged indifferently.  “Sometimes it has to be done.”

“Your
home is in London?”  I nodded.  I hadn’t told her my profession and I was
grateful that she assumed that I was a widow living comfortably.  “I live with
my nephew and his wife in Hampshire.  They have a lovely little girl.  She’s
six years old and really keeps us on our toes.”

I
turned my attention to Danny who had become engrossed in conversation with a
member of the crew. 

“I
really must go and see what he’s doing,” I murmured.

Mrs
Babbington let out an amused laugh.  “You sound just like my nephew.  He frets
over his daughter in much the same way.”

I
looked out of the window at the coastline passing us by.  The sun had become
gloriously hot, the sky brilliant blue and filled with noisy squawking
seagulls. 

Danny
appeared.  “We’re nearly there.  I can see the town.”  He flopped down next to
me and pointed to the man who was now standing on the bow with a rope looped in
his hands, ready to throw it to someone waiting on the pier.  “His name is
Clive and he was in the Merchant Navy for thirty years.  Uncle Gwilym is in the
Merchant Navy.”

Brighton
was a very pleasant seaside town and Mrs Babbington and I stayed in each
other’s company while we visited the Pavilion.  We marvelled at the music room
and its wonderful chandeliers, the saloon with hand painted panels of Chinese
papers and finally the banqueting room with the long table seating nearly forty
people.  I saw Danny yawning in his effort to be interested.

“You’ll
be able to tell everyone about this when we go home,” I said encouragingly.

He
looked about him.  “It’s not as interesting as the steamer,” he said, pulling a
face.

Mrs
Babbington smiled.  “Let’s find a teashop and then perhaps afterwards your mama
will let you go on the boatswings.”

The rest of the
holiday was lovely and Mrs Babbington and I spent every day together.  By the
time we said goodbye we were on first name terms.

“We
must keep in touch, Isabelle.  It’s been the best holiday I’ve ever had.  You
and your son have been delightful company.”

I
scribbled my address on the back of a leaflet advertising an illusionist
performing at the pavilion on the pier.  “Yes, we must write to each other.”

She
gave me a white card, edged in silver.  “That’s my residence in Hampshire. 
I’ll write as soon as I arrive home and I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

The
train journey home was enjoyable and I felt refreshed and invigorated.  The sea
air had done us both the world of good.  I thought of Mrs Babbington and
sighed.  It was rare for holiday friendships to survive after the holiday and I
doubted we would keep in touch.  I took her card out of my purse and read it
once more. 

Mrs Eloise
Babbington

Claythorpe House

St Mary Bourne

Hampshire

No, I
didn’t think I would hear from her again, but it didn’t matter.  It had been
nice knowing her the five days whilst in Eastbourne.  But now I had the problem
of considering Andrew Perry’s marriage proposal.  I hadn’t come to any decision
and it worried me.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings but deep down I knew he
wasn’t the man for me.

It
was strange how a marriage proposal and a chance meeting with a middle-aged
widow would change my life.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

W
e
arrived home to a letter from Ruth and Gwilym.  Nan and Diamond had not wanted
to open it until I was with them and the first thing we did was gather round
the kitchen table.  My brother and his wife were certainly enjoying themselves
and had visited India and Siam.  They were now on their way to the Philippines
and from there, they would cross the vastness of the Pacific Ocean towards San
Francisco in the United States of America.  Ports in South America would come
next before they sailed back to Australia. 

“Nothing
about coming home for Christmas?” said Diamond.

“Not
a word.”  I sighed and folded the letter carefully.  “Perhaps next year.  The trouble
is, their letters are at least a month old, so we don’t know where they are at
this precise moment.”

“Could
be South America,” said Nan.  “That means going round Cape Horn.  Not a nice
place to navigate I should think.”

Danny
lifted his head from his book on sailing ships.  “High winds and waves over one
hundred feet high,” he said solemnly.  “But it will be nearly summer there so
they’ll be all right.”  He went back to his book. 

I felt slightly
queasy when I returned to the theatre on Monday morning.  Everyone had
collected together to start rehearsing
The Marriage of Figaro
and I had
decided that I would speak with Mr Perry straight afterwards and tell him my
decision. 

“Can
you keep a secret, Martha?”  I was sitting in my dressing room and she was
sewing a bow onto my costume.

She
snapped the cotton between her teeth.  “Of course, Miss Barri.  I’ve had to
keep a lot of secrets in the past.”

I
sighed gently.  “I don’t suppose this is a secret exactly, but you were right
about that supper I had with Mr Perry.”

She
nodded.  “I’ve seen it coming for ages.”  She stood up and hung the dress on a
hanger.  “So, have you given him your answer yet?”

