Down an English Lane (4 page)

‘Joanie…come over here, love,’ Maisie called to her sister, ‘and I’ll help you to fix your hair ribbons.’

‘Doesn’t she look just perfect in that dress?’ said Audrey, taking the hint from Maisie and changing the subject. ‘Just like the pictures of Alice in the books. Your mum’s been busy, hasn’t she, Joanie?’

Joanie nodded. ‘She’s done nothing but sew just lately, hasn’t she, Maisie? My dress, and Maisie’s an’ all.’

Joanie, as Alice in Wonderland, was wearing a mid-calf length dress of pale blue cotton, with puffed sleeves, a white collar and trimmings and a white apron tied around her waist. She had been growing her hair especially for the performance, and Maisie brushed it for her now. It was a pale golden colour, straight and shining, and fell to just below her shoulders. Her sister fastened it back with kirby grips, then secured the blue ribbon bows, one at each side of her forehead.

‘There now,’ she said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. ‘You’ll do. In fact, you look lovely.’ They were not, as a family, much given to a lot of hugging and kissing. But Maisie, over the years, had been amazed at the transformation of her once naughty, grubby, and not very likeable little sister, into this pretty, polite, and friendly nine-year-old
girl. And Jimmy was shaping up quite nicely too.

‘Aw, give over, Maisie! Don’t be soppy,’ said Joanie; but she could not disguise her pleased smile. ‘Are we on soon, Audrey?’ she asked. ‘Have I time to go to the lav?’

Audrey laughed. ‘Yes; you’d better go. We’re on after Doris’s poem, and she’s next. You four girls who are being the playing cards, you’ve all been to the toilet, have you? Because you won’t be able to sit down when you’ve got these costumes on.’

The four girls nodded in unison, then Audrey and Maisie placed the large cards – the three and four of hearts, and the three and four of spades – over their heads. The numbers of the playing cards were painted on both the front and the back, and the cards were secured at the shoulders and sides with tapes. Audrey and her friend, Brian, with Maisie sometimes assisting them, had spent many evenings at the Rectory designing them.

Maisie shrieked with laughter when Doris turned round from the mirror. ‘Goodness, Doris, what a scream you look! You’ll bring the house down before you even start to speak.’

Doris’s flaxen hair was done up in two plaits which, somehow, she had made to stick out at an angle on either side of her head. Each plait was finished off with a bright pink bow, with a third bow on top of her head. Her cheeks were normally rosy, but she had heightened their colour with dabs of rouge like a Dutch doll. Her dress was of pink
and white gingham, one that she had used to wear a couple of summers ago, but she – or her mother – had altered the bodice to fit her increasing bustline, and the shortness of the skirt did not matter. Layers of stiffened petticoats underneath made it stand out, revealing her shapely, rather plumpish, legs and her feet in white ankle socks.

‘I told you they were supposed to laugh,’ said Doris. ‘Oh heck! D’you think I’ve overdone it? I feel sick. Oh… Oh dear! I can’t go on…’

But Maisie and Audrey knew that it was mostly just banter. Doris would be fine once she got onto the stage.

‘’Course you can, don’t be daft,’ said Maisie, giving her a push. ‘Luke’s announcing you now. Go on; get a move on.’

Doris grimaced as she went through the door. ‘I still don’t know what she’s going to recite,’ said Maisie. ‘Come on, Audrey; let’s go to the front and listen, shall we?’

‘No; I’d better stay here and keep an eye on the children,’ said Audrey. ‘I can hear well enough from the side of the stage. You go…’

Maisie tiptoed out and stood by the side wall, not allowing her eyes to stray further back down the hall, but fixing them on the stage. The laughter and applause greeting Doris’s appearance was beginning to die down, and she grinned at them, all trace of nervousness, if there had ever been any, completely gone.

‘Matilda,’ she announced in a confident voice, ‘by Hilaire Belloc.’ And then, ghoulishly and leaning confidingly towards her audience, ‘Matilda, who told lies and was burned to death!’ She paused for effect, and some members of the audience responded with a reciprocal, ‘Aahh…’, knowing, from the girl’s appearance that this would be a poem to evoke laughter and not a feeling of horror.

