Read Forgotten Dreams Online

Authors: Katie Flynn

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas

Forgotten Dreams (18 page)

BOOK: Forgotten Dreams
9.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
He closed the lavatory door and set off up the next flight of stairs, and presently conducted them to what was to be their room, having informed them that the door opposite their own led to the room which would be occupied by the Melias. Gill Melia called herself the Snake Lady and was a very clever contortionist, and her partner – and newly married husband – was Ray Melia, an acrobat. Both girls looked forward to meeting the young couple, for Jack Russell had worked with them before and said they were ‘real nice’ and performed with great slickness. ‘But there’s no side to ’em and they’re always ready to give a hand if anyone’s stuck,’ he had said. ‘You’ll like ’em – everyone does.’
The girls surveyed their domain. It was a large airy room, with a sloping ceiling and a long, low window. There were two small beds with bright patchwork counterpanes, a large chest of drawers and an ornate dressing table. There was also a curtain which, when Merle pulled it back, revealed a long clothes rail, and a washstand, complete with jug and ewer.
Jack was about to leave the room when Merle grabbed his arm. ‘Hang on a mo’, Jack,’ she said urgently. ‘Why have we got a washstand? Ain’t we supposed to use the bathroom?’
Jack heaved a sigh and wagged a finger. ‘How you jump to conclusions, young lady,’ he said severely. ‘First you think the lavvy’s in the yard, now you think you’re not going to be allowed to use the bathroom.’ He turned to Lottie. ‘What’s your opinion, queen?’
‘I think the washstand is there because there’s only one bathroom and Mrs Shilling won’t want folk queuing up for it and being late for meals,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘After all, you did say everyone lodging here was in the theatre. I suppose someone will make a sort of bath rota – that way everyone will get a turn at the bathroom and there won’t be no ill feeling.’
‘You’re a bright ’un,’ Jack said approvingly, turning and making for the stairs. ‘It’s quicker for you to wash your hands and faces and put a comb through your hair up here rather than traipsing all the way down to the bathroom and mebbe finding someone already in the tub. See you presently.’
Left to themselves, the two girls explored the room thoroughly. Lottie cried out with pleasure when she rushed to the window. ‘Oh, Merle, I can see the sea plain as plain over the rooftops,’ she shouted. ‘An’ if I put my cheek on the glass and look to the right, I do declare I can see the funfair. And there’s something . . . I bet it’s the Wellington Pier, only the wretched chimneys are getting in the way.’
‘Oh, how fearfully exciting,’ Merle drawled, putting on an affected languid voice, though she rather spoiled the impression she was trying to make by joining Lottie at the window and exclaiming: ‘There’s a kitten in the garden opposite! D’you know, I’ve always wanted a kitten of my own – or a dog. When I get married, I’d like to have a dog act. I saw one once. The feller had a dozen little brown and white dogs and there weren’t nothin’ they couldn’t do. One rode a bicycle, two played on a seesaw, they all walked on their hind legs, an’ they could all count an’ find things which were hidden. An’ they were really happy; their tails never stopped wagging for a moment.’
‘I’d like a dog, too,’ Lottie said wistfully. She crossed the room and poured water into the basin, beginning to wash. ‘But Louella says it wouldn’t be fair on the dog because we’re out so much . . . here, you can use my water, save pouring more. I don’t seem to have got very dirty after all.’
She half expected Merle to sneer and refuse, but the other girl splashed her face and hands briefly and then the two of them made their way down the stairs and into the dining room where they speedily dispatched an excellent meal, drank two cups of tea and then asked for directions to the Wellington Pier, since they thought they might as well familiarise themselves with the place.
It was a fine evening. The promenade was not thronged exactly, but there were still people about, and the Wellington Pier took their breath away. When one paid one’s penny and walked through the turnstile the first thing one saw was a huge building made of glass, and inside what was in fact an enormous conservatory were wonderful tropical plants, palm trees and other wonders. The girls gasped and exclaimed and Lottie said that no doubt they would be able to enter the conservatory – it was called the Winter Gardens – without having to pay anything once they got the passes which the theatre would doubtless issue.
‘I love piers, all of them,’ Merle said dreamily, gazing at the shape of the theatre ahead of them. ‘It’s like being on a ship, only better, because it doesn’t bounce up and down, yet you are over the sea and can look right into the water.’
