The Songbird (2 page)

‘Sorry.' Poppy looked up at her mother, alarmed at her tone of voice. ‘You've gone ever so white! Papa,' she called as her father hurried towards them. ‘Mama's not well. See how white she is!'

‘I'm all right,' Mary said. ‘I felt sick, but it's nothing. Let's go in. I'll feel better once I'm sitting down.'

Poppy was relieved. For a moment she had thought that they would have to go back home if her mother was unwell, and she really didn't want to miss the show.

The Mechanics Music Hall was the oldest music hall in the town. The building had once been a private house, owned by a local member of parliament and then by the Broadley clan, one of the distinguished families of Hull, who sold it to the Mechanics Institute, which had been founded in 1825 to provide education and useful instruction of members in the knowledge of science and art. On acquiring the property, the board built a large saloon at the rear which could hold twelve hundred people. In the front foyer, which was ornamented with fluted pilasters, stood a statue of the eminent Dr John Anderson, one of the founder members.

The saloon was now used as a music hall and had had many changes of activity, proprietors and names. In its heyday it had been the most popular entertainment venue in town, but as other theatres and halls opened their doors its spirit failed from time to time and trade lapsed. Now in the ownership of Boscoe and Downs and under the name of Boscoe's Empire Theatre of Varieties it was once again flourishing, but everyone still referred to it by the old name of the Mechanics.

Poppy wriggled in her seat to get comfortable, and in a moment the curtains rose and the performance began.

A magician came onto the stage for the first act. He was dressed in a colourful cloak adorned with stars and moons, which swirled around his feet as he moved about the stage. He produced balloons from his pointed hat, which drifted into the auditorium, and the children in the audience jumped up to catch them. He brought out rabbits from inside his wide sleeves and yards of coloured ribbon from his ears. Then he invited members of the audience to join him on the stage, whereupon he produced flowers from their hair, and a flock of doves, which flew round the participants and fluttered into the audience before returning to a straw casket which he closed with a flourish. He opened it a minute later, holding it aloft to reveal that it was empty, and took his bow to tumultuous applause.

‘How does he do that?' Poppy turned to her mother, but her mother was bent low and didn't answer, and her father had his head close to hers and was asking her something. The next act started. He was billed as a character comedian and singer. He wore an odd-looking checked jacket and knickerbockers and told incomprehensible stories, which made the adults in the audience laugh, whilst Poppy fidgeted in her seat and wished he would finish, as the Terry Sisters, who were billed as delightful dancers and sweet singers, would be on next but one, after the juggler, and they were the ones she really wanted to see.

‘Poppy!' Her father leaned towards her as the juggler threw balls into the air. ‘We have to leave. Your ma's not well. Pick up your coat.'

‘Oh, Pa! The Terry Sisters are next! Can't I stay? I can come home on my own.'

Her father shook his head, but her mother placed her hand on his arm. ‘She'll be all right,' she said in a low voice. ‘Let her stay. Tommy can come back to fetch her.'

‘Unless you want me to help you?' Poppy suddenly felt guilty about asking to stay when her mother wasn't well. ‘I'll come if you like!'

But her mother was already rising from her seat as the juggler took his bow. ‘No,' she said breathlessly. ‘Stay until the end. But wait for Tommy outside.'

Poppy settled down again and gave a deep sigh of pleasure, then put her hand into her pocket and brought out a bon-bon, which she unwrapped and popped into her mouth just as the Terry Sisters danced across the stage. They were dressed identically in silver flounced dresses trimmed with fluffy white fur. Their skirts came down to their slim ankles and showed dainty silver shoes. On their heads they wore tall feathered headdresses adorned with silver beads, which glistened as they moved.

They were not very good singers, Poppy decided, as she sucked her bon-bon, but they were good dancers, moving in time to the music and tap-tap-tapping across the stage, their hips and arms synchronized, their white teeth gleaming in wide smiles.

I could do that, Poppy thought, as she watched their movements and routine. I'll practise when I get home. So absorbed was she that she momentarily forgot about her parents until the final curtain came down and she realized that she was alone. I know my way home, she thought, it's only round the corner. I don't need Tommy to collect me. But she was mindful that her father would be angry if she didn't wait for her brother, so she stood by the doors as the crowds surged out, talking and laughing and discussing the programme.

