Forgotten Dreams (49 page)
‘It’s her name,’ Troy said. ‘Well, her real name’s Sally, but when she were just a bit of a kid she called herself Sassy, and it stuck.’
Merle stared, a puzzled frown etched on her brow, then it cleared. ‘Of course! Lottie – I mean Sassy – has described you to me so many times since we left Liverpool that I should have recognised you. At first she thought she was dreaming, but then she met you – in Rhyl, wasn’t it? – and I reckon she’s been searching for you ever since. I’m so glad that the pair of you have met up at last. And is your gran all right? Everyone on the canal knows her so when we stopped to ask about you, Sassy, folk told us that your gran had been in hospital but was much better, and was staying at her cottage in Burscough. That’s why Betsy put me on the tiller, because she hoped you’d be in Burscough, too, and we might spot each other.’
‘And so we did,’ Sassy said contentedly. ‘You must come ashore and meet Gran, and bring little Veronica. Then we’ll walk you to the station and put you on the train. Isn’t that so, Troy?’
Troy nodded as Merle disappeared into the cabin and reappeared with the baby tucked into the crook of her arm. He turned to Sassy. ‘And tomorrow we’ll catch the train ourselves, and find your mam and talk things through,’ he said. ‘I mean to explain to her how important it is to have you back on board the barge as soon as possible, because Gran isn’t getting any younger.’
‘I never thought I’d feel so terrified,’ Sassy said nervously as she and Troy crossed the Scotland Road and headed for the theatre. They had popped in earlier in the day – as soon as they arrived in Liverpool, in fact – only to be told that the cast would be rehearsing for a couple of hours from three in the afternoon. ‘Your mam’s bound to be here then, Miss Lottie, because she’s a stickler for getting things absolutely right,’ the stage doorkeeper had told Sassy. ‘You could try getting her at home, I suppose, but you might not be too popular if you did so. Now that she doesn’t have you and Merle and the lad to feed, she lies in until two in the afternoon, so you’d best return to the theatre just before three o’clock.’
‘Oh!’ Sassy had said, taken aback. ‘But why isn’t she feeding Baz? I dare say Max would just as soon have a decent lie-in, but Baz would have to be at work at the normal time. Still, I suppose he can make his own porridge and brew a pot of tea.’
The stage doorkeeper had looked shifty. ‘You’ll find things have changed a good deal,’ he had muttered. ‘But it ain’t none of my business to go tellin’ tales out of school, so I’ll leave you to hear what’s been a-goin’ on from Louella’s own lips.’
‘Oh, Mr Kemp, do tell,’ Sassy had wheedled. ‘If things have changed, is it for the better or for the worse? Don’t leave me in suspense for another three hours.’
‘Depends on your point of view, like,’ the stage doorkeeper had said gruffly. ‘And more than that I will not say. Go and get yourself a butty and a cuppa, and time will soon pass.’ He had eyed Troy curiously. ‘Who’s your pal? I don’t reckon I see’d him before.’
‘Oh, sorry, Mr Kemp. This is Troy Davison,’ Sassy had said. ‘He’s an old friend. Well, we’ll take your advice and go along to Dorothy’s Tearooms for a snack.’
Over a plate of sandwiches and a large pot of tea, Sassy had encouraged Troy to talk. ‘Remember, you know about me now,’ she had told him. ‘But all I know about you really is the things I dreamed, even though I know now that they were really memories of true events. So start at the beginning, Troy, and tell me about yourself.’
For a start, Troy explained how he had come to live with Gran instead of with his own parents. They had been circus folk, trapeze artistes, working many feet above the ground in the big top, and had left Troy, then aged two, with his maternal grandmother whilst they toured on the Continent. There had been a train crash. It had been several weeks before Gran had learned that her daughter and son-in-law had been killed, and naturally she had immediately assumed all responsibility for her little grandson.
‘How dreadful for you; you must have been heartbroken,’ Sassy said sincerely, but Troy shook his head.
‘My dear girl, I were two years old. I adored me gran – who wouldn’t – and couldn’t so much as remember the colour of me mother’s eyes, though I did have a photograph of them both, so there’s no need to feel sorry for me! For several years, Gran and I worked the fairs and circuses, touring the country in our little green and yellow van and making friends wherever we went. To tell you the truth, the only thing I missed was another young pal aboard and then, when I were six, you come along.’ He grinned at her. ‘I thought me prayers had been answered, because I were too young to know where babies come from and every night, for ages, I’d been asking God for a little brother or sister. So when Louella handed you over, I felt she’d given you to me as much as to Gran. You were a lovely kid, full of fun; even as a baby you were always laughing and gurgling. When you went . . . but it doesn’t do to go over the bad times. And now you’re back, and we’re going to forget the ten years we lost, ain’t that so?’