Lottie ran to the rail and gazed down upon the gleaming gentle waves. She turned and grinned at Merle. ‘I think we’re going to have a wonderful time here in Great Yarmouth,’ she said exultantly. ‘Race you to the stage door, Merle!’
They rehearsed hard for a fortnight, and, to her own secret surprise, Lottie really enjoyed Merle’s company. Despite her hopes, they were the two youngest members of the cast, but Merle, with no Baz to back her up, was quite happy to go about with her. Together, they rehearsed their numbers, and to Lottie’s pleasure Merle actually unbent to the extent of teaching her the Charleston. When they were free – which was every afternoon and evening until their season started – they went off together to sample the delights of the town. They explored the narrow rows where the householders could shake hands, if they so desired, with the inhabitants of the house opposite. They went on the funfair and won themselves dreadful kewpie dolls and small bottles of exotically coloured scent. They bought sticks of rock from the stalls on the promenade, as well as small tubs of cockles, shrimps and winkles. But best of all they went on the beach, where both girls forgot they were young ladies and built sandcastles, digging out moats and filling them with seawater, and decorating their edifices with shells and stones. Merle actually bought herself a very glamorous bathing suit, though she refused to go deeper than her knees, vowing that she did not mean to let Jack Russell teach her to swim because he was only small and might let her drown.
Lottie, however, was made of sterner stuff. Louella had produced a hand-knitted bathing costume, old and faded and by no means fashionable, which she had worn as a youngster and Lottie, with squeaks of delight, followed Jack into the waves and proved to be a quick learner; in fact she was doing a very respectable breast stroke after her first lesson. Jack was astounded and preened himself as a first-class teacher, though he did tell Lottie, privately, that she was a natural. ‘I’ve never known anyone to take to it the way you have,’ he said. ‘Why, you’re as good doing a backstroke as I am meself and I’ve been at it for years.’ He cocked a quizzical eye at her. ‘Are you sure you didn’t use to sneak off to the Scaldy with your pals and swim with them?’
Lottie laughed but shook her head positively. ‘No, I never went in the water because the Scaldy’s for fellers really, but of course I watched when my friend Kenny was being taught by the older boys. I used to think I could do it easy, given the chance, but I never was – given the chance, I mean.’
‘Carry on like this and you’ll be able to come down here without yours truly to keep an eye on you,’ Jack said. ‘Only never forget, gal, that this here beach slopes real sharp like, so one minute you’re up to your knees and the next the water’s over your bleedin’ head and you’re still goin’ down.’
‘I won’t forget, Jack,’ Lottie said obediently. She was wading out of the water as she spoke and looked down through the tiny waves and saw her own white feet on the beautiful sand, and inside her head a tiny voice said:
You’ve done this before; you’ve been here before. This isn’t new to you
. She looked round at her companion. Jack was wearing an ancient blue bathing suit which came down to his knees and he was grinning encouragingly at her. It emboldened her to say thoughtfully: ‘You’re an awful good swimmer yourself, Jack . . . much better than Max, though he’s a lot bigger than you. But of course you’ve been to Great Yarmouth lots of times, you said so when we first came. Jack . . . when you were here before, was I here, as well? Only quite often, particularly when I’m in the water, I get the feeling that I’ve been here before. I did ask Louella, but she just laughed and said that I was remembering Rhyl, where she and I were before my accident. Only . . . oh, I really don’t think it’s that.’
‘Déjà vu,’ Jack said wisely. ‘That’s wharrit’s called, ain’t it? Something to do with the two sides of the brain . . . I get it sometimes. And in answer to your question, fair lady, I’ve been here half a dozen times or more, but I never clapped eyes on you or your mam on me previous visits. And I make a point of visiting all the theatres in the area, to see if I can meet up wi’ old pals,’ he added. ‘So I don’t reckon I could have missed your mam, or yourself for that matter.’
Lottie accepted this, but that evening, sitting round Mrs Shilling’s dining table and finishing off a large helping of toad in the hole, she mentioned her swimming lesson with Jack and asked Louella whether she had been taught to swim whilst they were in Rhyl. She saw Jack’s attention sharpen and smiled at him. ‘You see, I’ve forgotten absolutely everything which happened to me before the accident,’ she reminded him, ‘so it’s quite possible . . .’