Doris was a born actress, thought Maisie, as she watched her friend’s expressive face and meaningful gestures, but no one seemed to have realised it before. There had not been much opportunity for concerts and play-acting during the war years, such performances as there were having been held during daylight hours because of the blackout regulations.

As Doris finished the poem Maisie clapped till her hands were stinging and she gave a cheer, along with several others, as her friend bowed and grinned then left the stage.

It was time then for the last act before the interval, the scenes from
Alice in Wonderland
. Maisie stayed where she was. Joanie would not want her fussing over her again. She was still forcing her eyes to look straight in front and not allowing herself to turn round, but once the Mad Hatter’s tea party commenced she was thoroughly engrossed. Joanie was an enchanting Alice and word perfect too, and the boys who played the Mad Hatter, the March Hare and the Dormouse made
the audience laugh, though not always in the right places. The Hatter’s top hat was a shade too large and kept falling over his eyes, and the Dormouse, a tiny little lad, kept waving to his mother in the third row.

In the next scene Maisie was relieved to see that Jimmy behaved himself very well. He was one of the playing-card gardeners, the two of spades, engaged in the task of painting the white roses red. Fortunately, he was concentrating on doing just that and not splashing the paint all over himself and his mates which, at one time, would have been a pleasant diversion for him. The card worn by the Queen of Hearts – a twelve-year-old girl who shouted, ‘Off with their heads!’ in a very imperious voice – had been drawn and painted expertly by Audrey. The whole performance, indeed, was a great credit to her and Brian and there were cries at the end for the producers to come onto the stage and take a bow.

Brian emerged from one dressing room and Audrey, rather more unwillingly, from the other. As they stood in the centre of the stage, smiling and bowing a little to acknowledge the applause, Brian took hold of her hand. Maisie saw the blush which crept over her friend’s cheeks, but she also noticed that her blue eyes were extra bright and sparkly as she turned to smile shyly at Brian and then at her mother and father, both standing proudly at the side of the piano.

‘Well done, everyone,’ said Luke. ‘Very well done indeed. And now we will have just a short ten-minute interval before we start the second half of our programme.’

When Audrey came down from the stage she was surrounded by folk who wanted to congratulate her on the children’s performances. Maisie could see that her friend was quite pink-cheeked with pleasure. This was her moment of glory and well deserved, too. Maisie added her own praise as well.

‘That was great, Audrey. I’m really proud of you. I’m amazed at the way you’ve got our Joanie to do her part; she was terrific.’

‘Yes, she was,’ agreed Audrey. ‘But I told you, she’s a natural. It had very little to do with me; she just seemed to know what to do.’

‘And all the others played their parts so well; it was obvious they were enjoying it.’

‘Well, that’s the most important thing at their age, isn’t it?’ Audrey laughed. ‘As for me, I shall enjoy the rest of the concert much more now that that’s over. Anyway, I’d better go and help the girls to get out of their costumes.’

‘No… I’ll do that,’ said Maisie quickly. ‘You stay and talk to these ladies.’ A few of Luke’s more elderly parishioners were smiling fondly at Audrey. She was very popular with them and had a pleasant manner which enabled her to associate with both the young and the old in her father’s congregation. Already she was becoming quite an asset to him.

‘Are you sure?’ said Audrey. It was clear that she was enjoying her triumph, in her own quiet way.

‘Of course I am,’ said Maisie. She grinned. ‘Off you go and chat to the old ladies,’ she added in a lower voice. ‘They’ll love it.’

Maisie was feeling, suddenly, rather nervous and shy at the thought of encountering Bruce again. Besides, she was all dolled up in her finery ready for the next appearance of the choir near the end of the programme. It would be better to wait until the end. Without a backward glance she went back into the dressing room to help the playing card girls with their costumes, and the Queen of Hearts, too, with her more elaborate regalia and cardboard crown. Joanie, though, wanted to stay in her
Alice
dress, minus the apron, and there was no reason why she should not do so. The children all hurried out to the seats reserved for them to watch the rest of the concert, and Maisie busied herself tidying up the costumes and props that had been used for the
Alice
scenes.

Audrey popped her head round the door. ‘Come on, Maisie. There are three seats at the end of a row near the front, so you and me and Doris can sit together.’

‘All right then,’ said Maisie, joining her friends just as the lights in the hall were dimmed. ‘I’ll have to leave you, though, before the choir goes on again.’