‘I can’t forget them altogether because I had some happy times with the theatre,’ Sassy admitted. ‘But all the time I knew something – or someone – was missing, though I didn’t know what. Now tell me about the barge, because I’m not too sure how Gran came to change from fairs and circuses to being a bargee.’
‘She inherited it from an uncle when you were only a few months old,’ Troy explained. ‘I was too young to help much, though I could lead the horse and open some of the locks, so for years the barge was only used occasionally, sort of as a holiday, whilst the fortune-telling was what you might call work. But when I was sixteen or so, Gran decided that life on the gaff was too irregular so we became full-time bargees.’
‘I see. And now we’d best be moving on since it’s almost a quarter to the hour,’ Sassy said. ‘Thank you for explaining, Troy. I understand much better now.’
A few moments later, they were approaching the Gaiety, Sassy clinging tightly to Troy’s hand. What should she do if Louella shouted at her . . . come to that, what should she do if Louella cast herself into her arms and vowed they should never part again?
But Mr Kemp was holding open the stage door and telling them to go straight to the green room. ‘Your mam ain’t here yet, but when she turns up I’ll tell her there’s a visitor to see her, and she’ll come straight through,’ he said. ‘Good luck, young ’un, and don’t look so scared! I dare say your mam will welcome you wi’ open arms.’
This was scarcely comforting since it was what Sassy most dreaded, but she nodded briskly and went past him. In the green room, she filled the kettle whilst Troy lit the Primus stove, and by the time she heard footsteps approaching there was a pot of tea brewed and several cups set out in readiness. Sassy plumped herself down on the small sofa and Troy took a chair opposite. Then, with fast-beating heart, she stared apprehensively at the opening door.
Louella entered, a bright artificial smile on her face which faded as she realised who awaited her. Then she gave a muffled scream just as Sassy jumped to her feet and hurled herself into her mother’s arms. The two hugged tightly, and Sassy heard Louella murmuring words of delight and relief. After a moment they drew apart, both probably feeling equally self-conscious. ‘Oh, Lottie, my darling, you’ve kept your promise and come back to me,’ Louella said tremulously. ‘Oh, but it’s so good to see you again. I’ve worried and wondered . . . but who’s your friend?’
‘That’s Troy. He’s Gran’s real relative,’ Sassy said. ‘And you mustn’t call me Lottie now, Mam, because I’ve gone back to being Sassy.’ She led her mother over to the sofa and sat down beside her. ‘You’ve had my letters, so you know pretty well all that’s happened to me, but of course I never gave you an address, so you couldn’t write back. Mr Kemp says there have been changes . . . oh, Mam, I do hope nothing awful’s happened! He seemed to think Baz wasn’t with you any more . . .’
‘That’s right. Max and Baz have both left Victoria Court, and the Gaiety theatre,’ Louella said. ‘Baz went soon after you and Merle left; he said it was no fun living here without you two girls. He managed to get a job with the post office – as a postman in fact – on the Wirral, and I believe he’s very happy there. As for Max . . . it’ll be a shock to you, my love, but – but Max has found himself another assistant. Well, it would be more truthful to say he’s met a young woman and – and they’re going to be married.’ She pulled a face, but, to Sassy’s relief, seemed more amused than upset by the news she was imparting. ‘Oddly enough, Anita – that’s her name – was employed by me to try to take your place, darling. I admit she has a very sweet singing voice and, curiously, she’s extremely like me to look at: same height, same colouring, same neat figure. We were doing very well, only after a few weeks I caught a really heavy cold and it went on to my chest. I lost my voice completely – I could only croak. And Max, very rightly, sent me off to Brougham Terrace to see that nice Dr Watson. He gave me cough mixture and told me to go to bed and stay there for at least a week because if I did not I might permanently damage my voice. I must say Anita was grand. She continued with the song and dance routine – Betty, from the chorus, joined her in that – and she took over as Max’s assistant. I couldn’t work for two whole weeks and apparently that was long enough for Max and Anita to fall in love, though I didn’t realise what was happening until dear old Jack told me to use my eyes, and I began to see what was going on.’
