The Dreaming Suburb (55 page)

At one such town he collapsed, during a Thursday matinée, and was carried away to the nearest infirmary, where he died the following night. There was a small piece about him in
The Stage
, but Elaine did not read it, for by that time she was abroad, and driving down to Biarritz in Benny Boy's Daimler, the one that ultimately had to be shipped back to England, for the forced sale that preceded Benny Boy's bankruptcy.

Elaine seemed to have this effect on her men. It was not that she was particularly foolish with money, or'extravagant in her tastes, but just that she seemed to disorganise them in some way, and prevent them earning the kind of money they were earning when they met her.

Benny Boy was a case in point. He had been making a steady two thousand a year when Eugene introduced him to his new assistant. But all those trips about the country sapped his authority over his London staff, and his junior partner suddenly grew big enough to gobble him up and did so, the moment he and Elaine left for the holiday on the Continent. The result was that Benny Boy flew home from Biarritz to find his name erased from the wooden plaque outside the Dolman Street offices, and from the doorstep of the office it was but a short step to Carey Street, and the loss of premises, goodwill and, within a few days of her return to England, of Elaine also.

After that Elaine joined up with a circus. She still had her spangled tights, and a circus seemed an appropriate place to use them. She had, by this time, a fairly wide range of experience within the world of variety, and considering her exceptionally strict upbringing, an even wider experience in the art of handling men.

The touring circus she joined was a small, seedy outfit, owned by a jovial little man, known throughout the profession
as “Tom Tappertitt”. Whether this was his real or an assumed name Elaine never discovered, and during her apprenticeship period she saw very little of him, for he no longer acted as ringmaster, but concerned himself with publicity and finance. He did not impress her during her brief initial interview and she recalled him as an undersized, red-faced man, with a long waxed moustache turned up Prussian fashion at the ends, lending a touch of fierceness to an otherwise bovine expression.

Her first duty was that of assisting “Captain” Roxley, the alligator man, and she soon overcame her repugnance to the squirming reptiles, and learned to pass them round among the ringside customers, and encourage hesitant customers to hold them for a few moments.

“Captain” Roxley, a South African, behaved towards her with rectitude, and in general she found the circus folk unexpectedly reserved in their dealings with her. She remembered, as a child, reading
A Peep Behind the Scenes
, one of the few books her mother had allowed into the house, and from her recollections of it circus people were a raucous, rackety lot, not at all like the rather sad, domesticated families, who trailed round the country behind Tom Tappertitt.

The acts, she discovered, were families within a family, and even when off duty they appeared to have little in common with one another. The high-wire group kept very much to themselves, and the clowns went about in a trio, drinking as much or more than they could afford and, despite this, sunk in contemplative gloom. The animal trainers were friendly, but they were dedicated to their work, and seemed to spend all their spare time rehearsing. Altogether it was a rather depressing life, and Elaine would have left, and tried to re-enter variety, had she not been discovered at length by Tom Tappertitt himself, the only man in the company who regarded the ring as a means of livelihood, rather than an almost dedicated vocation.

Tom had a reputation for gallantry, as Elaine was informed by Sonia, the girl Cossack, a day or two after she joined the show. If Sonia had ever visited the Steppes it must have been in earliest infancy, for she had since acquired a
strong, nasal accent, which placed her somewhere between Aldgate and Bow.

“You wanner watch
'im
, dearie,” she told Elaine, as they stood together in the changing tent after the show one night; “he's Tappertitt be name, an' Tap-a-tit' be naychure! Several girls left bekos of
'im,
but 'e don't try nothin' on when
she's
abaht. Wouldn't do fer ‘im, to,
’er
being wot
she
is!”

Judicious questioning established that “'
Er
” was Mrs. Tappertitt, the professional strong woman, billed as “Audrey the Amazon”. She was capable of tearing encyclopaedias in half edgeways, and gathering a squad of struggling marines to her vast bosom, by hauling them into the ring on the end of a steel cable. She weighed something over sixteen stones, and was reputed to eat raw beef by the pound.