She waited for ten minutes and only a few stragglers were left and Tommy still hadn't come. Shall I go on my own? I'll probably meet him anyway. She looked down George Street towards the turning for Savile Street, but the entire crowd was heading that way, away from the theatre, and there was no sign of her sandy-haired brother coming towards her.

‘Hello, Poppy!' She jumped as someone greeted her from behind.

‘Charlie!' She gave him a quick smile. ‘I'm – I'm waiting for Tommy. Have you seen him? Ma and Pa had to go home. Mama wasn't well. They said I'd to wait for him.'

‘I know. I called for him, but he wasn't there. He must have gone to look at 'ships. I saw your pa. He asked me to come for you.'

Charlie looked down at her. He was older and taller than her brother, fair-haired with blue eyes, and he was the one she loved. She was sure it was love, for her mouth became dry whenever she saw him, and her stomach gave a flip. He was her brother's best friend. She saw him often and each time he had this effect on her. She would die if he found out, and her brother would tease her unmercifully if he discovered it. She was far too young for him, she knew, for Charlie Chandler was fifteen, nearly sixteen. His birthday was in June, whereas she had only had her tenth birthday in January. New Year's Day, 1880, she had been born. But it didn't matter, she decided as she gazed adoringly at him. When I'm a bit older, maybe when I'm twelve, I'll ask him if he'll wait for me.

Poppy put her hand out and bashfully Charlie took it, holding her fingers lightly. ‘Your pa's sent for 'doctor,' he muttered in an embarrassed manner, and cleared his throat. ‘Your ma isn't well.'

‘I know. That's why they left 'theatre early. But they said I could stay,' she added, not wanting him to think her selfish for not leaving with them. ‘I wanted to see 'Terry Sisters,' she added.

‘Were they any good?' he asked, hurrying her across the road.

‘They were lovely dancers, but they didn't sing very well. And they were a lot older than I thought they would be.' She pondered. The sisters had worn a lot of make-up. She could see it even from her seat upstairs. Their eyes were very dark and outlined in black and their lips were scarlet. ‘They must have been about twenty at least,' she said.

‘Gosh!' Charlie gave a dry laugh. ‘As old as that!' Poppy looked up at him to see if he was amused by her comment, but his face was solemn and he looked straight ahead. ‘There's Tommy,' he said, dropping her hand. ‘Hey, Tom!' He raised his voice. ‘I've been looking for you.'

Tommy looked from his friend to his sister. ‘Where've you been? To 'Mechanics?'

‘I came round to 'shop to see if you were coming out, but you weren't there. Your pa said he didn't know where you were and they wanted you to collect Poppy from 'Mechanics. So they asked me instead.'

‘I could've come home on my own,' Poppy chipped in defiantly. ‘I don't need collecting by anybody.'

‘Ah, but Pa's little pet, aren't you?' Tommy grinned. ‘He'd think that somebody would run off with you! As if anybody would,' he said. ‘They'd bring you back soon enough! But why were you there on your own anyway?'

‘Mama's sick,' Poppy said. ‘They had to leave 'show early. Charlie said that 'doctor's been sent for.'

‘Oh! What's up?' Tommy asked. ‘We'd better get off home then.'

‘Where've you been?' Charlie asked him. ‘I looked for you.'

Tommy glanced at Poppy. He shrugged. ‘Just looking at 'ships in 'dock. There's two just come in.'

‘Pa said don't get any ideas!' Poppy reminded him. ‘You've got to help in the shop and with 'baking!'

‘I know that, Miss Clever-clogs,' Tommy parried. Living in a port and surrounded by ships and seamen all his life, breathing the salty smell of the estuary, he had long wished to go to sea, but his father wanted him to work with him in the grocery and coffee shop.

‘I'd better get off then,' Charlie said. ‘It's half past nine. I've to be up early in 'morning. We've some orders to finish.' Charlie was apprenticed to his father who was a shoemaker in Scale Lane, in the old part of Hull. John Chandler was well known to the merchants and business people in the town. His boots and shoes were of the finest and softest leather and his reputation had spread as far as York. He was, however, a hard taskmaster and Charlie and he often crossed swords when youth and age disagreed. John Chandler spent most of his time in his workshop and even now would be working on orders, and probably fuming with exasperation because his son had taken time off.

