Forgotten Dreams (30 page)
Lottie gave a shriek of excitement and set off at a fast run and then the scene blurred and grew small, and she awoke in her own bed to discover that at some stage of the night her lovely hot water bottle had slipped out of her arms and on to the floor. It was still pretty dark and she thought, crossly, that it must have been the noise of the stone bottle hitting the linoleum which had woken her. She reached out a hand and felt the bottle, but it was only lukewarm, so morning could not be far away. She still felt comfortable and knew that it was because she had been in the dream and had managed, without any conscious effort on her part, to learn the boy’s name. Troy. It was a very unusual name, but then he was a very unusual boy.
She still had no idea why she dreamed the dreams and was puzzled by the clarity and reality of them. She had been certain at first that they must be the missing years which she could no longer remember, but that had been when she was just a child, and now she was not so sure. After all, Louella had denied all knowledge of a girl named Sassy, so Lottie had not even asked if she remembered a boy with golden eyes. But now that I’ve got a name for the boy, maybe it will ring a bell with Louella, Lottie told herself hopefully. Oh, I wish I could get back into the dream again! The sunshine was so warm, and the primroses and violets smelt so delicious.
She had half sat up in order to feel her hot water bottle, but now she cuddled down the bed again. I’ll think about spring, and flowers, and a big horse called Champ, she thought drowsily, and I’ll think about Troy and his gran, and the little, little room with the bright curtains and the gleaming wooden table. The room had smelt of beeswax polish and apples . . . she was drifting into sleep when she remembered that she had never actually been in that room, but had merely seen a picture of it in her head when she had told Troy she would pick a bunch of flowers for Gran. Aren’t dreams the strangest things, she thought. Oh, Lord, I’ll never get back to sleep if I can’t get my feet to warm up; they’re just like two blocks of ice. She curled up, wrapping her toes in the folds of her long winceyette nightdress, and presently slumber claimed her once more.
Lottie did not see Louella at breakfast, so she had to wait until they met at the theatre to ask the all-important question which had been on her mind all day. The three women were in their dressing room; Louella was making up her face whilst the other two scrambled into their costumes. Buttons was easy – all Lottie had to do was powder her nose and apply a very little makeup – but Merle had to have her long hair carefully combed into rats’ tails, her hands and cheeks smeared with ash, and her bare feet dirtied. Not unnaturally, Merle moaned a great deal about her appearance in the first scene and was heartily glad when, as the pantomime progressed, she was able to dispense with the dirt, even though her clothing remained ragged. It was not until after the interval that her fairy godmother appeared, and she was able to don the magnificent silver and white ball dress, and to have Lottie brush out her mass of light brown curls.
But now, everyone was ready and waiting for their cue. Louella turned away from the mirror at last and Lottie took a deep breath. ‘Louella, do you remember me asking you if you knew a girl called Sassy?’
Louella frowned, then removed a speck of powder from her enormous false eyelashes. ‘No, I can’t recall . . . was it someone you met in Yarmouth, darling?’
‘Oh, Louella, I told you! It was in Rhyl, on that school trip. A boy with golden eyes called me Sassy, only I didn’t learn his name. Well, to tell you the truth, he ran off before I could ask. But I saw him again in Yarmouth, and this time—’
‘—you did ask,’ Louella completed for her. ‘So go on, what’s his name, this boy with golden eyes?’
Lottie hesitated. Suddenly, Troy seemed an extremely silly name, but having said so much she didn’t mean to back down. ‘He’s called Troy,’ she said defiantly. ‘Do you know him, Louella?’
Louella shook her head. She was standing in front of the full-length mirror, as she did every night, whilst waiting to go on stage. Actually, her first appearance was as Mr Magic’s assistant when they did their act in the kitchen of the wicked baron’s castle, but fortunately both costumes were rather similar, so changing was not nearly as difficult for her as it was for Merle. ‘Roy? Did you say Roy? I do seem to remember someone called Roy when we were working in Rhyl,’ she said slowly.
‘Not Roy,’ Lottie said impatiently, hearing her own voice rise with annoyance. It was so typical of Louella to mishear what her daughter had said. ‘I said Troy, T-R-O-Y. Do you know someone called Troy?’