“Ever ser gone on ‘im, she is,” explained Sonia, “tho' why I can't say, c'n you? I mean, ‘e's sorter dresses neat, but ‘e ain't all that to look at, is ‘e? Like Kaiser Bill, cut down to a lit'l turkey-cock, wot wi’ that turned-up moos-tash, an' that boiled lobster face of ‘is!
She
is tho', and when she's around ‘e don't look at no one, but you want to turn
facin'
'im when ‘e finds you on yer lonsesome. He's a bit like the sailor, ducks. You know, ‘andy enough, so long as you watch ‘is’ ands!”

It was not long before Elaine made the acquaintance of Mrs. Tappertitt, who returned that week-end from a date-booking tour in the North. She was a loud, motherly woman, with a tread like that of a placid hippopotamus, and an overall gentleness of spirit characteristic of elephantine women. When she was around everyone brightened up a little, and she showed kindness towards Elaine by going out of her way to ensure that the new girl had comfortable travelling quarters in the big trailer, attached to the aquarium.

It was easy to see who kept the show together. Members of the various troupes brought all their problems to Mrs. Tappertitt, who sorted them out firmly but tactfully, although it was understood by everyone that she liked to maintain the pretence of deferring to “My Tom”, whom she treated with exaggerated respect.

It was through Mrs. Tappertitt that Elaine obtained a rise of a pound a week, paid to her for helping out, during the
earlier part of the day, at one or other of the fun-fair booths, usually the miniature-rifle range.

For this part of her duties Elaine wore tight slacks, and an even tighter sweater, and it was here, loading the rifles with tufted darts, that she one day came face to face with her brother Sydney. He did not seem in the least surprised to see her, as indeed he was not, having recognised her the previous evening during the alligator act.

Sydney, who was on a week's cycling tour, happened to visit the circus with an office friend, and spent a most uncomfortable evening, not daring to inform Alec, his friend, that the girl carrying the alligators around the ring was his sister. Curiosity, however, drove him to the fairground the following afternoon, when Alec was safely out of the way, and he mooched about rather self-consciously until he spotted Elaine at the range, and sidled over, awaiting his chance to speak.

When there was a lull in the shooting he greeted her with a toothy grin.

“I say, this is a bit of a comedown, isn't it?

Elaine looked at him blankly.

“Where have you come from?” she demanded, with a sharp edge to her voice.

She assumed, for the moment, that Esther must be in the offing, but he hurried to reassure her.

“It's all right. I was cycling through. A tour y'know. Mother's at home.”

“Then what do you want?” demanded Elaine.

Sydney looked vague and uncomfortable. There had never been any affection between them, but he found it a little difficult to accept this remark as an adequate bridge for a separation of four years.

“I ... er ... I don't
want
anything,” he replied lamely, “but I saw you last night, and I didn't like to move on without saying ‘hello’.”

Elaine gave a little snort. Having grown up with Sydney she was not in the slightest doubt as to his real reason for approaching her. He must have convinced himself that she was down on her luck, and feeling very sorry for herself, and was thus unable to forgo the pleasure of gloating. In this
respect she was only partly correct; the main reason why Sydney had called at the ground was curiosity and as yet it was unsatisfied.

“What's it like, working in a dump like this?” he asked.

“It's a lot better than living with you and mother,” said Elaine, shortly.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and she saw him again, as a bare-kneed boy, pumping her for information that would be conveyed straight to Esther.

“How much do you make?” he wanted to know.

“Six pounds a week and keep,” lied Elaine.

He whistled, not knowing whether to believe her. His own salary was less than five pounds a week, out of which he gave Esther thirty shillings.

“Well, it's okay if you can stick it, I suppose,” he compromised, and then, after a pause, “Do you want to send Mother any message?”

“Not ‘specially,” said Elaine, and to a nearby loiterer, “Six shots for sixpence! Have a go, sir!”

Sydney blushed as the man grinned and moved on. He cast about for some means of retaliating.

“All I can say is you were a fool to throw over that young Fraser,” he said finally, “he's got a good job in Fleet Street now, and makes over six hundred a year, I'm told! That's apart from what he earns writing for the radio. He came into money too! He's worth quite a bit now, they say.”

