Remember Me (14 page)

Maddy and Jessie both celebrated their seventeenth birthdays during the third week in June, and the occasions were celebrated on the
Sunday – Maddy’s only free day – by a family tea party. She tried to smile and laugh and enter into the jollifications, but her heart was not in it. After the tea they had a sing-song around the piano; Maddy played whilst Grandad Isaac entertained them with some of the old music-hall songs that he loved: ‘Two Little Girls in Blue’, and ‘After the Ball’. They all joined in the chorus with him, singing lustily,

Jessie noticed that Maddy was not singing, only playing the piano in a rather mechanical fashion, without her usual enthusiasm and flair. And she could not be persuaded to sing on her own, saying that it was quite enough for her to perform three times a day, and that Sunday was her rest day. Jessie was the only one who knew how Maddy was feeling. She knew that her beloved friend’s heart was, indeed, aching, and that her hopes, as the song said, were beginning to vanish. Jessie knew that her stepsister had still not had a letter from Daniel, the lad she had met in Blackpool, who seemed to have captured her heart.

Jessie was not the only one who had noticed Maddy’s unusual lassitude and the unhappiness
that lay beneath her attempts at cheerfulness.

Faith waylaid her when she entered the house after the evening performance on the following day.

‘Come and have a chat with me, Maddy,’ she said, leading the way into the sitting room. ‘Your father and Grandad Isaac have gone out for a drink, and Jessie has gone up to her room to read. So we will be on our own for a while. I’ll just ask Mrs Baker to bring us a pot of tea.’ She rang a bell and Mrs Baker came at once from her little bed-sitting room at the rear of the house, where she had her own comfortable living quarters: her bed, dining area and easy chairs.

‘I wonder if I could trouble you to make a pot of tea, just for the two of us?’ asked Faith. She was always extremely polite with the woman whom she regarded almost as much as a friend as a servant. ‘And a few of those delicious shortbread biscuits you made this morning, please, Mrs Baker.’

‘Certainly, madam.’ She returned in a few moments with a laden tray. It was only when the tea had been poured out, and Maddy was sitting with the china cup and saucer on her lap, and a shortbread biscuit that Faith insisted she must try, that Faith broached the subject that had been bothering her.

Maddy was not surprised to hear her stepmother say, ‘What is the matter Maddy? I know that something is troubling you. You are not yourself at all, and I would like to help, if I can… That is, if
you would like to tell me about it. I’m not forcing you, of course, but I do realise that there’s something wrong. There is, isn’t there?’

Maddy gave a deep sigh. ‘Yes, you’re right, Aunty Faith,’ she replied. It was a great relief to her to know that she could confide in the woman she had come to love so much, who had become almost, possibly just, as dear to her as her own mother had been. ‘I met a young man in Blackpool,’ she began. ‘He’s called Dan, Daniel Murphy. I know you will say that I’m very young, and so I am, but I did become very fond of him, and I thought he felt the same way about me. Well, he did; I know he did. But he’s only written to me once, and I haven’t heard from him since then, since I first came back to Scarborough. And I’ve written to him twice. I know I can’t write again. And I’m so afraid that he’s changed his mind about me…’

Once she started to tell the story, the words just poured out of her. She told Faith everything; that Daniel was a Catholic, that he had even been studying to become a priest, but had decided not to go on with it. ‘But not because of me,’ she insisted. ‘He assured me that that was not the reason. He had already been having doubts before he met me…’

She went on to tell Faith about Dan’s mother, how she had a great influence on her son, and how she, Maddy, believed that in the end his mother’s determination had been too much for him to
withstand, and that he had finally succumbed to the pressure she put on him. ‘I’m afraid he’s changed his mind,’ she said again.

‘Oh dear,’ said Faith. ‘Oh, dearie, dearie me! I can understand how you must be feeling, Maddy, my love. I know that first love can hurt, so very, very much. And that’s what it is, isn’t it; your very first love?’

Faith didn’t know about Samuel, but Maddy knew now that she had never really been in love with him. ‘I knew you would say that,’ she replied. ‘That’s what everyone will say, that I’m young. And that’s what I thought myself at first. I told Dan that I was very young – only sixteen – and that it would be difficult. We both knew that. But he seemed so sure, and so did I, Aunty Faith, after I’d seen him several times. He’s a lovely young man and I’m sure you would think so, if you met him.’