There was a hansom cab waiting outside the shop, which had the name
Mazzini's
painted in bright red letters above the window. A smell of coffee drifted out from the door but their father wasn't there. Nan, a widow who cleaned daily, though didn't usually help in the grocery shop, was serving coffee and her daughter Mattie was clearing tables.

‘Come on, Tommy. Give a hand,' Nan urged as they entered. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘I've been that busy. Your da's at 'back with your ma and 'doctor. Good job we called in. Just as well Mattie was with me or I shouldn't have been able to manage. As it is some folk wouldn't wait.'

Tommy put on a striped apron and went to serve the customers, apologizing to them for the delay. ‘My mother's not well,' he explained. ‘That's 'reason for 'hold-up. Very sorry,' and because he was a genial young lad with a pleasant manner they stopped their grumbling and ordered their supper.

‘I'd better help as well,' Poppy said, taking off her coat, and started clearing the tables of dirty crockery. Then she looked up as two women came through the door and took in a startled breath. The Terry Sisters! They were smaller than they'd appeared on stage, she thought, and quite plain without their make-up and false eyelashes. And their hair was mousy brown, not black and gleaming as it had been under their headdresses. But it was them all right; they had a certain air about them that spoke of the stage.

‘Can we have a pot o' coffee, darlin'?' one of them said to Poppy.

‘And get a slice of cake, Ena,' added the other. ‘And that table over there,' she said to Poppy, indicating a table for four. ‘We've got some friends coming along in a minute.'

Poppy nodded obligingly. ‘Walnut or ginger?' she asked. ‘My mother makes the cakes. I've just been to 'Mechanics,' she added. ‘I went specially to see you.'

‘Did you, dearie?' said Ena, who was slightly shorter than her sister. ‘And did you enjoy the show?'

‘Yes, thank you,' Poppy said politely, and decided not to tell them that she didn't think their singing was very good. ‘I liked the dancing best. I go for dancing lessons,' she said. ‘And singing too.'

‘Is that so?' Ena opened her bag and took out a cheroot, which she lit and put between her lips. She creased up her eyes as she drew on the cheroot. Poppy stared at her boldness, deciding that she was probably even older than she had first thought. Probably about twenty-five.

‘And will you go on the stage?' Ena asked, blowing out a curl of smoke. ‘Shall you be our rival?'

‘I'm only ten,' Poppy explained. ‘And my pa wouldn't want me to.' Then she grinned at the sisters. ‘But I might try to persuade him!'

‘Don't, darlin',' the other sister said. ‘You stay at home and help your ma and pa in this nice coffee shop.' She looked round approvingly. ‘Until some handsome and rich young man comes along and carries you orf. That's what I'd do, anyway,' she added with a sigh.

‘No you wouldn't, Ronny,' Ena said as she sat down. ‘You only say that at the end of a show.' She crossed her legs, showing a glimpse of trim ankles beneath her skirt. ‘It's in our blood, you see,' she told Poppy. ‘Our ma and pa were on the stage, so we know nothink else. Fetch us that coffee, there's a good girl,' she added. ‘I'm fair gasping. And two slices of ginger cake.' She winked at Poppy. ‘Got to keep our strength up.'

‘A pot of coffee for the Terry Sisters,' Poppy sang out, ‘and two pieces of ginger cake.'

‘I'll take it, Poppy,' Tommy said. ‘You'd better nip and see how Ma is.'

Poppy took in a breath. In the excitement of meeting the Terry Sisters, she'd forgotten that her mother had been unwell. She hurried through the door at the back of the shop and into their private rooms. She heard the murmur of men's voices and then the click of the door which led into the street, and her father turned from letting the doctor out.

‘What did ‘doctor say, Pa? About Mama? Is she all right?' She was suddenly worried. What would happen to them all if her mother was sick?

Her father patted her head. ‘He said she's to rest for a bit. She's been overdoing it. So we'll have to look after her, won't we? Let her stay in bed in a morning instead of getting up so early.' Mary rose at five o'clock every morning in order to make bread, cakes and biscuits.