‘No, sorry,’ Louella said. She bestowed her sweetest smile on her daughter, chucked her under the chin and headed for the door. ‘I’m just going to help Max into his dress because “Beginners please” will be called in ten minutes and if I don’t he’ll arrive on stage with his wig askew and half his buttons undone.’
When she had gone, the two girls simply stood where they were and stared at one another. Then Merle gave a little crow of laughter. ‘Your mam is incredible,’ she said. ‘Did she really think you said Roy? I heard you say Troy, and I wasn’t really listening. Not that she was lying, because I’m sure she wasn’t. Have you ever noticed that when your mam wants to tell a whopper her voice sounds quite different? It’s – it’s softer, and sweeter somehow.’
‘No, I don’t think I have,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘Or perhaps I have noticed – her voice changing, I mean – but didn’t realise it was for what you might call a purpose.’ She sighed. ‘Sometimes I’m really stupid.’
Merle shook her head, then picked up the bass broom which leaned against the wall by the door, just as the prompt boy’s voice came hollowly down the corridor, calling: ‘Beginners please, five minutes.’
‘No, you aren’t stupid, it’s just that your mam doesn’t use that voice to you very often, if at all, but she uses it to me all the time. Whenever she says I’ve done well, or asks whether I’ve had a nice day out, her voice goes quite different.’
Lottie laughed; she couldn’t help it. ‘Next time she says something to you, I’ll make a note,’ she said, as Merle pushed the door open and hurried along the corridor towards the stage. Lottie turned back to check herself in the long mirror, thinking wistfully how nice it would have been had her mother recognised the name Troy and been able to fill her in on details, such as whether it was the boy’s first or last name, and where she had known him. However, it was comforting to know that Louella had not lied to her, for Lottie trusted Merle, who was extremely shrewd over such matters. And anyway, all was not lost; if she and Louella had worked both in Rhyl and in Yarmouth, then the chances were that others had done the same. Come to think of it, Jack Russell had mentioned the number of times he had worked on the Wellington Pier. Now that she had a name she could ask everyone whether they knew, or had come across, anyone called Troy. Satisfied, she picked up her own particular prop in Scene I – a tin of Brasso and a yellow duster – and made for the wings.
As December advanced, everyone settled happily into their pantomime routine. Merle and Lottie, as the youngest members of the cast, undertook to do the messages for anyone who needed help and this was often Mr and Mrs Carstairs, who hated the icy weather and grudged having to go shopping for food. They always tipped the girls for carrying heavy bags up the steep little staircase to their tiny two-roomed flat, which was useful with Christmas presents to buy.
Max had gathered the cast together ten days before Christmas, to remind them of the scheme which had been inaugurated some years previously to make Christmas buying less of a chore. ‘Each of us buys one really nice present, to the value of a shilling; it’s surprising what you can get for a bob if you put your mind to it. The men wrap theirs in blue paper and the girls, of course, wrap theirs in pink. Then all the presents are placed in the big beer barrel which is one of the props in the castle kitchen, and someone, me usually, hands them round on Christmas Eve. Now I say this every year, but I don’t mind repeating myself in a good cause. Some folk fish out an unwanted gift from a couple of years back, rewrap it and put it in the barrel. This is a mean trick and frowned upon; understand?’
Several members of the chorus had giggled, but Merle had told Lottie she thought it was a really good idea and they had decided to shop together for all their presents the following day.
Lottie awoke next day telling herself that if it was raining, she would jolly well cuddle down under the covers and have a lie-in until the weather cleared, so she did not know whether to be glad or sorry when she saw that the day was cold but clear. Sunshine fell in a pale beam through a crack in the curtains and when she informed Merle, in ringing tones, that she had best get up for they had a deal of shopping to do, the older girl moaned but sat up, knuckling her eyes, and very soon the pair of them were clattering down the stairs and heading for the kitchen.