‘Yes, my dear, it is very sad,’ said Faith. ‘But you do realise, don’t you, that there would always be problems? Even if he did give up on the idea of being a priest, his family – especially his mother – would find it hard ever to accept you. I’m very sorry, my darling,’ she continued, seeing Maddy’s crestfallen face, ‘but it really is so. I know of the influence that Catholic mothers can have on their sons, especially the Irish Catholics, and that is what she is, didn’t you say? So many of them have an ambition for their sons to go into the priesthood. There was a girl I knew in York; her brother became
a priest, and it was the mother who was the driving force. The girl was called Veronica, I remember, and her mother would dearly have loved for her to become a nun as well, but Veronica was made of sterner stuff than her brother. So much so that she married a young man who was not “of the Faith” as they say. He belonged to the Church of England; quite a devout young man, from all accounts, but her mother never really forgave her. So you see, my dear, there would be sure to be problems…’

Maddy nodded sadly. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to see that. Then you are telling me, aren’t you, that I should try to forget about him?’

‘I’m very much afraid so,’ said Faith. She crossed the room and sat on the sofa. She put her arm around her. ‘You are young, my love,’ she said. ‘So very young, and you have plenty of time to meet lots of other young men. Dan sounds a grand young man; I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he really was fond of you. But you must try to accept it, that he’s been forced to…to think again.’

‘I’ll try,’ replied Maddy. ‘I must admit that I think you’re right. It’s hard, though. It really is hard, Aunty Faith. I can’t believe that he would let himself be influenced, and that he hasn’t even let me know that it’s…all over.’

‘It had hardly begun, my dear,’ said Faith gently. ‘How long had you known him? Only a week? Well then…I know it hurts, but it will pass. Believe me, it will pass…’

Maddy tried. She really tried very hard to put all thoughts of Dan to the back of her mind, suppressing them when they rose to the surface by thinking of something else. She looked for new songs – new to her, at least – to add to her repertoire, bearing in mind what Percy had said to them all about livening up their acts and adding some different numbers. She decided to include ‘After the Ball’, remembering how her grandad had sung it so poignantly on the occasion of the birthday party; it was a plaintive little song that would go down well with the audiences. And ‘Joshua, Joshua (Nicer than lemon squash, you are)’, a comical little song about a shy young man courting his lady friend; not quite her usual style, but one that would show Percy how adaptable she was, able to be amusing as well as pensive.

But it was an unaccompanied song that she was singing – a new one to her programme – one night in mid-July, when she noticed a once familiar face in the audience. The song was a haunting one, an old Somerset air, usually known as ‘O, Waly, Waly’.

Her eyes were scanning the faces of the audience, mostly smiling a little and listening intently. She did not expect to see anyone she knew that evening. Her family had been to see the show earlier that week, to hear her new songs and see the revitalised acts of some of the other members of the troupe.

She almost stopped singing when she saw the face of a young man on the back row, smiling at her. It was Dan! But of course it couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible; it showed how thoughts of him were still filling her mind, even though she had tried to push them to one side. Her voice faltered for just a second, then she looked again. Yes, it really was Dan! There was no doubt about it, and as she stared at him, bewildered and incredulous, he lifted one hand, not waving, but motioning gently to her.

It was her first appearance, during the first half of the programme. It was not the thing, really, for the artistes to go and chat with the members of the audience during the interval, apart from the bottler, doing his round. But Maddy could not wait until the end of the show. As soon as Barney and Benjy had brought the first half to an end with their toe-tapping number, she ran from the dressing tent, across the stretch of sand to where Dan was waiting for her. The next moment his arms were round her as they greeted one another.

‘Dan, oh Dan! I thought I’d never see you again.’

‘Maddy! I just couldn’t wait any longer.’ He
kissed her gently, then she heard him say, ‘But why didn’t you write? I’ve been going frantic. I thought you’d changed your mind about me coming to see you. But I knew I had to find out for sure. So…here I am. You still…you do want to see me, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do,’ she cried. ‘But I did write to you, Dan. I wrote you two letters, then I decided it was no use. I thought you’d changed your mind.’