“I’m
going to as soon as I get the chance.  I wondered if you’d make yourself scarce
when he makes an appearance.”

“I
will indeed.”

The
words had hardly left her lips when Andrew Perry came rushing through the door
like a hurricane.  He brought in a cold draught with him.

“Ah,
there you are.  I wondered if you’d have supper with me again?  I really
enjoyed the last time.”  He gave a bright smile.  “Did you have a nice
holiday?  Where did you go?”  Martha picked up two pairs of shoes and left the
room en route to the workroom to have them mended.  Mr Perry watched her go in
amusement.  “That was very decent of her, to leave us alone.”

“I
asked her to do that,” I said nonchalantly.

He
drew up a seat near me.  “Because you have an answer for me?”

I
turned to look at him and his expectant face made my heart sink into my
stomach.

“Andrew,”
I said softly.  The sound of his name on my lips made him smile and he reached
across to take my hand.  “I have thought it over and the answer has to be…no.” 

He
frowned in disappointment.  “Is there a reason?”

I
sighed heavily.  “The simplest reason is that I don’t love you.  And I would
have to love the man I’m married to.”

He
squeezed my hand tighter and his face lit up again.  “Oh, is that all.  But you
could grow to love me.”  I shook my head but it didn’t stop him.  “Isabelle, I
know you could.  I would protect you and care for you.  You would want for
nothing and I’d make you so happy that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself
from falling in love with me.”

I
couldn’t help laughing.  “You make it sound so romantic.”

“But
it can be.  Let me take you out to supper again and we can discuss it.”

“No,
please don’t ask me.”

He
stood and looked down at me.  “Is there someone else?”

I
shook my head.  “There’s no one in my life.”  I gave a strained laugh.  “How
could there be, I’m always in this blessed theatre.”

“Not
always,” he murmured.  “You have time away from the theatre.”

“Then
I like to spend it with my son,” I said adamantly.

He
made for the door.  “Oh, well.  At least I’ve asked,” he said, his eyes filled
with disappointment.  He stopped on the threshold.  “If I gave you a little
longer to think about it would you…?”  I shook my head again.  He stared down
at the floor  “You’re a beautiful woman and I’m not giving up that easily.  Who
knows, I might be able to break down your resistance eventually.” 

He
left the room at a slower speed than normal, closing the door quietly behind
him.

I
studied my reflection in the mirror and a white, pensive face stared back.  I
couldn’t stop the tears trickling down my cheeks.  I felt sad and so sorry for
Andrew.  I had hurt him and that was the last thing I wanted to do.  I hoped he
would forgive me in time.

It was difficult
living through the next few months.  Andrew continued yelling at everyone, but
not me, making me feel uncomfortable.  The other members of the cast didn’t
seem to take offence.  After all, I was the diva and as far as they were
concerned I should be treated with more respect than anyone else.  His
kindness, his gentleness, began to take its toll on me.  Sometimes he seemed to
treat me like a china doll that would shatter into hundreds of tiny fragments
at any moment.  And that’s how I felt at times.  Like a precious but fragile
ornament that had to be handled with kid gloves.

The
Marriage of Figaro
was a success and I was getting used to
the applause and the standing ovations every evening.  It was still wonderful
and I loved being on the stage, I loved singing, but suddenly I wanted
something else in my life.  The trouble was, I didn’t know what.  The
realisation stunned me.  Was it really possible that being an opera singer wasn’t
enough for me?  I had had the dream for so long, the yearning consuming me
since I was fifteen years old.  I had fulfilled that dream and now my heart was
searching for something else.  In my dressing room after a performance, I would
sit despondently.  I was now twenty-seven years old and I was surrounded by
people I loved and who loved me and yet I was lonely.

“I know what
he’s doing,” said Diamond.  She fastened the final osprey feather and then held
up the hat to admire her handiwork.

“I
suppose you’re talking about Andrew Perry?”

“He’s
trying to win your heart by being gentle and considerate and kind.”

“It
might be working,” I laughed.

“Don’t
let him wear you down, Issy.  Don’t agree to be his wife unless you really want
to.  I’ve seen that lead to misery.”

“It
might not be so bad being married again,” I murmured.  That terrible feeling of
loneliness swept through me once more.

“No,
Issy!  It would be a terrible mistake and you’ll regret it.  Do you love him?”

“Can’t
say I do.”

“And
you always said you would have to be in love before you married again.  Stick
to that rule.”

“Rules
are meant to be broken,” I whispered.

Diamond
gave a snort of contempt.  “Nonsense!  Follow your feelings and you can’t go
wrong.”  She sank back against the cushions on the couch and rubbed weary
eyes.  “Besides, tomorrow his whole temperament might have changed and he’ll be
as snappish with you as with the rest of us.”