‘I think that’s awful, absolutely awful,’ Sassy breathed. ‘I always thought you and Max would marry one day. I think this Anita took advantage of your absence to steal poor Max.’
Louella laughed, but shook her head. ‘I fell for Max mainly because he was tall, dark and handsome; really very like your father to look at,’ she said. ‘And as for Max, he never pretended to love me, you know. He let me share the house in Victoria Court because he was sorry for me and also, I suspect, because a woman in the place made his life very much more comfortable. Of course at first I felt as you do, but I very soon realised it was all for the best. Max wouldn’t remain at the Gaiety, he said it wasn’t fair on me, so he put my name on the rent book for Number Two, took a job with a theatre company in Llandudno, and then . . .’
At this point the green room door opened again and Jack Russell came into the room, rubbing his hands briskly and talking as he did so. ‘Well, well, well, I hope someone’s got a brew a-goin’ ’cos this feller’s dry as a bone, woof, woof, and absolutely dyin’ for a . . .’ He broke off, staring at Sassy, then rushed across the room to lift her off the sofa and give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘Well, if it ain’t our little Lottie! We’ve been that worried, queen, but I can see you’ve not been half starved, nor homeless, nor none of the other things your mam were afraid of. Oh, I know your letters said over and over that you were fine, but Louella were convinced you weren’t tellin’ the whole story and were probably havin’ a hard time of it!’ He stood her down, and turned to point at Troy. ‘Who’s your young man? I don’t recall you mentioning a handsome young feller in your letters what had swept you off your feet. And where’s Merle?’
Sassy felt her cheeks grow hot and saw the colour steal into Troy’s face. Trust Jack to put his foot in it, she thought wrathfully, forgetting how good he had always been to her. ‘His name’s Troy and he’s been a real pal to me,’ she said rather coolly. ‘I’m sorry if Louella worried, but I wrote at least once a week, sometimes twice, telling you that Merle and I were doing fine.’ She turned to Louella. ‘Oh, I’ve got a letter for you from Merle, Mam, and don’t tell me not to call you Mam because I’m going to do just that from now on; there have been too many lies, and sometimes even little white ones can cause confusion and trouble.’
As she spoke, she fished the letter addressed to Louella out of her pocket and handed it to her mother. Louella ripped open the envelope and pulled out the solitary page it contained, looking rather worried. But as she read, her face cleared. ‘Well, what wonderful news,’ she said joyfully. ‘Merle’s had a dear little baby girl and she’s going back to live with her own parents. Nothing could be better, because to tell the truth, there’s no place for her here.’
‘Does that apply to me, too?’ Sassy said, hardly daring to hope. ‘You see, Mam, I’ve . . .’
‘Darling, there will always be a place for you beside me, because you’re my own darling daughter,’ Louella said. ‘But – but things have changed. You see, when Max left . . .’ She turned to Jack. ‘Darling, can you explain?’
Jack grinned at Sassy, struck an attitude, then went across and put an arm round Louella’s shoulders. ‘Meet Mrs Russell, me wife and me new partner,’ he said proudly. ‘I reckon you know I’ve loved your mam from the first moment I met her, but I never thought there was a chance for me, not while Max was around. Then he went and I were astonished at how well your mam took it; no tears, no fuss, she just gorron with her act like the real little trouper she is. So I popped the question and she made me the happiest feller on earth.’
‘Oh, Jack, Mam, I’m so happy for you,’ Sassy said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘But what about the act? I take it Jack isn’t sawing ladies in half, or using the vanishing cabinet!’
Jack laughed, but shook his head. ‘No, but I’d been thinking for a long time that I could do with a partner meself; I’d worked out a brand new act, but it needed a pretty woman what were a clever actress too. It goes like this: I’m the comic toymaker and your mam takes the part of the beautiful doll what I made. The beginning of the sketch is real funny because she has a big key in her back what I winds up, only something goes wrong with the mechanism and she spins round, knocking toys off the shelves and walloping me in the breadbasket with one leg . . . I tell you it’s a real scream and the audience loves it. Only then she falls to the floor in a crumpled heap and when I tries to rewind her nothing works, so I picks her up and kisses her and she comes to life as a real woman, not a mechanical toy. Management love it, and so do the punters. So you see, although I’m sure we’d gladly welcome you back . . .’
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