‘Never,’ he said. ‘As if I would.’ His face was serious. ‘You wrote to me, you say? But I don’t understand…’ He frowned. ‘But perhaps I do,’ he added slowly. ‘Yes…I think I’m beginning to understand, only too well.’

‘I must go now, Dan,’ she said. ‘We’re only halfway through the show, and I have to change for the second half. You will wait, won’t you?’

‘What do you think? I would wait for ever,’ he replied. Reluctantly he let go of her hand and watched her run back into the dressing tent.

Chapter Twelve

‘D
an’s there, in the audience!’ Maddy cried in great excitement to Susannah.

‘Who? You mean…the young man from Blackpool?’ said Susannah. ‘Well, I never! And what does he have to say for himself?’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ replied Maddy, ‘but it’s all very mysterious. He says he didn’t get my letters. Anyway, I’m seeing him afterwards. He’s waiting for me. Oh! Isn’t it exciting?’

‘Yes, love; I’m very pleased for you,’ said Susannah, sincerely. But she had a word of warning for her young friend when the show came to an end and a starry-eyed Maddy was ready to dash off to meet her young man.

‘Don’t rush into anything, love,’ she said. ‘Remember what I told you before. You are still very young and there may be all kinds of problems ahead of you.’ She smiled, though, at her friend’s enraptured face. ‘But I really am happy for you. Surprised, though, I must admit, that he’s actually turned up at last. But off you go and enjoy yourself. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ she added with a cheeky grin.

‘We won’t,’ replied Maddy seriously. ‘You have no need to worry, Susannah. There will be…none of that.’ Deep down, Maddy didn’t really approve of her older friend’s ‘goings-on’, behaving as they were before they were married. But Susannah, of course, had much more experience of the ways of the world, and of men, than she had. She knew, though, that her friend was concerned for her, and it pleased Maddy that someone cared about her problems.

It was still broad daylight, a balmy summer evening, as Maddy and Dan, arm in arm, made their way up to the promenade, and then through the streets of the town.

‘So tell me why you’re here,’ she said.

‘To see you, of course,’ he replied.

‘Yes, but…it’s been such a long time. I really thought I would never see you again. And you say you didn’t receive my letters. I wonder why?’

‘I’m afraid I can guess why,’ replied Dan in a grim tone. ‘I don’t want to think so, but I very much fear that they might have been intercepted by…well, you can guess who, can’t you?’ Maddy looked at him in horror.

‘You mean…your mother? Oh, surely not, Dan. She wouldn’t do that, would she?’

‘I’m afraid she might. She’s always up long before any of the rest of us in the morning, and she makes it her business to look through the letters. Oh! What a fool I’ve been. What a complete idiot! But I trusted her, you see. I believe that all relationships
should be based on trust. And I never thought for one moment that she would…’

‘Didn’t you ask her if there was a letter for you? Didn’t you tell her that you were expecting one?’

‘No, I didn’t. I thought the less said the better. You know how disapproving she’s been…about you and me.’

‘So does she know you’ve come here this weekend?’

‘I just told her that I was going away for the weekend, that’s all. I’m afraid I’m spending less and less time at home, helping in the boarding house, and more and more time at the shop. I’m full-time there now, as I told you. Mr Grundy agreed for me to take a long weekend off, so I’ll be going back on Monday morning.’ It was Friday, so Maddy was overjoyed that they would be able to spend the whole weekend together, when she was not performing, that was.

‘But why didn’t you write to me again?’ she asked. It was something that had been puzzling her. ‘When you didn’t get a letter? You said you were worried.’

‘And so I was,’ replied Daniel slowly. ‘It’s difficult to explain, Madeleine. I feared I might have rushed you, you see. I wasn’t sure that you felt the same way as I do. I know we haven’t known one another very long, but…I love you, Madeleine.’ They stopped by the railings of the Spa Bridge, and he turned towards her, looking deeply into her eyes.
‘I love you very much. But I know how young you are, a few years younger than me. And I know you lead a very busy – exciting – life. I wanted to know that you were very sure. And then, when you didn’t write – or I thought you hadn’t – I started to think that I might have been mistaken about your feelings for me.’