Her mother, however, shook her head decidedly. ‘No indeed. Who would have taught you? I can’t swim; few women of my generation can. I don’t deny I took you to the beach a couple of times so that you could paddle and play in the sand, but I’m afraid I never taught you to swim. Why do you ask?’
‘She asked because I told her I’d never known anyone pick it up quicker,’ Jack broke in before Lottie could reply. ‘You’ve got a real little water baby there, missus. She don’t know the meanin’ of the word fear.’
Lottie expected her mother to look gratified, but instead Louella frowned anxiously. ‘Oh, dear. I never thought I’d worry over her swimming, but what would happen if she got into trouble? Even if I were there, which I probably wouldn’t be, I couldn’t rescue anyone.’
‘Don’t worry, Louella, I don’t mean to go out of my depth,’ Lottie lied valiantly. ‘And I promise I’ll never go in the water unless someone’s with me. Will that stop you worrying?’
Louella’s brow cleared and she gave her daughter a loving smile. ‘I’m sorry, love, I should have told you what a clever girl you are to learn so fast, but you know what a worrier I am. Still, if you promise never to swim alone, I know you’ll keep your word. And now, whose turn is it to help Mrs Shilling with the washing up?’
Chapter Seven
Swimming, and the seaside generally, must have been on Lottie’s mind for that very night she found herself back in her mysterious dream. She was paddling, her small white feet clearly visible through the water, her pink gingham skirt tucked into her rather baggy knickers. She glanced back towards the shore and saw the white-gold sand with holidaymakers scattered upon it and knew, without really thinking about it, that this was Yarmouth and that, somewhere, someone was keeping an eye on her. She also knew that she must not go in too far because of what was known as ‘the shelf’, which meant that one minute the water was shallow and the next very deep indeed. So she kept well inshore and presently heard a voice calling. She turned obediently, though the voice had not called ‘Lottie’, but the name by which, she realised, she was always known in her dream.
‘Come on out now, Sassy, and we’ll have a nice paper of chips for our tea,’ the loved voice said. Lottie knew she loved the owner of the voice, though she was not sure from whom it came for when she looked shorewards once more she saw that most of the people were looking in her direction. Still, the voice must be obeyed so she began to wade ashore, then saw through the water the long, almost black shape of a razor shell and bent to pick it up. But water is tricksy stuff and every time her small hand delved, the shell seemed mysteriously out of reach. She was still trying to take hold of it when another hand seized hers and squeezed her fingers gently, whilst the owner of the hand chuckled softly – she could
feel
the laughter, coming down his arm and into her small palm – and then he plucked the razor shell from the depths and gave it to her. She looked up, smiling her thanks, and saw that the boy who held her hand was familiar, with light brown hair and eyes of a curious golden-brown colour. He smiled back, revealing very white teeth and a long crease down one lean cheek. ‘All right now, Sassy? Did you hear old Gran say we’d buy a paper of chips for our tea? Well, I reckon that means fried fish as well, ’cos Jim went out wi’ the fishing boat earlier and came home wi’ half a dozen codling. Gran will batter ’em and we’ll have a fine feast.’
‘I love fish and chips,’ Lottie said yearningly. She suddenly realised that she was very hungry, very hungry indeed, and wondered when she had last eaten. ‘Does it take long to get home from here?’
The boy laughed and wagged their joined hands together mockingly. ‘Why, we’re just along the Marine Parade, out by the Denes. We’ll catch a bus and be back at the camp in two ticks.’
As he spoke they had been walking across the beach, and now he stopped beside an elderly woman sitting in a striped deckchair with a towel laid across her knees. She beamed lovingly at Lottie, then heaved her on to her lap and began to dry her wet legs and feet. ‘You’m a good li’l girl so you are,’ she said crooningly. ‘And this lad do be a good young feller an’ all. But I can see we’re goin’ to have to teach you to swim else I’ll never have an easy moment. Folk who live near water, be it broads, rivers, canals or the sea itself, need to be able to swim. You’ve had a fine time a-playin’ on the beach and in the sea, but now it’s gettin’ late and I’ve work to do when we get back to camp.’ She produced from somewhere a pair of old plimsolls and pushed Lottie’s still sandy feet into them. ‘Best go shod, else they might turn we off the bus an’ call us feckless gypsies, wanderin’ folk that don’t know no better.’
BOOK: Forgotten Dreams
9.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Jessica Coulter Smith by Her Wolf Savior
Skinner's Rules by Quintin Jardine
Terr5tory by Susan Bliler
Love Ties by Em Petrova


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024