When they reached it, they found Louella making porridge whilst Max sat in front of the fire toasting slices of bread. Both adults looked up and greeted the girls cheerfully as they entered, and Lottie remembered that her mother and Max – and Baz as well – would also be doing their Christmas shopping today. Indeed, when Baz entered the kitchen five minutes later she half expected Merle to say that she would rather shop with him, but this did not prove to be the case. To be sure, Baz did suggest that he might accompany the girls, but Merle immediately vetoed the idea. ‘Two’s company, three’s a crowd,’ she said chirpily. ‘Besides, it don’t matter if Lottie sees what I’m buying because I don’t plan to get hers today, but I do mean to get yours, Baz, so we’d best go our separate ways.’
‘We could meet for a bite to eat at Lyons Corner House on Church Street,’ Baz said hopefully.
Merle looked wistful but shook her head resolutely. ‘No. We’ll mebbe shop straight through and get ourselves a high tea later.’
‘Well all right then, we’ll meet for high tea,’ Baz said. He was not used to being brushed aside by his Merle.
‘No we shan’t; I told you, we want to concentrate on shopping. I don’t want to have to watch the clock, and nor does Lottie. Remember, Baz, we’ve only got this one day, whereas you can shop evenings, when we’re on stage.’
The two girls were sitting at the table, eating buttered toast and drinking tea, and now Baz joined them. He sat down next to Merle and squeezed her hand. ‘Awright, queen, if that’s how you want it,’ he said. ‘My shopping won’t take more’n an hour at most; us fellers is so much more organised than you females. I’d bet a pound to a penny that you’ll traipse from shop to shop, picking things up and putting ’em down again, haggling with shopkeepers, changing your mind a dozen times and in the end going back to buy the very first thing you saw. Now us fellers know what we want, find who’s selling it cheapest, buy it and go home again.’
Everyone laughed, but Merle said severely: ‘How like a man! If you buy the cheapest thing on the shelves for me you’ll get a Fry’s chocolate bar and nothin’ else in your perishin’ stockin’.’
Lottie, who knew that Merle intended to buy Baz a pair of beautiful lined leather gloves, smiled to herself and presently, breakfast finished, she and Merle set off. They had decided to go round the big shops first, where they could earmark the things they would like to buy. Then they would go round the smaller shops and market stalls searching for the same goods at, hopefully, greatly reduced prices. Knowing Merle’s intentions, Lottie found a grand pair of leather gloves for what she considered a very reasonable price in George Henry Lee’s, and pointed them out to her friend, but Merle looked at the price label, whistled softly beneath her breath, and then said she would bear the gloves in mind but would buy nothing until they had examined the goods on display in Paddy’s market. ‘But this is for Baz. He’s your feller,’ Lottie pointed out, rather shocked, for she had not imagined that Merle would stint on a gift for her boyfriend. ‘Still, maybe you’re right. What are you getting your Uncle Max?’
‘Coloured handkerchiefs, or mebbe just one coloured handkerchief,’ Merle said. She slid a sideways glance at Lottie. ‘To tell the truth, I’ve gorra be careful with me money because I’ve been thinking. I really must see my family for a couple of days before Christmas, and so what with the train fare and a few presents for my parents and little cousins, I’ll need all the pennies I can save.’
The two girls had just entered Lewises, where Lottie intended to buy a tiny phial of her mother’s favourite lily of the valley perfume, since Lewises was the only shop which stocked the make Louella liked. She had been wistfully examining the wonderful array of perfumes, soaps and scented talcum powder on display, but at Merle’s words she turned startled eyes upon her friend. ‘You’re going home! It would mean you’d miss two or three performances just before Christmas. Oh, I know Betty would understudy for you, but it isn’t the same.’
‘I reckon you can do without me for a couple of days,’ Merle said vaguely. ‘Are you going to buy that perfume or aren’t you?’
‘All right, all right, I’ll buy it,’ Lottie said. ‘But you’d better tell everyone you’ll be away for a couple of days. You will be back in time for the party on Christmas Eve, won’t you? Louella’s already put her name down for a fine big bird, and a ham, and you wouldn’t want to miss that.’
‘That’s right,’ Merle said, as a shop assistant came bustling up. ‘I’ll be back before you’ve had time to miss me. I might even do it in a day if the trains run right.’
Lottie paid for the tiny parcel which the shop lady obligingly wrapped in silver and white paper, then the two of them turned away. ‘Where shall we go next?’
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