‘I do feel the same, Dan,’ she said quietly. ‘I love you too. I’m very sure about it.’ He kissed her gently, but without a great deal of passion; a kiss of deep affection and tenderness. They both felt, at that moment, that they had all the time in the world ahead of them. Then suddenly, he laughed.

‘Where are we heading anyway?’ he asked. ‘I’m not really sure where we are. I’m relying on you to show me the way back.’ Maddy laughed too.

‘Oh, how silly of me! I haven’t even asked where you’re staying. You’ve found somewhere, I suppose?’

‘Yes, I arrived this afternoon, and I managed to find lodgings at a little boarding house near to the railway station. Just off…Westborough, is it called?’

‘Yes, that’s the upper part of the main street that leads through the town, from the harbour up to the station. This is the Spa Bridge, where we are now. I always stop whenever I cross it to look at the view. Just look, Dan. Don’t you think it’s a wonderful view from here?’

Looking back in the direction from which they
had come they could see the wide curve of the bay, with the now diminishing stretch of sand as the tide advanced; the harbour with the yachts and fishing boats at anchor, and the lighthouse; and dominating the scene, the impressive bulk of the Grand Hotel. Standing out against the skyline, above the trees and the huddle of rooftops, was the grey-stone tower of St Mary’s church, and above it all, on the very top of the cliff, the ruins of the ancient castle.

‘And down there, on the lower promenade, that’s the Spa,’ Maddy said, pointing in the other direction. ‘It’s an entertainment place. They have concerts and dancing there, and brass bands playing in the Pavilion. Some of the other Pierrot troupes have their pitches on the sands down there. But we’ve always been on the North Bay.’

‘Yes, I can see that Scarborough is a lovely town,’ agreed Dan. ‘I am very impressed. So different from Blackpool, but it isn’t really fair to compare the two places. One always has a soft spot for one’s home town,’ he added loyally. ‘I’m still lost, though. I hope you’re going to tell me how to get back to my digs.’

‘Of course,’ she laughed. ‘Come on now, and I’ll show you where I live. It’s not very far from here… Would you like to come in and meet my parents? My father and my stepmother, I mean; my Aunty Faith, as I always call her.’

Her question was tentative, though, and she was rather relieved when Dan said, ‘No, I don’t think
so. Not tonight. They’re not expecting me and it wouldn’t be fair. You’ve told them about me, though, haven’t you?’

‘I’ve told Aunty Faith,’ she replied honestly, ‘and Jessie, my stepsister. Not my father, though…with you not writing, you see. But I will tell him now, of course.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you to explain everything, and then, perhaps, I might come and meet them?’

They continued over the bridge and up the steep slope to the South Cliff, passing the Crown Hotel, the first of the prestigious hotels to be built on the South Bay. Maddy’s family home was on Victoria Avenue, one of the streets leading off the Esplanade. Dan was impressed by the large detached house with its own carriage drive, and the attractive garden with tall trees, ornamental bushes and flower beds.

‘So where do I go from here?’ he asked.

She pointed him in the right direction. ‘Walk in a more or less straight line from here, and you will come to the railway station. About ten minutes’ walk, I would say, that’s all.’

‘And…when shall I see you?’ he asked.

They agreed to meet after the Saturday morning show and spend the afternoon together.

Dan put his arms around her and kissed her, very gently. ‘I’m so glad I’ve found you again,’ he whispered.

‘So am I,’ she replied. She kissed his cheek, then ran up the path, turning at the door to wave to him. He was still standing there, watching her as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was real and not a dream.

Only Faith and Jessie were in the sitting room when Maddy rushed in. She guessed that her father and grandfather had gone out for what Grandad called their ‘nightly constitutional’. Not every night, but on a few nights a week, the father and son would go for an evening walk followed by a drink – but only one, they both insisted – at a local public house before returning soon after ten o’ clock.

‘You’re a bit later than usual, Maddy,’ said Faith, then she noticed her stepdaughter’s flushed face and her air of excitement.

‘Yes, I know, Aunty Faith,’ replied Maddy. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ said Faith. ‘I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact, that’s all… What is it, dear?’ she asked, looking at her more closely. ‘Has something exciting happened?’