‘Our Timothy’ll be playing soon,’ whispered Audrey. ‘I knew you’d want to listen to him.’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ Maisie whispered back, as
Luke stepped forward to announce the start of the second half.

The next act was a conjuror; quite a competent one. He was a middle-aged man who was also in the choir, and he had the audience suitably impressed with his yards and yards of silken handkerchiefs, his card tricks and the climax at the end, a rabbit in a top hat.

Maisie leaned close to her friend and whispered in her ear, under cover of the applause, ‘Did you…er, did you see Bruce in the interval?’

‘Er, yes… I did, actually…’ Audrey replied.

‘Did you speak to him?’

‘Only to say hello, that’s all.’ Audrey sounded quite off-hand, almost impatient, in fact.

‘Who is he sitting with? ’Cause he’s not with his mother and father…’

‘No, I know he’s not…’

‘Who is he with then?’

But Audrey did not answer. She was looking ahead, her eyes fixed on the stage instead of turning to look at her friend. Then, ‘Hush, Maisie,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you later. We’ll have to shut up now while Mr Carey does his poem.’

The audience had heard Albert Carey’s monologue, ‘The Green Eye of the Yellow God’ before, on more than one occasion; but as a highly regarded church warden of many years standing they gave him the attention and respect due to him.

Loud, if not rapturous applause followed the last verse as Albert Carey bowed and left the stage.

Maisie was beginning to sense some sort of a mystery. ‘You said you’d tell me who Bruce is sitting with,’ she persisted.

Audrey was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘He’s with a friend…from the RAF. He’s wearing his uniform…and so is his friend.’

‘Oh, I see… And did he introduce you to the other young man?’

Audrey looked at her oddly, then, ‘No, why should he?’ she said. ‘I told you, we only said hello.’

‘I just thought he might’ve done, that’s all…’

‘Well, he didn’t,’ Audrey snapped, but immediately she regretted it and turned and smiled at Maisie. ‘I’m sorry… I’m feeling a bit on edge. It’s our Tim next and I suppose I’m feeling nervous in sympathy with him. I hope he’ll be OK. He played his pieces beautifully before we came out.’

‘I’m sure he will.’ Maisie squeezed her friend’s arm, her perplexity about Bruce being put aside for the moment.

Then Luke announced, ‘And now here is
Timothy Fairchild to play for us,’ and Timothy took his seat at the piano.

‘Aw, bless him!’ said Maisie, smiling fondly. ‘Doesn’t he look grown-up?’ Timothy was now eleven years old, due to start at the Grammar school in Lowerbeck at the beginning of the September term. He was, in point of fact, only four years younger than Maisie, Audrey and Doris; his sister, Ivy, having been a friend and class-mate of theirs. But the older girls had always made a fuss of him.

‘My first piece is “Sonata in C” by Mozart,’ he announced, quite confidently, in a voice that was still quite shrill and piping. He had recently joined the ranks of the boy choristers at St Bartholomew’s and had been found to have a pleasing voice.

The first movement of the sonata was a popular one with budding pianists and familiar to the audience, many of whom had played it in their youth. Or attempted to play it, because it was not as simple as it at first appeared. The runs and cadences were quite tricky, but Timothy managed them all with scarcely a slip or wrong note.

Maisie found herself remembering the skinny knock-kneed little boy with the wire-framed glasses who had clung so desperately to his big sister when they were first evacuated to Middlebeck. She and her friends had tried to comfort and protect him then; and now he was Audrey’s adopted brother. He had matured considerably since those early days and was no
longer so nervous or self-effacing. His sandy hair still stuck up like porcupine quills, being unmanageable if it was allowed to grow longer; but his glasses, which he still needed for his short-sighted pale blue eyes, were more adult ones with a tortoiseshell frame. And that evening he was wearing his first pair of long trousers, grey flannels, with a crisp white shirt and red bow tie.

‘And now I would like to play, “Butterflies in the Rain”,’ he said, smiling, as the applause for his first piece died down.

That, too, needed a good deal of dexterity and neat fingering, and he played it with even greater confidence. As he passed the three girls, on his way to join his parents, he grinned and uttered a very relieved, ‘Whew! I’m glad that’s over!’