“And
why’s that?”

“Because
the news I’ll be giving him won’t be received well.” 

My
mouth dropped open in surprise.  “You’re not getting married…?”

“No,
but I am leaving Covent Garden,” she interrupted.

“You
want to leave the theatre? Why?”

She
let out a huge sigh.  “Because I’ve been in the chorus for six years and I know
I’m not going to get the slightest sniff of a supporting role, never mind a
leading part.”

I
frowned in puzzlement.  “But I thought you weren’t interested in coming out of
the chorus.  I thought you were looking for a husband.”

“I
am, but I don’t seem to be very successful there either.”

“So,
you’re going to tell him tomorrow?”

“Yes,”
she nodded.  “I know that he wouldn’t bat an eyelid normally, since I’m hardly
an important part of the company.”  I made to protest but she shook her head
vehemently.  “I realised the truth of that long ago.  What’s going to make him
blow his top is that I’m defecting to the enemy.”

I
frowned and she gave me a knowing wink.  “Gilbert and Sullivan!  You’re going
to sing in their operettas?”

She
nodded.  “Mr Sullivan asked me last week and I’ve been thinking it over. 
They’re putting on
The Mikado
again by popular demand and he wants me to
play Katisha.”

Suddenly
I felt very happy for her and gripped her hand.  “Oh, Diamond.  You’ll make a
wonderful Katisha.  You have the perfect voice for her.”

“Not
to mention the figure,” she grinned.

“You’ll
still live here, won’t you?  You’re not intending to move residence too?”

“Of
course I’m staying here.”  There was a few seconds of silence.  “Mr Sullivan
showed me round the theatre yesterday and introduced me to the cast.  The
fellow that actually plays the mikado is quite…delicious.”

Diamond’s
departure from Covent Garden was tearful and she was presented with a bouquet
of flowers and some very kind words from Mr Perry.  I was surprised, since as
she had said, she was defecting to the enemy.  But he seemed unperturbed about
it all. 

“Too
busy concentrating on winning himself a wife,” whispered Diamond, as we
listened to his speech on her talents and virtues.  “But he seemed really
pleased that I was moving on to better things.”

“I’m
going to buy tickets for your opening night,” I said gleefully.  “I bet you’re
a great success.”

“We
don’t open until after Christmas,” she warned.

My
mind turned to our plans for the festive season.  It was sad that Ruth and
Gwilym wouldn’t be home and in fact, their last letter had intimated that they
would be away for at least another six months.  It gave me some hope that they
would be back in the summer.  That meant we wouldn’t have seen them for two
years.  They would see a big change in Danny.  He was growing taller by the day
and I guessed he would be my height by the time he was twelve.

The
Marriage of Figaro
was expected to run until February and
so far, it had been successful.  The theatre would be closing for Christmas Day
only and at that time of year, audience numbers rose dramatically as people
flocked through the doors.  I was starting to feel very tired again as singing
every night for six nights a week was becoming exhausting.  I was relieved that
my understudy did the matinees. 

Andrew
often asked me out to supper but I always declined his invitation.  His
reaction was always a pleasant smile and a vague comment that there was plenty
of time.  Sometimes I would find flowers waiting for me and Martha would nod in
their direction and tell me they were from
him
.  He certainly had more
patience than I gave him credit for and I only hoped that I could stay firm and
not give in.

The letter
arrived in the middle of November.  I didn’t recognise the handwriting and when
I opened it, I gave a cry of surprise.  It was from Mrs Babbington, the lady I
had met in Eastbourne. 

Firstly,
she apologised for leaving it two months before writing but she had caught a
chill and been confined to bed for a short time.  Secondly, she invited me to spend
a week at her home in Hampshire and she wanted to know if I could go on the
sixteenth of December.  It seemed her nephew and his wife always had a little
house party the week before Christmas and she wanted me to be her very special
guest.  I thought about it and wondered what to do.  I was sorely tempted and
decided to use the power I had over my director and ask for time off.  Suddenly
I was filled with excitement since she had included Danny in her invitation. 
The idea of spending a week with Mrs Babbington sounded wonderful. 

“How long?” said
Andrew, looking me up and down.

“I’ve
been invited to spend the week and she wants me to go on the sixteenth.”

He
smiled.  “Do you know what quid pro quo means?”

“Sounds
like Latin.”

“It
is and it means something for something.  In other words…”

“You
scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” I said drolly.

“Exactly.”

“What
do you want, Andrew?”

“Supper
at The Savoy Hotel.”

“I
can’t afford The Savoy,” I said, trying to keep my face straight.  “Can’t you
choose somewhere cheaper.”

“Silly
girl,” he chuckled.  “Supper after the performance on Saturday.  That’s my best
offer.”