Elaine made no reply to this, and her silence only increased his embarrassment. She had always emerged winner in this kind of duel.

“Well, I'll be moving on,” he added. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” she said flatly, as he drifted away, and was soon lost in the crowd watching the Dodg'ems.

She went on breaking and loading the rifles, but she worked listlessly, for under her studied uninterestedness she had been disturbed by Sydney's visit. The sight of his narrow, toothy face had stirred in her mind musty, unpleasant memories of Esther, and his news of Esme was as exasperating as the malice that had prompted him to impart it. Come into money, had he? How much, and when? She always knew that Esme's people were the wealthiest in the Avenue, that at
twenty-one he would inherit something from his father's estate, but
how muchi
That was what was important, how much? Hundreds, or thousands? And six hundred a year, besides what he made on the radio! Could this be true? How much
did
a person make writing for radio? Were they paid in odd guineas, or in hundreds of pounds?

At this point in her reflections, a voice close by said: “How you doing, ducks?”

She looked up, and saw Tom Tappertitt, leaning lightly on the frame of the booth.

He was dressed in well-cut sports clothes, and a diamond pin flashed below the knot of his tie. He looked very spry and dapper, and there was the familiar gleam in his eye, that Elaine had never once failed to recognise. She was feeling exceptionally depressed, for the circus, as a circus, was beginning to bore her. Its gaudiness was a transparent gaudiness, and it lacked the sparkle of the variety world. Having tasted her brief moment of high living with Benny Boy she was not very satisfied with her actual wage, three pounds a week, less insurance, and pondering these things, she decided that Tappertitt was worth a smile. He really was absurdly small, but he was the only person about who took any pains at all with his appearance; his fingernails were cared for, and he looked clean and wholesome.

“Not all that well, Mr. Tappertitt,” she told him; “the people don't usually start coming here until early evening.”

“I'm going to lunch,” he said. “Have you had yours?”

“No, Mr. Tappertitt, I was going to ask Charlie to take over, while I popped out and got a sandwich at the canteen.”

“There's no matinée. Why don't you lunch with me, and come to a flick?” he suggested.

Elaine hesitated. She was not seriously tempted. He did not appeal to her as a man, and she was not yet quite ready to exchange the circus for another job-hunt. Then she remembered that Mrs. Tappertitt had departed for the next town that morning. Surely it could do no harm to entrench herself a little more firmly with this outfit. After all, Tappertitt was well known in entertainment circles, and if she cultivated
him he might put something better in her way, either here, or elsewhere.

“That's very kind of you and I'd like to very much, Mr. Tappertitt,” she said demurely.

He called across to a youth, loafing beside the hoop-la.

'Take over for a bit, Charlie! Miss Frith's going to lunch.”

Charlie mooched over, and winked to himself as Tom and Elaine moved off together. He had been with the Tappertitts since he was a child. Here was a little something for the boys—all the dope on the boss's new filly.

2

They lunched at “The Old George” in the market square, and Tom ordered burgundy with the pheasant, and liqueurs with the coffee. Later they drifted out into the town, and. after a brief look at the shops went into the cinema. The film was a Hollywood epic about a white hunter, who probed his way into the upper reaches of the Congo, accompanied by a mad trader, and the mad trader's sleek, blonde wife. The latter seemed to combine an ability to shoot crocodiles by the score, with the facility to keep her linen shorts spotlessly clean, and her eyelashes heavily mascaraed. It was a very bad film, and the supporting picture was even worse, but neither Tom nor Elaine was able to pay much attention to the screen, for Tom had his own exploring to do, and Elaine was fully occupied with the delicate task of limiting its extent.

She soon decided that Sonia's simile had been a just one. Tom Tappertitt certainly was a handy man, and was almost as enterprising with his feet and knees.

He began by interlocking the fingers of his right hand with hers during the newsreel, but by the time next week's attraction was being advertised he had brought his left hand into play, and was reconnoitring the upper part of her taut sweater. Gently repulsed in this direction he called up reinforcements from between the seats, where their locked hands were now resting. Lifting them both, he placed them firmly
on her thighs, which she had had the forethought to cross the moment they had sat down!