‘Yes, very exciting,’ replied Maddy, taking off her straw hat and throwing it onto an easy chair. She flopped down on the sofa next to Jessie. ‘You’ll never guess!’

‘I think I might,’ said Jessie, smiling knowingly at her friend. ‘Would it be something to do with a certain young man from Blackpool? It’s all right,’ she added. ‘I know that you’ve told my mother
about him. What is it? Have you had a letter from him at last?’

‘Better than that,’ laughed Maddy. ‘Anyway, you would know if I’d had a letter, wouldn’t you? I’d have told you this morning. It’s much, much better than that. He was in the audience tonight! I just happened to glance at the back row and there he was! I could hardly believe it.’

‘Gosh! That’s wonderful,’ said Jessie. ‘I don’t wonder you’re excited.’ The look of delight on Jessie’s face told Maddy that her friend was very happy for her. But when she looked at her Aunty Faith’s face she saw quite a different expression there. There was a guarded look in Faith’s eyes, and although she smiled it was a little uneasily.

‘Well then, I’m glad you’re happy, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s good to see you looking so cheerful again. But…why hadn’t he written? Did he say? It has been quite a long time.’

‘He didn’t get my letters,’ said Maddy. ‘And he didn’t write again because…because he thought I might have had second thoughts. As if I would! I told him that I’d been thinking just the same about him. Anyway, like I said, he didn’t get my letters, and he’s got an idea that they might have been intercepted. Well, he’s convinced they were…by his mother! Can you believe that any mother would behave like that, Aunty Faith? It’s terrible, isn’t it?’

‘Indeed it is, if it’s true,’ replied Faith. ‘But you shouldn’t really jump to conclusions before you
know the facts. You told me though, didn’t you, about his mother. And I would say that this doesn’t bode well for the future if it’s true. And…well, yes…I must admit that I fear it might be true. I daresay that woman had great expectations for her son and, to her way of thinking, he’s let her down badly.’

‘You sound as though you agree with her,’ said Maddy, a little heatedly, but carefully at the same time. It was the first time she had ever had reason to argue, even mildly, with her dear stepmother.

‘Yes, you do, Mother,’ Jessie added. ‘You surely can’t think it was right for a mother to do such a despicable thing as to steal her son’s letters.’

‘If she has done,’ sighed Faith. ‘And we don’t know definitely, do we? Yes, I agree it would be awful, and I’m really sorry about it. But I did warn you, didn’t I, Maddy love? When you first told me about this Daniel I said it wouldn’t be all plain sailing.’

‘But he still feels the same,’ cried Maddy. ‘And he’s come to see me, to find out what was wrong. Oh! Please don’t spoil it for me. I was feeling so happy. And I thought you would want to meet him. He’s staying for the weekend and he’s not going back till Monday morning.’

‘Then of course we shall meet him,’ said Faith. ‘Your father and I will be very pleased to meet him. You know that any friends of yours are always welcome here.’

‘Father doesn’t know anything about him yet,’ said Maddy, a little apprehensively. ‘You haven’t said anything, have you, Aunty Faith?’

‘No, of course not, dear. I thought it best, under the circumstances, not to mention it, especially as…’

‘Especially as you thought it was all over, didn’t you?’ retorted Maddy. ‘Because it had hardly even started, that’s what you said, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, my dear, please don’t let’s quarrel,’ said Faith. ‘We never have done, and we mustn’t ever. I’m just concerned for you, as I would be for Jessica or for any of you. And I know your father will feel just the same.’ Faith’s lovely blue eyes were clouded with anxiety, and Maddy knew that her stepmother did, indeed, care about her, just the same as if she were her own daughter. Maddy jumped up from the sofa and went across to her. She gave her a hug.

‘I’m sorry, Aunty Faith,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I was feeling on top of the world and then…well…I started to see the problems again. But it’ll be all right, I know it will… I’m going to make us all a cup of tea now. We don’t need to trouble Mrs Baker, do we?’

‘Very good dear,’ said Faith. ‘Make a big pot, will you? I expect your father and grandfather will be back soon. Then you’ll be able to tell your father about Daniel, won’t you?’

Maddy looked a little fearful. ‘I was hoping that you might do that, Aunty Faith,’ she said.